illustration: _frontis._ there was a terrible scene of noise and confusion. page 124] wednesday the tenth a tale of the south pacific by grant allen author of common sense science and others boston d lothrop company washington street opposite bromfield copyright, 1890, by d. lothrop company. contents. chapter i. we sight a boat 9 chapter ii. the boat's crew 27 chapter iii. the mystery solved 41 chapter iv. martin luther's story 56 chapter v. a break-down 72 chapter vi. on the island 86 chapter vii. errors excepted 100 chapter viii. hot work 113 list of illustrations. there was a terrible scene of noise and confusion _front._ where the frenchmen landed 19 natives of the island of tanaki 58 the savages fell back and listened with eagerness 70 wednesday the tenth. _a tale of the south pacific._ chapter i. we sight a boat. on the eighteenth day out from sydney, we were cruising under the lee of erromanga--of course you know erromanga, an isolated island between the new hebrides and the loyalty group--when suddenly our dusky polynesian boy, nassaline, who was at the masthead on the lookout, gave a surprised cry of "boat ahoy!" and pointed with his skinny black finger to a dark dot away southward on the horizon, in the direction of fiji. i strained my eyes and saw--well, a barrel or something. for myself, i should never have made out it was a boat at all, being somewhat slow of vision at great distances; but, bless your heart! these kanaka lads have eyes like hawks for pouncing down upon a canoe or a sail no bigger than a speck afar off; so when nassaline called out confidently, "boat ahoy!" in his broken english, i took out my binocular, and focused it full on the spot towards which the skinny black finger pointed. probably, thought i to myself, a party of natives, painted red, on the war-trail against their enemies in some neighboring island; or perhaps a "labor vessel," doing a veiled slave-trade in "indentured apprentices" for new caledonia or the queensland planters. to my great surprise, however, i found out, when i got my glasses fixed full upon it, it was neither of these, but an open english row-boat, apparently, making signs of distress, and alone in the midst of the wide pacific. now, mind you, one doesn't expect to find open english row-boats many miles from land, drifting about casually in those far-eastern waters. there's very little european shipping there of any sort, i can tell you; a man may sometimes sail for days together across that trackless sea without so much as speaking a single vessel, and the few he does come across are mostly engaged in what they euphoniously call "the labor-trade"--in plain english, kidnaping blacks or browns, who are induced to sign indentures for so many years' service (generally "three yams," that is to say, for three yam crops), and are then carried off by force or fraud to some other island, to be used as laborers in the cane-fields or cocoa-nut groves. so i rubbed my eyes when i saw an open boat, of european build, tossing about on the open, and sang out to the man at the wheel: "hard a starboard, tom! put her head about for the dark spot to the sou'-by-southeast there!" "starboard it is!" tom blake answered cheerily, setting the rudder about; and we headed straight for that mysterious little craft away off on the horizon. but there! i see i've got ahead of my story, to start with, as the way is always with us salt-water sailors. we seafaring men can never spin a yarn, turned straight off the reel all right from the beginning, like some of those book-making chaps can do. we have always to luff round again, and start anew on a fresh tack half a dozen times over, before we can get well under way for the port we're aiming at. so i shall have to go back myself to sydney once more, to explain who we were, and how we happened to be cruising about on the loose that morning off erromanga. my name, if i may venture to introduce myself formally, is julian braithwaite. i am the owner and commander of the steam-yacht _albatross_, thirty-nine tons burden, as neat a little craft as any on the pacific, though it's me that says it as oughtn't to say it; and i've spent the last five years of my life in cruising in and out among those beautiful archipelagos in search of health, which nature denies me in more northern latitudes. the oddest part of it is, though i'm what the doctors call consumptive in england--only fit to lie on a sofa and read good books--the moment i get clear away into the tropics i'm a strong man again, prepared to fight any fellow of my own age and weight, and as fit for seamanship as the best jack tar in my whole equipment. the _albatross_ numbers eighteen in crew, all told; and as i am not a rich enough or selfish enough a man to keep up a vessel all for my own amusement, my brother jim and i combine business and pleasure by doing a mixed trade in copra or dried cocoa-nut with the natives from time to time, or by running across between sydney and san francisco with a light cargo of goods for the australian market. our habit was therefore to cruise in and out among the islands, with no very definite aim except that of picking up a stray trade whenever we could make one, and keeping as much within sight of land, for the sake of company, as circumstances permitted us. and that is just why, though bound for fiji, we had gone so far out of our way that particular voyage as to be under the lee of erromanga. as for our black polynesian boy, nassaline, to tell you the truth, i am proud of that lad, for he's a trophy of war; we got him at the point of the sword off a slaver. she was a fast french sloop, "recruiting" for new caledonia, as they call it, on one of the new hebrides, when the _albatross_ happened to come to anchor, by good luck or good management, in the same harbor. from the moment we arrived i had my eye on that smart french sloop, for i more than half suspected the means she was employing to beat up recruits. early next morning, as i lay in my bunk, i heard a fearful row going on in boats not far from our moorings; and when i rushed up on deck, half-dressed, to find out what the noise was about, blessed if i didn't see whole gangs of angry natives in canoes, naked of course as the day they were born, or only dressed, like the ancient britons, in a neat coat of paint, pursuing the french sloop's jolly-boat, which was being rowed at high pressure by all its crew toward its own vessel. "great guns!" said i, "what's up?" so, looking closer, i could make out four strapping young black boys lying manacled in the bottom, kicking and screaming as hard as their legs and throats could go, while the frenchmen rowed away for dear life, and the kanakas in the canoes paddled wildly after them, taking cock-shots at them with very bad aim from time to time with arrows and fire-arms. such a splutter and noise you never heard in all your life. ducks fighting in a pond were a mere circumstance to it. "tom blake!" i sang out, "is the gig afloat there?" "aye, aye, sir," says tom, jumping up. "she's ready at the starn. shall we off and at 'em?" "right you are, tom!" says i; "all hands to the gig here!" well, in less than three minutes i'd got that boat under way, and was rowing ahead between the frenchmen and their sloop, with our remingtons ready, and everything in order for a good stand-up fight of it. when the frenchmen saw we meant to intercept them, and found themselves cut off between the savages on one side and an english crew well-armed with rifles of precision on the other, they thought it was about time to open negotiations with the opposing party. so the skipper stopped, as airy as a gentleman walking down the boulevards, and called out to me in french, "what do you want ahoy, there?" "ahoy there yourself," says i, in my very best ollandorff. "we want to know what you're doing with those youngsters?" "oh! it's that, is it?" says the frenchman, as cool as a cucumber, coming nearer a bit, and talking as though we'd merely stopped him with polite inquiries about the time of day or the price of spring chickens; while the savages, seeing from our manner we were friendly to their side, left off firing for a while for fear of hitting us. "why, these are apprentices of ours--indentured apprentices. we've bought them from their parents by honest trade--paid for 'em with sniders, ammunition, calico and tobacco; and if you want to see our papers and theirs, monsieur, here they are, look you, all perfectly _en règle_," and he held up the bundle for us to inspect in full--with a telescope, i suppose--at a hundred yards' distance. "row nearer, boys," i said, "and we'll talk a bit with this polite gentleman. he seems to have views of his own, i fancy, about the proper method of engaging servants." but when we tried to row up the frenchman stopped and called out at the top of his voice, in a very different tone, all bustle and bluster, "look out ahead there! if you come a yard closer we open fire. we want no interference from any of you methodistical missionary fellows." "we ain't missionaries," i answered quietly, cocking my revolver in the friendliest possible fashion right in front of him; "we're traders and yachtsmen. show 'em your remingtons, boys, and let 'em see we mean business! that's right. ready! present!--and fire when i tell you! now then, monsieur, you bought these boys, you say. so far, good. next then, if you please, who did you buy them from?" the frenchman turned pale when he saw we were well-armed and meant inquiry; but he tried to carry off still with a little face and bluster. "why, their parents, of course," he answered, with a signal to his friends in the ship to cover us with their fire-arms. "from their parents? o, yes! well, how did you know the sellers were their parents?" i asked, still pointing my revolver towards him. "and why are the boys so unwilling to go? and what are the natives making such a noise over this little transaction in indentured labor for? if it's all as you say, what's this fuss and row about? keep your rifles steady, lads." "they want to back out of their bargain, i suppose, now they've drunk our rum and smoked our tobacco," the frenchman said. "no true, no true," one of the natives shouted out from beyond in his broken english. "man a _oui-oui_!"--that's what they call the french, you know, all through the south pacific--"man a _oui-oui_, bad--no believe man, a _oui-oui_--him make us drunk, so try to cheat us." [illustration: where the frenchmen landed. page 19] "now, you look here, monsieur," i said severely, turning to the skipper, "i know what you've been doing. i've seen this little game tried on before. you landed here last night with your peaceable equipment for recruiting labor--we know what that means--a winchester sixteen-shooter and half a dozen pairs of english handcuffs. you brought on shore your 'trade'--a common clay pipe or two, some cheap red cloth, and a lot of bad french government tobacco; and you treated the natives all round to free drinks of your square gin. when they'd reached that state of convenient conviviality that they didn't know who they were or what they were doing, you took advantage of their guileless condition. you picked out the likeliest young men and lads, selected any particularly drunken native lying about loose to represent their fathers, made 'em put their marks to a formal paper of indentures, and handed over twenty dollars, a bottle of rum, and a quid of tobacco, as a consolation for the wounded feelings of their distressed relations. you've been carrying them off all night at your devil's game; and now in the morning the natives are beginning to wake up sober, miss their friends, and put a summary stop to your little proceedings. well, sir, i give you one minute to make up your mind; if you don't hand us over these four lads to set on shore again, we'll open fire upon you; and as we're stronger than you, with the natives at our back, we'll make a prize of you, and tow you into fiji on a charge of slave-trading." before the words were well out of my mouth the french skipper had given the word "fire!" and the bullets came whizzing past, and riddling the gunwale of the gig beside us. one of them grazed my arm below the shoulder and drew blood. now there's nothing to put a man's temper up like getting shot in the arm. i lost mine, i confess, and i shouted aloud, "fire, boys, and row on at them!" our fellows fired, and the very same moment the natives closed in and went at them with their canoes, all alive with sniders, lances and hatchets. it was a lively time, i can tell you, for the next five minutes, with those lithe, long black fellows swarming over them like ants; and poor tom blake got a bullet from a french rifle in his thigh, that lodges there still in very comfortable quarters. but one of the frenchmen fell back in the jolly-boat shot through the breast, and the skipper, who turned out to be a fellow with one sound leg and a substitute, was severely wounded. so we'd soon closed in upon them, the natives and ourselves, and overpowered their crew, which was only ten, all told, besides the fellows on the big vessel in the harbor. well, we took out the four boys, when the mill was over, and transferred them to our gig; and then we escorted the frenchmen, ironed in their own handcuffs, to the deck of their sloop, with the natives on either side in their canoes rowing along abreast of us like a guard of honor. the crew of the sloop didn't attempt to interfere with us as we brought their comrades handcuffed aboard; if they had, why, then, with the help of the savages, we should have been more than a match for them. so we prowled around the ship on a voyage of discovery, and found ample evidence in her get-up of her character as an honest and single-hearted recruiter of labor. a rack in the cabin held eight snider rifles, loaded for use, above which hung eight revolvers, employed doubtless in self-defense against the lawless character of the kanakas, as the skipper (with his hands in irons and his eyes in tears) most solemnly assured us. the sloop was prepared throughout, with loopholes and battening-hatches, to stand a siege, and could have made short work of the natives alone had they tried to attack her, for she carried a small howitzer, not so big as our own; but she never suspected interference from a european vessel. we went down into her hold, and there we found about forty natives, men, women and children--free agents all, the skipper had declared--packed as tight as herrings in a barrel, and with stench intolerable to the european nostril. such a sight you never saw in your life. there they lay athwart ship, side by side, the unhappy black cattle, some handcuffed and manacled, others dead-drunk and too careless to complain, while the women and children were crying and screaming, and the men were shouting as loud as they could shout in their own lingo. fortunately, we had a sailor aboard the _albatross_ who had been a beach-comber (or degraded white man who lives like a native) for three years on the island of ambrymon, and had a kanaka girl for a sweetheart; so he could talk their palaver almost as easy as you can english, and he acted as interpreter for us with the poor people in the hold. we knocked their handcuffs off, and explained the situation to them. about a dozen of the wretchedest and most squalid-looking of the lot were prepared, even when we offered them freedom, to stand by their last night's bargain, and go on to new caledonia; but the remainder were only too delighted to learn that they might go ashore again; and they gave us three ringing british cheers as soon as they understood we had really liberated them. as for the four boys we'd got in the gig, three of them elected at once to go home to their own people on the island; but the fourth was our present black servant, nassaline. he, poor boy, was an orphan; and his nearest relations, having held a consultation the day before whether they should bake him and eat him, or sell him to the frenchman, had decided that after all he would be worth more if paid for in tobacco and rum than if roasted in plantain-leaves. so, as soon as he found we were going to put him on shore again, the poor creature was afraid after all he was being returned for the oven; and flinging himself on his face in the gig, groveling and cringing, he took hold of our knees and besought us most piteously (as our sailor translated his words for us) to take him with us. of course, when we entered into the spirit of the situation, we felt it was impossible to send the poor fellow back to be made "long pig" of; so, to his immense delight, we took him along, and a more faithful servant no man ever had than poor nassaline proved from that day forth to me. i've gone out of my way so far, as i said before, to tell you this little episode of life in the south pacific, partly in order to let you know who nassaline was and how we came by him; but partly also to give you a side glimpse of the sort of gentry, both european and native, one may chance to knock up against in those remote regions. it'll help you to understand the rest of my yarn. and now, if you please, i'll tack back again once more into my proper course, to the spot where i broke off in sight of erromanga. chapter ii. the boat's crew. presently, as we headed towards the black object on the horizon, nassaline stretched out that skinny finger of his once more (no amount of feeding ever seemed to make nassaline one ounce fatter), and cried out in his shrill little piping voice, "two man on the boat! him makey signs for call us!" i'd give anything to have eyes as sharp as those polynesians. i looked across the sea, and the loppy waves in the foreground, and could just make out with the naked eye that the row-boat had something that looked like a red handkerchief tied to her bare mast, and a white signal flapping in the wind below it; but not a living soul could i distinguish in her without my binocular. so i put up my glasses and looked again. sure enough, there they were, two miserable objects, clinging as it seemed half-dead to the mast, and making most piteous signs with their hands to attract our attention. as soon as they saw that we had really sighted them, and were altering our course to pick them up, their joy and delight knew no bounds, as we judged. they flung up their arms ecstatically into the air, and then sank back, exhausted, as i guessed, on to the thwarts where they had long ceased sitting or rowing. they were wearied out, i imagined, with long buffeting against that angry and immeasurable sea, and must soon have succumbed to fatigue if we hadn't caught sight of them. we put on all steam, as in duty bound, and made towards them hastily. by and by, my brother jim, who had been off watch, came up from below and joined me on deck to see what was going forward. at the same moment nassaline cried out once more, "him no two man! him two boy! two english boy! him hungry like a dying!" and as he spoke, he held his own skinny bare arm up to his mouth dramatically, and took a good bite at it, as if to indicate in dumb show that the crew of the boat were now almost ready to eat one another. jim looked through the glasses, and handed them over to me in turn. "by george, julian," he said, "nassaline's right. it's a couple of boys, and to judge by the look of them, they're not far off starving!" i seized the glasses and fixed them upon the boat. we were getting nearer now, and could make out the features of its occupants quite distinctly. a more pitiable sight never met my eyes. her whole crew consisted of two white-faced lads, apparently about twelve or thirteen years old, dressed in loose blue cotton shirts and european trousers, but horribly pinched with hunger and thirst, and evidently so weak as to be almost incapable of clinging to the bare mast whence they were trying to signal us. now, you land-loving folk can hardly realize, i dare say, what such an incident means at sea; but to jim and me, who had sailed the lonely pacific together for five years at a stretch, that pathetic sight was full both of horror and unspeakable mystery. for anybody, even grown men long used to the ocean, to be navigating that awful expanse of water alone in an empty boat is little short of ghastly. just think what it means! a stormy sheet that stretches from the north pole to the south without one streak of continuous land to break it; a stormy sheet on which the winds and waves may buffet you about in almost any direction for five thousand miles, with only the stray chance of some remote oceanic isle to drift upon, or some coral reef to swallow you up with its gigantic breakers. but a couple of boys!--mere children almost!--alone, and starving, on that immense desert of almost untraveled water! on the atlantic itself your chance of being picked up from open boats by a passing vessel is slight enough, heaven knows! but on the pacific, where ships are few and routes are far apart, your only alternative to starvation or foundering is to find yourself cast on the tender mercies of the cannibal kanaka. no wonder i looked at jim, and jim looked at me, and each of us saw unaccustomed tears standing half ashamed in the eyes of the other. "stop her!" i cried. "lower the gig, tom blake! jim, we must go ourselves and fetch these poor fellows." at the sound of my bell the engineer pulled up the _albatross_ short and sharp, with admirable precision, and we lowered our boat to go out and meet them. as we drew nearer and nearer with each stroke of our oars, i could see still more plainly to what a terrible pitch of destitution and distress these poor lads had been subjected during their awful journey. their cheeks were sunken, and their eyes seemed to stand back far in the hollow sockets. their pallid white hands hardly clung to the mast by convulsive efforts with hooked fingers. they had used up their last reserve of strength in their wild efforts to attract our attention. i thanked heaven it was nassaline who kept watch at the mast-head when they first hove in sight. no european eye could ever have discovered the meaning of that faint black speck upon the horizon. if it hadn't been for the sharp vision of our keen polynesian friend, these two helpless children might have drifted on in their frail craft for ever, till they wasted away with hunger and thirst under the broiling eye of the hot pacific noontide. we pulled alongside, and lifted them into the gig. as we reached them, both boys fell back faint with fatigue and with the sudden joy of their unexpected deliverance. "quick, quick, jim! your flask!" i cried, for we had brought out a little weak brandy and water on purpose. "pour it slowly down their throats--not too fast at first--just a drop at a time, for fear of choking them." jim held the youngest boy's head on his lap, and opened those parched lips of his that looked as dry as a piece of battered old shoe-leather. the tongue lolled out between the open teeth like a thirsty dog's at midsummer, and was hard and rough as a rasp with long weary watching. we judged the lad at sight to be twelve years old or thereabouts. jim put the flask to his lips, and let a few drops trickle slowly down his burnt throat. at touch of the soft liquid the boy's lips closed over the mouth of the flask with a wild movement of delight, and he sucked in eagerly, as you may see a child in arms suck at the mouthpiece of its empty feeding-bottle. "that's well," i said. "he's all right, at any rate. as long as he has strength enough to pull at the flask like that, we shall bring him round in the end somehow." we took away the flask as soon as we thought he'd had as much as was good for him at the time, and let his head fall back once more upon jim's kindly shoulder. now that the first wild flush of delight at their rescue was fairly over, a reaction had set in; their nerves and muscles gave way simultaneously, and the poor lad fell back, half-fainting, half-sleeping, just where jim with his fatherly solicitude chose to lay him. tom blake and i turned to the elder lad. his was a harder and more desperate case. perhaps he had tried more eagerly to save his helpless brother; perhaps the sense of responsibility for another's life had weighed heavier upon him at his age--for he looked fourteen; but at any rate he was well-nigh dead with exposure and exhaustion. the first few drops we poured down his throat he was clearly quite unable to swallow. they gurgled back insensibly. tom blake took out his handkerchief, and tearing off a strip, soaked it in brandy and water in the cup end of the flask; then he gently moistened the inside of the poor lad's mouth and throat with it, till at last a faint swallowing motion was set up in the gullet. at that, we poured down some five drops cautiously. to our delight and relief they were slowly gulped down, and the poor white mouth stood agape like a young bird's in mute appeal for more water--more water. we gave him as much as we dared in his existing state, and then turned to the boat for some clue to the mystery. she was an english-built row-boat, smart and taut, fit for facing rough seas, and carrying a short, stout mast amidships. on her stern we found her name in somewhat rudely-painted letters, _messenger of peace: makilolo in tanaki_. clearly she had been designed for mission service among the islands, and the last words which followed her title must be meant to designate her port, or the mission station. but what that place was i hadn't a notion. "where's tanaki, tom blake?" i asked, turning round, for tom had been navigating the south seas any time this twenty years, and knew almost every nook and corner of the wide pacific, from yokohama to valparaiso. tom shifted his quid from one cheek to the other and answered, after a pause, "dunno, sir, i'm sure. never heerd tell of tanaki in all my born days; an' yet i sorter fancied, too, i knowed the islands." "there are no signs of blood or fighting in the boat," i said, examining it close. "they can't have escaped from a massacre, anyhow." for i remembered at once to what perils the missionaries are often exposed in these remote islands--how good bishop patteson had been murdered at santa cruz, and how the natives had broken the heads of mason and wood at erromanga not so many months back, in cold blood, out of pure lust of slaughter. "but they must have run away in an awful hurry," tom blake added, overhauling the locker of the boat, "for, see, she ain't found; there ain't no signs of food or anything to hold it nowheres, sir; and this ere little can must 'a' been the o'ny thing they had with 'em for water." he was quite right. the boat had clearly put to sea unprovisioned. it deepened our horror at the poor lads' plight to think of this further aggravation of their incredible sufferings. for days they must have tossed in hunger and thirst on the great deep. but we could only wait to have the mystery cleared up when the lads were well enough to explain to us what had happened. meanwhile we could but look and wonder in silence; and indeed we had quite enough to do for the present in endeavoring to restore them to a state of consciousness. "any marks on their clothes?" my brother jim suggested, with practical good sense, looking up from his charge as we rowed back toward the _albatross_, with the _messenger of peace_ in tow behind us. "that might help us to guess who they are, and where they hail from." i looked close at the belt of the lads' blue shirts. on the elder's i read in a woman's handwriting, "martin luther macglashin, 6, '87." the younger boy's bore in the same hand the corresponding inscription, "john knox macglashin, 6, '86." it somehow deepened the tragedy of the situation to come upon those simple domestic reminiscences at such a moment. "sons of a scotch missionary, apparently," i said, as i read them out. "if only we could find where their father was at work, we might manage to get some clue to this mystery." "we can look him up," jim answered, "when we get to fiji." we rowed back in silence the rest of the way to the _albatross_, lifted the poor boys tenderly on board, and laid them down to rest on our own bunks in the cabin. serang-palo, our malay cook, made haste at the galleys to dress them a little arrowroot with condensed milk; and before half an hour the younger boy was sitting up in jim's arms with his eyes and mouth wide open, craving eagerly for the nice warm mess we were obliged to dole out to his enfeebled stomach in sparing spoonfuls, and with a trifle of color already returning to his pale cheeks. he was too ill to speak yet--his brother indeed lay even now insensible on the bunk in the corner--but as soon as he had finished the small pittance of arrowroot which alone we thought it prudent to let him swallow at present, he mustered up just strength enough to gasp out a few words of solemn importance in a very hollow voice. we bent over him to listen. they were broken words we caught, half rambling as in delirium, but we heard them distinctly-"steer for makilolo ... island of tanaki ... wednesday the tenth ... natives will murder them ... my mother--my father--calvin--and miriam." then it was evident he could not say another word. he sank back on the pillow breathless and exhausted. the color faded from his cheek once more as he fell into his place. i poured another spoonful of brandy down his parched throat. in three minutes more he was sleeping peacefully, with long even breath, like one who hadn't slept for nights before on the tossing ocean. i looked at jim and bit my lips hard. "this is indeed a fix," i cried, utterly nonplussed. "where on earth, i should like to know, is this island of tanaki!" "don't know," said jim. "but wherever it is, we've got to get there." chapter iii. the mystery solved. we paused for a while, and looked at one another's faces blankly. "suppose," jim suggested at last, "we get out the charts and see if such a place as tanaki is marked upon them anywhere." "right you are," says i. "overhaul your maps, and when found, make a note of." well, we did overhaul them for an hour at a stretch, and searched them thoroughly, inch by inch, jim taking one sheet of the admiralty chart for the south pacific, and i the other; but never a name could we find remotely resembling the sound or look of tanaki. tom blake, too, was positive, as he put it himself, that "there weren't no such name, not in the whole thunderin' pacific, nowheres." so after long and patient search we gave up the quest, and determined to wait for further particulars till the boys had recovered enough to tell us their strange story. meanwhile, it was clear we must steer somewhere. we couldn't go beating wildly up and down the pacific, on the hunt for a possibly non-existent tanaki, allowing the _albatross_ to drift at her own sweet will wherever she liked, pending the boys' restoration to speech and health. so the question arose what direction we should steer in. jim solved that problem as easy as if it had come out of the first book of euclid (he was always a mathematician, jim was, while for my part, when i was a little chap at school, the asses' bridge at an early stage effectually blocked my further progress. i could never get over it, even with the persuasive aid of what dr. slasher used politely to call his _vis a tergo_.) "they're too weak to row far, these lads," jim said in his didactic way--ought to have been a schoolmaster or a public demonstrator, jim: such a head for proving things! "therefore they must mostly have been drifting before the wind ever since they started. now, wind for the last fortnight's been steadily nor'east"--the anti-trade was blowing. "therefore, they must have come from the nor'east, i take it; and if we steer clean in the face of the wind, we're bound sooner or later to arrive at tanaki." "jim," said i, admiring him, like, "you're really a wonderful chap. you do put your finger down so pat on things! steer to the nor'-east it is, of course. but i wonder how far off tanaki lies, and what chance we've got of reaching there by wednesday the tenth?" for though we didn't even know yet who the people were who were threatened with massacre at this supposed tanaki, we couldn't let them have their throats cut in cold blood without at least an attempt to arrive there in time to prevent it. of course, we knew with our one brass gun we should be more than a match for any melanesian islanders we were likely to meet with, if once we could get there; but the trouble was, should we reach in time to forestall the massacre? by wednesday the tenth we must reach tanaki--wherever that might be. jim took out a piece of paper and totted up a few figures carelessly on the back. "we've plenty of coal," he said, "and i reckon we can make nine knots an hour, if it comes to a push, even against this head wind. to-day's the sixth; that gives us four clear days still to the good. at nine knots, we can do a run of two hundred and thirty-six knots a day. four two-hundred-and-thirty-sixes is nine hundred and forty-four, isn't it? let me see; four sixes is twenty-four; put down four and carry two: four three's is twelve, and two's fourteen: four two's--yes, that's all right: nine hundred and forty-four, you see, ex-actly. well, then, look here, julian: unless tanaki's further off than nine hundred and forty-four nautical miles--which isn't likely--we ought to get there by twelve o'clock on wednesday at latest. nine hundred and forty-four miles is an awful long stretch for two boys to come in an open boat. i don't expect these boys can have done as much as that or anything like it." "wind and current were with them," i objected, "and she was drifting like one o'clock when we first sighted her. i shouldn't be surprised if she was making five or six knots an hour before half a gale all through that hard blow. and the poor boys look as if they might have been out a week or more. still, it isn't likely they would have come nine hundred knots, as you say, or anything like it. if we put on all steam, we ought to arrive in time to save their father and mother. anyhow we'll try it." and i shouted down the speaking tube, "hi, you there, engineer!--pile on the coal hard and make her travel. we want all the speed we can get out of the _albatross_ for the next three days." "all square, sir," says jenkins; and he piled on, accordingly. so we steamed ahead as hard as we could go, in the direction where we expected to find tanaki. half an hour later, nassaline, who had been down below with the malay cook and one of the men, looking after the patients, came up on deck once more, with a broad grin on his jet-black face from ear to ear, and exclaimed in his very best kanaka-english, "boy come round again. eat plenty arrowroot. eat allee samee like as if starvee. call very hard for see massa captain." "what do you think's the matter with them, nassaline?" i asked, as i walked along by his side towards the companion-ladder. nassaline's ideas were exclusively confined to a certain fixed and narrow polynesian circle. "tink him fader go sell him for laborer to a man _oui-oui_, or make oven hot for him," he answered, grinning; "so him run away, and come put himself aboard massa captain ship; so eat plenty--no beat, no starvee." it was his own personal history put in brief, and he fitted it at once as the only possible explanation to these other poor fugitives. "nonsense!" i said, with a compassionate smile at his innocence. "white people don't sell or eat their children, stupid! it's my belief, nassaline, we'll never make a civilized christian creature of you, in a tall hat, and with a glass in your eye. you ain't cut out for it, somehow. how many times have i explained to you, boy, that christians never cook and eat their enemies?... they only love them, and blow them up with gatlings or armstrongs--a purely fraternal method of expressing slight differences of international opinion.... now, come along down and let's see these lads. it's some of your heathen relations, i expect, the poor fellows are flying from." but i omitted to have remarked to him (as i might have done) that i hadn't seen such a painful sight before, since i saw the inhabitants of a french village in lorraine--old men, young girls, and mothers with babies pressed against their breasts--flying, pell-mell, before the sudden onslaught of a hundred and fifty christian prussian uhlans. these little peculiarities of our advanced civilization are best not mentioned to the heathen polynesian. in the cabin we found both boys now fairly on the high-road to recovery, though still, of course, much too weak to talk; but bursting over, for all that, with eagerness to tell us their whole eventful history. for my own part, i, too, was all eagerness to hear it; but anxiety for their safety made me restrain my impatience. the elder boy, now leaning on his elbow and staring wildly before him with horror--a mere skeleton to look at, with his sunken cheeks and great hollow eyes--began to break forth upon me with his long tale in full; but i soon put a stop to that, you may be pretty sure, with most uncompromising promptitude. "my dear mr. martin luther macglashin," i said severely, giving him the full benefit of all his own various high-sounding names for greater impressiveness, "if you don't lean back this moment upon your pillow, quiet your rolling eye down to everyday proportions, and answer only in the shortest possible words nothing but the plain questions i put to you, hang me, sir, if i don't turn you and john knox adrift again upon the wild waves, and continue on my course for levuka in fiji." "why, how did you come to know our names?" he exclaimed, astonished. "you must be as sharp as a lynx, captain." "that's not an answer to my question i asked you," i replied with as much sternness as i could put into my voice, looking at the poor fellow's starved white face. "but as a special favor to a deserving fellow-creature, i don't mind telling you. i'm as sharp as a lynx, as you say, and a trifle sharper: for no lynx would have looked for your names on the flap of your shirts--there, that'll do now; don't try to talk; just answer me quietly. where do you come from, and where do you want us to go to?" martin lifted up his face and answered with becoming brevity, "tanaki." "that's better!" i said. "that's the sort of way a fellow ought to answer, when he's more than half-starved with a week at sea. but the next thing is, where's tanaki?" "it's one of the group that used to be called the duke of cumberland's islands," the boy answered faintly, yet overflowing with eagerness. "they lie just beyond the ellice archipelago, nearly on the line of a hundred and eighty, as you go towards the union group along the parallel of".... "now, my dear boy," i said, "if you run on like that, as i said before, i shall have to turn you adrift again in your open boat at the mercy of the ocean. do be quiet, won't you, and let me look up your island?" "we can't be quiet," master john knox put in eagerly, "when we know they're going to murder our father and mother and calvin and miriam, on wednesday morning." "just you hold your tongue, sir," i said, pushing him down again on his bunk, "and wait till you're spoken to. now, not another word, either of you, till i've consulted my chart. jim, hand down the admiralty sheets again, there's a good fellow, will you?" jim handed them down, and we commenced our scrutiny at once. we soon found the duke of cumberland's islands, and as good luck would have it, found we were steering as straight as an arrow for them. the direction of the wind had not misled us. but no such place as tanaki could we still find anywhere. "it used to be called 'the long reef,'" martin said, looking up; "but now we call it by the native name, tanaki." "oh! the long reef," i said; "why didn't you say so at first? i know that well enough by sight on the chart; but i never heard it called tanaki before. that accounts, of course, for the milk in the cocoa-nut. jim, hand along the calipers here, and let's measure out the course. two--four--six--eight," i went on, looping along line of sailing with the calipers. "a trifle short of eight hundred miles. say seven hundred and eighty. and we have till wednesday morning. well, we ought to do it." "you'll be in time to save them, then!" the elder boy cried, jumping up once more like a jack-in-the-box. "you'll be in time to save them!" "will you be quiet, if you please?" i said, poking him down again flat, and holding my hand on his mouth. "o, yes! i expect we'll be in time to save them. if only you'll let us alone, and not make such a noise. we can do nine knots an hour easy, under all steam; and that ought to bring us up to tanaki, as you call it, by wednesday morning in the very small hours. let's see, we've got four clear days to do it in." "five," the boy answered. "five. to-day's friday." "no, no," i replied curtly. "will you please shut up? especially when you only darken counsel with many words. you're out of your reckoning. to-day's saturday, i tell you." and in point of fact, indeed, it really was saturday. "no, it's friday," martin went on with extraordinary persistence. "saturday," i repeated. "knife; scissors: knife; scissors." "but we got away from tanaki eight days ago," the boy declared strongly with a very earnest face; "and it was thursday when we left. i kept count of the days and nights all that awful time we were tossing about on the ocean alone, and i'm sure i'm right. to-day's friday." "jim," i said, turning to my brother, "what day of the week do you make it?" "why, saturday, of course," jim answered with confidence. i went to the bottom of the companion-ladder and called out aloud where the boy could hear me, "tom blake, what day of the week and month is it?" "saturday the sixth, sir," tom called out. "there, my boy," i said, turning to him, "you see you're mistaken. you've lost count of the time in this awful journey of yours. i expect you were half unconscious the last day and night. but, good heavens, jim, just to think of what they've done! they've been out nine days and nights in an open boat, almost without food or drink, and they've come all that incredible distance before the high wind. except with a ripping good breeze behind them they could never have done it." "for my part," said jim, looking up from his chart, "i can hardly understand how they ever did it at all. i declare, i call it nothing short of a miracle!" and so indeed it was: for it seemed as though the wind had drifted them straight ahead from the moment they started in the exact direction where the _albatross_ was to meet them. i'm an old seafaring hand by this time, and i may be superstitious, but i see the finger of fate in such a coincidence as that one. chapter iv. martin luther's story. for the next two days we went steaming ahead as hard as we could go in a bee-line to the northeastward, in the direction of the duke of cumberland's islands; and it was two days clear before those unfortunate boys, jack and martin--for that was what they called one another for short, in spite of their severely theological second names--were in a condition to tell us exactly what had happened, without danger to their shattered nerves and impaired digestions. when they did manage to speak--both at once, for choice, in their eagerness to get their story out--here's about what their history came to, as we pieced it together, bit by bit, from the things they told us at different times. if i were one of those writing chaps, now, that know how to tell a whole ten years' history, end on end, exactly as it happened, without missing a detail, i'd get it all out for you just as martin told us; or better still, i'd give it to you in a single connected piece, between inverted commas, as his own words, beginning, "i was born," said he, "in the city of edinburgh," and so forth, after the regular high-and-dry literary fashion. but how on earth those clever book-making fellows can ever remember a whole long speech, word for word, from beginning to end, i never could make out and never shall, neither. what memories they must have to do it, to be sure! it's my own belief they make it up more than half out of their own heads as they go along, and are perfectly happy if it only just sounds plausible. but anyhow, martin luther macglashin didn't tell us all his story at a single time, or in a connected way; he gave us a bit now and a bit again, with additions from jack, according as he was able. so being, as i say, no more than a free-and-easy master mariner myself, without skill in literature, i'm not going to try to repeat it all, word for word, to you precisely as it came, but shall just take the liberty of spinning my yarn my own way and letting you have in short the gist and substance of what we gradually got out of our two fugitives. well, it seems that jack and martin's father was, just as i suspected, a scotch missionary on the island of tanaki. he lived there with another family of missionaries of the same sect, in peace and quiet, as well as with an english merchant of the name of williams, who traded with the natives for calico, knives, glass beads and tobacco. for a long time things had gone on pretty comfortably in the little settlement; though to be sure the natives did sometimes steal mr. macglashin's fowls or threaten to tie mr. williams to a cocoa-nut palm and take cock-shots at him with a snider, out of pure lightness of heart, unless he gave them rum, square gin or brandy. still, in spite of these playful little eccentricities of the good-humored kanakas, who will have their joke, murder or no murder, all went as merrily as a wedding bell (as they say in novels) till suddenly one morning a french labor-vessel--i suspect the very one we had intercepted in the act of trying to carry off nassaline--put into the harbor in search of "apprentices." she was a very bad lot, from what the boys told us; a genuine slaver of the worst type; and she stirred up a deal of mischief at makilolo. [illustration: natives of the island of tanaki. page 58] on the shore the chief of tanaki was drawn up to receive them with all his warriors, tastefully but inexpensively rigged out in a string of blue beads round the neck, an anklet of shells and a head-dress of a single large yellow feather. "who are you?" shouts the chief at the top of his voice. "you man a _oui-oui_?" "yes," the frenchman shouts back in his pigeon-english. "me de commander of dis french ship. want to buy boys. must sell them to us. tanaki french island. discovered by bougainville." "no, no," says the chief in pigeon-english again. "tanaki no belong a man a _oui-oui_. tanaki belong a queenie england. capitaney cook find him long time back. my father little fellow then; him see capitaney, him tell me often. capitaney cook no man a _oui-oui_; him fellow english." the other natives joined in at once with their loud cry, "chief speak true. tanaki belong a queenie england. tanaki no belong a man a _oui-oui_. if man a _oui-oui_ want to take tanaki, man a tanaki come out and fight him." and they threw themselves at once into a threatening attitude. "have you got any englishmen here?" the french skipper called out, to make sure of his ground. "yes," says the missionary--our boys' father--standing out from the crowd. "three english families here. settled on the island. and we deny that this group belongs to the french republic." at that the frenchman pulled back a bit. when he saw there was likely to be opposition, and that his proceedings were watched by three english families, he drew in his horns a little. he knew if he interfered too openly with the missionaries' proceedings, an english gunboat might come along, sooner or later, and overhaul him for fomenting discord on an island known to be under the british protectorate. so he only answered in french, "well, we're peaceable traders, monsieur. we don't want to interfere with the british government. consider us friends. all we desire is to hire laborers." and he landed his boat's crew before the very face of macglashin and the tanaki warriors. at first, as often happens in these islands, the natives were very little disposed to trade with the strangers in boys or women, for they were afraid of the frenchmen; and macglashin and the other missionary did all they knew to prevent the new comers from carrying off any of the islanders into practical slavery. but after awhile the frenchmen produced their regulation bottles of square gin (that's what they call hollands in the south pacific), and began to treat the chief and the other savages to drinks all round, as much as you liked, with nothing to pay for it. in a very short time the chief had got so much liquor aboard that his legs wouldn't answer the rudder any longer, and he began to reel about like a perfect madman. most of the other full-grown men natives followed suit before long, and lay down on the beach half dead with drunkenness. perhaps the liquor was drugged; perhaps it wasn't; but anyhow, in spite of all the missionaries could do, the shore before nightfall was in a condition of the wildest and most bestial orgies. the men, in what the newspapers call "a high state of vinous exhilaration," were ready to sell their boys and girls, or anything else on earth for a little more gin; and as the missionaries were naturally helpless to prevent it, the frenchman was soon driving a roaring trade in flesh and blood against the drunken savages. the business-like way they went to work, jack and martin told us, was horribly disgusting. the women, indeed, they tried to wheedle and cajole--"you like go along a new caledonia along a me? only three yam times; then ship bring you back again. very good feed; plenty nyam-nyam. pay very good. pay money. lots of shop. you buy what you like: you buy red dress, red handkerchief, beads like-a-chiefie. no fight; no beat; no swear at you. you good girl; i good fellow master." but if they couldn't induce them, by fair words and promises and little presents of cheap french finery, to put their mark to their sham indentures, then they just knocked them down with a blow on the head, dragged them by their hair to the boats hard by, and got their fathers or husbands to put their marks, and receive a few dollars and some red cloth in payment. as for the boys, they handled them like so many animals in a market. "turn round, _cochon_! show me your faces! _mille tonnerres_, let me see how you can run, you dirty young blackguard!" they examined them as a veterinary would examine a horse. "why, there was our little fellow, nangaree," jack said to us with deep concern--"nangaree, that used to clean up things for mother at the mission-house: his father sold him for twenty dollars. the captain looked at his legs, and at the glands in his throat, to see if he'd had the chicken-pox and the measles. then he said to his mate, 'this lot's cheap enough. he's a first-rate lad, and can speak english. he'll do for the hold. bundle him along!' and the mate caught him up by the scruff of his neck and hauled him to the boats, kicking and screaming; and that was the last we saw of poor nangaree!" for three days and nights, it seems, this horrible inhuman market or slave-fair went on upon the beach, the frenchmen taking care to keep the natives well primed with spirits all the time, till they'd got their hold full, and were prepared to sail away again with their living cargo. then at last they upped anchor, and out of the harbor. but before they went, the skipper, it appears, who was angry at the missionaries for having interfered with him, and was afraid they might report his proceedings to the british government when next the mission ship came that way on her provisioning rounds, took aside the chief in a confidential chat, and tried to inflame his mind, all mad drunk that he was, against the english residents. apparently he had made so good a three days' work of it with his horrible trade, and found it so convenient to draw his supplies from this remote and almost unvisited island, that he thought it would be nice if before his next visit he could get rid altogether of these meddlesome strangers. he didn't want european witnesses to crop up against him in future; so he told the chief, with a great show of confidence, that macglashin and his friends were not english at all, but scotch; and he pointed out that it was uncomfortable for the natives to be interfered with in their trading operations by a set of white-livered curs who objected to the selling of boys and girls into temporary slavery. surely a chief had a right to do as he would with his own subjects! what else he said, heaven knows, but this is what happened as soon as the french, with their horrid cargo, had got well clear of the unhappy island. that very afternoon, the chief, beginning to get sober again, but quarrelsome from headache and the other after-effects of a long debauch, came round to the mission-house in a towering rage, and asked the unsuspecting missionary, "say, white man, are you a scotchman?" "yes," says macglashin, not knowing what was coming. "i'm a scotchman, chief, certainly. i was born in scotland." the chief laughed loud. "ha, ha," he said, "then queenie england no take care a you. no send gunboat to shoot us all dead, if man a tanaki come up and kill you." at that macglashin grew alarmed, and answered, "o, yes! the queen of england would certainly avenge us." and he tried to explain the exact relation in which scotchmen stood to the british crown--that they were just as much british subjects as englishmen, entitled to precisely the same amount of protection. but the chief couldn't be made to understand. the french skipper had evidently poisoned his mind against them. "man a tanaki don't want no scotchman interfere with chief when him go to sell him boy and him woman," the savage said angrily. "tanaki belong a queenie england. queenie england no want scotchman interfere with people in tanaki. scotchman better keep quiet in him house. queenie england no mind scotchman." and no amount of reasoning produced any effect upon him. the missionaries went to bed that evening with many misgivings. they felt that for the first time, so far as the natives were concerned, the powerful protection of the british flag was now practically withdrawn. they were alone, as strangers, among those excited black fellows. at dead of night, while the two boys slept, a horrible din outside the mission-house awoke them. they looked out, and saw the red glare of torches outside. a frightful horde of kanakas, naked save for their war-paint, drunk with the frenchman's rum and armed with his sniders, surrounded the frail building in a hideous mob of savagery. as martin put his head out of the lattice a bullet came whizzing past. he withdrew it for a moment, terrified, and then looked out again. as he did so the other scotch missionary appeared upon the veranda, half-dressed, and holding up his hand in dignified remonstrance, began in kanaka with his gentle mild voice, "my friends, my dear friends, ..." before he could get any further, the chief stepped forward, and aiming a blow at his gray locks with a sacred native tomahawk, felled the peaceful old teacher senseless to the ground. martin shuddered with horror. the old man lay weltering in a pool of his red gushing gore, while the savages danced in triumph over his prostrate body, or smeared themselves with great lines and circles of his warm heart-blood. "come on!" the chief cried in kanaka. "kill all! kill every one! they're taboo to our gods. don't fear their gunboats. queenie england won't trouble to protect a scotchman!" then began a hideous orgy of wild lust and slaughter. the savages rushed on, drunk with blood and rum, and dragged out the wife and children of the other missionary, whom they brained upon the spot, before the terrified eyes of the trembling macglashins. the trader williams ran up just then, with his revolver in his hand, followed by two faithful black servants from a neighboring island; but the french skipper had been cunning enough there too. "him a welshman!" the savages cried. "queenie england no care for him!" for indeed he happened to be born in wales. and they shot him down as he came, before he could open fire upon them. then they turned to massacre the macglashins, the only remaining europeans on the island. but just at that moment a sudden idea seemed to strike the chief. he cried out, "stop!" the savages fell back and listened with eagerness to what was coming. then the chief shouted out again in kanaka--"i have a thought. the gods have sent it to me. this is my thought. we have killed enough for tonight. let us catch them alive and bind them. next moon is the great feast of my father taranaka. i have an idea--a divine idea. let us keep them till that day, and then, in honor of the gods, let us roast them and eat them." [illustration: the savages fell back. page 70] the whole assembly answered with a wild shout of delighted assent--"taranaka! taranaka! our great dead chief! in honor of taranaka, let us roast them and eat them." so they rushed wildly on upon the defenseless white family, bound them in rude cords of native make, and carried them off in triumph to taranaka's temple tomb in the palm-grove. and that was as much as we could allow the boys to tell us at a time, of their strange adventures. we were afraid of overtaxing their strength at first, and tried to confine their attention as much as possible to tinned meats and sea-biscuit soaked in condensed milk; though i'm bound to admit that as soon as they began to recover appetite a bit, they addressed themselves steadily and seriously to their food, with true british pluck and perseverance. in spite of the terrors from which they had just escaped, they did the fullest justice to serang-palo's cookery. chapter v. a break-down. time went on, and the boys began to grow visibly fatter. it was tuesday evening, and we hoped, putting on all steam as we were doing, to reach tanaki by the small hours of wednesday morning, in good season to relieve the four unhappy souls still, as we believed, detained there in captivity. we were strained on the very rack of excitement, indeed, with our efforts to arrive before the savages could take any further step; and the boys' anxiety for their parents' and their sister's safety had naturally communicated itself to us, as we listened to their story. why, it was that very evening that martin had told us the rest of his strange tale--how his father and mother, with his younger brother calvin and his sister miriam, had been confined by the savages in the grass-hut temple, while he and jack were put to lie in an open out-house hard by, guarded only by a single half-intoxicated kanaka. well, in the middle of the night, those two brave boys had silently gnawed their ropes asunder, and creeping past their guard had stolen away to the beach in the desperate effort to escape in search of assistance. there, they luckily found the mission boat hauled down on the shore; and waiting only to take a can of water from the spring close by, and a bunch of half-ripe bananas from a garden on the harbor, they had put forth alone on their wild and adventurous voyage across the lone pacific. i can tell you, it brought the tears to our eyes more than once, rough sailors as we were, to hear the strange story of their hopeless sail, and it made our blood boil to learn how these ungrateful savages had repaid the earnest and devoted life-labor of the unhappy missionaries. "no wonder him hungry," that young monkey nassaline said, with profound condolence, "if him don't hab nuffin to eat for ten day long but unripe banana." anything that concerned the human stomach always touched a most tender and responsive chord in nassaline's sympathies. at eight bells when my watch was up, i went off for a quiet snooze to my cabin. i knew i should be wanted for hot work about three in the morning, for i didn't expect to effect the rescue without a hard fight for it; so i thought it best to get what sleep i could before arriving at the islands. so i lay in my berth, with my eyes shut, and a thin sheet spread over me (for it was broiling hot tropical weather), and i was just beginning to doze off in comfort, when suddenly i felt something move under me like a young earthquake. next minute i was jolted clean out of my bed, with such a jerk that i thought at first we were all going to sleep on the bed of the ocean. "halloo," i cried out to jim up atop, rushing out of my cabin. "what's up? anything wrong? what's happened?" "grazed a reef, i guess," jim shouted back, calmly. "no land in sight, but shoal water and breakers ahead. we seem to be in danger." cool chap, jim, under no matter what circumstances. but this looked serious. in a second i was up, and peering out over the bows into the dark black water. the _albatross_ had slowed, and was reversing engines. all round us we could see great heaving breakers. "no land hereabouts," jim sung out, consulting the chart once more. "we ought to be at least five miles to suth'ard of the great caycos band reef." as he spoke, i saw martin's white face appearing suddenly at the top of the companion-ladder. he flung up his hands in an agony of despair. "oh, how terrible!" the poor lad blurted out in his misery. "i ought to have remembered! i ought to have told you! father says the charts hereabouts are all many miles wrong in their bearings. the caycos reef lies six or seven knots south by west of the point it's marked at!" in a ferment of anxiety i turned up our other sydney charts at once to test his statement. sure enough there was a discrepancy, a considerable discrepancy, both in latitude and longitude, between the two maps. at the margin of one i read this vague and uncomfortable note--"these islands are reported by certain navigators to lie further south and west than here laid down, and have never been accurately surveyed by good authorities. careful navigation by day alone is recommended to master mariners." jim looked at me, and i looked at jim. what on earth could we do in such a fix as this? to go on in the dark, with unknown reefs before us, was to imperil the _albatross_ and all on board; to cast anchor where we stood and hold back till daylight was to risk not arriving in time to rescue the unfortunate missionary with his wife and family. i glanced at the boy's white face as he stood by the companion-ladder, and made up my mind at once. come what might, i must push forward and save them. "slow engines," i called down the pipe, "and proceed half-speed till further orders. jim, go for'ard, and keep a sharp eye on the breakers. as soon as we're clear, we'll steam ahead full pelt again, and risk going ashore sooner than leave these poor folks on the island to be cruelly massacred." "thank you," the boy said, with an ashy face, and lay down upon the deck, unmanned and trembling. his lips were as white, i give you my word, as this sheet of paper i'm this moment writing upon. for a hundred yards or so we slowed, and went ahead without coming to any further stop; then suddenly, a sharp thud--a dull sound of grating--a thrill through the ship; and jim, looking up from in front, with a cool face as usual, called out at the top of his voice, but with considerable annoyance, "by jove, we're aground again!" and so we were, this time with a vengeance. "back her," i called out, "back her hard, jenkins!" and they backed her as hard as the engines could spurt; but nothing came of it. we were jammed on the reef about as tight as a ship could stick, and no power on earth could ever have got us off till the tide rose again. well, we tried our very hardest, reversing engines first, and then putting them forward again to see if we could run through it by main force; but it was all in vain. aground we were, and aground we must remain till there was depth of water enough on the reef to float us. fortunately the tide was rising fast, and three hours more would see us out of our difficulties. three hours was a very serious delay; but i calculated if we got off the reef by two in the morning, we should still have time to reach tanaki pretty comfortably before seven. we must enter the harbor by daylight, no doubt, which would perhaps be dangerous; because when the savages saw us arrive, they might make haste to cut the white people's throats before we could get up to rescue them. but i thought it more likely they would try to save them, to prevent our opening fire upon them by way of punishment; so with what comfort we could, we stuck on upon the reef, and waited for the inevitable tide to come and float us. waiting for the tide is always slow business. at about half-past one, however, the water began to deepen under the ship, and we could feel her rise and fall--bump, bump, bump--with each onslaught of the breakers. now bumping on a reef isn't exactly wholesome for a ship's bottom, so i gave the word to jenkins for the engines to go to work again; and presently, after two or three unsuccessful attempts, we got her safe off, by energetic reversing, and found to our great delight that the _albatross_, like a tight little craft that she was, had sprung no leak, and was making no water. her sound old timbers had just grazed the surface of that flat-topped reef without suffering any serious internal injury. as soon as we were free, and had examined our hold, i shouted down once more, "now forward, boys, as hard as you can go, and mind, jenkins, you make her travel!" to my immense surprise, instead of obeying my orders, the _albatross_ suddenly stood stock-still in the trough of a wave, drifting helplessly about like a log on the ocean. "now then," i shouted down again, half angry and half alarmed. "what are you doing there, jenkins? didn't you hear what i said? stir your stumps, my friend! double time, and forward!" imagine my horror when the engineer shouted back in a voice of blank dismay, "i can't, sir. she won't work. don't answer to the valve. we've injured something in backing her off the reef there." this was an awkward job. and at such a crisis, too! in a minute i was down in the engine-room myself, inspecting all the valves and bearings with lamp in hand, and with the closest scrutiny. before long we had ascertained the extent of the injury. a piece of the engine was broken that would certainly take us six or eight hours to repair. and it was already two o'clock on the wednesday morning! but that wasn't all, either. another serious difficulty beset us in our work. we were beating about in the angry sea off the caycos reef, with the breakers dashing in, and the surf running high. if we tried to mend the broken engine where we stood, we should infallibly be dashed to pieces on the dangerous shallows. you can't go to work like that on a lee shore, with no engine to fall back upon, and the wind blowing half a gale. the only thing possible for us was to hoist sail and make for the open sea to southward under all canvas. that was taking us further away from tanaki, of course; but it was our one chance of getting our engine repaired in peace and quiet. so we hoisted sail and stood out to sea once more, leaving the dim long line of surf gradually behind us on the lee, and beating by constant tacks against the wind, which had now veered to the southeast, and was blowing us straight on to the caycos shallows. by four o'clock we'd got so far out that we thought we might lie to a bit and take a few hands off navigating duty to assist the engineer in repairing his engine. but it proved a much more difficult and lengthy task to retrieve the mischief than we had at first sight at all anticipated. the minutes went by with appalling rapidity. five o'clock came, and the smith was only just getting his iron well hammered into shape. six o'clock, and the engineer was still fitting the place it came from. seven o'clock--something wrong, surely, with the ship's time! before this hour i had hoped to be anchored off the harbor of tanaki. seven o'clock on wednesday morning; and by twelve at noon, so the boys assured us, the ovens would be made hot at taranaka's tomb for those unfortunate prisoners on the remote island! oh, how frantically we worked for the next two hours! and how remorselessly everything seemed to turn against us! how is it that whenever one's in the greatest hurry all nature seems to conspire to defeat one's purpose? i won't attempt to explain to you all the petty mishaps and unfortunate failures that attended our efforts. it seemed as if iron, wood, and coal--all inanimate matter itself--was banded together to make our further approach to tanaki impossible. by nine o'clock i knew the worst myself. the breakdown to the engine was far more serious than we had at first imagined. i felt sure that before noon at earliest, with all our skill and toil, we couldn't possibly repair it. but i shrank from telling those two poor trembling lads that there was no hope now left of saving their parents. gradually, however, as the day wore on, they discovered it themselves--they saw that the golden opportunity had been lost for us. as each hour passed by they told us with ever redoubled horror what they knew must at that moment be passing on the island. now the savages would be bringing their father out before the prison hut, and sacrificing him with their tomahawks by the hideous blood-stained altar of their great dead chieftain. now their poor mother would be crouching on the ground, trying in vain to protect their helpless little brother. now miriam herself, little golden-haired, three-year-old, innocent miriam--but at that last horror they broke down in tears, and could say no more. they could only sob and hide their faces in their hands with speechless agony at that unspeakable picture. by noon we knew the worst must be over. they were at rest now, poor souls, from their month-long misery. the afternoon dragged on and we still worked hard on the mere chance of some respite which might enable us to rescue them. but we felt sure the end had come for all that. we worked away by the mere force of pure aimless energy. it distracted us from thinking of the awful events which we nevertheless in our hearts felt certain must have happened. it was eight at night before we got the _albatross_ fairly under way again; and even then she lumbered slowly, slowly on, the engine being only somehow repaired, in the most clumsy fashion, till we could reach harbor once more, and quietly overhaul her. so we steamed ahead, feebly and cautiously, all night long, keeping a sharp lookout for land across our bows, and with martin on deck almost all the time, to aid us by his close personal knowledge of the island approaches. wednesday the tenth was over now. the terrible day had come and gone. we didn't doubt that the massacre was completed long before the clock struck one on thursday morning. chapter vi. on the island. at tanaki meanwhile, as we afterwards learned by inquiry among the islanders, things had been going on with the unhappy missionary very much as our worst fears had led us to expect. though i wasn't there at the time to see for myself, i got to know what happened a little later almost as well as if i'd been on the spot; so i shall take the liberty once more--not being one of these book-making chaps--of telling my story my own way, and explaining how matters went in rough sailor fashion, without trying to let you know in detail how we found it all out till i come to explain the upshot of our present adventures. well, on the night when martin and jack stole away from the hut and got clear off on their venturesome journey in the mission boat, their father and mother, with little calvin, who was eight years old, and miriam, who was a pretty wee lassie of three, were heavily guarded by half a dozen desperate and drunken savages in the temple-tomb of the deceased taranaka. it was a thatched native grass-house, with a bare mud floor, and a rough altar-slab raised high on the threshold, which covered the remains of the blood-thirsty old chieftain--the man who in his early youth had seen "capitaney cook" when he discovered the islands. the melanesian natives, i ought to tell you, regard their dead ancestors as a sort of gods or guardian spirits, and frequently offer up food and drink at their graves as presents to appease them. every morning gifts of taro, bread-fruit, and plantain were laid on the altar by taranaka's tomb; and once every ten days a little square gin, mixed with cocoa-milk, was poured out upon the rude slab of unsculptured stone, that the dead chief's ghost might come to drink of it and be satisfied. wednesday the tenth was the anniversary of taranaka's death (he had been killed in a fight with some neighboring islanders, who fell out with him over the wreck of an american whaling vessel), and it was on that festival day that the chief proposed offering up the blood of our fellow-countrymen as an expiation to the shades of his departed relative. macglashin and his wife never even knew that the boys had escaped. if they had, those long days of suspense might have been even worse for them. they might have been looking forward with mad hope to some miracle of rescue such as that which the _albatross_ had so boldly planned, and which had been so cruelly interfered with by the breakdown of our machinery. as it was, the savages carefully kept from them all knowledge of their boys' escape. they never even breathed a hint of that desperate voyage. every day, on the contrary, when they brought the unhappy missionary and his wife their daily rations of yam and banana, they taunted them with threats of what tortures the chief had still in store for jack and martin. they were fatting them up, they said, for taranaka to feed upon. on taranaka's day they would be offered up as victims on the cannibal altar. but the most terrible part of all the poor father and mother's sufferings was the fact that they couldn't keep the knowledge of that awful fate in store for them even from calvin and pretty little miriam. macglashin's diary, which i read later on, was just heartrending about the children. those helpless mites cowered all day long on the bare mud floor of that hideous temple, awaiting the horrible doom that the savages held out before them with the painful resignation of innocent childhood. they were too frightened to cry over it; too frightened to talk of it; they only crouched pale and terrified by their mother's side, and dragged out the long day in horrible apprehensions. they knew they must die, and they sat there watching for that inevitable sentence to be carried out with the stoical fortitude of utter childish helplessness. well, there--i'm an old hand on the sea, you know, and i don't mind the dangers of the wind and waves for grown men and boys that can look after themselves, any more than most of you land-folks mind dodging about in the strand at charing cross on a crowded afternoon in the london season; but i can't bear to talk or even to think of what those poor children suffered all those terrible days in the heathen tomb-house. there are things that make a man's blood run cold to speak about. that makes mine run cold: i can't dwell on it any longer; it's too ghastly to realize. so there--the days went by, one after another; and monday the eighth came, and tuesday the ninth, and still no chance of escape or rescue. up to the last moment, macglashin hoped (as he says in the diary) that some miracle might occur to set them free, some interposition of providence on their behalf to prevent the last misfortune from overtaking his poor pallid little miriam. perhaps the mission ship, that went her rounds twice a year, might happen to put in, out of due season, with some special message or under stress of weather; or perhaps some whaling vessel or some english gunboat might arrive in the nick of time in the little harbor of tanaki. but when tuesday evening came, and no help had arrived, the unhappy man's heart sank within him. he gave up that last wild hope of a rescue at the eleventh hour, and addressed himself to die with what courage he could muster. ah yes, to die one's self is all easy enough; nobody worth his salt minds that; but to see one's wife and children murdered before one's eyes--there, i'm a rough sort of sailor-body, as i said before, but you must excuse my breaking off. i haven't got the strength to hold my pen and write about it. why, i've a boy of my own at school at sydney, and my mary's in england, bless her little heart! at a lady's college they call it nowadays; and i know what it means; i know what it means, gentlemen. i'd no more expose those two dear children in the places i've been among the islands myself, than--well, than i'd send them to sea alone in a cock-boat. and my heart just bleeds for that poor father at tanaki, when i read his diary over again, though i haven't got the skill to put it all down in words at full length as one of those fellows would do that write for the newspapers. however, on tuesday night, neither macglashin himself nor mrs. macglashin could get a wink of sleep, as you may easily imagine. they sat up in the temple, with their backs against the wall, and relays of black fellows, armed with sniders, and smeared with red paint, watching them closely all the while, to see they didn't escape or try to do away with themselves. but calvin fell asleep out of pure fatigue on his mother's lap, and miriam, poor little soul, lay against her father's shoulder, dozing as peacefully as ever she dozed in her own small cot at the mission-house, where she was born. once the thought came into her father's mind, oughtn't he to twist his handkerchief round her soft little throat, as she lay there all unconscious in his circling arms, to save her from the tender mercies of those cruel black savages? how could he tell what torments they might inflict upon her? wasn't it better she should be spared all that horror of fear? wasn't it better she should just sleep away her dear little life without ever knowing it, till she woke next morning in a happier and a brighter country? but in another minute his heart recoiled from the terrible thought. while there was still one chance of safety he must let things take their course. perhaps even those black monsters might have pity at the last on that one ewe lamb. perhaps they might spare his miriam's life, and make her over to the mission-ship when it next arrived on its rounds at the island. all that night long the savages, for their part, were holding a _sing-sing_, as they call it, close by, and the hideous noise of their heathenish revels could be distinctly heard by the watchers in the temple. they danced to the music of their hollow drums, while the shells upon their ankles resounded in unison. at times the echo of horrible laughter fell harsh upon the ear. the natives, covered with red feathers and smeared with blood, were keeping high festival, as is their horrid custom. and as the long hours wore away, the din of their revelry became more wild in their orgies each moment. morning dawned at last--the morning of wednesday the tenth, when that awful deed of bloodshed was to be done before the open eye of heaven; and with the first streak of light the poor children awoke and gazed around them blankly at their temple prison. the black watchers brought them yam and mammee-apples once more, but they couldn't eat; they sat bewildered and mute, with their hands clasped in their parents' palms, waiting for the end, and too dazed and terrified almost to know what was passing. about six o'clock the chief came down to the temple, with bloodshot eyes and tottering feet, attended by half a dozen naked black followers. they had all been drinking the greater part of the night at the _sing-sing_, for the frenchmen had left plenty of square gin behind; and they rollicked in the cruel good-humor of the born savage. "how do, macglashin?" the chief inquired with a hateful leer. "how do, white woman? taranaka day come at last. how you like him this morning? what for you no tell man a tanaki sooner you don't know englishman? ha! ha! dat true; so him see. queenie england no care for scotchman." "if you dare to touch a hair of our heads," macglashin cried in his despair, rising up and facing the savage angrily, "sooner or later, i tell you, the queen of england will hear of it, and she'll send a gunboat to punish you for our death, and her sailors'll shoot you all down for your part in this murder." the chief laughed--a wild, horrible, barbaric laugh. "ha! ha!" he answered. "dat all very fine for try frighten me. but man a _oui-oui_ tell me you no true englishman. you speakee english, but you scotchman born. all samee american. queenie england no care for american, no care for scotch; no send her gunboat for look after scotchman. man a tanaki go for eat you to-day, for do honor to ghost a taranaka." macglashin saw that words would produce no effect upon the tipsy and excited wretch; he must make up his mind for the worst. there was no help for it. "at least," he cried, "chief, you'll let us say good-by to our boys before we die? you'll bring them in for their mother and me to take our last farewell of them?" the chief shook his head and made a hideous grimace. "no say good-by to boys," he said, with horrible glee. "man a tanaki kill pig all night; kill scotchman in morning. kill baby first; then boy; then mother. last of all, kill you yourself, macglashin. taranaka very much love white man's blood. great day to-day for feast for taranaka." and he went off again, grinning in hideous buffoonery, while macglashin's soul seethed in speechless indignation. for half an hour more they were left undisturbed. then the chief appeared at the door once more, and beckoning with his long black forefinger, called to the missionary-"come out, macglashin!" the unhappy man strode out with little miriam half-fainting in his arms. "come out, white woman!" the savage cried once more. the pale mother, almost unable to totter with terror, made her way to the door, with calvin's fingers intertwined in her own. "now, white people, we going to shoot you," the savage continued, unabashed. "you make too much trouble for man a tanaki. interfere too much with man who sell him boy or him woman. me don't going to kill you with axe, like taranaka kill first missionary that come a tanaki. man a _oui-oui_ sell me plenty snider. man a tanaki want to try him shooting-irons. set you up to run, and then go fire at you." at the word he nodded, and four stalwart savages caught macglashin in their arms and held him to a line drawn lightly in the dust by the chief's stick. at the same moment four others caught his unhappy wife, and dragged her, half senseless, to the self-same line. the two children were ranged by their sides, pale and white with terror. then the chief walked forward, and drew another line some forty yards in front of them with his stick again. "when chief call 'go,'" he called out, "man a tanaki let go missionary, and boy, and white woman. missionary run till him reach dis line. man a tanaki no shoot till missionary pass dis line. den man a tanaki fire; missionary run; man a tanaki run after missionary to kill him. whoever shoot missionary or white woman first, give him body up in temple to taranaka." as he spoke, the savages ranged themselves behind, sniders in hand. the chief placed himself in order at their head on the right. then he called out in kanaka, "when i give the word--'one, two, three'--loose them! when i give the word fire! off with your rifles at them." there was a deadly pause. all was still as death. then the chief cried aloud, "one--two--three--loose them!" and the savages loosed the poor terrified europeans. even in that supreme moment of agony and doubt, however, one thought kept rising ever in the father's and mother's heart. what had become of jack and martin? chapter vii. errors excepted. it was thursday the eleventh, in the small hours of the morning. the _albatross_ was lumbering along as best she might with her broken engine, and we were nearing the line of 180°. we weren't making much way, however, for the speed was low; and we hadn't so much reason for hurrying now, for we felt almost hopeless of being in time to prevent the threatened massacre. our people, we feared, had long since fallen victims to the superstition and bloodthirstiness of the ungrateful savages. i was asleep in my berth after the fatigues of the day, and was dreaming of my dear little girl in england; when suddenly i felt a clammy cold hand laid upon my own outside the coverlet, and waking with a start, i saw martin luther standing pale and white in his blue shirt and trousers before me. i knew at once by his face something fresh had turned up. "goodness gracious, boy," i exclaimed, "what on earth's the matter now?" "captain braithwaite," he answered with very solemn seriousness, "i've been counting the days over and over again, and i'm quite sure there's a mistake somewhere. we've got a day wrong in our reckoning, i'm certain. i've counted up each day and night a hundred times over since we left tanaki in the boat--jack and i--and i feel confident you're twenty-four hours out in your reckoning. yesterday wasn't wednesday the tenth at all. it was tuesday the ninth, and we may yet reach tanaki in time to save them." "no, no, my boy," i answered, "you're wrong; you're wrong. your natural anxiety about your father's fate has upset your calculations. to-day's the eleventh; yesterday was the tenth. till we get to the meridian of 180°"--and then, with a start, i broke off suddenly. "what's the matter?" martin cried, for he saw at once i was faltering and hesitating. "ah, you see i was right now. you see this morning's the tenth, don't you?" in a moment the truth flashed across me with a burst. i saw it all; the only wonder was how on earth i had failed so long to perceive it. i seized the poor lad's hand in a fervor of delight, relief and exultation. "martin," i cried, overjoyed, "we are both of us right in our own way of reckoning. this morning's the eleventh on board the _albatross_ here, but it's the tenth, i don't doubt, in your island at tanaki!" "what do you mean?" he cried, astonished, and gazing at me as if he thought me rather more than half-mad. "how on earth can it be thursday here, while it's wednesday at tanaki?" "hold on a bit, youngster," said i, jumping out of my cabin, "till i've consulted the chart and made quite sure about it. let me see. here we are. duke of cumberland's islands, 179° west. hooray! hooray!" i waved the chart round my head in triumph. "jim, jim!" i shouted out, rushing up the companion-ladder in my night-shirt as i stood; "here's a hope indeed! here's splendid news. put on all steam at once and we may save them yet. tanaki's the other side of 180!" jim looked at me in astonishment. "why, what on earth do you mean, julian?" he asked. "what on earth has that to do with our chance of saving them?" "jim," i cried once more, hardly knowing how to contain myself with excitement and reaction; "was there ever such a precious pair of fools in the world before as you and me, my good fellow? it's wednesday morning in tanaki, man! it's wednesday in tanaki! tanaki's the other side of 180!" as i said the words, jim jumped at me like a wild creature and grasped my hand hard. then he caught martin in his arms and hugged him as tight as if he'd been his own father. after that he threw his cap up in the air and shouted aloud with delight. and when he'd quite finished all those remarkable performances, he looked hard into my face and burst out laughing. "well, upon my soul, julian," he said, "for a couple of seasoned old pacific travelers, i do agree with you that a pair of bigger fools and stupider dolts than you and i never sailed the ocean!" "if it had been our first voyage across now," i said to jim, feeling thoroughly ashamed of myself for my silly mistake, "there might have been some excuse for us!" "or if the boy hadn't told us there was a discrepancy in the accounts the very first day he ever came aboard," he added solemnly. "but as it is," i went on, "such a scholar's mate, such a beginner's blunder as this is for two seafaring men--why, it's absolutely inexcusable!" "absolutely inexcusable!" jim repeated, penitently. "but if we clap on all steam we may get there yet on wednesday morning," i continued, consulting my watch. "by three or four o'clock on wednesday morning," jim echoed, examining the chart once more, and carefully noting the ship's position. "why, it's wednesday now, julian. we've crossed 180°." "but what day was yesterday?" martin asked, all trembling. "why, yesterday," i answered, "was wednesday the tenth, my boy; but to-day is wednesday the tenth also. it comes twice over at this longitude. we've gained a day; that's the long and the short of it. we ought to have known it, my brother and i, who are such old hands at cruising in and out of the islands; but our anxiety and distress made us clean forget it." "how does that come about?" martin asked bewildered, his lips white as death. "just like this," said i. "sailing one way, you see, from england, you sail with the sun; and sailing the other way, you sail against it. in one direction you keep gaining time, and in the other you lose it." "the meridian of 180° is the particular place where the two modes of reckoning reach their climax," i hastened to add. "so, when you get to 180°, sailing west, you lose a day, and saturday's followed right off by monday. but sailing east, you gain a day, and have two sundays running, or whatever else the day may be when you happen to get there. now, we're going in the right direction for gaining a day; and so, though yesterday was wednesday the tenth the other side of 180°, to-day's wednesday the tenth, don't you see, this side of it? and as tanaki's this side, your people must always have reckoned by the american day, so to speak, while we've reckoned all along by the australian one. it's this morning those savages threatened to kill your father and mother, and if we make a good run, we shall still perhaps be in time to save them." as i spoke, the boy's knees trembled under him with excitement. he staggered so that he caught at a rope for support. he was too much in earnest to cry, but the tears stood still in his eyes without falling. "oh! i hope to heaven we'll be in time," he answered. "we may save them! we may save them!" i went below and turned in once more for a little sleep, for i knew i should be wanted later in the morning; and having fortunately the true sailor's habit in that matter of dozing off whenever occasion occurred, i was soon snoring away again most comfortably on my pillow. at half-past three, tom blake came down once more to wake me. "land in sight, sir," he said, "on our starboard bow, and this young fellow martin says he makes it out to be the north point of tanaki." in a minute i was on deck again, and peering at the dim land through the gray mist of morning--the same gray mist through which, as we afterwards learned, the poor creatures in the heathen temple saw the dawn break of the day that was to end their earthly troubles. it was tanaki, no doubt, for martin was quite sure he could recognize the headlands and the barrier reef. our only question now was how next to proceed. we held a brief little council of war on deck, with martin as our chief adviser on the local situation. from what he told us, i came rapidly to the conclusion that it would be useless to attempt an open entrance into the little harbor of makilolo, where the chief had his hut, and where the mission-people, as we believed, were still confined in the temple. to do so would only be to arouse the anger of the savages beforehand; and unless we could get them well between a cross fire, and so effectually prevent any further outrage, we feared they might massacre the unhappy people in their hands the moment we hove in sight to enter the harbor. but here our friend martin's local knowledge of the archipelago helped us out of our difficulty. he could pilot us, he said, to a retired bay at the back of the island, by the east side, where we could land a small party in boats, well armed with sniders and our winchester repeater; and jack, who had slept all night, and was therefore the fresher of the two, would show us a path through the thick tropical underbrush by which we could approach the village from the rear, while the _albatross_ ran round again with the remainder of the crew, and brought our brass thirty-pounder to bear upon the savages from the open harbor. this plan was at once received with universal approbation, and we proceeded forthwith to put it into execution. steering cautiously round the island, under cover of the mist, and fortunately unperceived by the assembled natives, who were too much occupied with their _sing-sing_ to be engaged in scanning the offing, we reached at last the little retired bay of which martin had spoken, and got ready our boat to land our military party. it was ticklish work, for we could afford to land only ten, all told, with jack for our guide; but each man was armed with a good rifle and ammunition, and the habit of discipline made our little band, we believed, more than a match for those untutored savages. nassaline, also, joined the military party, while seven men were left as a naval reserve. silently and cautiously we landed on the white sandy beach, and turned with jack into the thick tangled brake of tropical brushwood. meanwhile, my brother jim, with martin to guide him, undertook to take the _albatross_ round to the regular harbor; for martin fortunately knew every twist and turn of those tortuous reef-channels, having been accustomed to navigate them from his childhood upwards, both in the mission-boat and in the native canoes which frequently put to sea for the _bêche-de-mer_ fishery. our plan of action, as arranged beforehand, was for the military party to wait about in the woods at the back of the village till the _albatross_ hove in sight off the mouth of the harbor. then, the moment she appeared, she was to fire a blank shot towards the chief's hut with her thirty-pounder; and at the same moment, we of the surprise party were to fall upon the savages, and before they could recover from their first surprise, demand the instant restitution of the missionary and his family. everything depended now upon the two boys. if jack failed to show us the path aright--if martin drove the _albatross_ upon reef or rock--all would be up with us, and the savages would massacre our whole party in cold blood, as they proposed to do with macglashin and his little ones. i trembled to think on how slender a thread those four precious human lives depended. after all, they were but lads, mere children almost, and the rash confidence of youth might easily deceive them. but i decided, none the less, to trust to their instincts and their keen affection for their friends to see us through in our need. if that wouldn't lead us right, i felt sure in my own soul no human aid could possibly save the unhappy prisoners. chapter viii. hot work. jack led us from the beach over the white coral sand straight up to the wood, and after looking about for a while to make sure of his bearings among the huge fallen logs, hit at last upon a faint trail that led straggling through the forest--a trail scarcely worn into the semblance of a path by the bare feet of naked savages. following his guidance, we plunged at once, with some doubtful misgivings, into the deep gloom of the woodland, and found ourselves immediately in a genuine equatorial thicket, where mouldering trunks of palms encumbered the vague path, and great rope-like lianas hung down in loops from the trees overhead, to block our way at every second step through that fatiguing underbrush. the day was warm, even as we travelers who know the world judge warmth in the tropical south pacific; and the moist heat of that basking, swampy lowland, all laden with miasma from the decaying leaves, seemed to oppress us with its deadly effluvia and its enervating softness at every yard we went through the jungle. moreover, we had to carry our arms and ammunition among that tangled brake; and as our rifles kept catching continually in the creepers that drooped in festoons from the branches, while our feet got simultaneously entangled in the roots and trailing stems that straggled underfoot, you can easily imagine for yourself that ours was indeed no pleasant journey. however, we persevered with dogged english perseverance; the sailors tramped on and wiped their foreheads with their sleeves from time to time; while poor jack marched bravely at our head with an indomitable pluck which reflected the highest credit on mr. macglashin's training. the only one who seemed to make light of the toil was our black boy, nassaline. we went single file, of course, along the narrow trail, which every here and there divided to right or left in the midst of the brake with most puzzling complexity. at every such division or fork in the track, jack halted for a moment and cast his eye dubiously to one side and the other, at last selecting the trail that seemed best to him. nassaline, too, helped us not a little by his savage instinct for finding his way through trackless jungle. for my own part, i could never have believed any road on earth could possibly be so tortuous; and at last, at the end of the twenty-fifth turn or thereabouts, i ventured to say in a very low voice (for we were stealing along in dead silence), "why, jack, i believe you're leading us round and round in a circle, and you'll bring us out again in the end at the very same bay where we first landed!" "hush!" jack answered, with one finger on his lip. "we're drawing near the outskirts of the village now. you must be very quiet. i can just see the grass roof of taranaka's temple peeping above the brushwood to the right. in three minutes more we shall be out in the open." and sure enough he told the truth. almost as he ceased speaking, the noise of savage voices fell full upon my ear from the village in front, and i could hear the natives, in their hideous corroboree, beating hard upon their hollow drums of stretched skin, and shouting in the dance to their drunken comrades. it was a ghastly noise, but it did our hearts good just then to hear it. i could almost have clapped my hand upon jack's back and given him three cheers for his gallant guidance when we saw the village plot opening up in front of us, and the naked savages, in their war-paint and feathers, guarding the door of taranaka's temple. but the necessity for caution compelled me to preserve a solemn silence. so we crouched as still as mice behind a clumpy thicket of close-leaved tiro bushes, and peeped out from our ambush through the dense foliage to keep an eye upon the scene till the _albatross_ hove into sight in the harbor. "my father and my mother must still be there," jack whispered under his breath, but in a deep tone of relief. "the tanaki men are guarding them exactly as they did when martin and i left the island. i almost think i can see miriam's head through the open door. we shall be in time still to deliver them from these bloodthirsty wretches." "in what direction must we look for the _albatross_?" i whispered back. "will she come in from the south there?" "o, no!" jack answered in a very low voice. "that's an island to the right--a little rocky island that guards the harbor. there's deep water close in by the shore that side. martin 'll try to bring her in the northern way, so that the natives mayn't see her till she's close upon the village. it's a difficult channel to the north, all full of reefs and sunken rocks; but i think he understands it, he's swam in it so often. we won't see her at all till she's right in the harbor and just opposite the temple." we were dying of thirst now, and longing for drink, but could get nothing to quench our drought. "what i would give," i muttered to tom blake, "for a drink of water!" "if captain want water," nassaline answered, "me soon get him some." and he made a gash with his knife in the stem of a sort of gourd that climbed over the bushes, from which there slowly oozed and trickled out a sort of gummy juice that relieved to some degree our oppressive sensations. all the men began at once cutting and chewing it, with considerable satisfaction. it wasn't as good as a glass of british beer, i will freely admit; but still, it was better than nothing, any way. by this time it was nearly half-past six, and we watched eagerly to see what action the natives would take as soon as they finished their night-long _sing-sing_. lying flat on the ground, with our rifles ready at hand, and our heads just raised to look out among the foliage, we kept observing their movements cautiously through the thick brushwood. at a quarter to seven we saw some bustle and commotion setting in on a sudden in front of the temple; and presently a tall and sinister-looking native, who, jack whispered to me, was the chief of tanaki, came up from the village, where the _sing-sing_ had taken place, and stood by the door of the thatched grass-house. we could distinctly hear him call the missionary to come out in pigeon english; and next moment our unfortunate countryman staggered forth, with his little daughter half fainting in his arms, and stood out in the bare space between the tomb of taranaka and the spot where we were lying. oh! how i longed to take a shot at that miscreant black fellow. at sight of his father, worn with fatigue and pale with the terror of that agonizing moment, jack almost cried aloud in his mingled joy and apprehension; but i clapped my hand on his mouth and kept him still for the moment. "not a sound, my boy, not a sound," i whispered low, "till the time comes for firing!" "shall we give it them hot now?" tom blake inquired low at my ear next moment. but i waved him aside cautiously. "not yet," i answered, "unless the worst comes to the worst, and we see our people in pressing and immediate danger; we'd better do nothing till the _albatross_ heaves in sight. her gun will frighten them. to fire now would be to expose ourselves and our friends there to unnecessary danger." "all right, sir," tom murmured low in reply. "you know best, of course. but i must say, it'd do my 'eart good to up an' pepper 'em!" "come out, white woman!" we heard the chief say next with insolent familiarity; and mrs. macglashin stepped out, a deplorable figure, with her boy's hand twined in hers, and her white lips twitching with horror for her little ones. it made one's blood boil so to see it that we could hardly resist the temptation as we looked to fire at all hazards, and let them know good friends were even now close at hand to help and deliver them. "whether the _albatross_ heaves in sight or not," i whispered to tom blake, "we must fire at them soon--within five minutes--and sell our lives as dearly as we can. i can't stand this much longer. it's too terrible a strain. come what may, i must give the word and at them!" "quite right, sir," says tom. "what's the use of delaying?" and, indeed, i began to be terribly afraid by this time there was something very wrong indeed somewhere. could martin have missed his way among those difficult shoals, and run our trusty vessel helplessly on the rocks and reefs? it looked very like it. they were certainly overdue; for even at the present crippled rate of speed, the good old _albatross_ had had plenty of time, i judged, to round the point and get back safe again into the deep water of the harbor. if she failed in this our hour of need, the natives would surround us and cut us to pieces in a mass, for our best reliance was in our solid brass thirty-pounder. i began to tremble in my shoes for some time for the possible upshot. over and over again i glanced eagerly towards the point for that longed-for white nose of hers to appear round the corner. at last, unable to restrain my curiosity any longer, i rose to my feet and peered across the bushes. as i did so, i saw the savages seize macglashin in their arms, and range the four poor fugitives in a line together. my blood curdled. the chief and the ten savages with the sniders stood in a row, half fronting us where we lay. macglashin and his wife were fortunately out of line of fire for our rifles. "now, we can delay no longer," i cried. "he means murder. the moment the black fellow gives the word of command, fire at once upon him and his men, boys. take steady aim. no matter what comes. let the poor souls have a run for their lives, any way." as i spoke, the chief uttered in kanaka the native words for "one, two, three," with loud drunken laughter. at the sound of the chief's voice, the savages loosed the four wretched europeans. at the very same sound we all fired simultaneously--and six of the black monsters fell writhing on the ground, while the chief and the four others, taken completely by surprise, dropped their rifles in their supreme astonishment. "forward, boys, and secure them!" i cried, dashing out into the open, and waving my hat to the astounded missionary. "here we are, sir. run this way! we're friends. we've come to your rescue. catch the chief at once, lads; and hooray for the _albatross!_" for just as i spoke, to my joy and relief, her good white nose showed at last round the point; and next instant, the boom! boom! of her jolly brass thirty-pounder, fired in the very nick of time, completed the discomfiture of the astonished savages. before they knew where they were, they found themselves hemmed in between a raking cross-fire from our sniders on one side, and the heavy gun of the _albatross_ on the other. the tables were now completely turned. we charged at them, running. macglashin, seizing the situation at a glance, caught up one of the rifles belonging to the wounded men, which had been flung upon the ground, and, hardly yet realizing his miraculous escape, joined our little party as an armed recruit with surprising alacrity. for the next ten minutes there was a terrible scene of noise and confusion. the blacks advanced upon us, swarming up from the village like bees or wasps, and it was only by a hand-to-hand fight with our bayonets--for we had fortunately brought them in case of close quarters--that we kept our dusky enemy at bay. at last, however, after a smart hand-to-hand contest, we secured the chief, and tied him safely with the rope he had loosed from macglashin. then we seized the remaining sniders that lay upon the ground, while the men of the village, drunk and stupefied, began to fall back a little and molest us from a distance. "now, put the lady and children in the center, boys," i cried, at the top of my voice, "and let the chief march along with us as a hostage. down to the shore, while the _albatross_ boat puts out to save us!" then i turned to the savages, and called out in english, "if any one of you dares to fire at us, i give you fair warning, we shoot your chief! hold off there, all of you!" to my great delight, nassaline, standing forward as i spoke, translated my words to them into their own tongue, and waving them back with his hands made a little alley for us through the midst to regain the shore by. smart boy, nassaline! after a moment, however, the natives once more began to crowd round us, as we started to march, in very threatening attitudes, with their sniders and hatchets. at one time i almost thought they would overpower us; but just then jim, who was watching the proceedings with his glass from the deck of the _albatross_, and saw exactly how matters stood, created a judicious diversion at the exact right moment by firing a little grape-shot plump into the heart of the grass huts of the village, and bowling over a roof or two before the very eyes of the astonished savages. they fell back at once, and began to make signs of desiring a parley. so we halted on the spot, with the lady and children still carefully guarded, and held up our handkerchiefs in sign of truce. then nassaline, aided by our sailor who understood the kanaka language, began to palaver with them. he told them in plain and simple terms we must first be allowed to take the lady and children in safety to the _albatross_, and that we would afterwards come back to treat at greater length with their head men as to the chief's safety. to this, after some demur, the black fellows assented; and we beckoned to jim accordingly by a preconcerted sign to send the boat ashore to us, to fetch off the fugitives. at the same time we retreated in military order, in a small hollow square, to the beach, still taking good care to protect in the midst our terrified non-combatants. as for the chief, he marched before us, with his hands tied, and his feet free, led by a rope, the ends of which i held myself, with the aid of two of my sailors. a more ridiculously crestfallen or disappointed creature than that drunken and conquered savage at that particular moment it has never yet been my fate to light upon. we reached the beach in safety, and sent mrs. macglashin and the children aboard, with jack to accompany them. then we turned to parley with the discomfited savages. jim kept the thirty-pounder well pointed in their direction, with ostentatious precision, and we made them hold off along the beach at a convenient distance, where he could rake them in security, while we ourselves retained the chief in our hands, with a pistol at his head, as a gentle reminder that we meant to stand no nonsense. after a few minutes' parley, conducted chiefly by our kanaka-speaking sailor, with an occasional explanation put in by our assistant-interpreter, nassaline, we arrived at an understanding, in accordance with which we were to return them their chief for the time being, on consideration of their bringing us down to the beach all the macglashins' goods, and making restitution for the sack of the mission-house in dried cocoa-nut, the sole wealth of the island. those were the terms for the immediate present, as a mere personal matter: for the rest, we gave the chief clearly to understand that we intended to sail straight away with all our guests for fiji, there to lay our complaint of his conduct before the british high commissioner in the south pacific. we would then charge him with murder and attempted cannibalism, and with stirring up his people to massacre the other missionary, and the trader freeman. we would endeavor to get a gunboat sent to the spot, to make official inquiry into the nature of the disturbances, and to demand satisfaction on the part of the relations of the murdered men. finally, we would also lay before the commissioner the conduct of the french labor-vessel, and her kidnaping skipper, who had instigated the savages to their dastardly attack, and whom i was strongly inclined to identify with the captain from whose grip we had rescued our friend nassaline. we gave the chief to understand, therefore, that he must by no means consider himself as scot free, merely because we let him go unhurt till trial could be instituted by the proper authorities. he must answer hereafter for his high crimes and misdemeanors to the queen's representative. to all of which the penitent savage merely answered with a sigh: "me make mistake. kill missionary by accident. man a _oui-oui_ tell me queenie england no care for scotchman, an' me too much believe him. now captain tell me queenie send gunboat for eat me up, and kill all my people. no listen any more to man a _oui-oui_." and then we put off in triumph to the _albatross_. the family meeting that ensued on board when macglashin stood once more upon a british deck with his wife and children, i won't attempt--rough sailor as i am--to describe: i don't believe even the special correspondent of a morning paper could do full justice to it. to see those two lads, too, catch their pretty little sister once more in their arms, and cover her with kisses, while she clung to their necks and cried and laughed alternately, was a sight to do a man's heart good for another twelvemonth. and as we sat that same evening round the cabin-table (where our malay cook had performed wonders of culinary art for the occasion), and drank healths all round to everybody concerned in this remarkable rescue, the toast that was received with the profoundest acclamations from every soul on board, was that of the two brave boys whose courage and skill had guided us at last, as if by a miracle, to the recovery of all that was nearest and dearest to them. indeed, if martin and jack don't get the victoria cross when we return to england, i shall have even a lower opinion than ever before of her majesty's confidential political advisers of all creeds or parties. transcriber notes: passages in italics were indicated by _underscores_. small caps were replaced with all caps. throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of the speakers. those words were retained as-is. the illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up paragraphs and so that they are next to the text they illustrate. thus the page number of the illustration might not match the page number in the list of illustrations, and the order of illustrations may not be the same in the list of illustrations and in the book. errors in punctuation and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected unless otherwise noted. on page 32, "to" was replaced with "too". on page 35, "aud" was replaced with "and". on page 39, "inportance" was replaced with "importance". on page 82, "reparing" was replaced with "repairing". on page 97, "macglasin's" was replaced with "macglashin's". the flying bo'sun a mystery of the sea by arthur mason new york henry holt and company 1920 copyright, 1920 by henry holt and company dedicated to the memory of my mother whose sympathy made it possible for me to go to sea contents chapter i. off for the south seas, with few clothes but a stout heart 3 chapter ii. the storm--tattered and torn but still on the ocean 13 chapter iii. beecham's pills are worth a guinea though they cost but eighteen pence 25 chapter iv. personalities--omens and superstitions of old charlie 33 chapter v. the shark--"to hell with shark and ship" 44 chapter vi. the tin-plate fight--one-eyed riley triumphs 52 chapter vii. in which the captain wounds his hand 61 chapter viii. the bo'sun lights--the captain's death 68 chapter ix. the showdown--swanson takes the count 76 chapter x. burial at sea--in which riley officiates 83 chapter xi. astral influences--the crew's version of the unknown 91 chapter xii. the cook's watch--materialism versus astralism 100 chapter xiii. higher intelligence--a visit from out the shadows 107 chapter xiv. christmas day--our unwilling guest the dolphin 117 chapter xv. crimp and sailor--the cook's marxian effort 123 chapter xvi. the montana cowboy--a horse-marine adventure 130 chapter xvii. the fragrant smell of the alluring palms 141 chapter xviii. suva harbor--the reef and the lighthouses 146 chapter xix. introducing captain kane, mrs. fagan and mrs. fagan's bar 151 chapter xx. reminiscences of old clipper days 158 chapter xxi. unloading cargo--again the master--native police. 163 chapter xxii. shore leave--the web-toed sailor--the missionary ship 173 chapter xxiii. fiji royalty--local color--visitors to the ship 187 chapter xxiv. a drive with captain kane--razorback rampant 194 chapter xxv. homeward bound--the stowaway 202 chapter xxvi. the mysterious hindoo 211 chapter xxvii. the hurricane 220 chapter xxviii. the master returns 228 chapter xxix. the home port 238 introductory note hardship is a stern master, from whom we part willingly. but it is often true that real men learn thereby to handle their fellow-men, to love them, and to make the most of their own manhood. in no class is this more marked than among those who have been formed by the training of the sea. hundreds have lost their lives there, hundreds more have been coarsened through ignorance and because of rough living, but the survivors, who have used what god gave them of brain and muscle to the best advantage, are a lot of men to be trusted mightily. i am proud to have known such men, and to have lived the life that made them what they are, and, above all, proud to have sailed before the time when steam began to drive the square-rigger from the seas. therefore i have ventured to set before the public a narrative of my own experience, somewhat condensed, but little changed, even in some parts that may seem hard to believe, but sailors are known to be superstitious. should this book fall into the hands of other sailors, i think it will interest them, and landsmen may care for the truthful record of a day that is almost gone. a. m. the flying bo'sun chapter i off for the south seas, with few clothes but a stout heart her name was the "wampa," graceful to look at, with her tall and stately masts, rigged with fore and aft sails. she was known as one of the fastest schooners sailing to the southern seas. that afternoon in december found her loading lumber in a rather quaint saw-mill town on the puget sound. her captain, who was a swede, was tall and handsome and had none of the earmarks of the old salt. he seemed to be very nervous as he walked up and down the poop deck. once he called out, "olsen, put one more truck load on, then get your deck lashings ready. she is down now, she has eight inches of water on the after deck." with that he jumped ashore saying, "if i can find a mate we will sail this evening." as i stood there viewing her yacht-like lines and noticing the shark's fin on her bowsprit, i was satisfied that she was in a class by herself. as he turned to go i said, "captain, do you need a mate?" "are you a mate? if you can get your trunk and bag on board we will sail within an hour." "but i have neither bag nor trunk. if you want me you will have to take me as i stand." "have you a sextant?" "no, but i can borrow one from the tug boat captain. he never leaves sight of land. i am sure he will rent it to me for this voyage." "very well," said he. "get your sextant, and we will find some way of getting rubber boots and oil skins," and off he strolled up to the company's office. two hours later, with the deck lashings set up, tug boat alongside, everything ready for our voyage, our captain sang out "let go forward, starboard your helm, murphy,"--the tug boat gave a "toot, toot," and we were off for the open sea. by this time i had a chance to size up the crew. the second mate was a short, thick, heavy-set dane, seemingly a good sailor. our cook was a greasy, dirty-looking german and, from what few words i had with him, showed that he was a socialist. the sailors were dagoes, irish, swedes and russian finns. with the wind freshening as we neared the open sea, the captain sang out, "mr. mate, loose and set the foresail and main jib." with the gaskets off i gave the order to hoist away. i noticed one very large swede hardly pulling a pound. i say "large"; he stood six feet or more and weighed upwards of two hundred. "what is your name?" said i. he looked me over and said, "why?" i said "you must pull some more or you will never know what your name was." i decided that now was the time to take care of this sea lawyer. the foresail was about half up. i gave the order to make fast. i said to this big swede, "come here, i have something to say to you." "if you want me come and get me." "very good," and with that i caught him with a strangle hold and dragged him across the deck. then i released him. "now tell me what your name is." he looked amazed and humiliated, and in a hoarse voice said, "swanson." i said, "swanson, i want you to work, and work your share." he said, "you ban good steerman." steerman is the swedish for mate. "well then, swanson, let us get those sails up." just then the captain came forward saying, "what in hell is the matter? why don't you get those sails on her?" "captain," i replied, pointing to swanson, "this man did not quite understand me. hoist away on your throat and peak halyards." up went the foresail as if by magic, then the main jib and inner jib, the tug boat gave three long whistles, signalling "let go your hawser." i heard the captain sing out, "mr. mate, up with your mainsail and spanker." "aye, aye, sir." in a few minutes all sail was set. the captain gave the course south one-half west and went down below. i immediately took my departure, and entered it in the log book. the wind was free, about two points abaft the beam. i put the taff-rail log over the side and settled down for our trip to the sunny south. as it was getting late in the evening, i went forward to talk to the second mate about picking our watches. it is always customary for the mate to take the ship out, and the captain to bring her home. this meant that i would have eight hours watch the first night out. the mate has always the privilege of choosing the first man, and by doing this the big swede fell to the second mate. because i was sure i would have trouble with him, i tossed him into the starboard watch. after the watches were set, and the wheel relieved, i heard the supper bell ring. as i was hungry i made for the cabin, and took a seat across from the captain. out of the pantry came the socialist cook with two plates of soup. the captain was not very talkative, thinking i was a low-grade mate, since i was minus trunk and bag. the cook eyed me rather curiously when i passed up the onion soup. i understood later that it was only on rare occasions he ever gave way to cooking so delicate a dish. should any one be so misguided as to refuse to eat it they might count the galley their enemy forever. with supper over i went on deck to relieve the second mate. he looked to me as if there would be no trouble between him and the cook and onion soup. as it was now my watch from eight to twelve, i had the side lights lit and my watch came on deck to relieve the wheel and lookout. i may mention here some of the sailors in my watch. well, broken-nose pete took his turn at the wheel, and one-eyed riley took the lookout. then there was dago joe and a dane by the name of nelson, who seemed rather quiet and unassuming. also charlie who was forever looking up at the clouds. the wind was freshening up and she was listing over with the lee rail in the water. i went aft to take a look at the log. she was doing ten knots and doing it easy. "well," thought i, "if she can do ten with lower sails and topsails, she will do twelve with the fisherman's staysails on." so i gave the order to bend and hoist away and no sooner were they set and sheets flattened aft than she began to feel them. it seemed that those staysails were all that were holding her back to show me she was worthy of the shark's fin on the flying jib boom. the captain was walking up and down the poop deck smoking a cigar, seemingly in good humor with his new mate. as i was going aft, i noticed that she had broached to somewhat. she seemed to want to shake herself clear of all her canvas. i ran to the man at the wheel: "what in hell is the matter with you? can't you steer?" i cried. "yes, sir, i can steer very well, but since you put those staysails on her i can hardly hold her in the water." "keep her on her course," i warned him, "or you will hear from me." i went to the rail to look at the log. it was getting dark, and i had to strike a match to see. sure enough, she was making twelve and a quarter. just then the captain came up and told me to take in the staysails, as she was laboring too much. i was going to protest, but, on second thoughts, i bowed to the ways of deep-water captains: "obey orders, if you break owners." "captain, you have a pretty smart little ship here." "yes," said he. "she passed everything on her last trip to mayhew, new caledonia, but one has got to know and understand her to get the best out of her." right here i knew he was giving me a dig for daring to set the staysails without his orders. tossing the butt of his cigar overboard, he started to go below saying "call me if the wind freshens up or changes. but call me at eight bells anyway." the night grew brighter. a half moon was trying to fight her way out from behind a cloud, ever-hopeful of throwing her silver rays on the good ship "wampa." with the sound of the wash on the prow, and the easy balanced roll, with occasional spray from windward, i felt that after all the sea was the place for me. just then the lookout shouted, "light on the starboard bow, sir." i said, "all right," and reached for the binoculars. a full rigged ship was approaching on the port tack. "port your helm, let her come to." when we had her on the lee, i sang out, "steady as she goes." as we passed under her quarter, what a beautiful living thing she seemed in the shadows of the night,--and in my dreaming i was near forgetting to keep our ship on her course again. by this time hunger, that familiar genius of those who walk the decks, was upon me again. nothing tastes better than the time-honored lunch late during the watches at night. i found for myself some cold meat, bread and butter, and coffee in the pantry. i called the second mate as it was nearing eight bells, twelve o'clock. i felt tired and sleepy and knew that nothing short of a hurricane would awake me from twelve to four. up on deck dago joe struck eight bells, i took the distance run on the log, and was turning around to go down and call the captain, when swanson came aft to relieve the wheel. he looked me over very critically and muttered something to himself. as i went down the companion way to report to the old man, i saw the socialist cook standing in my room. "here, mr. mate, is a blanket for you. i know you have no bedding." i thanked him and thought, "well, the socialist cook is kind and observant and socialism is not bad after all." i called the captain, then went to my room for a well-earned sleep. chapter ii the storm: tattered and torn but still on the ocean olsen, the second mate, called me at four o'clock. when i came on deck the sky was overcast, and looked like rain. from the log i found that she had made thirty-eight miles during the middle watch. "if she keeps this up for forty-eight hours," i thought, "we shall be abreast of san francisco." she could not travel fast enough for me, going south, for with only one suit of clothes and a socialist blanket, latitude 46° north in december was no place for me. the cook came aft with a mug of coffee that had the kick of an army mule. it is seldom the cook on a wind-jammer ever washes the coffee pot. pity the sailor, forward or aft, who would criticize the cooking! one must always flatter the pea-soup, and the salt-horse, and particularly the bread-pudding, if one expects any consideration. the captain stuck his head out of the companion-way, and from his expression i knew that he was minus the mocha. "how is the wind?" said he. "it has hauled a little aft, sir, about northwest." "get the staysails on and steer south," and he dived below, looking for the cook, i suppose. i went forward to see if any sails needed sweating up. i called broken-nosed pete and riley to take a pull on the main boom topinlift. "pete, what happened to your nose?" "it is a long yarn," said he, "and some night in the tropics i shall spin it." it was now breaking day. the cook was coming forward to the galley, singing "shall we always work for wages?" behind him strolled toby, the big black cat, who seemed very much in command of the ship. seven bells, and breakfast, some of the same beefsteak, with the elasticity of a sling-shot, and other trimmings. the captain seemed more talkative. "i understand that we are bound for suva, fiji islands," said i. "yes, and i expect to make it in about fifty days, for with this breeze and a smooth sea, we shall be with the flying-fish before long." "that will be very convenient for me, sir." ("no, no more coffee, thank you, steward.") ("steward" is more appropriate than "cook," and gives him a dignity befitting his position in the presence of officers, while forward he is pleased to be called "doctor." but that title is seldom used, as it depends upon the good-nature of the crew.) "warm sailing will indeed be convenient for you," said the captain. "how did you lose your clothes? shipwrecked? here, steward, take away this bourbon brand," (handing him the condensed milk). "i see the flies have found it." "no, sir, not shipwrecked. my last trip, from guaymas, was full of incidents, especially in the gulf of california. it took us six days, with light, baffling winds and thunder-storms, to make cape st. lucas. while we were rounding the cape, lightning struck the mizzen-top, destroying the mutton-leg spanker and setting fire to the chafing gear. luckily for us, the sails were damp. as it was the lightning ran forward on the tryatic stay, and broke our forestay at the night-head."-"steward," interrupted the captain anxiously, "don't feed toby too much. that old lime-juicer that was lying next to us at the loading dock was alive with rats, and i am afraid that we have our share. you say," turning to me, "that the forestay was carried away?" "yes, sir, and that was not all. when she pitched aft, the spring-stays buckled, and snapped our topmast clean out of her. we let all the halyards go by the run. i have been going to sea for many years, but never have i seen a mess like the old 'roanoke.' with the topmast hanging in the cross-trees, sails, booms and gaffs swinging all over the deck, she looked as if she had been through a hurricane. but after cutting away the topmast rigging, and letting the topmast go by the run (watching the roll, of course, so that they would be sure to clear the bulwark rail), we got a ten-inch hawser from the lazarette to replace the one that had been carried away. with the deck cleared, and lower sails set, she was able to lay her course again, and after thirty-two days we crippled into port. "while lying in bellingham, our port of discharge, i was relating my experience to a few old salts, men with whom i had sailed in other seas. there happened to be a land-lubber who questioned my story. he called me a liar. i said, 'you beat it.' he reached for his hip pocket. instantly i swung for his jaw. he went down and i walked away. later i met the night policeman. 'you had better get across the line till this blows over,' he said. 'the doctor says that he has a broken jaw.' "in vancouver shipping was light, so i took a job in a logging-camp running an old ship's donkey-engine hauling logs. wells, the logging company went broke, and i with them, and that is my reason for not having any clothes." "what became of the man with the broken jaw?" asked the captain. "i heard that he bought a gas motor cycle; they were new in the east then. he had one shipped to bellingham, and ran it without a muffler. it made such a noise that horses ran away, and chickens flew about, and eventually the townspeople ran him out of town." it was now past eight bells, and from the angry sound of olsen's feet on the deck above, i knew that he could take care of what steak was left. "well," said the captain, "that reminds me of an experience i once had on the 'glory of the seas,' off river plate. not an electrical storm, but worse, a squall without warning. you have to relieve olsen now, so i will finish some other time in your watch below." the cook was in the pantry, humming his favorite song, omitting the words. it was my watch below, but i remained long enough on deck for olsen to finish his breakfast. away towards the eastward the sky was blood red, and the northwest wind was dying out. if the old sailor's adage holds good, then "a red sky in the morning, sailors take warning." i had been familiar with those signs in the northern pacific for years. in the winter time it usually meant a gale. when olsen returned, i laid out the work to be done during the forenoon. "get together your reef-earrings, have your halyards coiled down ready for running," i said. "we may have a blow before long." "yaw," said the dane, "i don't like the sky to the eastward." in the cabin, the captain was sorting over some old letters. "here," said he, "is a picture of my two boys. they are living in berkeley. their mother died two years ago while i was in south america. the doctor said it was t. b." with tears in his eyes he said, "i suppose it had to be, but don't you know, they are quite happy. they are living with their aunt. oh, children forget so soon, so soon." picking up the pictures, and with a look of hatred in his eyes he said, "the sea is no place for a married man." at seven bells i came on deck to take the meridian altitude of the sun. it was now partly cloudy, and hard to get a clear horizon, as the sun would dive in and out from behind the clouds. what little wind there was came from the southeast. "i guess we shall have to rely on your dead reckoning," said the captain, "the barometer is dropping, and it looks as if we are in for a gale." at four o'clock in the afternoon it commenced to blow from the southeast. we took in staysails, topsails and flying-jib. she was close-hauled and headed southwest. in the first dog-watch the wind increased. "call all hands," said the captain, "we must reef her down." the spanker-boom projected over the stern about twenty feet. it was no easy matter reefing this sail, with the wind and sea increasing and her shipping an occasional sea. there was some danger of one's being washed overboard and very little chance of saving a life. but now was the time to find out if our sailors were from the old school. i loved the storms, and the wild raging seas and angry skies,--no sea gull ever enjoyed the tempest more than i. "here you, johnson, nelson and swanson, lay out on the boom, haul out and pass your reef-earring, and be quick about it." swanson said: "i'll not go out there. the foot-rope is too short." "by god, you'll go out there if i have to haul you with a handy billy." "yes, damn you, get out there," roared the captain. "you call yourself a sailor; it is a beachcomber you are!" the captain worked himself into a rage. "by heavens, we will make sailors of you before this trip is over." swanson with a look of rage, decided that an alternative of the boom-end with an occasional dip into the raging sea underneath and elevation on high as she rolled, was much preferable to what he could expect should he refuse to obey orders. with the spanker and mainsail close-reefed we were pretty snug. "if the wind increases it will be necessary to heave her to; that will do; the watch below," said i. old charlie was coiling down ropes. "mr. mate, look out for swanson, i just heard him say that this ship is too small for you and him. he is very disagreeable in the foc'sle. he and one-eyed riley came near having a scrap over the sour beans at noon today." three hours later the wind increased to a living gale. before we could let go the halyards it blew our foresail away. "my god," cried the captain, "and brand new. just begged my owners for it. six hundred dollars gone to hell! get the mainsail and inner jib off lively. heave her to under the main jib." speaking to the man at the wheel: "don't let her go off, damn you, let her come to, and put your wheel in 'midships." throughout the night the wind kept up, with the seas battering our deck-load, until there was danger of having it washed overboard. but about seven o'clock in the morning it abated some. the old ship had the expression of a wet water-spaniel coming out of the water before shaking himself. defiant as she was to race away from storm and strife, she was hopelessly crippled by the mountainous sea that was trying to swallow her up in its angry roll. "never mind about anything," said the captain, "get the damned old spare foresail up anyway, we will have to patch it and get it onto her. olsen, how do the stores and flour look? yes, it is aft on the port side." "the rats have torn two sacks of flour open, sir." "great god, have they gotten in there already? run and get toby, and put him down there, i will attend to the lazarette hatch myself from now on." so saying, he walked, to the rail and levelled his glass at an approaching ship. out of the murky horizon loomed up the u. s. transport "dix," with troops bound for manila to aid in the capture of aguinaldo. as she passed us to windward old charlie remarked, "there will be few aboard of her to eat breakfast this morning, the way she pitches and rolls." it was plain to be seen that the captain was in no mood for comedy this particular morning. with the loss of his new foresail, and rats in the flour, and worst of all forgetting to wind the chronometer, a fatal result of his preoccupation with the storm, he was the picture of a man doomed to despair, and i, for one, approached him very gingerly. with a look of disdain at old charlie, he said, "to hell with breakfast! all you beachcombers think of is eating. haul the gaff to windward. bend on the old foresail, or we shall be blown clear across to japan." towards noon the wind let up a little, enough to carry lower sails. even with a heavy sea we were able to make five and one-half knots, but were off our course four points, as the wind was still south southeast. "mr. mate, the captain wants to see you." "all right, olsen." in the cabin the captain was walking in a circle. "damn it all," he cried, "why couldn't _you_remind me to wind the chronometer?" "i did not know that you had one on board, sir." "hell and damnation! go to sea without a chronometer? who ever heard of such a thing!" swinging his arms wildly over his head, he said, "where in blazes did you go to sea?" "captain," said i, "i have made a twenty-thousand mile trip without a chronometer with old captain sigelhorst in the bark "quickstep," not so long ago. we can surely get our position from a passing ship, and if not, we can make land, say off san diego, and easily correct our position for greenwich time." "well, it is a damned poor business, anyway." just then we were interrupted by olsen, who reported to the captain that swanson was sick and refused to come on deck. chapter iii beecham's pills are worth a guinea though they cost but eighteen pence in those days, twenty years ago, sailing schooners had few men before the mast, and every man was called upon to do a man's work. if one of the crew were sick, it usually caused a great deal of trouble both fore and aft. in bad and stormy weather it was not uncommon for the old and seasoned sailor to play sick, provided he could get away with it. the usual symptom was lame back, so that the appetite might not be questioned. when the ship would emerge into fine weather, marvel of marvels, the sailor would recover in a moment. "sick, is he?" said the captain, and pointed to me, saying: "go forward and see what the trouble is." "i am sure," i replied, "that he will be on deck before long, sir." "all i have in the medicine chest is pills, yes, damn it, pills," and he waved me forward. in the forecastle swanson was lying in his bunk with the blankets pulled up over his head, sound asleep, and beside him, lying on a bench, was all that remained of a breakfast piece of hardtack, and a large bone, with teethmarks in the gristle. "well," thought i, "if he is getting as close to the bone as this, he can't be very sick." i awoke him, saying: "what is the matter with you, swanson? why aren't you on deck? this is not your watch below." he rolled over as if in great agony. "mr. mate, i ban very sick man." "where are you sick?" "i ban sick on this side," pointing to the right side. "stick out your tongue. yes, indeed, you are a very sick man. can't eat, i suppose." he answered me with a grunt as if in mortal pain. i went aft and asked the captain for a few pills. "give me five." "hell, take ten. how is he?" "i will have him on deck in a few hours, sir." after swanson had swallowed the last pill i said, "you are feeling much easier now, aren't you? of course, this treatment will relieve you, but only temporarily. i am positive that you have a very bad case of appendicitis." this seemed to please the swede very much. "but," said i, "it is very unfortunate that we are running into another storm, the pitching and rolling of the ship will be bad for you." he looked me fair in the eye, saying, "why?" "well, it may be either death or an operation for you very soon." "i tank de pain go down," pointing to his hip. "yes, swanson, that is the most pronounced symptom of all," i said, pathetically. "you lie still while i go aft and see what kind of cutlery the captain has." "captain," i asked, when i was once more on deck, "what kind of pills were those that you just gave me for swanson?" "beecham's pills, and five is a very large dose. i have had them by me for years. as a boy i was introduced to them by the north sea fishermen," he proceeded solemnly. "you know they advertise them on the sails of luggers, smacks and sloops, in fact, wherever you look in the north sea, irish sea or english channel you can always see beecham's pills go sailing by." towards evening the weather broke clear with the wind hauling towards the northeast and eastward, and the prospects looked good for better weather. about nine o'clock the cook came running aft, crying, "mr. mate, swanson is very sick, and the crew think that he is going to die." "what is the matter with him now?" said i, very coolly. "he has terrible cramps. russian-finn john and broken-nosed pete have all they can do to hold him in the bunk." "you go to the galley, steward, and get a quart of warm water. you can give it to him while john and pete hold him, and i have no doubt that in this case riley will be glad to help. is that he groaning?" "yes," said the steward, trembling, "he is in terrible agony." "have you given him anything to eat for supper?" "my god, yes, he has gorged himself on corned beef and cabbage." "well," thought i, "he has reason to roll and groan." "get that hot water," i continued aloud, "and be quick about it. if anything happens to him after this you will be to blame. the idea of feeding corned beef and cabbage to a man with a high fever!" the cook waited to hear no more. all i could see was the dirty apron flying for the galley. the captain, hearing us talking from the cabin, shouted out, "what is all that noise up there?" "nothing much, sir; she is now laying her course with the wind free." this was hoping to distract him with weather conditions from asking whom i dared to talk with on the poop deck. discipline must be adhered to on windjammers. mates and second mates give their orders in whispers, but never loud enough to awaken his majesty the captain. the mates are held in high esteem by the crew when they see the captain conversing with them, but for one of the crew to come and carry on a conversation with an officer when he is aft in his sacred precinct, the poop deck, is considered a crime, and ranks almost next to mutiny. evidently he thought that i was giving some orders to the crew, for he closed the porthole, and did not ask me the question. on my way forward to see how the steward was getting along with his mission, and while abreast the forerigging, old charlie tapped me on the shoulder and pointed toward the forecastle saying: "mr. mate, swanson is a very sick man. he thinks that you have given him poison, sir, and"--stepping close to me, "i feel that something is going to happen on this ship." "what makes you think that?" said i. pulling his old hairy cap down around his ears, and settling down for a long yarn, he said: "in the winter of 1875 i was in a ship off the cape of good hope. we lost three sailors overboard--" "i am in a hurry, charlie, you will be too long--" "i have had queer dreams lately, sir," he interrupted. "tell me some other time," said i, "i must see the swede." down in the forecastle riley was comforting swanson in the uncertain language of the sea, while the cook held his head, eyeing me, and saying very softly, "i don't think that it is the cabbage, sir." "what is it then," said i, "i only gave two grains of quinine to reduce his fever. stand back, there, so that i can get a look at him. how are you now, swanson?" as i said this, the words of the advertisement occurred to me, "beecham's pills are worth a guinea, though they cost but eighteen pence." there was no bluffing with the swede. he was sick in good earnest now. "i think i ban poisoned, mr. mate." "no, swanson, you have not been poisoned. you must be operated on, and at once." "begob, sir," said riley, with a wink at me, "and sure it is myself that knows how to carve. i will be after helping you, sir." "thank you, riley, it is a dirty job, and i should much prefer that you would do it." "let me up," yelled the swede. "hold him down, men," said i. "you know that he is out of his head from fever, and it would be dangerous for him to get up until after the operation." it now dawned upon swanson that i was in earnest about the operation. for a one-eyed irishman and his enemy to cut a hole in him was more than he could bear. with a wild plunge that hurled his captors to right and left, he jumped from his bunk, and raced for his life up the ladder that led to the deck. seven bells in the morning, and with a fine sailing breeze, we were leaving behind the sleet and storms for those who sail the northern latitudes. "i saw swanson on deck this morning," said the captain. "yes, sir, he is better. i don't think that we shall have any more trouble from him in that direction." chapter iv omens and superstitions of old charlie four days later a tramp steamer hove in sight. we signaled him, and asked for his position. he signaled back, giving latitude and longitude. he was about a mile to the eastward of us. we set and wound our chronometer, and considered this luck indeed, as the captain expressed it. he seemed quite happy, and, with an expression of confidence on his face, remarked: "well, we are all right again. you know i was very much worried about forgetting to wind the chronometer. i have been master for fourteen years, and this is the first time that i have neglected to do it. i have heard from old-timers that it is considered a bad omen." "i don't believe in any such superstitions," said i. here he called to the cook, who was throwing slop overboard from the galley: "have you given toby any water today?" "yessir," said the cook, and cursed a large black and white gull for eating more than his share of the scraps that were floating by. "toby wants for nothing, sir. in fact, he has been getting out of the lazarette lately." the captain did not hear this last remark. he was watching the remains from the galley to see if there was any waste. old sailors say they can tell how ships feed by the number of gulls who follow in her wake. * * * * * (now follow some extracts from my diary, kept during a portion of this trip.) for the last week we have been having fine weather. the cook and crew seem to be very friendly. i notice that during the dog-watch from six to eight they gather around the mainmast. there the cook has a barrel in which he freshens salt meat. in this watch he puts it to soak. this evening he must have been carried away with his subject, for he was talking loudly and very excitedly, exclaiming: "that is it exactly, and here we are. what are we getting? nothing. and to think that we are the slaves of the owners--" some one interrupted, i believe that it was the russian-finn, saying: "i'll bet they," meaning the owners of our ship, "don't have to eat this old salt horse three times a day." riley voiced in with: "begorra, and it's crame in their tay they are having, and divil a thimbleful do we get here." this last expression from the irishman pleased the cook, who brought his fist down sharply on the pork-barrel, crying: "and, men, your only salvation lies in the ballot-box." the cook's ballot-box amused me. who ever heard of a sailor voting? out of ten of our crew, we had not one american citizen! our position at noon today was 17°.24 north latitude,--longitude 142°.10 west. the wind has been steady from the northeast for the last forty-eight hours. i am satisfied that this is the commencement of the trade-winds. during the middle watch i was very sleepy, and decided to walk on the deck load as far forward as the mainmast, and back again, and so on. i noticed one of the crew standing against the weather main-rigging. as the night was dark, i could not make him out, and, remembering old charlie warning about the big swede having it in for me, i stepped over to the fife rail and pulled out a belaying-pin, thinking that it might come in handy in case this ghost-like figure started anything. but just then he lit his pipe, and from the rays of the match i could make out the features of old charlie himself. "charlie," i said, "you scared me." "i have been standing here thinking, sir. have you noticed the bo'sun flying low lately, sir?" the "bo'sun" old charlie alluded to is a tropical bird, snow-white with an exquisite tail, and flies very fast and usually very high. it is a common tradition among sailors that this beautiful bird is the embodiment of the souls of drowned sailors. "no, charlie," said i, "i haven't noticed them." taking a puff from his old pipe, and buttoning his overcoat around his neck as if expecting a squall, then looking around the horizon to make sure that we would not be interrupted by any wind-jammer: "yes, sir, at noon today one came near alighting on the end of the jibboom." "you must have mistaken it for a sea-gull," said i. "no, sir; it was no sea-gull. i have been sailing the seas for thirty-four years, and i have seen and heard strange things." "well, suppose it did light on the jibboom; it has to get a rest sometimes." "they have their island homes and never come near a ship, unless," speaking very softly, "unless some one is going to die." "nonsense, charlie. surely you don't believe in such foolishness." "i started to tell you some time back about an old ship i was in off the cape of good hope. maybe you remember her, she was called 'the mud puddler,'" and charlie continued with a grin, "she was never in the mud while i was on her." "yes," said i, "i remember her. she sailed from liverpool, didn't she?" "yes, sir; that's her; four-masted and bark-rigged. well, as i was saying, we left calcutta bound for hamburg. one night, off the cape, it was my lookout. it was a fine night with a fresh breeze, and we were ploughing along about eight knots. i heard two bells go aft, and in that ship we had to answer all bells on the foc's'le head." "is it one o'clock so soon?" thought i. "you know," speaking to me, "where the fish-tackle davit is?" "i know where it should be," said i. "well, that is where i was standing." (a lookout is very important on all ships, especially at night, when they see a light or a sail they report to the officer on watch.) "as i was in a hurry to answer the bell, not wanting the mate to think i was napping, i rushed to ring it, and, standing there, sir, was a man i had never seen!" "it was one of the crew playing a joke on you," said i. "oh, no, mr. mate, not at all, not at all. i knew every man on board of her, sir, and this man was not of this world. he had a pair of wellington boots on, you know the kind, all leather, to just below the knee." "yes," said i, "i know the kind." "he also had a sou'wester with a neat-fitting pea-jacket. and, sir, it was his face that frightened me. his eyes were fiery, his beard was dark and thick, with heavy, bushy eyebrows." all this time i was getting very much interested in old charlie's story. "what did you do? what did you say to him?" i asked, very impatiently. "i reached in front of him to answer the bell. he spoke very mournfully, saying: 'you shall have a visit from the bo'sun tomorrow;' and he instantly disappeared and left me with my hand still stretched out for the bell-rope...." i could smell the smoke from a cigar, and knew that the captain was pacing the poop. i walked aft slowly, anxious to hear what happened on the bark "mud puddler." sure enough, there was the captain, walking up and down, and occasionally glancing at the compass. evidently the ship was off her course when he came up from the cabin. he spoke to me rather harshly, saying: "don't let these fellows," pointing to the man at the wheel, "steer her all over the ocean." "very well, sir. i was just forward seeing if the side-lights were burning brightly." "well, keep your eye on them, they are not to be trusted too long. and by the way, have the second mate get up the old spare sails in his morning watch; we have some roping and patching to do before we bend them. they are all right for this kind of weather. this breeze will carry us near the equator." "very good, sir. i will have olsen get them up." he took one more look at the compass and went below. i went to the binnacle more to see the time than the compass. i was surprised to see that it was twenty minutes past three. i was anxious to go forward and have charlie finish his story, but, seeing a light in the captain's room, i was doomed to finish the watch around the man at the wheel. my rather troubled sleep was ended by a rap at the door. it was the cook. "it has gone seven bells. breakfast will be ready in a few minutes, sir." dressing was easy for me. in fact, all it required was washing and putting on my cap, for in the tropics one has little use for clothes, which was indeed fortunate for me. "steward," said i, as i perfected my toilet, "what have you for breakfast this morning?" he hesitated before answering, and well i knew what was passing in his mind. "how does he dare to ask me what i am going to have for breakfast! i who have befriended him. what have i for breakfast indeed!" "tongues and sounds," said the emancipator, very sharply. "a breakfast fit for a king," i replied cheerfully. the word "king" was a red flag to a bull to him. the presence of the captain coming down the companion-way was all that saved me from the fate of all reigning monarchs. tongues and sounds of the alaska codfish come pickled in brine and packed in firkins, and are sold principally to marine shipping. all that is required in the process of cooking is to freshen them overnight, boil and serve with drawn butter. they are an enviable breakfast delicacy on land and sea. the cook, although upset by my reference to kings, lost none of the dignity of serving the byproduct of the alaska cod. the captain had little to say during the morning meal, and seemed worried about something. on my leaving the table he remarked: "get your palm and needle. i want you to work with me on the spare sails, they are in bad shape." the spare sails were indeed much in need of repair. where they were not worn threadbare, they had been chewed by the rats. while we were sitting side by side sewing, this afternoon, we talked of many things--ships and shipping, and foreign ports. "do you know," said he, "that trip that took me to south america when my wife died was going to be my last trip." he stopped sewing. "you see, she would never complain of being sick. of course, i was away most of the time, spending about two weeks a year at home with her and the children. it was while i was home that trip, that i noticed how poorly she looked, and that cough, and realized how much she must have suffered. the doctor told me she might live for years with proper care and right climatic conditions. she and i talked it over and decided that on my return trip i would give up the sea for good, and devote my time to her and the children on a farm in southern california. when i returned from valparaiso and found that poor bertha was dead, and the boys living with their aunt, it was more than i could stand." with tears streaming from his eyes, unconscious of the vast pacific, the ship he was in, or even the crew around him, he murmured softly to himself: "my wife, my wife,--gone, gone." in this intense moment a ball of sewing twine rolled from his knee, and, reaching for it, he said: "do you know that sometimes i think she is with me." chapter v the shark--"to hell with shark and ship" i was so overcome by the captain's tears and his great love for his deceased wife, that i failed to hear old charlie calling me from the wheel until he attracted my attention by pointing over the stern. "what is wrong?" i asked, thinking that perhaps the log line had carried away. "a black fin on the starboard quarter, sir." "what is that?" said the captain, throwing the sail aside and walking aft. "it is a shark, sir," said i, "and a black one." instantly all love and human kindliness left him. jumping down onto the poop deck and looking over the rail. "by heavens, you are right," he cried, "he must be twenty feet long. run to the pork barrel and get a chunk of meat while i get the shark hook." "aye, aye, sir." in the excitement it did not take me long to reach the cook's salt pork barrel, and grabbing about ten pounds of salt horse i was aft again in a minute. the captain was bending a three-inch rope into a swivel on a chain. the chain is about six feet from the hook. when the shark comes down with his six rows of teeth on each jaw, it takes more than manila rope to stop him, hence the quarter-inch chain. the captain was very much excited. "here, damn it. no, he will nibble it off the hook if you put it there. that is it. the center. now over the side with it. slack away on your line there. that is enough. make fast." "all fast, sir," said i. in our excitement of the morning we had forgotten to take our observation for latitude. it was now past eight bells with the cook ringing the bell for dinner. the black fin was swimming around the salt horse, and it was easy to decide between them. "by god, there," pointing astern, "is another one," said the captain. "why in blazes don't he take the bait?" no sooner said than done. the big black fin turned over on his back and swallowed meat and hook, then righting himself and feeling grateful for so small a morsel, and starting to swim away, he found that he was fast to the end of a rope. no one realized it more than the captain. with a shout that could be heard all over the schooner: "lay aft, all hands," he cried, "and lend a hand to pull in this black cannibal." with all hands aft, including the cook,--his presence is always needed in emergencies like this,--"get that boom tackle from off the main boom," he continued, "and you," pointing to olsen, "get a strop from the lazarette and fasten it up in the mizzen-rigging." "if i go down there," said olsen, pointing to the lazarette hatch, "the cat may get out." "to hell with the cat," said the captain, "this is no time to stand on technicalities. get the strop and get it up damned lively." meantime the cook forgot that he was the humble dispenser of salt horse and pea soup. he who had fought the land sharks for years, he who had stood hour after hour in the sweltering sun declaiming against the crimps and other parasites of the barbary coast, was it not befitting that he should lead the charge on this black monster of the deep? the ballot-box cook, for this is the name i gave him, was standing abaft the mizzen-rigging, with unkempt iron-gray hair waving in the wind, a greasy apron, and bare feet. his large red nose had never lost any of its cherry color, as one would expect it to, under the bleaching influence of long voyages. his large supply of extract of lemon, with its sixty per cent of alcohol, is not to be deprecated in these times, when diluted to a nicety with water and sugar. on this particular day he had not neglected his midday tonic. tucking his dirty apron into the belt that supported his overalls, and jumping down from the deck-load to the poop deck, he exclaimed with the wildest gestures: "holy moses, men, don't let him get away." from the way that the shark was thrashing and beating the water, one would think that the three-inch rope would part from the strain at any minute. "stop the ship!" cried the cook. "stop hell," retorted the captain. "you will never land him," insisted the cook; "she has too much bloody way on her." "i'll attend to this ship; i am master here," said the captain angrily. "master, you are?" here discipline between master and cook was fused away into the northeast trades. the cook, coming to attention with all the dignity of a newly-made corporal, said: "captain, i'll have you understand that i have no masters, and"--shaking his fist at the captain, and slapping himself on the breast, "do you think that i have always been a sea-cook?" under other conditions the captain would have had him put in irons, but there was now too much at stake for him to even think of such a thing. for is not time the essence of all things? with this demon of the sea dangling on the end of a sixty-foot line, every minute seemed a century with the chance that hook, meat and line might sail away into fathomless depths. "get to hell forward to your galley! i will send for you when i need you"--here the cook, with rage interrupted: "to hell with you, shark and ship! the american consul shall hear about this!" with this parting shot he slouched forward to the galley. "here, damn you, here," continued the captain, forgetting him on the instant. "here, you, nelson, put a sheep-shank in the shark-line--now hook your block in. that's the way. hoist away on your tackle." after giving these orders he hopped up on the deck-load to direct the course of the incoming shark. with the crew pulling all their might, we could not get him in an inch. "if we wait a little while, captain," said olsen, "he may drown." "drown be damned, who ever heard of a shark drowning? get a snatch-block, hook it into the deck-lashing, take a line forward, and heave him in with the capstan." leaving the second mate with the crew to heave in the shark, i walked aft to join the captain. while passing the galley i could hear the cook singing, "marchons, marchons,"--i knew it would be dangerous to interrupt him. after heaving about twenty minutes the shark was alongside with the head about three feet out of water. "belay!" roared the captain, "come aft, here, a couple of you. slip a running bowline over his head, we must not lose him. that is the way. take a turn around the mast. all right aft. heave away on your capstan." as the enemy of every sailor who sails the seas came alongside, with him came the strains of the old capstan chantey: "sally brown, i love your daughter, heave, ho, roll and go, for seven long years i courted sally, i spent my money on sally brown." before the second verse of the aged sally was finished, black fin was ours to do and dare. "make fast forward," shouted the captain, "and bring your capstan bars aft. one of you get the crowbar from the donkey-room." if there is anything in this world that a sailor loves, it is to kill a shark. we secured him safely on the deck-load, for they are not to be trusted out of water, especially if one gets too near to the head or tail. this monster measured seventeen feet, six inches. with capstan bars, crowbar and sharp knives it didn't take long to take the fight out of him. after being cut up, the choice parts were given to members of the crew, such as the backbone for a walking-stick, the gall for cleaning shoes and so forth. the eyeballs, when properly cured in the sunlight resemble oyster pearls. i took the most coveted part, the jaw, and when it was opened, it measured twenty-two inches. the captain ordered what was left of him thrown overboard, and turning to me said, "have the steward serve dinner." "how about the other shark, sir?" "oh, we will leave him until after we eat." after dinner there was no shark to be seen. "we have made a sad mistake," lamented the captain. "we should not have thrown the first shark overboard. by doing that we have fed him to the second." chapter vi the tin-plate fight--one-eyed riley triumphs it was my watch below, and only one hour and a half left to sleep. taking off my cap, i hopped into the bunk, and was just dozing off to sleep when the cook opened the door saying: "have you anything to read?" "no, i have not," i replied, impatiently. "well," said he, unheeding, "i wish you would read this book. it is 'the superman,' by nietzsche. i also want you to read karl marx, in three volumes. then you will understand why i hate sharks and masters." with the last remark he slammed the door behind him. the watch from eight to twelve was wonderfully fascinating, and full of romance. a full moon hung in the clear tropical sky. the waters rippled, and the southern cross glimmered in the distant horizon. occasionally a block or boom squeaked, as if to say, "i, too, lend enchantment to the night." at ten-thirty the light went out in the captain's room. i knew that, tired by the excitement of the day, it would not be long before he would be asleep. with instructions to the wheel-man to keep her on her course, i went forward to see old charlie, and hear from him what happened next aboard the bark "mud puddler." "as i was saying last night, there i stood with my hand stretched out to ring the bell, and, sir, i could not move a muscle." "charlie," said i, "you were just dozing and dreaming, and thought that you heard the bell aft." "not at all, sir, not at all. for the mate came forward cursing and swearing and telling me that if i slept again on watch he would dock me a month's pay. i have sailed under flags of many nations, sir, and never have i been caught dozing at the wheel or on the lookout." "what about the flying bo'sun, did he visit your ship?" old charlie was too solemn for one to think lightly of his story. "wait, sir, don't go too fast. at breakfast the next morning i was telling my shipmates about the strange man on the foc's'le. in describing how he looked and the clothes he wore, one old sailor seemed much interested. "you say he wore wellington boots and a pea-jacket? what color did you say his beard was?" "black and bushy," said i. "that's very strange, very strange," said the old sailor. one member of the crew laughed at the old man's last remark, and said: "what is strange about it? one would really believe that you thought that charlie was awake. ha, ha, the joke is on you." old john, for that was his name, pushed his hook-pot and plate over on the bench and rising very slowly to his feet said, "shipmates, i am sixty-two years old. i have sailed the seas since i was fourteen. i want to say that the apparition that charlie saw last night is not a joke, but a stern reality, and, shipmates, some one of us is going on the long voyage." here charlie stopped to fill and light his pipe. "what happened next?" i asked. "well, sir, in the afternoon watch i was out on the jibboom reeving off a new jib downhaul, and, sir, as true as i stand here, there, almost within arm's length, sat the flying bo'sun. three days later we ran into a storm off the cape,--you know the short, choppy, ugly sea we get off there? it was during this storm that we lost three men, and one of them was old sailor john. so you see i have reason to believe in coming disaster. with the bo'sun waiting to alight, and sharks following the ship, i tell you that something is going to happen soon." as charlie finished his story, the man at the wheel struck one bell, a quarter to twelve. it is always customary to give the crew fifteen minutes for dressing, that when eight bells is rung the watcher may be promptly relieved. i called the second mate, got a sandwich, and went on deck again to take the distance run by the log. while i was waiting for olsen to relieve me old charlie came running aft. "they are killing each other in the foc's'le, sir." "who is it?" i asked. "one-eyed riley and swanson, sir." "who is getting the best of it?" "swanson, sir. he has riley down, and is beating him over the head with a tin plate." looking down into the forecastle i could see swanson stretched out with riley standing over him, a marline-spike in his hand, cursing and swearing. "bad luck to you for a big squarehead. it's trying to tear me good eye out, you are. mother of god, look at me tin plate that he bate me with, it is all crumbled in. sure and i can't use that agin, and divil another this side of san francisco." "riley," said i, "have you killed this man?" "begorra, sir, me intintions was well-meanin'. i broke me spike on him." "turn him over," i commanded, "and see if there is any life in him." "now, throw some water on him." "the divil a drop will i throw on him, sir, but if you will say the word, i'll pitch him into the sea." in a few minutes swanson came to, terribly bruised about the head, and no more fight in him. "riley," said i, "you beat this man, now you must bandage him up and take care of him." "ah, sure, sir; it's murdher you'd be after wantin' me to do and it's bandage him up you want. heavenly father, with me new tin plate all spoiled, what in the divil am i going to ate off of?" "eight bells!" sang out the man on the lookout. it was swanson's lookout watch, and the finn's wheel. "riley, you will have to keep the swede's lookout this watch. he is dazed and stupid from the beating you gave him. there is danger of him walking overboard." swanson crawled over to the bench as if in terrible pain, muttering: "i will get this irish dog, and when i do, look out, i will kill him." the other members of the watch below were too busy dressing to pay much attention to the fight, but one could see that they were proud of riley's work. "ha, ha, an' it's kill me you would, me fine bucko, an' sure you might if i had no eyes in me head. you dirty baste. let me finish him, sir." "riley," said i, severely, "get up on deck, and relieve the man on the lookout, or i will place you both in irons." riley went on duty very reluctantly, saying, "begorra, sir, and it's sorry you'll be for not letting me finish him." "swanson," i said, "you will be all right in the morning. you have a few bad bumps on your head, but a hard and tough man like you should not mind that." i left him grumbling and whining and swearing vengeance, saying to himself: "by jiminy, i get even mit dem all." on the forecastle head riley was pacing up and down, evidently very happy and pleased with the night's work. he was humming an old ditty, and sometimes breaking out singing: "blow you winds while sails are spreading, carry me cheerily o'er the sea. i'll go back, de dom, de dido, to my sweetheart in the old countree." in the cabin the captain was looking through the nautical almanack to find a star that was crossing our meridian. "you know," speaking to me, "we must not allow sharks nor anything else to interfere with the progress of the ship. i want to cross the equator about in 150° west. i believe that i shall have to keep her a little to the westward now. ah, here i have it, the star draconis, it crosses our meridian at 1 hr. 15 min. just give me your latitude by dead reckoning." "here you are, sir," handing him the latitude. "with this moderate breeze she has made 110 miles since noon today." "it looks," said he, "as if she were going to beat her last trip to the equator. but, of course, there's the doldrums. one can never tell. sometimes a ship will run through and into the southeast trades, and escape the doldrums. but that seldom happens to me." the next few days were spent sewing sails, the crew rattling her down, cleaning brass-work and chipping iron rust from the anchor chain. a ship is like a farm, there is always work to be done, and a sailor must never be idle. it is the mate's duty to find work to keep them going. a mate's ability is usually measured by the amount of work that he gets out of the crew, especially when she sails into her home port. there the owners come aboard, and if they do not wring their hands, and tear their hair, and sometimes tramp on their hats or caps, the mate is indeed to be complimented. they will sometimes walk up to you and say: "well, you had a fine voyage, i see," looking around at the masts, and yards, and paint-work. "do you smoke? here is a very fine cigar, three for a dollar." (more often it is three for ten cents.) i remember the old barque "jinney thompson." we were three weeks overdue. when we finally arrived the owner was there on the dock and fired every man aboard her. it seems that every day for three weeks he had never failed to make his appearance at the wharf. on this day while the tug-boat was docking us there he stood, white with rage. "get off my ship, you damned pirates, every man, woman and child of you! to think that i should have lost one hundred and fifty dollars on this trip. get off, damn you, get off!" chapter vii in which the captain wounds his hand "no, sir, he won't stay down there," said the cook. "he caught a flying-fish the other night; it lit on the deck forward. since then he just sits in the main rigging watching. when i get near him he runs up aloft." "i must tell the mate," said the captain, "to move the flour into the spare room. those damned rats will eat us out yet. why don't you tie toby with the stores?" "i can't, sir, he won't let me near enough." this conversation was going on in the cabin while i was trying to read henry george. i went to sleep wondering how a single tax could be applied to city property. i was not asleep long before i was awakened by loud tapping on my door. "come in," said i. the door opened. there stood the captain, pale and excited. "would you mind tying up this hand for me? i stuck a marline spike through here," pointing to the fleshy part between the thumb and fore-finger of the right hand. "just one minute, sir, i'll get some hot water." fortunately there was hot water in the galley. "there you are, sir, put your hand in the bucket. no, it is not too hot. there, see, i hold my hand in it." satisfied that there was no danger of cooking it, he pulled the rag off, and thrust his hand into the bucket. i noticed that there was no blood to speak of. i said, "captain, did the spike go through your hand?" "hell, yes, man, about three inches." i suggested many remedies, such as washing it with saline solution and bandaging with oakum and so on. but he would have none of them, and insisted on having the rag tied around, assuring me that it would be well in a day or so. he kept on deck most of the first watch, but was evidently in great pain. "i think that we are running into the doldrums from the look of those clouds to the eastward," said he. "we have one thing in our favor," i replied; "we should have a three-knot current to the southward according to the pilot chart." "you should not rely on what those fellows in washington put onto paper. if you do you will never get anywhere." at five o'clock in the morning it was raining. there is no place in the world where it rains as it does around the equator; it seems as if the celestial sluice-gates had gotten beyond control. we were becalmed, and in the doldrums, with not a breath of air. usually this lasts for five or six days. during this time every one on board is very busy, catching water, filling barrels, washing clothes, and working ship. the latter work is hard on the crew, for you are always trimming ship for every puff of wind that comes along. pity the weak-kneed mate in the doldrums. there are times when you tack and wear, and boxhaul ship every fifteen minutes. the crew resent this kind of work, and while doing it they curse and swear, and will do the opposite to what they are told. here is where the old-school mate comes in. obey orders. he sees that they do obey. lazy sailors breed discontent, and discipline must be stern. if a member of the crew happens to be idle, he must by no means appear to be. he must at least act very seriously, and look to windward, as if beckoning for a breeze. there is an old saying among sailing-ship-men: "when the wind is fair the money comes in over the stern, when the wind is ahead the money comes in over the bow." so a sailor must never show that the unfavorable weather is making pay for him. he must never whistle a tune, nor sing a song, but he is privileged at all times during a calm to whistle as if he were calling a dog, for if you don't get wind with the dog-whistling, you are not to blame. i have seen captains standing for hours whistling for wind. pity the man who would smile or crack a joke on so serious an occasion. one captain i was with, after whistling off and on all day without avail, threw three of his hats overboard, one after the other, crying in rage, "there, now, damn you, give us a gale." the wise mate knows his place in trying times like these. he never goes aft, thereby avoiding serious discussions. he always makes it his business to be very busy in the forepart of the ship. the worst time for him is meal-time. it is not uncommon to finish eating without a word being spoken. the cook is not exempt. should the captain count more than ten raisins in the bread-pudding, look out for a squall! at breakfast i ate alone. the captain was walking around in his room. "how is your hand, sir?" i inquired. "it is very painful. i have just been washing it with a little carbolic acid i found in a drawer." "i have taken off staysails, topsails and inner and outer jib, sir." he did not answer, but shut his door with a slam. i was worried about his condition, but was helpless to do anything for him. he was the stubborn type, with tight lips, and projecting cheek-bones. he believed that what he could not do for himself no other could do for him. i think that this applied only to strangers. as captain of a ship you are always dealing with new faces, and never have much confidence in any one. for instance if, in taking the altitude of the sun or a star, his reckoning should differ from yours by a mile or so, you would always be wrong. the same with longitude by chronometer in time. the loneliness of the sea must be responsible for this. and yet in their home life, they are ruled and dominated by their wives and children. i remember one old captain i sailed with in the china seas. fight? he loved it, ashore and afloat, and was very proud of his ability, claiming that he never took the count. the latter i know to be true. we left ports while i was sailing with him, where much furniture was easily adaptable for firewood. when in the home port where his wife was, if he had spent more than she allowed him, i would have to make up the difference. she would come down to the ship and say: "herman, come here, i want you to do so and so." he would look at me, but never ashamed, and say, "well, what in hell can i do?" "but, captain, i want your advice on so and so." "never mind now," he would say, "till i steer her away. you know she don't like you too well anyhow. she heard all about the fight we had in yokohama with the rickshaw men." away they would go, arm in arm, a very happy couple. chapter viii the bo'sun lights--the captain's death i was so worried about the captain that i had no desire to sleep during the forenoon watch. about eleven o'clock he came to my room saying: "i can't stand this pain, it is driving me wild. you take charge of the ship. take every possible advantage you can, until we run out of the doldrums. here are charts covering the south sea isles, and here," pointing to a small box, "is the manifest, and bill of health." while looking at the latter i came into contact with his right hand. i was surprised to find that he was burning with fever. "captain, may i look at your hand?" he eyed me with the same suspicion as when i was suggesting treatments on the previous day. but the stubborn nature of him was giving way to a feeling of friendship and sympathy, a sympathy so noticeable in all living creatures when their material existence is in danger. "yes, you can look at it, if it will do you any good," holding the hand out for me to take the bandage off. "i don't mind the hand so much as i do this lump under my arm, it is so painful." with the bandage off i was horrified to see the condition of the wound. it was turning black, and a fiery red stripe ran up the arm. he must have guessed what was going on in my mind. "yes," said he, "it is blood-poisoning, and a damned bad case. don't tell me what to do for it. i have tried everything i can think of to prevent this condition." "let us cut it open and keep it in hot water," said i. "tie it up again," he replied angrily, "you are only adding insult to injury." he turned to his wife's picture which hung at the head of the bed, saying, "you understand, you understand. we may soon sail away through the silvery seas to our land of the midnight sun." i went on deck thoroughly alarmed at the captain's condition and aware that, unless a miracle should happen within the next forty-eight hours, he would be dead of septicæmia. we were still becalmed;--not a breath to curl the blue roll. with booms and sails swinging and wailing as she rolled and pitched in the trough of the sea, the angry gods of the celestial world belched forth their wrath in thunder and lightning. this, coupled with the condition of the captain, made me feel, as never before, the utter lonesomeness of the sea. it was useless, with the clouded skies, to try to get a position of the ship for drift. she had made no progress by log for twenty hours. i was anxious to know the course and speed of the current. in going forward to see what the crew was doing, i met olsen coming aft, holding a wet rag over his eye. he said, "i have had trouble with swanson, he refuses to work ship. he thinks it is not necessary to tack and boxhaul, he wants to wait for the wind." olsen had the real thing, if black eyes count in the performance of one's duty. "are you afraid of him?" said i. "if you are, keep away from him. you will only spoil him, and make him believe that he is running the ship. here," and i pulled a belaying-pin out from the fife-rail, "go forward and work this on him." "no," said olsen, "he is too big and strong for me. he told me that there is no one on board big and strong enough to make him work. i understand that he almost killed a mate named larsen--" here the cook interrupted, saying: "mr. mate, the captain wants you in the cabin." "do you want me, sir?" "yes, this pain is killing me, killing me, don't you realize how i am suffering? why did you leave me? why don't you do something to relieve me of this burning hell?" i did realize that the poison was general, and that he was becoming delirious. the unshaven face, the ruffled hair, the dry parched lips, the wild staring. it was plain that for him valhalla lay in the offing. "yes, captain," said i, "you are suffering, but strong men like you must be brave. you, who for years weathered the storms of seven seas, must now keep off the lee shore. the wind will soon be off the land. then ho! for the ocean deep." "you are very kind," he said, collecting himself to try to cheer me up, "but it is no use. for i can see the lee shore with its submerged and dangerous reefs, i can hear the billows roar, and watch the thunderous sea pour its defiance on the ragged crags of granite. yes, i am drifting, drifting there." after cutting open the hand and arm, and bathing in salt solution, he felt somewhat relieved, and decided that he would try to sleep. leaving him in charge of the cook, with instructions to keep him in bed, i went on deck with a heavy heart, realizing that soon i should be responsible for the crew and cargo. old charlie was at the wheel. "how is the captain, sir?" "he is a very sick man, charlie." "look, look," he cried, "there he comes, lower and lower," and he pointed to the maintopmast truck. "great heavens, he is going to alight! yes, yes; there he sits," and there, sure enough, sat the most beautiful bird in the tropics, the flying bo'sun. i spent the afternoon sitting with the captain, who was still sleeping. at five o'clock i tried to arouse him, but found that he had lapsed into a state of coma. i left olsen and the cook looking after him while i went to see to the ship. about eleven o'clock i felt very sleepy, having then been without sleep for eighteen hours. in order to keep awake, i decided to walk on the deck-load until olsen relieved me. it was while thus walking that i went asleep, and fell, or walked, overboard. the deck-load of lumber is always stowed with the shear of the ship and flush with the sides or bulwarks. there is no rail or lifeline, and hence the sudden plunge. coming to the surface i was very much awake, and swimming to the chain plates, i easily pulled myself out of the water, and into the rigging, and up onto the deck. while i was wringing out my pants, old charlie came creeping aft, saying: "mr. mate, something is going to happen from his visit today." "to hell with your flying bo'sun," i snapped, "you are always predicting death and ghosts and so on." i was sorry that i had spoken to the old sailor this way, but after falling fifteen feet into the ocean, and just, by the chance of a calm, saving my life, i was in no mood to tolerate the re-incarnated souls of drowned sailors that were living in old charlie's flying bo'sun. charlie, much distressed at having the omens he loved so dearly so lightly disregarded, slunk away in the shadow of the mainsail. riley, the man on the lookout, was true to his trust, and no object in the hazy horizon would escape the vigilance of his squinty left eye. evidently he was not carried away by the supernatural things of life, but very much in the material, judging from his song: "better days are coming to reward us for our woe, and we'll all go back to ireland when the landlords go." when olsen relieved me on deck, i took his place with the captain, who, although unconscious, was still hanging to the delicately spun threads of life. as i was sponging the dry and parched lips, i glanced at the picture of her whom he loved so well. how beautiful it would be, if it should come to pass as he believed, and she should pilot him away in their astral ship to the shades of valhalla! while my thoughts ran thus, i was suddenly conscious of a desert stillness. then creaking booms gave way to a gentle lullaby. the ship no longer rolled and pitched in the trough of the sea. everything below was peaceful and calm. i could hear olsen calling: "slack away on the boom-tackle, and haul in on your spanker-sheet!" i knew then that at last we had the long-looked-for southeast trade-winds. with the wind came taut sheets and steady booms, and on the face of the dead captain there was a smile as if saying: "away with you to the tall green palms!" chapter ix the showdown--swanson takes the count i dimmed the swivel light in the captain's room, locked the door and went on deck. above, there was a fair breeze, and the sky was clear and glittering with millions of stars. "what course are you steering?" said i to the man at the wheel. "south-southwest, sir." "let her go off to southwest." i was anxious to take advantage of the wind by getting all sail on her. "where is the second mate?" "he is forward, sir, setting the jibs." going forward, i shouted to olsen: "get the topsails and staysails on her as fast as you can." "aye, aye, sir. i am short-handed; swanson refuses to come on deck. i sent russian-finn john down to tell him that we had a fine breeze, and wanted him to come up and trim ship. do you know, sir, he kicked him out of the fo'c'sle?" i took stock of myself. i was twenty-four years old, and weighed one hundred and eighty pounds. the big brute in the forecastle, refusing to work, whipping the second mate, and kicking his shipmates about, was getting too much for me. i made up my mind that there would be two dead captains or one damned live one. going aft to my room, i got a pair of canvas slippers that i had made, for with this brute i should be handicapped in bare feet. with the slippers on, and overalls well cinched up around me, i went to the forecastle, past olsen, who was sheeting home the fore-topsail. calling down the forecastle, i said: "swanson, come on deck." when he appeared: "i suppose you know that you are guilty of a crime on the high seas?" he answered me back, saying: "i tank about it," and took his stand obstinately at the foot of the ladder. the anger and passion of thousands of years was upon me. i forgot the ship, forgot the dead captain. i skidded down the scuttle-hatch into the forecastle, where he stood, awaiting me with a large sheath-knife in his hand. "are you going on deck?" i shouted. "you ----, ----, ----," flourishing the knife; "kap avay from me, i kill you!" i noticed an oilskin coat hanging on the bulkhead. i must say that my mind was working overtime. my height was five feet eleven, and he towered above me like a giant. i was aware of the powerful legs and arms of this brute, conveying the suggestion of second money to me. if i were to trim this gorilla, it would require tact and skill. otherwise i felt that the dead captain would not have much start on me. he took a step toward me, saying: "you get on deck damn quick, or by jiminy i cut your heart out!" quick as a flash i seized the oilskin coat. as he raised his arm to stab me i threw it over his head and arm, then jumped for him. after some minutes' hard work i succeeded in wresting the knife from him, but not without marks on my legs, arms and hands. the forecastle was so small it was hard to do much real fighting. it was more rough and tumble, and this kind of a battle favored the swede. while slashing with the knife, he cut the belt that held up my overalls. i was handicapped by these hanging around my feet, but fortunately landed a right on his jaw, which sent him falling into his bunk. this gave me a chance to kick free from the pants, and in so doing i kicked one of the canvas shoes off. i can't remember when i lost the shirt, but what was left of it was lying by the bench. he pulled himself from the bunk saying, "i tank i go on deck." "well," thought i, "there is not much fight in him after all." it was about twelve feet from the forecastle to the deck. when he reached the deck i started up after him. when my head was even with the deck, he stepped from behind the scuttle and kicked me in the forehead, knocking me back to the forecastle. had he followed up the blow i should have indeed joined the dead captain. but no, he thought that he had finished me for good. when i came to, i could hear strange noises around me. some one was washing my face, and saying: "and begorra, it is far from being finished you are, me good man." it was riley. old charlie voiced in, saying: "that is a bad cut on his forehead." riley had no use for pessimists. "ah, go wan with you, sure an it is only a scratch he has. now when i had me eye knocked out--" here i got upon my feet, dazed, but with no broken bones. "where is swanson?" "he is aft by the mainmast, sur, and be hivins, it is a sight he is, sur." "riley," said i, "come on deck and throw a few buckets of salt water on me." there is nothing so invigorating as salt water when one is exhausted. after the bath, with its salty sting in my cuts and scratches, i was ready for the cur again. he saw me coming up on the deck-load, and straightened up as if he thought that there was still some fight left in me. i noticed that he had a wooden belaying-pin in his hand. i took my cue from that. stalling that i was all in, and crawling aft to my room, i gave him this impression until i was abreast of him, and then i was on him with a vengeance. i snatched the pin from him, and finished him in a hurry. when he cried for mercy, and promised that he would work, and work with a will, i decided that he had had as good a trimming as i could give him, and let him up. "now, i want you to stay on deck, and work until i tell you that you can have a watch below." calling all hands, i said, "men, our captain died during the middle watch. we will bury him at nine o'clock this morning." with the surprised and solemn look of the crew as they heard my announcement, was mingled no mirth at my scant attire of one canvas shoe. that was lost in their sympathy for him who was taking the long sleep, and i doubt if they noticed it at all. death on board a ship creates a hushed stillness. amongst the crew old charlie looked up at the mast as if expecting another bo'sun to appear. he seemed satisfied with his predictions. but riley took a different view. "mother of god! it's fighting there has been going on with the poor dead captain laying aft there. be heavens, sir," pointing, "it's bad luck we will be having for carrying on like this in the presence iv th' dead." sending him after my overalls and shoe, i went to my room to look myself over. my eyes were black, face cut, arms, hands and body cut and scratched, and worst of all, was my forehead where the brute had kicked me. i still carry this scar. i was somewhat alarmed with these open wounds, and knew that i must be careful of handling the captain. hot breakfast, with its steaming coffee, did much to revive me, and for the second time i was aware that the socialist cook was a friend in need. chapter x burial at sea--at which riley officiates at eight o'clock i called riley and old charlie aft to the cabin. "riley," said i, opening the door to the captain's room, "i want you and charlie to sew the captain's body in this tarpaulin, while i go and find something to sink it with. roll him over towards the partition, then roll him back onto the hatch-cover, then gather it in at both ends." "aye, aye, sir, and shure it is meself that has sewed many av thim up." in the boatswain's locker i found plenty of old chain bolts and shackles. i had one of the crew carry them to the weather main rigging. while going down the companion-way to see how riley and charlie were getting along with their sewing, i thought, by a sudden noise, that they had begun to quarrel. "where the divil did you ever sew up a dead man?" came in riley's voice, and "damn you, pull that flap down over his face." then i could hear boots and glasses being thrown around. "get out of here, you black divil, it's eating your master you would be doing, pss-cat, pss-cat, you dirty, hungry-looking tiger!" then all was still for a few seconds. then old charlie's voice saying, "mike riley, this is a terrible calamity that has happened to us, the loss of our captain. and riley, this is not all. i am afraid there will be more." "ah, go wan wit your platting," said riley, "pull the seam tight around his neck. that is the way. now sew it with a herring-bone stitch. hould on a minute, charlie, till i get me last look at him. faith, and be my sowl, he wasn't a very bad-looking man." here i walked into the room, saying: "when you are finished i will get you more help to carry him on deck. but leave a place open at the head so that we can put the weights in." "sinking him by the head is it you are, sir? glory be to god, don't do that. let him go down feet first, sir. be hivins, if you put him down be the head we will have the divil's own luck! i remember wan time on the auld lime-juicer 'king of the seas,' the second mate died. we weighed him down by the head--begob, and it wasn't a week till ivery man av us had the scurvy." "riley," i laughed, "you are a very superstitious man." "it's you that are mistaken, sir. sure an i'm anything but that, sir." the cook interrupted us to ask if he could help in any way. i told him to help charlie and riley carry the body up on deck. riley at once took command. "charlie, you take the head, i will take the feet, and, steward, you can help in the middle. are you all ready? up wit him, then,--be hivins isn't he heavy?" charlie started towards the door so as to take the body out head first. riley promptly objected to this move, and propped the feet on the edge of the berth while he asserted his authority. "and it's take him out be the head ye'd be after doing? where in blazes did you come from? oh, you poor auld divil you! whoever heard of takin' a corpse out head first. turn him around, bad luck to you, with his feet out. sure, an it's walk out on his feet he would, if he were on thim. niver do that, charlie, me boy, if ye want to prosper in this life." we pulled two planks from the deck-load, and spiked cross-pieces on, while riley supervised the weighing-down. then all was ready to commit the body to the deep blue sea. while the second mate was back-filling the foresail and hauling the main-jib to windward, to stop the ship for sea-burial, i fell to thinking of our captain. here he was, in the prime of life, about to be cast into the sea. no one to love him, no one to care, none but the rough if kindly hands of sailors to guide him to his resting-place. as i glanced around the horizon, and the broad expanse of the pacific, i was overcome by loneliness. ships might come and ships might go, and still there would be no sign of his last resting-place, no chance to pay respects to the upright seaman, the devoted husband and father. the silent ocean currents, responsible to no one, would be drifting him hither and thither. the last few days and the terrible fight were telling upon me. i was astonished to look around and find that i was alone with the dead. the only other person on deck was broken-nosed pete at the wheel. i went forward and sung out: "come forward, some of you, and lend a hand here." "aye, aye, sir; we are coming," answered riley's brogue. there was something about riley, in his simple seriousness and appeal to my humor, that was a great help to me just now. they came aft, every one of them, in their best clothes, with shined and squeaky shoes, looking very solemn. "here," said i, "take a hand and shove the planks out so that the body will clear the bulwark rail when she rolls to windward." i was about to give the order to tip the plank, when i was interrupted by riley saying excitedly: "lord god, sir, aren't you going to say something over him?" "riley," i said as the crew gathered around, "i have nothing to say, except that i commit this body to the sea. up with the plank." "hould on, hould on," cried riley in despair. "sure i wouldn't send a dog over like that! i will read the litany of the blissed virgin mary, and it don't make a damned bit av diffrunce whether he belaves it or not. hould on, me boy, till i get my prayer book." riley returned from the forecastle cursing and swearing. "howly mother av moses, they have ate the litany out av me prayer-book, and the poor sowl about to be throwed overboard." "what is the matter, riley?" i asked. "ah, the dirty divils! the rats has made a nest av me holy prayer-book!" "sanctified rats--" i was beginning profanely, when fortunately the cook interrupted me. "what good will a prayer-book do him now? your prayer-books, and flowers and beautiful coffins are only advertisements of ignorance. the man of thought today throws those primitive things away, or sends them back to the savages. you men will in time come to believe in a creative power of organization, or a material force, but in your present state of ignorance you are carried away by a supernatural power destined for the poor and helpless." while the cook was talking riley was taking off his coat, and rolling up his sleeves. "it is poor and helpless we are, are we? you durty, fat, dutch hound. take back what you were saying," as he grabbed him by the neck, "or be me sowl it's over you go before the owld man. it is ignorant we are, and savages we are. take that," hitting him on the jaw. "be hivins and i'll not sail wit a heathen. come on, me boys. over wit him." "here, riley," i said, "this must stop. don't you know that you are in the presence of the dead? every one has the privilege of believing what he wants to." "he has that, sir, but begorra, he wants to keep it to himself." "men," said i, "we will raise the plank. while we are doing it let us sing, 'nearer, my god, to thee.'" while we were singing the beautiful hymn, the old ship we loved so well seemed to feel this solemn occasion. although held in irons by having her sails aback, she did salute to her former captain by some strange freak of the sea, coming up in the wind, and shaking her sails. before we finished the singing the cook was leading in a rich tenor voice, and by the time that the last sound had died away, our captain had slid off into the deep. * * * * * "let go your main jib to windward, haul in the fore-boom sheet." to the man at the wheel, "let her go off to her course again." chapter xi astral influence--the crew's version of the unknown with these orders the crew, although silent and solemn, went about their various duties in their shiny and squeaky shoes, the only remaining sign of what had come to pass. i told the steward to throw all of the captain's clothing overboard. he protested, saying, "surely, sir, you won't destroy his blankets?" "oh, yes, steward, there are enough germs in those blankets to destroy all of coxey's army." this mention of coxey's army was a mistake indeed. he changed at once from the comparative refinement that the hymn had wrought in him, to the fiery rage of the soap-box orator. "they were the men," he thundered, "who make life possible for you and me. otherwise we should be ground in the mill of the lust and greed of capitalism." he started to lead off on the subject of equal distribution, when i interrupted: "steward, this is no place to expound your theories of socialism. you have done much harm since you came aboard this ship. here," pointing to swanson, who was slowly recovering from his battle for supremacy, "is a man who was led to believe from listening to your radical doctrines that work was not a necessary element in his life. living in your world of thought, he gained the impression that refusing to work and disobeying orders was a perfectly natural thing to do. now let me impress you with this thought--while you are aboard this ship with me, i'll not tolerate any more of your ill-advised teachings to the crew." later, while he was throwing the captain's bedding overboard, i could hear him say: "... to the vile dust from whence they sprung, unwept, unhonored and unsung." december 20th, 1898. our position of ship at noon today was four miles north latitude, longitude 147° 19" west. in looking over the chart i found that the course had been laid out by the captain before his death. although now seventy miles to the eastward of it, i decided with favorable winds to follow this line to the south sea isles. it was while doing this work that i fell to pondering my responsibilities to the owners, the crew and the consignees. we were carrying about five hundred thousand feet of select lumber to suva, fiji islands. i had never visited these islands, but had read of their submerged reefs and tricky currents. up to this time i had taken my responsibilities negatively, being of the age when one is not taken seriously, and i must say being rather inclined to lean on those higher up. this latter is, i believe, very destructive to one's self-confidence and determination, those qualities so necessary in fitting one for leadership both by land and sea. in cleaning up the captain's cabin i was deeply impressed with his remarkable sense of order. his best clothes were lashed to a partition to keep from chafing by the roll of the ship. the ash-tray was fastened to the floor across the room and opposite the bed, and there also stood tobacco, matches, cigars and spittoon. when using these things he would have to get up and move clear across the room from his writing-desk or bed, which seemed out of place for a sailorman. (captains whom i sailed with usually disregarded any and all sense of order, preferring not to interfere with the laws of gravity, particularly when chewing tobacco. but if these same white shirts happened to leave the hand of the sailor who washed them with any remnant of stain, his majesty could be heard swearing all over the ship.) for the past three days everything has been going beautifully, with the wind free and fair. we are clipping it off at ten knots an hour. tonight i noticed that the man at the wheel acted rather queerly, and was not steering at all well. the men looked continually from left to right, acting as if they feared that some one was going to strike them. it was during the middle watch that i heard a conversation in the forecastle between riley, old charlie and broken-nosed pete. charlie was trying to convince pete by saying: "you may not understand, but it is true, none the less. look at me in the 'mud puddler.'" the suspense of this argument was evidently getting on riley's nerves. he interrupted with, "damn it all, man, i tell you he is back on the ship. haven't we all heard him prancing around in his room? upon my sowl, i have felt him looking into the compass. oh, be hivins, me good man, you will see him soon enough." here old charlie once more took the floor. "riley," said he, "i believe that he has come back to warn us of some danger." "divil a bit av danger we will be having." this with bravado. "you know he may have come back to find his knife. you remember when you sewed him up you found it in his bed." "ah, go wan, you durty ape, didn't i throw it overboard with him?" "it may be he wants to talk with some one." "be hivins, shure i don't want to talk wit him. why sure'n i don't know the man at all. i niver shpoke a wurd to him on this ship." "well, it does seem that he is trying to manifest himself to you more than to any one on this ship. why not ask him if you can help him in any way?" evidently this conversation was getting too creepy for riley for he changed the subject, declaring with great feeling that he had never seen a more beautiful night, and so near christmas too. but charlie was not to be put off that way. "riley," he said, "can't you feel him around here at this moment?" "ah, go wan, to hell wit you, sure'n you will have him keepin' the lookout wit you the next we hear." i was so much interested in what i had heard that i jumped up onto the forecastle head. i came upon them so suddenly that riley jumped back exclaiming, "hivinly father, and what is this?" he seemed greatly relieved when i spoke and said artfully: "isn't this a beautiful night? see how large and bright those stars are there," pointing to the southern cross. "you men seem to have some secret about this ship,--what is it?" i continued, as my remark met with no response. old charlie cleared his throat, and, looking towards riley as if for an approval, said solemnly: "things are not as they should be aft." "what is it? aren't you being treated well? aren't you getting enough to eat?" "oh, it isn't that at all, sir," broke in riley. "hold on, riley, let me explain," and old charlie once more cleared his throat. "as i was saying, we believe that the ghost of the captain is back on board," tapping the deck with his foot. i felt that a word of encouragement was necessary if i expected to be let in on the mystery. "well," said i, "that is nothing. men who have been taken suddenly out of this life may perhaps have left some important business unfinished, and the most natural thing in the world is for them to find some one whom they can converse with." "that's just what i was telling riley, sir, that very same thing, and you know riley seems to have more influence with him than any one so far." "influence is it?" said riley, "and shure, sir, he is a stranger intirely to me." "tell me about it, riley." "it's a damned strange thing, sir. well, it was me watch from ten to twelve. i was just after striking six bells, when i takes a chew of me tobacco, and ses i to myself i had better be careful where i spit around here. i know, sir, you don't like tobacco juice on the paint-work. reaching down to locate the spit-box to make sure that i could do it daycently, be me sowl, sur, something flipped by me. shtraitening up, ses i to meself, ses i, 'be hivins, and it must be the blood running to me head.' i took a look at the compass, and she was one point to windward of her course. you were forward, sir, taking a pull on the forestaysail-halyards, and i ses to meself, 'sure an if he comes aft and catches me with her off her course he will flail me like he did the big swede.' ah, an shure it is the fine bye he is now. there's the squarehead so rejuced he even offers to wash me tin plate for me. well, i got her back on her course, when all of a sudden i heard the divil's own noise in the captain's room. ses i to myself, ses i, 'mike riley, don't be a damned fool and belave iverything you hear.' but look as i would i could not keep my eyes from the window of the captain's room, whin lo and behold, i got a glimpse of his face looking out at me. 'hivenly father,' ses i, 'give me strenk and faith in yous to finish me watch.' glory be to god, sir, i lost me head, and it's hard up wit me helm i was doing, when you shouted, 'where in hell are you going with her?' be hivins, and i was going straight back with her." during this story broken-nosed pete kept edging closer, seemingly impressed, and about to become a convert to riley's sincerity, while old charlie was just revelling in the details of the apparition, and at times, thinking that riley was not doing justice to his subject in creating the proper amount of enthusiasm, would interrupt by saying, "there you are now. just as i was saying. one couldn't expect anything else,"--and so forth. these remarks seemed to resolve any doubts that may have existed in riley's mind of the genuineness of the face at the window. chapter xii the cook's watch--materialism versus astralism i had the key to the captain's room in my pocket and knew that no one was in there, but riley's story had taken such a serious trend that i decided to withhold the news from them. "well, riley," i said carelessly, "you are easily frightened, when toby can scare you like this." here they all jumped toward me, and started to talk at once. charlie, calling for order, decided that now was the time to fix me forever. he introduced broken-nosed pete, who had always been inclined to be skeptical, to put the finishing touches on riley's story. pete, i may state, when he was rational, was unaffected in his speech by the rather unusual list of his nose. but tonight, moved by powerful feelings, he threw convention to the winds, and spoke in loud nasal tones, and with gestures befitting an orator. "go on," said charlie, pushing him forward, "tell him, pete." "i had just called the watch below," he began, "and was taking my smoke and a bite of lunch. by that time it was eight bells. i was pulling down my blankets about to turn in, when i sees riley coming down the scuttle with his cap in his hand and very warm looking. 'is toby in here?' ses riley. 'he is,' ses i. 'he is over in russian-finn john's bunk.' 'holy mother of god,' ses riley, 'get me a drink of water, 'tis fainting i am.' 'what's wrong, riley?' i asks. 'oh, be hivins,' ses he, 'i have made the mistake of me life by ever shipping on this dirty old graveyard.' as for the rest, sir, you have heard it from riley." "was riley scared when he came into the forecastle?" i asked. "yes, sir, he swore horribly, and threatened to kill anybody who put out the light." "well, we will all have some fun catching this ghost of yours. i will give an extra day's leave in suva to the man who helps me. what do you say to that, men?" charlie volunteered willingly. pete was rather shy. "riley, let us hear from you." "what is it you want us to do, sir?" "i want each of you to take one hour watches in the captain's room from twelve to four." this was too much for riley. "be hivins, sir, if ye offered me a year's leaf in a turkish harem to stay five minutes in the auld haunted room, i wouldn't take it, for as sure as me name is michael dennis riley he is rummaging around there." the news of the ghost soon spread over the ship, and formed the sole topic of conversation of the crew. even the second mate, whom i thought immune, was going around the decks looking bewildered, as if anticipating the immediate destruction of ship and crew. the socialist cook was much interested in our astral visitor, and i thought how happy it would make him to sail away on the wings of a new law that would revolutionize both physics and chemistry. "yes," he said, "you can trust me to keep watch from twelve to two tonight in the captain's room. i am very much pleased indeed to have the opportunity. i have for years been fighting the mechanical and cheap manifestations of mediums and seers." he picked up his apron and wiped his mouth, to interrupt the line of march of tobacco juice which, having broken the barriers, was slowly wending its way down his chin. "let me tell you," he said. "a material law gives us life. the same law takes it away. all material life," stamping the deck, "ends here. from the clay there is no redemption." at one o'clock in the morning the cook called me. "what do you want, steward?" said i. "there is something in the captain's room. something i can't understand. when i am in the room with the light out, i am conscious of some one with me. and yet when i turn on the light that feeling leaves me. then when i turn out the light and lock the door and sit here by the dining-table i would swear i could hear the sound of footsteps walking around, and the moving of chairs. i tell you, sir, it is mighty strange." "are you sure that the sounds you heard were not made by the second mate walking on the deck above?" "no, sir, not at all. he agreed to stay forward on the deck-load till four bells." "how about the man at the wheel?" said i. "he could walk around on the steering platform and produce such sounds as you heard in the captain's room." "again you are mistaken. the man at the wheel is too scared to make any move but a natural one, such as turning the wheel, and that movement produces no sound down here in fair weather like we are having." the cook was truly mystified. he was anxious for me to realize the importance of his investigations in the captain's room, yet with it all he held fast to his materialistic ideals. "cook," said i, "you are taking this thing too seriously. i am certain that i have solved this mystery. riley is certain that it is not toby, the cat. now you come along and are ready to prove that the sounds or walking you have observed were not produced by a material power from the deck above." "i mean," replied he, "that this walking in here was not produced by any action of the second mate or the man at the wheel." i told him that nevertheless i had the mystery solved, and i would prove it to him. "we have in the lower hold one hundred thousand feet of kiln-dried spruce boards one-half inch thick, and twenty-six to thirty inches wide. they vary in length from eighteen to thirty-six feet. the after bulkhead does not run flush with the deck above, and there are ends of boards that project over and into the runway. with the easy movement of the ship, this will produce a metallic sound that will cause vibration at a distance, and more distinctly under the captain's room." at this the cook became very indignant, and told me that my theory was not correct at all. "haven't i spent a half hour in the lazarette looking and listening for just such sounds as you describe?" "are you sure that there are no rats in his room?" "if there are, i fail to find them. i have placed cheese around the room to convince myself. on examination of the cheese i couldn't find a tooth mark." "but why are there no sounds of walking in there now?" "that is what baffles me," said the cook. "since we have been talking there has not been a sound from that room." i sent him to turn in, assuring him that i would sit in the room for an hour or so to see what would happen, and to try to solve a mystery that was beginning to try even my seasoned nerves. chapter xiii higher intelligence--a visit from out the shadows when the steward had gone forward to his bunk, i got a lunch, and was about to sit down by the dining-table to eat it, when i saw the door of the captain's room open wide. then, to my utter amazement, i saw the chair that the dead captain had sat in for years swing around upon its pivot ready to receive a visitor. i was so startled by the wonderful unseen force that i forgot my lunch and was starting to close the door in the hope of another uncanny experience, when i was halted by a cry from the deck above. "hard to starboard, you damned fool. are you trying to cut her in two amidship?" shouted the second mate. "hard over she is," rang out from the man at the wheel. instantly i was on deck. the second mate was over in the lee mizzen-rigging. "what is it, olsen?" i asked. "a full-rigged ship away two points on the starboard bow." to the man at the wheel i said: "put your helm down and pass to windward of him before you jibe the spanker over, or you will knock hell out of these old sails." then to the second mate: "why do you have to sail all over the ocean to get by that old pea-soup hulk? don't you see that he has the wind free? luff her up half a point," i ordered the wheel-man. we passed so close to windward that we took the wind out of his lower sails. the moon was in the last quarter, and we could see plainly the watch on her deck, and hear the officer swear at the helmsman, saying: "keep her off, you damned sheep-herder, or you will cut that mud-scow in two." then he shouted over to me: "it is the captain of an irish locomotive you ought to be, you thick-headed pirate, trying to run us down! what's the name of your ship, anyway?" "hardship loaded with poverty," i replied with sarcasm. as we passed each other the voice of the angry officer grew fainter and fainter, then was lost in the stilly night under southern skies. i was amused at the expression of the officer on board of the yankee clipper, when he spoke of me as the captain of an irish locomotive. there could be no greater insult to a self-respecting sailorman than this phrase. it means that you would do much better carrying a hod or wheeling a wheelbarrow than handling a ship. i had sailed in those down-east ships and knew their language. they never intend to give one inch on land or sea. hard luck indeed for the sailor who does not know how to fight, or who shows a yellow streak! while thus meditating on the cruelties of the old oak ships and thinking what wonderful tales they could tell, my thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a consciousness of fear. something warm was moving about my feet. on looking down i beheld toby rubbing his black fur against my feet and legs.... on getting my position of ship at noon today, i noticed the crew tiptoeing around as if they were afraid of disturbing some sleeping baby. i spoke to riley, asking what all the hush was about. "oh, be the lord, sir, it is getting turrible on this auld graveyard of a ship. begorra, we are shure av it now. auld charlie seen him prancing up and down the poop deck wid a poipe in his mouth. 'tis turrible days we be having. the cook said that he proved it himself beyond a question of a doubt that the old bye himself is back on her." "well, riley, i am going to make the old man show down tonight. it is put up or shut up for him." laughing a little at my own fancies, i went aft to the captain's room, and sat down to watch, to continue to investigate this mystery that was so upsetting the morals of the crew as to endanger their efficiency. i left the door to the dining-room half open so that the light hung from the center of the ceiling threw its sickly rays into the room. i could hear the man at the wheel make an occasional move with his feet. then all would be still again. one bell rang,--half-past twelve. suddenly the door slammed with a terrible bang. i knew that there was no draught in the captain's room to close it in this manner, and i must confess that i was considerably startled. then i was conscious of some one moving a small stool that stood across from me, over towards the safe at the foot of the bed. i put out my hands to catch the visitor, and not finding anything but air, i reached out and pulled the door open. to my amazement, the stool had been moved to the safe. i was so unnerved by this that my one thought was to get away, and i went into the dining-room, and unconsciously lit my pipe. when my thoughts sorted themselves it became clear to me that i had been singled out by destiny to have the privilege of meeting a great and new and unseen force. if this were so great as to be able to move furniture at will, why, thought i, could it not be harnessed to our material uses? why could it not be developed to get sails and discharge cargoes? surely, it would revolutionize the forces of the air and earth, as we know them now. while these thoughts were taking shape in my mind, i was brought up with a start by hearing three loud and distinct raps on the door of the captain's room. i shook the ashes out of the old corn cob pipe, and entered the room, closing the door behind me. this time i beheld still greater marvels. at the head of the captain's bed appeared a small light, giving forth no rays, but moving around in the direction of the safe at the foot of the bunk. there it stopped about a minute, then moved over to the desk and gradually disappeared. "ah," said i, "you are getting too much for me. move some more furniture or that safe around this room so that i may alight upon a plan to harness your great power to hand down to future ages." at that i must have gone to sleep, for i was conscious of nothing more until i heard the cook coming aft with coffee. he was anxious to hear my experience during the middle watch. i told him that there had been no occurrence that was not natural, but that i might have news for him soon. "steward," said i, "tomorrow is christmas day. i want you to prepare a good dinner for all hands." "oh, yes," he replied, "i have had plum pudding boiling since yesterday. i am going to open a few cans of canned turkey. that, with the cove oyster soup and canned carrots will make a good dinner. i have had a little hard luck with my cake. i forgot to put baking powder in it. but i think that they can get away with it, as there is an abundance of raisins in it." christmas morning at half-past twelve found me waiting in the captain's room listening to rappings on the desk. at times these were loud and then again very weak. i opened the door and turned up the light in the dining-room so that there might be more brightness in the captain's room. i wanted to see and hear whatever vibrations might be caused from the rappings. as i drew near the writing desk the rapping was centered on the middle drawer. then it would move to a smaller drawer on the right-hand side and tap very hard. with a shout of joy i sprang to the light at the head of the bed, and lit it. "at last," i cried, "at last!" i was satisfied that there were rats in these drawers, and in order that they should not get away i armed myself with a club. i started to pull out the smaller drawer very carefully so that the rodent should not make his escape. to my astonishment i found it locked. i held my ear close to it, but could not hear a sound. then i proceeded to open the middle drawer with the same caution, but found it open, and nothing in it but a small bunch of keys. my curiosity being aroused, i decided to look for the key on this ring that would open the smaller drawer. after many trials i found one that would fit the lock and on opening it i found, neither the animal, which in spite of my senses' evidence i half expected to see there, nor any other expected alternative, but, most surprising of all, a pair of tiny baby-shoes with a lock of yellow hair, tied with pink ribbon, in each of them. back of the shoes was a jewel box, and in it a wedding-ring. also, wrapped up in paper, was a will made by our late captain two days before his death. this stated that he had an equity in an apartment house in san francisco, which he wanted his boys to have. evidently he had acquired this equity during his last visit to san francisco. it also stated that there should be no delay in forwarding this will to the above address in west berkeley, california, u. s. a. with the discovery of the captain's treasures, this essence of his personality so revealed, i was carried out of my skepticism for the moment, into feeling his presence beside me, waiting for my word as a friend awaits the voice of a friend. half unconsciously i spoke aloud: "you have shown me, and i shall obey. you have only to call upon me. do not be anxious for your ship. i will tell your boys." "a lonely, lonely christmas," echoed back vaguely, whether from beyond or from the storehouse of my imagination, i do not know. as i replaced his things and started for the deck, the cook's words echoed and re-echoed in my memory, "does it end here?" on deck old charlie was steering. looking over the rail at the log, i found that she was cutting the distance to suva at the rate of nine knots an hour. the breeze was warm, the turquoise sky studded with diamond stars; the three especially bright ones known as the sailors' yard were shining in all their splendor. away to the south the southern cross twinkled and glittered, and was so majestic in its position, that it seemed to command obedience from all other celestial bodies. chapter xiv christmas day--our unwilling guest the dolphin while gazing into the infinite, analyzing the experience through which i had just passed, and wondering where lay the land of shadows, my dreaming was suddenly changed to material things by hearing a terrible fight in the fore part of the ship. jumping up on the deck-load, and running forward, i could hear riley shout: "club him, you old hen-catcher, you, before he goes through the hawsepipe. that's the way, that's the way. shure, bad luck to you, you have missed him. stand back there, stand back there, let me have at him. there he goes again under the lumber. get me the bar, pete. look out, me byes. shure and be hivins out he comes again. strike him between the eyes, pete. give me the bar, pete. shure'n you couldn't shtrike the sheep barn you was raised in." "what's all this row about?" i asked. "ah, shure, sir, it's me auld friend neptune would be after sendin' us a christmas present. he is as fine a bonita as iver greased a mouth, but it's the divil's own toime we have had sub-duin' him." "bring him up on the deck-load and let us look him over." "riley," said i, when they had the great fish stretched out before us, "that is a dolphin, and no bonita,--notice the wedge-shaped head, and broad tail. no doubt he was cornered by a school of sword fish, and this fastest fish that swims the ocean had to make a leap for life by jumping aboard our ship. bring the lantern here, and you will see him change to all colors of the rainbow while he is dying, another proof that he is a dolphin, that is, if he is not already dead." "be hivins, and it's far from dead he is, look at the gills moving." surely enough, we watched and the beautiful colors came, brilliant blue and green and shaded red, and again i wondered, and it seemed to me that in the passing of the human life there might be just such a color change, invisible to those who are left behind. dismissing these thoughts once and for all from my mind, i entered into the long discussion incident to the settlement of claims on the dead dolphin, as to who had discovered him, etc., etc. broken-nosed pete was sure that he had seen him first, very much to the disgust of riley, who, however, could not deny that his one eye was usually cocked to windward. i then turned to the men and told them that they need no longer be afraid of the ghost in the captain's cabin. riley spoke up: "and, shure, sir, you wasn't thinking that it was meself that was scared?" "why do you carry the belaying-pin aft to the wheel with you, if you are not scared?" said pete. "go wan, you broken-nosed heathen, it's the likes of me that knows the likes av you. you degraded auld beachcomber, haven't i slept in ivery graveyard from heath head in ireland to sline head in galway? divil a thing did i see only mulligan's goat." riley was about to launch away with mulligan's goat when i interrupted, reassuring them and telling them that there was no need of carrying belaying-pins to kill the ghost, for it had departed for shores unknown. "good luck to it," said riley, highly pleased, "and more power to it. and shure it is sinsible it is to lave on this howly christmas morning. i remimber one time on an auld side-wheeler running between dublin and london, it was twelve o'clock--" riley's story was cut short by the man at the wheel ringing eight bells, four o'clock. pete went off to clean the fish, and the others to their watch below, while i turned in, leaving riley alone with his side-wheeler. the sentiment of christmas amongst sailors on the sea makes it a day of strict observances. no work is done outside the working of ship, which is steering or keeping lookout. there is no mat-making, model-making nor patching old clothes in their watch below. they dress in their best clothes, and for those that shave a great deal of time is spent in this operation. no stray bristle has a chance to escape the religious hand of a sailor on a day like this. it is also a day of letter-writing, with good intentions of forwarding them at the first port, but somehow in the general confusion when in port, they are lost in a whirlpool of excitement. considering a sign between the ship and the post office reading "bass' ale," "black and white" or "guinness's stout," imagine any poor sailor doing his duty to the folks at home! for the moment those glaring and fascinating signs are home to him. but today is too full of sentiment for him to think of alluring public houses and pretty barmaids. it is given up to religious thoughts with a firm resolution to sin no more. the spirit of the day had even taken hold of the socialist cook. in serving dinner i noticed that he had on a clean apron and a white jacket, a great concession for him. i was much attracted by his brogans, which were much too large, and had a fine coating of stove polish to enhance their charm. "why have you set a place for the captain, steward?" said i. "oh, just out of respect for him. you know he wasn't such a bad man after all. beside, it will make the table look more like a real christmas dinner. you can just suppose that your invited guest has been delayed, and you can go on with your dinner." i was beginning to like our cook more and more. it seemed that beneath the hard crust of materialism, there was something very like love and loyalty. the german noodle soup, the canned turkey, and the plum pudding to top off with was a very befitting dinner at sea. of course, one must not indulge too freely in plum pudding, especially when its specific gravity exceeds that of heavy metals. this hypothesis was proven to me later in the day. chapter xv crimp and sailor--the cook's marxian effort the cook was pleased with my investigation of the captain's room. "don't you know," said he, "i was impressed with the unusual sounds there? i was beginning to relinquish my hold on the material, and to give way more to the unknown and unseen things of life. but you can see that we are all creatures of imagination. there are no limitations to it, especially with those who are superstitious. now i can plainly understand how such sounds could be produced by rats, just as you say." he took his stand in the pantry, and continued, from this point of vantage. "it is a shame," he shouted, "that there is so much superstition in the world. if there were not so much, the capitalist would not have the opportunity to exploit his ill-gotten goods on the highways and byways of our economic system." stirring something in a glass, no doubt extract of lemon, he tipped it to his lips and swallowed it with a grunt of satisfaction. "with such ignorance in the world," he said, "how are we to combat this scourge of humanity? let me say here," shaking his fist at me, "the only solution is education without discrimination. with this useful weapon we can equalize the scales of justice. without it we continue to be slaves to the old and new masters. take, for instance, the ignorance and superstition of our crew forward. while they are hunting for ghosts the parasites are picking their pockets. what can society expect of them? no wonder they are a prey to apparitions at sea and crimps ashore. once we were homeward bound from new zealand to frisco. the crew, as usual, consisted of many nationalities. she carried twenty-four seamen forward. i frequently talked to these men evenings about joining the socialist labor party, much to the disgust of the captain. well, they all agreed that when they should reach san francisco they would join the organization. i believe that they really intended to, but you know the sailorman ashore scents the rum barrel, and becomes an easy prey to the crimp and boarding-house runner. two days after our arrival in that wicked city we were paid off by the u. s. government. i waited until the last man had his money. 'men,' said i, 'come with me to our hall and join the one organization that is going to redeem the world.' "the crimp runners were pretty well represented, as they usually are when a ship pays off. they tried every possible means to entice the men away, telling them that they would not have to pay for room or board, and that furthermore they could pick their own ship when they felt like going to sea again. the latter is considered a great concession to a sailor. but the crimps do not stop there. they have old sailors who are kept with them for years, who make it their business to know as many as possible of the men who follow the sea. we had an irishman in the crew, and this lost the day for me. just as we started for the hall, out of the crowd strolled a seasoned veteran of the sea. with a shout of joy he fell upon one of our crew, crying: "'if me eyes don't deceive me, i see jamey dugan. dead or alive, i shake hands with you.' "whether dugan knew the greasy beachcomber or not, i knew that the bunko steering talk would get him. it was very flowery. "'why, certainly, you remember me. in valparaiso. you were in the good old ship so-and-so.' "i could see that there was no time to lose if i expected to reach the hall with all of them. i mounted a fire-hydrant near by, and pleaded with them, telling them that this crook who had hold of them was nothing but a hireling of the crimp, and tomorrow, all of their money being spent, they would most likely be shipped off to sea in any old tub whose master offered the most money to the boarding-house keeper. "my pleading was in vain. they kept edging away as if i were a wild beast of the jungle. the influence of the gangster was getting stronger. again i beseeched and implored these men of the sea to come with me. they only started to move away. it was with a sickened heart that i stepped down from the hydrant. i had no chance with this barnacle of the sea, for they were already starting in his wake for ryan's saloon across the street." the cook, lamenting his loss, started to stir up another lemon-de-luxe. taking advantage of the opportunity, i stole up on deck to relieve the second mate for dinner. he must have thought that i had foundered on the noodle soup and plum-pudding. the cook and i may not altogether have agreed on the social things of life, but i was with him heart and soul in his fight for better and cleaner conditions for sailors ashore. i, too, know the crimps, and had suffered more than once from their dastardly methods of making money. they were always on the lookout for anything that resembled a sailor when a ship was ready to sail, and a short-handed captain would offer one of them fifty or a hundred dollars a head blood-money. with that would go from one to two months' advance in wages to the unfortunate victim, which eventually fell into the crimp's hands also. he would not stop even at murder if necessary to fill the required quota. what if he did ship a dead man or two? they were not supposed to awake for at least twenty-four hours after they were brought aboard. by that time they were under way, and the curses of the captain were lost in sheeting home the upper topsails. the mate, on the other hand, took a lively interest in restoring the sleeper to life. after he had spent some time clubbing him, and trying every method known to the hard-boiled mates of former times, he would find a belaying-pin, and beat the drugged man on the soles of his shoes. this was the final test. if he did not respond to it, the officer would report to the captain that one of the crew who had just come aboard was dead. cursing and swearing, the captain would say: "how do you know that he is dead?" "well, captain, i have awakened a great many of them in my time, and there isn't a kick in this fellow." "did you try the mirror?" holding the mirror at his mouth, to see whether by chance there might be precipitation was the last act. it would never occur to them to feel for the pulse, probably because their hands were too heavily calloused to permit of it. furthermore, it would never do to lower the mate's dignity in the presence of the crew by so gracious an act. "no, sir, i have not tried the mirror yet. i am thinking that you have booked a losing." "booked hell," the captain would shout, "here, take this drink of brandy and pour it into him, then hold the mirror over his mouth. if that doesn't work, throw him overboard." those who were shanghaied were not usually sailors. one would find tailors, sheep-herders, waiters and riff-raff of the slums, who had fallen prey to the greed of the boarding-house keeper. when one did respond to the mate's treatment, he would awake to a living hell, until the next port was reached, which would take three, four or even five months. chapter xvi the montana cowboy--a horse-marine adventure there are instances where the captain and mates of the old time sailing ships have had cause to regret their methods of procuring sailors from the crimps. when a drugged and shanghaied sailor comes on board the mate looks him over for dangerous weapons. if he has a sheath knife the mate breaks the point off. if a gun, he takes it aft to the captain. when the drug-crazed man comes to he is easy to handle. if he should show fight, a crack over the head with a belaying-pin will send him down and out. when the stars disappear and he comes back to earth again, he is very responsive, and willing to scrub decks or anything else that is desired of him. a montana cowboy, seeing the sights in a pacific port, fell a prey to the crimps. blood money was high. one hundred and fifty dollars was not to be laughed at, when it could be had so easily. the cowboy was given the usual dose of knock-out drops, then thrown into a boat, and rowed off to the ship, which was lying at anchor. when the boat came alongside the ship, the crimp shouted: "ahoy, mr. mate, i have a good sailor for you." the mate never expected shanghaied men to walk up the gangway. he knew what to expect, and usually gave them the allotted time, about twenty-four hours, to sleep the drug off. "are you sure he is a good sailor?" said the mate. "oh, yes," replied the crimp, "he is an old-time sailor, we have known him for years. he has been sailing to this port in some of the best ships afloat." the mate called some members of the crew to get the tackle over the side and yank him aboard. the cowboy was heavy, and he did not yank aboard as easily as some of the other drugged men, very much to the astonishment of the old-time sailors. they know by the weight on the tackle fall how to guess what the vocation ashore has been of this latest addition to their number. if the drugged man is a light-weight, he is proclaimed a tailor, if medium weight he is a sheep-herder, and so on. but they could not find a suitable vocation for this cowboy who was so damned heavy. after long, long pulls, and strong, strong pulls, he landed on deck as limp as a rag. the mate rolled him over with his foot, and seeing that he had no weapons of any kind ordered him thrown on the hatch to sleep it off. the crimp had relieved him of the cowboy hat, but not the riding shoes, very much to the disgust of the mate, who remarked: "i have sailed in many ships and with all kinds of sailors, but i will go to hell if i ever saw a sailor with as long heels on his boots as this fellow has." nevertheless he impressed the mate as being a sailor. he had the desert and mountain ruggedness and complexion, and not the sallow dyspeptic look of the tailor, which mates and crew despise so. when the anchor was up, and they were standing out to sea, the mate undertook to awake the cowboy with a force pump. after the salt water had been played on him about five minutes, he awoke, and realized that he was on board of a ship. he inquired of the mate how he got aboard, and where he was going. the mate answered him very sharply, saying: "you get up, damn quick, and loose the main-upper-topgallant-sail if you want to get along well and happy in this ship." he might have been talking the dead languages for all the cowboy knew about upper-topgallant-sails. he rubbed his eyes, and pulling himself together realized that this was not a dream after all, but a stern reality. after looking over the ship and feeling the roll, he eyed the mate with suspicion, saying: "see here, stranger, haven't you made a mistake? tell me how i came aboard this here ship." the mate thought the new sailor was having a joke at his expense. stepping up to him he said, "damn you, don't you dare to joke with me, or i will break every bone in your body." "let me tell you, stranger," said the cowboy, "i want you to turn this here thing around 'cause i must be a hitting the trail." this was too much for any good mate to stand, especially when the members of the crew were highly pleased with the new sailor's remark. the mate pulled off his pea-jacket, and tightening his belt, remarked: "i guess i will teach you how to respect your superiors while you are on board this ship." the cowboy, seeing that the mate meant business, pulled off his wet coat and vest, also the black silk handkerchief that was tied in a very fashionable knot around his neck and remarked, "stranger, you be mighty keerful how many bones you break in my body." here the mate made a lunge for him, which the boy ducked, and with an upper-cut he sent the mate to the deck in a heap. the mate got up and started for a belaying pin. the crafty range rider was upon him in a second with a left hook to the jaw. the mate went down, and stayed down for some time. then the second mate, third mate and captain came to the rescue of their first mate. the mates were knocked down as fast as they could get up. the captain called the crew saying, "arrest this man and put him in irons for mutiny on the high seas." this the crew refused to do, because the way this new sailor could use his hands was not at all to their liking, and they were not anxious to take on any rough stuff so early on the voyage. the captain, flushed with rage, ran to the cabin shouting: "i will get my gun and kill this mutineer." the mates picked themselves up and the two went after guns. the cowboy, turning to the sailors, said: "here, you critters, get behind a sage bush or something,--get out of range and get out damned quick, for there is going to be hell shot out of this here ship in about a minute." reaching down in his riding boots he pulled out two forty-fives and backed over to the starboard bulwarks to await the signal from the cabin. he did not have to wait long. the captain came roaring up the companion-way, thinking that the new sailor at the sight of the gun would run and get under cover. but not so with this one, far from it. there he stood, a plain and visible target for the captain's and mate's guns. while the captain was running along the lee alleyway of the bridge-deck, the cowboy called to him, saying: "can you kill from the hip, mister? if you can't you'd better get close and shoot straight." the captain was too angry to utter a sound. it was bad enough to knock his three mates down and out, without heaping insult upon insult by asking if he could shoot straight. the blow he had got on the jaw from this untamed sailor he considered enough to justify him in killing on sight anyway, for it would be days before he could bring his jaws together on anything harder than pea soup or bread pudding. with these maddening thoughts twitching his nautical brow, he swung from the bridge-deck onto the main deck. there in front of him stood the new mariner leaning against the bulwarks with his hands behind his back. the captain's gun was swinging at arm's length in the right hand, but not pointed toward the cowboy. this code of ethics pleased the cowboy, for he remarked to the captain: "remember you draw first, and if you have any message for the folks at home now is the time to send it." hearing the mates coming, the captain took courage, and raised his gun as if to shoot, when a shot rang out and his right arm fell limply to his side. with a spring of a wild animal the cowboy changed for a new position. he jumped onto the main hatch, where he could command a view of the ship fore and aft. no sooner had he changed to his new position, than the mates appeared on the main deck and ordered him in the king's name to surrender or take the consequences. "i don't know anything about your kings," remarked the cowboy, "but i do know i'm going back to my ole horse and i'm going mighty quick. let me tell you, strangers, i want you to turn this here ship back. i'll give you five minutes to make up your minds." the captain broke the silence by ordering the ship back to port, saying, to save his dignity, that he could never go to sea wounded as he was, and was also anxious to bring this sailor to the bar of justice for mutiny and attempted murder on the high seas. "before you obey the orders of your boss here," said the cowboy, addressing the crew, "i want your guns. you know it is dangerous for children like you to be handling something you don't know much about." evidently the captain was in great pain, for he commanded the mates to give up their weapons, which they did very reluctantly after the ship had tacked and stood in for port again. to make matters worse, the cowboy walked the weather side of the bridge-deck, and practically commanded the ship until she dropped anchor. then the police boat came off and took captain, mates and cowboy ashore to the hall of justice, where the new sailor put a kink in the crimp, sending him for five years to the penitentiary for drugging and shanghaing him. he also caused the captain and first mate to exchange their comfortable quarters aboard ship for uneasy cells in jail; six months for the mate and a year for the captain.... * * * * * the old hell ships have passed away into the murky horizon, to be seen no more, and with them have gone the old sailors, some to the land of shadow, others to pass their remaining years working ashore, and many to that most coveted place on earth, snug harbor. a new age has dawned upon the mariner of today. he sails on ocean greyhounds, where there are no yards to square, no topsails, no tiller ropes to steer with. he doesn't have to sail four years before the mast to learn how to become a sailor. steam, the simplified, has made it pleasant and easy for him. he no longer requires the tin plate and hook pot, nor has he any place for the donkey's breakfast. (the latter used to be supplied by the crimp and consisted of a handful of straw tucked into a cheap bed tick; that was the sailor's bed in the old days.) today he is supplied with everything necessary for his comfort, even to five hundred cubic feet of air space, and food as good as he was likely to get ashore. the cracker or hardtack hash was an art years ago, and required the skill of a french chef. it is even possible that the french chef would not have scorned what the old sailor discarded in making this sumptuous repast. the first process of this delicious dish was to economize for days to save enough hardtack. secondly, it was necessary for it to soak at least forty-eight hours. by that time you were sure that all living creatures had forsaken their pleasant abode for a breath of fresh air or a swim around the hook pot. when you were satisfied that the hardtack was malleable, you would mix in what salt horse you could spare without stinting yourself too much, and anything else that happened to be around. then came the supreme task, getting a concession from the cook to bake it. it required much study as to how to approach the "doctor," for this was his title in important functions. should he be so generous with you as to grant an interview for this noble concession, you were to be complimented, and considered in line for promotion to the black pan. it is only a brother in death that could share the remnants from the captain's table. hence the black pan. the sailor of today no longer need covet the crumbs from the captain's table, he is fed à la carte and waited on by uniformed waiters; even his salary is more than captains received twenty to thirty years ago in sailing ships. chapter xvii the fragrant smell of the alluring palms away to the westward the sun was sinking into the deep, with small fleecy clouds guarding the last bright quivering rays as if giving a signal to make ready for the lovely night. so christmas had come and departed with the setting of the sun. i was thinking of him who had also departed so suddenly to the land of eternal rays, and wondered if the great nazarene should not have said, "peace to those who have passed away, and good will to those whom they have left behind." for the next ten days the wind held steady, and one could see from the restlessness of the crew, particularly dago joe, that we were nearing land. i had sent a man aloft to see if he could pick up wallingallala light. i was sure that if our chronometer was right we should pick it up about two o'clock in the morning. i decided to sail through namuka passage, thereby cutting off the distance to suva about three hundred and fifty miles. otherwise it would be necessary to sail to the southward of the archipelago, and the danger of the latter course was the southeast trades, which usually die out twenty degrees south of the equator. as suva lay 18° 22', i was sure i could hold the wind through the passage, if i could keep away from the uncharted coral reefs which are so dangerous to navigation among those islands. at half-past three in the morning broken-nosed pete sang out from the foretop, "a light on the port bow." i took the binoculars and ran up the mizzen-rigging. there was the long-looked-for light. i changed the course after getting bearings on the light, and headed her for namuka passage. after entering the passage it was necessary to change our course from time to time, and this had to be done by log and chart, in order to avoid the projecting reefs which jutted out from the island. many of these reefs extend from three to five miles from each island. the navigator never loses his position of ship, and great care must be taken in making allowances for currents. about six o'clock we were well into the passage and abreast of boscowen island, better known as cap island. away to the southwest lay vite vuva, which was the island we were bound for. the wind was freshening, and when passing an island great gusts of wind would swoop on us, which made it necessary to take in our staysails. the fragrant smell of the alluring palms was beginning to fascinate the crew, with the exception of riley, who wore a rather troubled look. when i asked him if he was sick he replied in the negative, "sick would you have me? shur'n the divil a bit is it sick i am. auld charlie has been telling me it's cannibals there are on these islands, but shure i don't belave a wurd that old wharf rat says." "well, riley," said i, "charlie may be right. no doubt somewhere in these islands there may lurk a few sturdy savages who wouldn't hesitate a moment to recommend that a man like you be cooked and served table d'hôte at one of their moonlight festivals. they much prefer the white meat to the dark, and you will admit there are some choice pieces in you." "there are, me bye, but i'll be keeping meself intact and the divil a man-eater will iver lay a tooth in me, if michael dennis riley knows anything." "stay close to the ship," said i, "and don't wander too far afield and i doubt if there is much danger, as long as you keep sober and have your eye peeled to windward." "be hiven, sor, and that is what i will be doing. as for keeping sober, shure and that is aisy for me. it is only on rare occasions that i ever take a drop of the crayture. begorra, and it's the pledge i'll be taking while i'm amongst these heathen." the speed we were making did not encourage me in the least. we were logging eleven knots, and if she kept this up we would be off suva harbor about two-thirty in the morning; then it would be necessary to lie off suva till the pilot came aboard some time during the forenoon. the chart showed it was about seven miles from the entrance of the channel between the coral reefs to the harbor. as there were no tug-boats here, i figured that by the time the pilot rowed off to where i should be in the offing, it would indeed be late in the morning. but i was much worried at having to spend a night dodging these dangerous reefs which were not even marked by a bell-buoy. towards evening, while passing between two islands, the wind fell very light. the channel was narrow, and it looked for a time as if we were in danger of drifting onto the south reef of vite vuva island. what little breeze there was carried to our ears the enchanting voices of the natives singing their island songs. the cook was coaxing toby to indulge in age-old brisket, but without success, and turning to me he said, "what a pity it is that our world isn't full of song and laughter like that of these happy natives. their day of toil is over, and with it comes the song of happiness. there are no landlords here to dispossess you, no licensed thugs hired by crooked corporations to club you while you are working for the interest of the downtrodden. i tell you that some day the world will be just such a place to live in as these isles, no worries, no troubles and damned little work." chapter xviii suva harbor--the reef and the lighthouses as we nosed by the reef, and got the island on our beam, the wind came to our rescue, and with staysails set i laid a course for suva harbor. at one o'clock we picked up suva lights, the two lighthouses which marked the entrance to the harbor. one light is about on sea level, the other has an altitude of some two hundred feet, being back and up the hill and in direct line with the first. when these two lights bear due north you have the channel course into suva harbor. when i had these lights in range i decided to run in and take a chance, rather than stay out and wait for the pilot. another reason why i was anxious to get in was that the barometer was falling and it looked like rain. this being the hurricane season, i was not at all pleased with the mackerel skies of the early morning. the channel is very narrow between the reefs, and great care must be taken in steering one's course. after jibing her over and pointing her into the channel, i had broken-nosed pete take the wheel, with instructions that if he got off the course his neck would be twisted at right angles to his nose. pete was a good helmsman, and could be trusted in close quarters like those we were about to sail through. until we passed into the harbor my interest in the schooner "wampa" could be had for a song. with waves breaking on either side of us as we were passing through, and expecting every moment to strike the reef, moments seemed like centuries, and not to me alone. the only sound that came from the crew was from riley, and he did not intend it for my ears. the noise of the breakers to windward was not so bad for riley and his one eye, but to have it repeated on his blind side was asking too much of an honest sailor. he shouted to old charlie, "glory be to god, charlie, and it's drowned we will be in sight of land. in the name of the father, what made him attempt it on a night like this? look, look, holy saint patrick, look at the breakers. ah, and it's high and dry we'll be. bad luck to the day i ever set foot on this auld barge! she isn't fit for a dog to sail in." the harbor end of the reef was marked by a light on a small cutter, which was so dim that one would almost have to have a light to find it. after rounding this insignificant light we had deep water and a large harbor. just as day was breaking we dropped anchor, after an eventful voyage of fifty-four days from puget sound. at eight o'clock an east indian doctor came on board, and lining the crew up for inspection, required every man to put out his tongue. from the looks of the above-mentioned he seemed pleased with the health of the crew. he left, after looking over the official log book to make sure that the captain had not been murdered. the customs men followed him aboard, and being assured that we were not pirates, departed to where the brandy and soda offered a more tempting interest. as i expected, the pilot came alongside about nine-thirty, very much disgusted to think that i should dare to run the channel without the guidance of his steady head and hand. had he not been here for fifteen years doing this work which required skill and courage, piloting ships of all nations into and out of this dangerous channel? what was it to him (with a clinking glass), whether the conversation took the shape of the battle of balaclava or the bombardment of alexandria? let the ships lay in the offing and await his pleasure. they were helpless without him, and must await his guidance to reach safe anchorage. he scrambled over the side, and adjusting his monocle to look me over, said in an accent that would make a cockney cab-driver take to honest toil, "ahem, ahem, where is your captain?" "he is somewhere around the equator in 145° west longitude," i said. "ow, ow, i see. he abandoned the ship, i suppose." "yes," said i, "he left much against his will. it is rather strange, is it not?" "well, i'll be blowed to think he should have departed in this manner." riley, who was coiling down the main boom tackle fall, was more interested in the english pilot than in coiling ropes. the last remark of the pilot re-echoed back from him in words not befitting this high command. "shur'n it's more av them that ought to be laying at the bottom of the sea with a mill stone around their neck." the way riley's one eye would alternate from the pilot to the little town across the harbor, and the way his lips twitched suggested to me what was going on in his mind. to think he had sailed seventy-five hundred miles to find a specimen like this! "to hell with the pledge and cannibal isles, isn't the sight of this enough to drive any poor irishman into swearing allegiance to john barleycorn for the rest of his life?" chapter xix introducing captain kane, mrs. fagan and mrs. fagan's bar after convincing the pilot of the captain's death, i was given a severe reprimand for coming into the harbor alone. when he went ashore i had the small boat lowered, and, putting on a pair of the dead captain's shoes, also his shirt and pants, i had broken-nosed pete row me to the landing place on the wharf. i wanted to look up the consignee and see where he wanted the cargo of lumber. there were a few cutters anchored in the harbor, but no ships. as we neared the wharf, i noticed a neat and clean little steam cutter lying along the south side of the wharf, and judged from the three-pound gun on her deck that she was a revenue cutter. on the wharf stood many natives, male and female. i was particularly attracted to the native men, who were wonderful types of physical development, standing six feet or more, with broad shoulders and deep chests. the muscles ran smoothly in their arms and legs, and their tapering thighs and agile feet made a picture seldom seen in the northern latitudes. they had no worries and troubles in dealing with the tailors and dressmakers. adam and eve fashions still prevailed here, although some of the more prominent wore a yard or two of white linen instead of the fig leaves. this, contrasted with the shiny dark skin and the white-washed hair, which had a vertical pitch, rather distinguished them in appearance from their more humble brethren. broken-nosed pete was so fascinated by "the female of the species," that he forgot to moor the boat. as the latter was drifting away from the wharf i gave him instructions to be more prudent,--to make fast the boat, and remain there until my return. evidently pete was not looking for this rebuke, for he answered in a voice that could be heard the width of the harbor saying, "aye, aye, there seems to be a hellish current, sir." as i started to walk up the wharf i was met by a young man wearing a palm beach suit. "you are the captain of the 'wampa,' i believe," said he, "i represent smith & company here, and your cargo is consigned to us." after showing me where the lumber was to go, he told me that i would have to raft it ashore. this was rather discouraging to me, as the distance was about one mile from the ship and i had never had any experience with work of this kind, but on account of shallow water at the dock i had no other alternative and decided to raft the cargo ashore as he directed. he invited me to his office, telling me that he believed there was mail there for the ship. in passing a hotel at the end of the wharf he suggested a highball, which was served in due course by a red-headed irish barmaid. i was then introduced to a number of hibernians, noticeable among whom was a very fat and blubbery looking creature with an unusually large nose. his black beard was streaked with gray, his mouth had a sort of an angular twist, and in opening it one could see a few stray tusks, so solitary that it seemed they must be quite conscious of the old surroundings. the shirt, with its nicotine and other stains, was open at the neck, displaying a black and long-haired breast. this he seemed to be very proud of. after telling me that his name was captain kane, and that he was the captain of the "pongon," the revenue cutter which i had noticed lying alongside the wharf, he put his hand to his breast and began to twist the black hair. this was probably an act of official dignity as captain of the "pongon," and representative of the british government in the fiji archipelago. i got the mail, which consisted of three letters, one for the cook, and one for me from the owners, instructing me to proceed home in ballast to san francisco. the other was addressed to nelson, the dane. when i got back aboard the ship it was noon, and raining as it knows how to rain in this country. it was not dropping down, but a continuous stream as if running through a sprinkler. the afternoon was given to taking off deck-lashings and getting a line ashore in order to be able to pull the raft to the wharf. this operation used up almost all the rope on the ship. about seven o'clock the crew came aft to say that they were going ashore and wanted some money to spend. oh, no, not at all for whiskey, just a few necessary things such as socks, tobacco and handkerchiefs. (whoever heard of a sailor buying a handkerchief while the ready oakum is to be had for the asking!) i assured them that tomorrow i would draw on the owners, and give them one pound each to spend on these luxuries. they went forward growling and grumbling, and not at all pleased with this proposition. i believe that broken-nosed pete's description of what he had seen at the wharf weighed heavy on their minds. in the morning we started the raft by taking four long two-by-sixes and lashing them at the ends, thus forming a square, then launching it over the side, and making it fast to the ship. we started to stow the lumber on the ship, running the boards fore and aft, then athwart ships. after having stowed a few tiers, the raft took shape, but great care had to be taken in starting it, as it was hard to keep the first boards from floating away. the raft could not draw over six feet, otherwise we could not float it ashore, but with this draft we could raft twenty thousand feet ashore and escape the shallow places in the harbor. i went ashore towards noon to hire ten natives to help unload cargo. much to my surprise, the native fijian is a man of leisure and not of toil. shell-fishing is good, and the yams and bananas are within easy reach, so this gentleman prefers to bask in the sunshine rather than to work for a paltry shilling. i was about to go to the office of smith & company to see what they could do for me about getting help, when i espied captain kane strolling up the wharf. from the way his legs were spread apart one could see that his cargo was something different from lumber. as he approached me i noticed the cigar was so short that it was singeing his black beard and mustache. he greeted me warmly, saying, "how's she heading, sonny?" and insisted that i join him in a glass, as he usually took one about this time of day. on the way to the hotel i told him how hard it was going to be for me to get help. he stopped suddenly, and, turning around to look at the harbor as if to make sure that there were no blockade runners in the offing, he fanned himself with his cheese-cutter cap, then turned towards me saying, "why, man alive, i can load your ship down with coolies. do you see those," pointing to a couple of small men, "they are our workers here. they come in from the solomon group. i will get you as many as you want for two shillings a day and meals. as for these natives, they are damned lazy scoundrels, that's what they are, they won't work at all if they can help it." mrs. fagan greeted us with a smile, asking us in the good old irish way what our pleasure might be. her red hair was much in need of combing and lacked the delicate wave of the tonsorial artist. we were joined by the pilot, who was on his way to give his boat's crew a little excursion around the harbor. "one must keep them in practice, you know. goodness knows when a coolie ship may heave in sight, and i must be there to guide her in. oh, yes, i must do my duty rain or shine." chapter xx reminiscences of old clipper days one could see from the yawn and grunt that captain kane gave, that if the pilot went on talking he would disregard all rules of the road and make it a head-on collision. how could he respect this thing, that called itself captain and pilot, when all he commanded was an open boat with a few black oarsmen; "it is practice you want," said captain kane, raising his glass and draining the last dregs from mrs. fagan's highball, setting the glass down on the bar with a bang that seemed to further derange mrs. fagan's red hair. she turned around exclaiming, "may the lord save us and what was that?" "let me tell you," said captain kane to the pilot, wiping his mouth, "that i don't think you know hell about doing your duty. here's a man"--patting me on the shoulder--"that squared away and ran the reef while you were asleep, yes, damn you, asleep. you talk about duty!" the little wisp of hair on captain kane's head no longer lay in quiet repose, but started to ascend as if controlled by the angular motions of his hands and feet. the illuminating light in his bleary eyes continued, and he said in a voice that sounded like the rolling surf, "fifty years ago, running between ceylon and the united kingdom, in the old tea clippers where our topsails and top-gallant sheets were locked with a padlock, and where we got a bonus from the owners whenever we carried away a sail. those were the days!" he brought his clubbed fist down on the bar with such force that he jarred many of the glasses that were arranged around the beer pump handles. mrs. fagan whispered to me that the captain was not himself today at all, at all, that he seldom gave way like this. "you talk about duty to me," captain kane continued, "but i've seen the time when every damned man of us were tied to the rigging during a typhoon. never a reef nor a furled sail, while the captain held the padlock keys. oh, boys, those were the days, and you come around here talking to me about your duty. go on with you now before i forget that i am captain of his majesty's ship 'pongon.'" the pilot was much distressed by this outburst of anger from captain kane. as he adjusted his monocle with trembling fingers before replying, a side door opened and mr. tim fagan, proprietor of the pier hotel, greeted us with a grin, saying, "'tis a foine day we be havin', men, and how are you all this morning?" the contrast between mr. and mrs. fagan was interesting, and one could see that the eugenic situation had not yet reached south of twenty-three. his costume was that which is worn by the english lodge gate-keeper. he stood about five feet four, in the long stockings and the knee pants, the spiral legs, the number ten boots. this rig was coupled with the fringe of a beard extending from ear to ear, partly displaying a small chin and upper lip. such an upper lip is seldom seen outside south africa, but with him it had assumed such vast proportions that there was little to see of the face. the wart or button that was intended for a nose was pushed up the face and in line with the gray eyes. the mouth was in contrast to the upper lip, but its expansion was lost in the sandy stubble of the side whiskers. mrs. fagan looked adoringly at her beloved spouse and said, "tim, it's yourself that will treat the gintlemen." it was with great difficulty that captain kane reached a small shack made of bamboo poles and palm leaves. on entering we were confronted with a sight long to be remembered, for there, sitting around in a circle were fourteen natives of the solomon islands chewing kara root, which, after much masticating, they spit into a large earthen-ware dish. the kara root when properly masticated is then collected, put through a sort of churning process and made into a drink which is known as fiji grog. it resembles oatmeal water, which is a familiar drink among our northern harvest hands, but lacks its obvious peculiarities. the natives greeted the captain with a salaam-san and proffered him a cup of the thick and slimy substance. the captain refused, saying that it was near his lunch hour and he preferred not to indulge on an empty stomach, which i was pleased to see, for if he had taken aboard some of this mysterious looking cargo and mixed it in his watertight compartment there would have been a vacant chair at lunch on board his majesty's ship "pongon." chapter xxi unloading cargo--again the master--native police i had no difficulty in hiring ten of the little men, and took them off to the ship to work cargo. in the afternoon we hauled a raft of lumber ashore. i was greatly encouraged with this process of unloading; of course it lacked the noise of the steam winch and the occasional profanity of the frisco longshoremen, but this was the south sea isles where work was a pleasure. i drew thirty pounds (a hundred and fifty dollars), remembering that the crew had some "purchases" to make that evening. after supper they came aft, dressed in their best clothes, and repeated their demands of the evening before. after giving each member of the crew forward one pound, and the second mate and cook two pounds, they got in the boat and pulled ashore, leaving me and toby, the black cat, to guard the ship. i remained long after sunset on deck listening to the natives singing and playing their guitars. the sound, mingled with the noise of the surf breaking on the reefs beyond the purring of toby, created a lullaby that would soothe the wildest intellect. leaving toby on deck to play with the cockroaches, i went aft to the cabin to make the report of the day. while thus working i was interrupted by a strange noise in the captain's room. i thought it was toby going his rounds, but upon investigation i found that he was on deck and sitting by the galley door. i was busy with an example in proportion. if it took one day to unload twenty thousand feet of lumber how many days would it take to unload five hundred thousand? i seated myself at the table again, but was brought up with a sudden start on hearing three loud and distinct knocks on the dead captain's door. i found myself saying, "yes, captain, i will attend to it at once." in my excitement of the past few days i had forgotten to mail the dead captain's last will to berkeley, california. i jumped up and opened the door leading to his room. lighting the light and going to a small drawer in the desk, i took out the will, also the little shoes, and the pink ribbons, and yellow curls, and started ashore to mail them to the above address in the u. s. a. i did not stop now to write the letter, which i knew must also go, and which would be so very hard for me to write. i made the small boat fast at the landing, and hurried to where i could get stamps, for i was bound that these packages should leave on the next north-bound steamer. as i neared the pier hotel i was surprised to see riley standing outside the door talking in a loud and profane voice. in passing him i could hear him say, "ah go-wan, you dirty connemara crook, shur'n i knew your father, he used to eat swill out of the swill barrels." with this a chair came bouncing through the door, which increased my speed for the post office. evidently, mr. fagan and riley had been having some political argument, for in the distance he was shouting, "parnell was a gintleman and a scholar!" riley's shouting was evidently disturbing the peace of the harbor, for a great many of the natives, men and women, were running towards the pier hotel where he was holding forth. as i walked to the more thickly settled part of the town i stopped and asked a white man where the post office was. on being told it was down by the club hotel, the anxiety to relieve my mind of this obligation caused me to put on more speed, and i shoveled along in the captain's heavy and much too large boots. arriving at the club hotel i was informed that the post office was closed. the genial host, a thick heavy-set australian, supplied me with stamps, paper and envelopes, and i wrote to the owners telling them of the captain's death, and sent the package in their care, with instructions to forward it to the proper address. i felt greatly relieved of my responsibility to the captain and owners when the host assured me that he would take care of the postage in the morning. becoming suddenly conscious of the real picturesqueness of these islands and anxious to see the natives at closer range, i called up all the old beach combers in the hotel to have a drink. this seemed to please the proprietor, for he shouted, "come on, men, breast the bar!" i noticed broken-nosed pete in the corner having a very confidential chat with a villainous-looking man. they were so occupied that they failed to hear the cheery command of the proprietor. the attractive barmaid was very much annoyed at my ordering ginger ale, turning around and looking at herself in the glass and adjusting her white crocheted cap as if to make sure that she was really awake and not dreaming. "whoever heard of a sailor drinking ginger ale," she might have said, "haven't they come here from the four corners of the earth always thirsty for the rum that makes them merry and gay? besides, you can never loosen up a man on ginger ale." his spendings in the rum shops in this case are not at all to the liking of the pretty barmaids, who flatter themselves that they get the last penny from the sailor just off the sea. i was reminded of the time by seeing an old-fashioned clock hanging to the right of the bar, when suddenly a trap door on top of the old clock opened, and a cuckoo hopped out cooing the hour of eleven o'clock. so absorbed had i been in meeting with the old shell-backs, who were lined along the bar at my expense drinking old tom and soda that i became oblivious both of the flight of time and the slow trickling away of my money. i made a hasty getaway for the open. outside the night was warm and everything peaceful and tranquil. the rolling hills to the eastward were illuminated by the silvery rays of a rising moon. the occasional hum of the disgusted mosquito who had missed his mark was all that seemed to disturb the peace of this quaint fijian town. the moon took flight, squeezing and pushing her way through the far-off stately palms. as she began to throw ghostly shadows from the native house tops, i felt the fascination of these islands as never before. the soft trade winds, the silvery rippling waters, the lullaby from the reef beyond, the cooing and gurgling of the surf as it played upon the coral beach below, were enchanting. the distant call of the native boatman shoving off with his cargo of vegetables and fruits for early market, caused silvery threads of sound in the night, and a parrakeet chattered as he gave way to a more worthy rival. the tune of the sea-gull reached me as he dove from on high and missed his wiggling fish. while listening to these strange and interesting sounds, i was rudely interrupted by boisterous laughter coming from the direction of the pier hotel. i thought of riley, and hastened there, thinking that his political argument must have taken a serious trend. much to my surprise riley was not to be seen, but there stood the socialist cook, perched high on a dry goods box with a large mug of ale in one hand and a black cigar in the other. there were a few native men and women standing around, evidently much amused by the cook's gestures. back of him, beside a sickly and yellow oil lamp, stood two natives dressed in loose tunics, whose sleeves were cut off at the elbow. they also wore short skirts coming down to the knee, and below that was nature's own. what attracted me most was the coloring of this strange uniform. as i edged closer i noticed that this kilty-look-costume was a very dark blue, but the trimmings were getting on my nerves. the wearers were standing with one side to the oil lamp, and from this angle i could see that the dresses were trimmed with red borders about three inches wide above the neck. the cut-off sleeves also had their share of this satanic display. the short petticoat was more conspicuous. this, contrasted with large feet and yellow legs, showing the blood-red border on the indigo skirt, was a coloring seldom seen in any man's country. as they whispered to each other i noticed that they had long clubs belted onto their hands. the cook, between a puff on the black cigar and a drink of bass' famous was decrying the british government for making slaves of them. after much persuasion i took the cook in tow for the ship. i did not like the look of his majesty's fijian policeman, especially since i was so much dependent on early breakfasts for both the crew and natives. at the row-boat the cook hesitated, saying: "just one more before we part." when i answered him in the negative he straightened up and squared his shoulders, saying: "to hell with monarchies; i shall give them the ballot to do with as they may." the ginger ale in this instance was more powerful than the famous bass' ale and i shouldered the cook easily up the gangway. i noticed as i did so that the cat-boat was not alongside. evidently the crew was still enjoying fiji hospitality. this was proven on reaching the deck, for the only sound that greeted us was toby purring and wagging his black tail, happy in the knowledge that even a drunken cook was preferable to the lonely swinging anchor light on the forestay. i left the cook, after assuring him that i would lend my assistance in starting a socialist colony on one of these islands. from the way he tumbled into the bunk there would be little time consumed in making his toilet in the morning. perhaps it was just as well if one denies the claims of bedbugs, cockroaches and mosquitoes. they had waited patiently for the past six hours for just this event. what a wonderful opportunity they would find in this fat and blubbery creature lying there in an ecstasy of bliss, with not a groan to disturb their peaceful recreation. only a matter of a slight incision on a choice part, then insert the valve and turn on the centrifugal pump and all would be done to their great satisfaction. but this slumbering animal was now done up in impenetrable strata of clothes, which ruined their sport. removing the hat and loosing the black and red tie from around his neck, i blew out the light, and left him to determine a battle for the survival of the fittest. chapter xxii shore leave--the web-toed sailor--the missionary ship i was wondering whether to go ashore to look for the crew, when i heard the second mate's voice saying: "easy on your port oars. give away hard on your starboard." as they came alongside the gangway i could see riley and the russian-finn asleep in the bow of the cat-boat. dago joe was missing, and the others had had about all the rum they could stand. i gave the second mate orders to leave riley and the russian-finn in the boat, as it was dangerous to try to get them on board while they were so drunk. swanson spoke up, saying: "to hell with you, we do what we damned please." i was rather upset by this remark coming from the big swede. i should have thought that he would have had enough of fighting on the trip south. evidently the booze was working on him and he was intending revenge. i stepped over to the pin-rail and pulled out a wooden belaying-pin. booze or no booze, i was going to make this brute respect me if i had to resort to old-time methods. running down the gangway, i ordered all that could walk up to get there damned quick and pointed to swanson, saying: "you will be the first to leave the boat." as the ship swung with the outgoing current, the moon revealed the expression of hatred on swanson's face. the high cheek bones, the knitted viking-brows, the large cruel mouth, showing the irregular and vicious-looking tusks, the eyes no longer blue, whose pupils were so enlarged that the color had disappeared,--all this gave him just the look of a wild animal at bay. swanson jumped from the stern-sheets to the center of the boat, shouting: "shove her off and we will go ashore again, and you may go to hell." as he reached for the boat hook to shove her off or to use it on me if it should come handy, i did not wait for him to decide. jumping into the boat, i knocked him down and ordered the others aboard. whether my sudden irruption amongst them with the belaying-pin was a counter-irritant for the booze they had within them or not i don't know. but the boat was cleared in two minutes, leaving swanson, riley and the finn lying in the bottom. the second mate, although trying with a thick tongue to proclaim his innocence of having had even a glass of ale, was making heavy weather of it while going up the gangway. i reached for the water dipper and poured the salt, but warm, sea water over swanson. after a few applications of this stimulating treatment he arose to his feet saying, "i tank i go on board now." i followed him up the gangway and forward to his bunk to make sure there would be no tricking from this brute. i remembered the cowardly kick on my forehead and resolved if there was any kicking to be done i would do it. walking aft, i heard splashing as if some one was overboard. on reaching the gangway i discovered that the finn was missing from the boat. ahead of the cat-boat lay a raft of lumber, and on the outside of it i could plainly see bubbles coming up, and wondered if this could not be the action of a vegetable gas. but to my horror the russian's head popped out of the water, and with it came a blood-curdling scream as he writhed about in his death struggles. instead of making for the raft, he was fanning and kicking the water away from it. i dropped the belaying-pin, and, slashing the shoe strings of the captain's boots, jumped out of them and overboard after the drowning finn. as i swam near him his hands went up and with a shriek he sank below. after several attempts at diving, i finally caught him by the arm, and arose to the surface. swimming over to the gangway, i caught hold of the boat painter, and, throwing his arms over the rope, i managed to crawl onto the lower platform, then pulling and struggling with this dead burden, i gradually made my way to the deck. i dumped him down on the break of the poop and ran for the cook's pork barrel. it wasn't that i was so terribly interested in this lifeless thing, but i was interested in knowing that should i lose him i would be forced to sail short-handed, as there were no sailors here who cared to stray far away from the cocoanuts and yams. when it came to rolling i gave him the benefit of the doubt. i rolled him under the barrel and over it, and stimulated him with artificial respiration. after about one hour he began to show signs of life. i then carried him forward to his bunk, taking off his shoes and stockings. my attention was caught by his feet, for he had one large toe on each foot, and in place of the smaller toes all that remained was a thin tissue or web, extending from the large toe to where the smaller one should be. then it dawned upon me that the reason this man never went barefooted was his bashfulness of these duck-like feet. after covering him over in the bunk, i hurried to where riley was lying in the boat, finding him cuddled up with his head between his legs. i decided to leave him there, but secured him fast with a rope, in such a way that when he became sober it would be necessary for some one to come to his rescue; i was not going to take any chances on having to be the pearl diver to fish riley from the depth of suva harbor. away to the eastward the faint rays of a new day were shown in an amber sky streaked with brilliant pink. taking the cook's alarm clock, i went below to secure some sleep before five o'clock. while fixing the mosquito net over the port hole in my room i was startled by hearing a cry which resolved itself into, "murder, murder, begorra it's tied they have me. hivenly father, to think i should be ate up by those damned cannibals and not a soul in sight to see the last of michael dennis riley." i would gladly have left riley tugging and pulling at the diamond hitch that bound him, but i was afraid that his cries of murder would attract the fiji policemen ashore. it required tact and skill and diplomacy to untie riley. he was snapping and kicking, and dangerous to get near. he was calling on all the angels in heaven to witness the terrible crime he was about to be subjected to. i assured him that his old tough and tarry hide was not even fit for a shark to eat, let alone a decent fiji cannibal. he seemed to scent a kindly influence, but was rather inclined to resent the idea of having a tarry hide. after his hands and feet were free he wanted to fight it out there, and then saying that it did not matter a tinker's damn who called him this name, but there was no man that could get away with an insulting remark like calling him a tarry-hide or an old shell-back. "be hivins, the cannibals are bad enough," he said, "but to call a dacent man a name like this is too much for the pride of ireland to stand." as he struggled to his feet i stepped over to the blind side of him and tightened the clove hitch around his neck. i had no desire to let this drunk-crazed irishman loose on the boat. after much coaxing and reassuring he finally recognized me and offered an apology. i took the hitch off his neck, and let him up to the deck, where he begged for one more hour's sleep. i called the cook to get breakfast, as it was nearly five o'clock, and had a look at the finn, who seemed none the worse for his plunge in the harbor. the freaky and webby toes were sticking out over the bunk and i wondered if it were possible to drown a man with feet like these, since they had all the characteristics of a duck's foot. there were yet two hours left before it was time to start work for the day, so i hastened to my room and was soon asleep. after breakfast it was a sickly-looking crew that came on deck, some of them very much ashamed, others complaining about not having ice on board, as the fresh water was too warm and did not have the soothing effect it otherwise would have. the ten solomon islanders ate their beans and hardtack as if nothing had happened, much to the disgust of the sailors, who seemed to feel the nauseating effect of this act. the work of moving the lumber was going slowly. it seemed that the sailors could not get enough oatmeal water. nothing pleased them, everything was wrong. the lumber was too long. it was too heavy. it was not sawed right at the mill. why did they have to work, and so on and so on? i realized that if this kept up it would be many weeks before we would be ready to sail for home. with this thought in mind, i jumped into the small boat and pulled ashore to get three quarts of black and white scotch whiskey. i felt that after they had had a drink of this famous brand the lumber would move with a will. after giving each one a drink of this murky liquor the lumber seemed to move as if by magic. no longer was it too large and heavy. each one was trying to outdo the other. the solomon islanders were in great danger from the flying two-by-fours, and even the cook was wielding the axe with greater skill as he drove it into the fibrous yams. this was a new departure in the handling of sailors, but so far it was working well. if it was necessary for scotch whiskey to enter into the discharging of this cargo, i was going to see that each man had enough to stimulate him to even greater results. while ashore in the afternoon ordering fresh meat and vegetables, i met captain kane, who insisted that i pay a visit to his majesty's ship "pongon." in walking down the wharf, the captain noticed a ship in the offing. he seemed interested as he hurried along to the cutter. "you know," said he, "my eyes are not as good as they should be, and i'll be damned if i know whether she is a coolie or a missionary ship." contract labor is used here in working the rice fields and sugar plantations. the coolies sign a five-year contract for sixpence (twelve cents) per day, and all the rice they can eat. they live by themselves and don't associate with the natives, as they consider them unclean because they eat pig. they are very devout in their worship of allah and adhere strictly to fish and vegetables as a food. they are the type seen in bombay and calcutta. many of them, after being here for a few years, form a company and buy a small sloop of five to ten tons to haul cobra from the different islands to suva, the capital of the fijis. the latter town is a distributing center for the archipelago, and here is where ships of many nations come and load this dried cocoanut for the foreign markets of the world. it is one of the chief industries of these islands. on boarding the revenue cutter, i noticed the native crew standing around the gangway. they all came to a salute, as their proud captain swung over the rail. their uniform resembled that of the policemen, but instead of a red border in a blue field, it was white. this white border with the white-washed hair gave them a clean and wholesome look, very different from the policemen. captain kane led the way to the bridge, and, picking up a pair of binoculars, he made out the strange craft to be a missionary ship. "you will notice," said he as he handed the glasses to me, "that she has painted ports,--damn them painted ports, i know what it means, not a blasted drink as long as she is here. and that's not all, when them missionaries come ashore, especially the older women, all a person sees around here is hell's burning fires." the coming of the missionary ship held no charm for captain kane. his proud and dignified bearing gave way to that of a child, or one who has lost a near and dear friend. "it is too damned bad," he shouted, "that she should come here at this time; i and a few old friends were about to have a little party." here he pulled his cheese-cutter cap down with a jerk, so that the bleary eyes were no longer visible. "and now i suppose i'll have to be converted again. yes, hell and damnation, i have been converted to every religion that was ever heard of. oh, yes, they commercialize it down here, and we all chip in to keep the brass work shining on the missionary ships." here captain kane made a hasty exit from the good ship "pongon" and laid out a course for the pier hotel, saying: "little does the world know the troubles that some people have who are trying to do their duty to their god and their king." at half-past four in the afternoon the missionary ship dropped anchor about a cable's length off our starboard bow. her crew were dressed in man-o'-war uniforms. they lowered a boat, and as they pulled ashore i could see five portly-looking dames sitting in the stern. they were discussing our ship, and, from the scowling glances they gave us, i felt that we were safe in standing by to repel boarders. they cast loving glances at his majesty's ship "pongon," perhaps consulting as to what form of baptism would be most impressive for captain kane. the crew had no desire to go ashore this evening. the last strenuous night and a hard day's work, had left them in a rather sullen mood. even old charlie and riley were not on speaking terms. swanson's jaw showed the mark of a belaying-pin, and he seemed quite conscious of it as he chewed his evening meal. the web-toed russian-finn looked as if the hum of the mosquito would be a welcome lullaby to the land of dreams. the cook, though silent and morose, would lift his head occasionally from the dishes to listen to the natives singing their evening hymn, "shall we gather at the river where bright angels' feet do tread." anything with angels in it was displeasing to our cook. he even seemed to take a sudden dislike to toby as he kicked him out of the galley door, exclaiming, "get out of here, damn you; i suppose they will be putting wings on you before long." the solomon islands workmen, although tired from the day's work, were laughing and chatting in their native tongue as they circled around a large dishpan of mulligan stew. knives and forks were not much in evidence, the natives preferring to use their hands to eat with. although trained for centuries to eat in this manner, i must say that the cook's mulligan stew kept them guessing. i decided that tomorrow, if perchance the cook should arise under the refining influence of a good night's rest, i would ask him to thicken the mulligan stew in the interest of the solomon islanders. the discharging of cargo was progressing satisfactorily, since we now had the deck load off, and were commencing on the hold. in a few days i had hopes of clearing from suva and starting on our long voyage home. chapter xxiii fiji royalty--local color--visitors to the ship today i met the royal family of the fiji islands. the king, although old, was a very impressive figure, with his long white kinky hair and massive bushy eyebrows. his color was that of a mulatto, a higher type than that of the native fijians. he wore a loose white tunic cut off at the elbows, and girdled around him was what looked like a homespun sheet. this garment was twisted and tucked tight around the hips, the lower folds falling loosely above the knee; the legs were muscular and strong, and the calves bulged out as if inflated with air. the feet were ugly, long and broad, and the toes resembled those of a starfish. no matter what the angle from which one viewed them, there would always be a toe pointing towards one. the two princesses were gaily attired in blue checked mother hubbards. this long and flowing garment made them look like our north american squaws. in features they resembled the samoan type of women. the prince, of stately bearing, wore a costume similar to that of his royal father, but his most distinguishing characteristic was the number twelve boots he wore. he seemed particularly interested in those massive hides, as he told me how he came to be their proud possessor. there was no last large enough on the island, and again there was a shortage of leather, so it came to pass that some local astronomer measured the altitude of his highness' feet, and this measure, sealed in a conch shell, was cast adrift and floated away to an australian port, where it finally drifted into the hands of one of dickens' migrating cobblers, who filled the order and waxed them together. while discussing with the king the starry banner as it floated from the mast head of the "wampa," my attention was attracted to the silent and lonesome figure of a man, descending the hill beyond the town. as this melancholy figure wended its way among the palms, i could make out the pea jacket and cheese-cutter cap of captain kane. as he approached he wore a troubled and anxious look as if in fear, but when he recognized the royal family, his expression gave way to a more pleasing one. he spat out a large chew of tobacco, and slapping the king on the shoulder, "how in hell did you know the missionary ship was in?" "oh," replied the king, "we see flag on hill." captain kane explained to me that when a missionary ship puts in to suva they raise a flag on one of the largest hills back of the town. that signals to the natives for miles around that there are big doings in suva. captain kane and the royal family evidently did not have much in common, for he grabbed me by the arm and led the way to the pier hotel, leaving the royal family gazing and wondering if they could not have made a better bargain with the stars and stripes than with the union jack of old england. at the pier hotel, mrs. fagan greeted us with a smile. as she passed the old tom to captain kane she remarked, "sure'n me eyes haven't rested upon you for days, captain kane. 'tis sick i thought you were." here she gave me a roguish wink. before replying, captain kane filled his bumper, leaving very little room for the soda, and took a step toward the door to see if the coast were clear. satisfied that everything was in his favor, he reached for the glass of old tom, and with one gulp and a gurgling sound as if running over pebbles, the old tom disappeared to its last resting place. he pulled out a much worn bandana handkerchief, and wiping his mouth and beard he said to mrs. fagan, "no, i have not been sick, i have been a very busy man of late. but if this incessant singing and praying keeps up i am pretty damned sure i will get sick." mrs. fagan interrupted, saying: "captain, how long are the missionaries going to remain?" "they will stay here until they have every one of us converted again," moaned the captain. mrs. fagan adjusted a large tortoise-shell comb in her hair, and straightening out her hand-embroidered flounces in her white dress, remarked, "shur'n it's poor business we do be having when the missionary ship comes in." "mrs. fagan," said i, "give us another drink. and won't you join us?" "ah, and it's seldom i ever touch it, but i will take a little drop of burke's irish just to be sociable with you." after captain kane had three bumpers of old tom the world had a different aspect for him; even the old gray-haired missionaries weren't so bad after all. they had to make a living like the rest of us. but at times they were objectionable, especially when the gin was awash in the bilges. on the way down to the wharf captain kane promised to take me for a drive in the country, as he felt it would be a great relief to be away at least one day from the missionaries. while pulling off to the "wampa," i was amused, as a canoe glided past me, to see a native make use of his breech-cloth for a sail. he unwound about two yards of cloth from around his waist and fastened it to two bamboo poles that were about three feet apart. after tying this calico wrapping at the top and bottom of the poles he had a square sail. the square sail with a fair wind made it easy for the native; he leaned back on his steering oar, evidently well pleased with such favorable conditions. when i came alongside, i noticed that the crew looked me over very critically, as if wondering why i stayed away so long. as it was now one hour past grog time they wore anxious looks. a growl here and a grunt there were all that greeted me. but after each getting a jolt of scotch, their expressions changed to a smacking of lips, and a heave-aho on the six-by-sixes. after supper the missionary boat came alongside, and two elderly women came aboard and asked if there were any christians among the crew. i informed these sanctified-looking ladies that i had my "doots," but would be pleased to escort them to the crew's quarters where they could make their own diagnosis. i left them to go down the scuttle hatch leading to the forecastle and beat a hasty retreat to the cabin, fearing that i might have to share some of captain kane's misery. while entering in the log book the events and progress of the day, i realized from the sounds coming from the fore part of the ship, that the old ladies were making some headway with the crew. as the sound took volume, i could hear them singing, "pull for the shore, sailors, pull for the shore, heed not the tempest's roar but bend to the oar." the cook, putting away his clean dishes, said, "what in hell has got into those fellows this evening?" i told him that they were having a very sociable visit from the ladies who ran the missionary ship, and that no doubt they would be pleased to pay him a friendly visit. the cook threw the dishes to the pantry shelf, and slamming the pantry door exclaimed, "keep them away from me; i'm in no mood to discuss religious philosophy tonight." after giving each member of the crew a small bible, and praying for our souls in the safe passage home, the old missionary women shoved off for the shore, apparently not at all pleased with their evening's work. if they had brought about four quarts of scotch whiskey on board they would have had no trouble in converting the crew, for even the cook could be reconciled to any form of religion, old or new, as long as the scotch flowed freely. chapter xxiv a drive with captain kane--razorback rampant the next day captain kane and i started for our drive into the island with an old battered two-seated rig. the horse, though old in years, had a look of being well taken care of, and was rather inclined to shy as he gazed at an unfamiliar palm or cocoanut tree. i hesitatingly offered to spell the captain off, and asked him to let me drive awhile. he turned on me very angrily and said, "there is no damned ship that ever sailed the seas that required more careful steering than this horse does. one has got to know just how much helm to give him. if you should put it hard over and get him on the home tack all hell couldn't stop him until he reached the stable. oh, i know him," continued the captain, "he has a mouth on him that will hold like the devil's claw on a windlass." as we drove through the rice fields, i noticed that hindoos were doing the work; here and there could be seen the lazy natives asleep under the trees. "my object," said the captain, as he coaxed the old horse past a flying turban that seemed to be coming unfastened from its wearer, "my object in taking you on this trip is to show you the result of a hurricane that happened here twelve years ago. it will not be necessary for me to discuss the velocity of the hurricane, you'll be able to judge for yourself when we pass that village ahead. but," continued the captain, "for god's sake don't talk above a whisper while i steer timbuctoo" (for this was the horse's name) "through the palm village. you can see by the action of his head that he is about to make heavy weather of it." i must say that the old horse had taken a new lease of life; he did not seem to be conscious of his cocked ankles or the spavins or other conspicuous growths that covered his legs. with head erect, arched neck and ears pitched forward, he was not at all particular about using his front feet, but rather inclined to do the cake walk, and always waiting a chance to turn and bolt for home. this was worrying the captain, for he said anxiously, "i have driven him many times, but never have i seen him act like this. it's these hellish fijian huts with their palm-covered roofs that are getting on his nerves." things were going along about as well as could be expected until we were about at the center of the straggling village. then it happened that from out a palm-covered hut strolled a razorback hog, seemingly unconcerned as to our presence and not inclined to observe the rules of the road. the captain smelled danger, as he warped an extra turn of the lines around his hands, and remarked rather nervously, "there's going to be hell here in about a minute." timbuctoo felt as uncomfortable as his driver; he too sensed the danger of this razor-backed hog. captain kane relaxed his hold on the reins to adjust his cheese-cutter cap to a more seaworthy position. while doing so the hog stopped in front of timbuctoo. all would even then have been well had it not been for the curiosity of this hungry-looking razorback. i suggested to the captain that i get out and drive the hog away. "hell and damnation, no," roared the captain, "keep your seat, i will pass under his quarter." timbuctoo veered to starboard under the steady hand of captain kane. this move was in accordance with the rules of the road, but unfortunately it proved fatal, for it exposed timbuctoo's warty legs to the hungry hog. he evidently thought that this was a new kind of crop that did not require rooting, which, to judge from the two large rings in his nose, was a lost art with him. before the captain could brace his clubby boots against the dash-board the razor-backed hog reached out with his long mouth and took hold of timbuctoo's most conspicuous wart, which was dangling on the right hind leg. when timbuctoo felt this smarting insult he decided not to await orders from his venerable driver. grasping the bit in his mouth, he started full speed ahead. "there he goes," roared the captain, "and god knows when he will stop." dan patch had nothing on timbuctoo. the cocoanut trees looked like telephone poles as one sees them while riding on the twentieth century limited. "i would not care a damn how far he would run," sang out the captain as if shouting to a man on the topsail yard in a gale of wind, "if i had not promised to make a speech at the missionary meeting tonight." "let me try him, captain?" said i. "you try him," said he, "what in hell do you know about animals? there is no living man could do anything with him now, he has too much damn steam up, all we can do is to trust to luck and keep our helm in midship and let him run before it." after running about two miles he seemed to realize that the captain was still with him and not, as he expected, back with the razor-backed hog. very much disappointed, he broke into a dog trot, much to the relief and satisfaction of the captain. as he withdrew his number tens, which had perforated through the dash-board, he said, "well, i have never come through a storm and lost as little canvas as on this here passage." timbuctoo had no desire to set the fisherman's staysails, he was content to slow down to a walk. "now," said the captain, "let me get my bearings. before we met the razorback, i was going to show you the results of a hurricane as we know them in the fijis." after captain kane had read the various logarithms in regard to his position, he decided that with the hypotenuse over the base the sine lay ahead and after driving about one-half mile, we came to a large boulder alongside the narrow road. "how much does that boulder weigh?" sniffed the captain. "oh," said i, "about four tons." "would you believe," said he, "that during the hurricane of twelve years ago this boulder was carried a distance of three miles?" the captain was somewhat injured at my not showing more enthusiasm. i must say that the boulder story was hard to absorb, although from its present position on the surface of the ground it showed that it had been moved there recently by some force other than the hand of man. taking a chew of tobacco and damning timbuctoo for daring to rub his foaming mouth on his pea jacket, he said, "you may not believe that this was moved by the hurricane. by god, i can prove it and prove it i will when we reach suva." evidently he hoped to invoke the testimony of some of the worthies who drink their scotch to the lullaby of the sad sea waves. on our way back to suva i was impressed by the scenery of the interior of the island, the rolling hills, the native timber resembling california redwood in color, the tall cocoanut trees, the frequent smell of the pineapple, an occasional glimpse of a date palm trying to rear its head from amongst the tropical foliage, claiming a riparian right to the native shrubbery. timbuctoo, on the way back to suva, was slipping it off as well as he could after his recent flight. the razorback hog recalled early memories to me of the country i knew when i was a boy. the rings in their noses were no new things to me in that far-off country. the coming of the new potato crop held much charm for the irish hog, but unfortunately the english landlord claimed a prior right in lieu of rent, and poor barney was subjected to the cruel and unmerciful treatment of having horseshoe nails twisted in his nose. the captain was in a rather sullen mood as we drove back. having had nothing to drink but the milk from the cocoanut, he exclaimed: "why in hell don't some one start a half-way house out here for the benefit of those who admire and travel these islands?" chapter xxv homeward bound--the stowaway having cleared the english customs and with a clean bill of health, we were ready to sail. the pilot was on board and his boat's crew had a line fast through the stern chalk so that we could tow them with us clear of the channel reef. once clear of the reef all that remained to do was to haul the pilot boat alongside and have this servant of his majesty climb down the jacob's ladder and into the boat which would bear him away to the spot where the sound of the surf merged into the music of the clinking glass. while giving orders to rig out slip lines for him i heard a familiar voice on the wharf sing out "bon voyage, bon voyage." i looked up to see the portly figure of captain kane. he looked as if he had slept in his clothes. his pea jacket had many wrinkles in the back and in front it was inclined to roll up toward his chin. i jumped ashore to say good-bye to this kind, if groggy old sea dog, shook him by the hand, and thanked him for my trip to the interior of the island, saying that i hoped to see him again. "you know," he said, "i am getting old, but the smell of the stockholm tar, the white flowing sails, the squeaking blocks, the clink of the capstan, bring back memories of long ago, and, damn it all, it makes me young again." captain kane laid great stress on the hurricane season, as january, february and march were the months to be dreaded in the south seas. after seeing the boulder that had been hurled by the last hurricane on these islands, i was hoping that i should be well enough to the northward, so that if one should come i would be out of the storm center, and therefore out of danger. the pilot was nervously pacing up and down the main deck anxious to get me away from the wharf and out to sea. possibly a game of chess had been left unfinished. i jumped aboard and ordered the foresail and main jib set. with this done and the slip lines hauled aboard, the "wampa" glided away from the wharf as if propelled by steam. with the aftersails spread and set to the southeast trades, and sheets trimmed to the wind, we were not long in clearing the channel reef and getting out into open water. after the pilot left i ordered the topsails set. the breeze was fair, and i was anxious to clear bangor island and get to the westward of it before darkness set in. the crew looked happy even after their night's debauch, some were whistling, others humming familiar ditties. riley could be heard singing "rolling home across the sea" from his position on the foretopmast, as he changed the topsail to windward, a job which is usually done with very little sentiment of home or any other place. distance was shutting out the tall green palms around suva, and the town itself was just a speck on the horizon. taking careful cross-bearings of bangor island, so as to avoid the dangers and submerged coral reefs that project from it, i ordered the staysails set to increase our speed so that with darkness i would be well to the westward. our staysails were put away and stowed in the fore peak when we came into port. the second mate went forward to get them up, and swanson went down to bend a line around them before hauling them on deck. he had been down in the fore peak only a minute before he came up the ladder running very excitedly and saying that there was a dead man lying on the staysails. the crew, much upset by this remark, slunk away from the fore peak hatch as if deadly fumes were coming from within, so i got a lantern and went down to see the supposed dead man. i was confronted by a hindoo stowaway. he was so weak from the heat of the fore peak and thirst that he seemed to have little life left in him. i called up to the deck above for a couple of men to come down and give me a hand to carry him. old charlie and riley cautiously felt their way down, riley giving orders to the crew above not to stand too close to the small hatch, as it might be necessary for him to ascend with all possible speed and he did not care to have any obstruction to his flight. old charlie approached with his usual forebodings. the finding of the dead hindoo, in his estimation, meant nothing less than doom and destruction to all on board. riley was more cheerful when he found that there was little chance of physical danger from the supposed dead man. bending the rope around him and carrying him to the mouth of the hatch, i shouted to the crew on deck to haul away very gently. we steered him up the hatch and landed him on deck without any serious bumps. the cool breeze restored him, and when we forced some water down his throat he began to show signs of life. i went aft to get a glass of scotch whiskey, knowing that this would stimulate the heart action. after taking a teaspoonful, his moaning changed to some kind of hindoo gibberish. this change seemed to amuse the crew. they no longer looked gloomy and down in the mouth, but seemed very willing to help him in his fight for life. as he lay there i was seized with a very inhuman and selfish impulse. the night shades of the tropical evening were becoming conspicuous in the western horizon, the run on the log showed the "wampa" sixteen miles to the southward and westward of suva harbor, with the southeast point of bangor island bearing two points on the starboard bow. should the hindoo stowaway come back to life, it would be necessary to tack ship and put back to suva in order to put him ashore. u. s. alien laws are well known to sea-faring men. this stowaway had no money, no position, and all that he had in the way of clothes was a thin pair of pants. should unfavorable conditions prevent my putting him ashore, i would be forced to carry him to san francisco. once there i knew what the immigration authorities would do to me or to the owners. more than likely i should have to pay his passage back by steamboat to the fiji islands. with darkness approaching it was not my intention to put back to suva and run the risk of striking the reef at the entrance of the harbor. for these reasons, i should much prefer a sea burial for the hindoo stowaway. while these hard and unsympathetic thoughts were passing before the visible horizon of my mind, i was nevertheless attracted by his delicate and artistic form. the long and straight black hair, the finely molded ears, the aquiline nose, the perfect profile, the well-rounded chin, the sensual mouth with its uniform white teeth were truly oriental of high caste. an unusual type for a fijian contract laborer. i was deeply impressed with his boyish figure as he lay struggling for breath on the deck. suddenly i was seized with an impulse of sympathy for this frail-looking creature. grasping the bottle of scotch i pressed it to his lips and poured some down his throat. this act caused him to strangle. after fighting for breath he opened his eyes and sat up against the hatch combings. his eyes were bright and fiery and seemed to penetrate through one like an x-ray. they took in the situation at a glance. he realized that he was out at sea. his gaze alternated from the flowing sail to the members of the crew. his eye finally rested on swanson, he being the most brutish looking sailor of those who were standing around, and therefore the most to be feared. i spoke to the hindoo and said, "how long have you been on board?" "oh," said he, "i have been down there," pointing to the fore peak, "for three days." he spoke english without an accent. then he told how he had swam off to the ship, while we were still lying at anchor, and said that he had no idea that we would have been delayed so long before putting to sea. i then told him that it would be impossible to carry him to the united states of america. although weak from heat and hunger, he staggered to his feet and kissed my hand, crying, "oh, please, captain, take me along with you. i cannot live there under these horrible conditions, working for sixpence a day with nothing to eat but curry and rice. i will work for you, i will do anything, only take me away from here." i deeply resented my previous thought of disposing of this intelligent hindoo. the picture this outcast made standing there trembling, with tears streaming down his boyish face, pleading as though his heart would break, was getting the best of me. very few men of the sea can stand tears and emotion. although hardened by years of kicks and knocks, the old-time sailor would much prefer a knock-down and drag-out to any signs of agitation. many of the crew themselves consciously looked to windward and wiped away a rusty tear. while the hindoo was still pleading, swanson stepped up to me and between sobs said, "i wish you would take him along, sir, i have no one in the world to care for, and i can easily spare the forty dollars that you say will be necessary for him to enter the united states." with this offer coming from a man like swanson, i was as much overcome as the hindoo was, in his pleading for liberty to be taken away from the low and dirty castes of bombay and calcutta which furnish labor for the fiji islands. he thanked swanson by gracefully bowing and said, turning to me, "i am sure you can make some use of me on your voyage home." this statement proved true, for had it not been for the stowaway, this narrative would never have been written. the socialist cook was standing with his back up against the galley, deeply impressed with this new possibility. from the way he ran to make milk toast for the hindoo, one would think that at last he had discovered a new clay to mold and construct and pattern after his own impressions. chapter xxvi the mysterious hindoo with the hindoo question solved and the fisherman's staysails set, suva was lost in the distance and remained but a memory. by the time the studded diamonds in their azure setting were twinkling in all the splendor of a southern sky, we were well to the westward of bangor island. we had nothing to fear from coral reefs until we neared the gilbert group, which lay east of the 180th meridian and north and south of the equator. after the hindoo had eaten the milk toast and found that he was in the midst of friends, sailing away to a country where opportunity knocks on the door of hovels, he no longer looked the slave to his master. he refused to bunk in the forecastle, preferring to sleep under the forecastle head. the tropical nights were warm, and for the time being this was a comfortable part of the ship in which to sleep. the crew were kind enough to furnish blankets for him, in fact, were willing to give him anything they had, for they considered him an unusual guest. at ten o'clock i turned in and left orders with the second mate to call me at midnight. by that time i knew that if we held our present rate of eleven knots per hour, we should be far enough to the westward to change the course, and haul her more northerly. coming on deck at eight bells and getting the distance run on the log, i went back to my room to measure the distance on the chart before changing the course. i decided to run one more hour before changing to the northward. old charlie was at the wheel, and it seemed from the way he was clearing his throat that he was anxious for a chat. but discipline forbade. i walked forward to look at the sails, and see if they needed sweating up. while looking around i ran into riley, who as usual was smoking his clay pipe, with its black bowl and short stem. it was strong enough of nicotine to drive a wharf-rat to suicide. "riley," said i, "no doubt you are happy that we are on the last leg of our voyage." before answering he gave a few heavy puffs on the old dudeen to insure its not going out. while he was doing this i immediately changed for a new position to windward, for to be caught to leeward of these deadly fumes was to share the fate of the wharf-rat. "well," said riley, "i am, and i am not." "come," i replied, "what is it that troubles you?" thinking that i had found the source of his discontent, i added,--"surely, you can't expect me to feed you on scotch whiskey all the passage home? what little there is on board must be kept for medicine. just think what might have happened to the poor hindoo had i not had a little scotch left on board." at the mention of the hindoo's name riley stepped up close to me, saying, "whisht, and it is that what is troubling me, it is that damned coolie," and he pointed to the forecastle. "surely," i protested, "you are not afraid of that poor weak creature." riley fastened down the tin cover to his pipe so as to secure the remains of the tobacco for future use. economy of tobacco is strictly observed on long voyages. even the ashes have an intrinsic value among sailors, like the kindling wood of a coal stove. tucking the pipe away in the folds of his breeches, he said: "ho, ho, and it is afraid you would have me! shure'n i am afraid of nothing in the say, and i will be damned if i will be afraid of anything on top of it." "well, what about the hindoo, what harm can he do to you?" "oh, it's the divil a bit he will be doing me. it's his snaky movements and his ferret eyes that is getting on me nerves. during the dog-watch," continued riley, "we fixed a place under the foc's'le head for the coolie, giving him what blankets we could spare. at eight o'clock our watch below turned in. says i to dago joe, 'turn down the glim.' 'i will blow it out,' says he. 'not by a damn sight,' says i. 'shur'n we are liable to scrape our bottom on an auld coral reef around here, and it isn't mike riley that is going to get caught like a rat in a trap.' the dago is a reasonable man to talk to, and with that he turns the light very low. about eleven o'clock i woke up along the hearing broken-nosed pete snoring. after throwing me auld shoe at him, i rolled over with me face to the scuttle hatch, to get meself another nap before eight bells, when i see the hindoo standing there at the bottom of the ladder. i rubbed me eye to make sure it wasn't desayving me. pulling meself together, i says to meself, says i, 'whativer he is, he is there for no good purpose.' begob, the strangest thing about the coolie was that he did not move a muscle, but stood there like a statue, staring straight into me eye. "i shouted to the dago to turn up the light, which is within easy reach of him. says i, 'things are not as they should be down here.' with me eye still on the hindoo, dago joe turned up the light. i declare to me maker when the light was turned up the hindoo had disappeared. "'that's damned strange,' says i to dago joe. 'be hivens he was standing there not a minute ago,' and when i comes up on deck at eight bells i looked under the foc's'le head and there he is, fast asleep. so i lights me poipe, and takes a look over the sea to leeward of the foresail, to see if we are still in sight of land. while i am standing there humming a bit av an auld ditty, all of a sudden i felt meself in the presence of something uncanny, and turning around quick-like, there stood the coolie. ses i to him, ses i: "'what are you up to, me boy?' "'oh,' says the coolie, 'the wash on the prow is disturbing to my peaceful slumbers. i should much prefer being crooned to sleep by the waving branches of a himalayan evergreen.' "ses i, 'me coolie friend, no more of your palavering. back to bed with you, and stay there.' i looked at him again, and, shure, howly st. patrick, he disappears like he did in the foc's'le." "where is he now, riley?" "begobs, and i don't know, sir." i went forward to see the strange visitor who seemed to be causing riley so much misery. there, under the forecastle head, the hindoo lay, wrapped in his blankets, sound asleep. "riley," said i, "you drank too much scotch last night; be careful that you don't get the jimmies and jump overboard. if you feel yourself slipping just tie a gasket around you. we need you to work ship on the voyage home." these insults were too much for riley. he slunk away to the lookout where broken-nosed pete would lend a willing ear to his story of the hindoo and his abuse of me. at one o'clock, feeling sure of the reefs, i changed the course to n. n. w. the next morning the hindoo was eating his breakfast off the forehatch and looking much better than he had on the preceding evening. he rose and thanked me kindly for the interest we had taken in him, saying: "i feel the pleasure of liberty after my prison term, among those terrible people. as for last night, i was quite comfortable. i can easily adapt myself to the new environment. but although i could not quite understand what the one-eyed man meant when he bent over me in the night, exclaiming, 'there he is, and the divil a move out of him,' i feel nevertheless, that i am in the midst of friends, and i shall do my best to entertain their friendship." these quaint expressions were pleasing to me, and i continued the conversation. he said that he had had no sea experience. that while going from bombay to the fiji islands he was battened down in the hold with the rest of the coolie labor, and only allowed to walk the deck a short time in the evenings. he was anxious to work and help in any way that he could. the second mate put him to work scrubbing paint-work. there is always plenty of this kind of work to be done on every ship. the hindoo went to work with a will, as if glad to have the opportunity. for the next four days the southeast trades held fair, until we were well to the northward of the fiji group. i was hoping to get east of the 180th meridian before crossing the equator, this would give me a better slant before i struck the northeast trades. then in latitude about 30° north we would encounter the westerly winds, which would be fair for the pacific coast. i was well pleased with the progress we had made since we left suva, and i anticipated making a sailing record from the fijis to san francisco. events had favored us since our departure. the crew were willing and the good ship herself seemed to feel that she was homeward bound. but our outward peace was somewhat broken by the sudden and mysterious illness of the hindoo, who, after the second day out from suva refused to eat, complaining of a headache, and later remaining for hours in what appeared to be almost a state of coma. i was worried by this new disease, and hoped that it would not prove to be contagious. as a precautionary measure, i removed the hindoo aft to the deceased captain's cabin. for two days it was with a great effort that he was even aroused to drink a cup of bouillon. chapter xxvii the hurricane at two o'clock in the morning of our fifth day from suva, i was awakened by hearing the booms and gaffs swinging as if in a calm. i thought this very strange, as the southeast trades should have held until we were well across the equator. rushing up on deck, i was indeed surprised to find the sails hanging in midships, and not a breath from any quarter of the compass. i ordered the staysails down and the topsails clewed up and made fast, also the flying-jib and outer jib. (these lighter sails in a calm usually flop to pieces, especially where there is a rolling swell.) away to the eastward i noticed a heavy bank of clouds, but considered this of minor importance, as we were nearing the equator. it usually means heavy rain, but seldom wind. yet this morning there was something out of the ordinary, because of the long swell coming from the northeast, and the sickly and suffocating atmosphere. the unusual stillness was intensified by the murmuring and talking of the crew. the men who were making fast the headsails on the flying jibboom could be heard plainly from the poop deck, growling and swearing as they passed the gaskets around the sails. such was the funereal quietness of the morning that even the stars were hidden in halos of a yellowish color. giving instructions to haul in the log line, i went below to look at the barometer. i was surprised to find it falling. i next consulted a pacific directory, and found that these unusual conditions preceded a hurricane. this information upset me greatly. i had never experienced a hurricane, but well knew that their force and destructive power was very great. before going on deck again, i looked in on the hindoo in the captain's room. as usual, he was in a stupor, and looked as if he had not moved since being fed the preceding evening. i did notice from the heaving of the skeleton-like breast, that the breathing was regular, and not intermittent as it had been on the preceding evening. on deck, i had all the reef-earrings brought up from the lazarette, and got everything in readiness for any emergency. i was well to the westward of the gilbert group, but still to the eastward of the 180th meridian. should the hurricane come out of the east, i could heave to and ride it out without any danger of fetching up on one of the gilbert islands. in the cabin the barometer was falling so fast that it now showed hurricane weather. i knew that it was only a question of a few hours before we should feel its fury. my experience was limited in the laws of storms. if we were in the storm center it would be necessary to put her into the port tack. by doing this i should be forced south, and back onto the northern isles of the fiji group, while on a starboard tack i should be driven onto a lee shore of the gilbert islands. either course meant destruction. with daylight and hot coffee this gloomy situation assumed a more cheerful aspect. while the old sailor has the light of day to guide him over storm-tossed decks, he becomes more tolerant of ship and crew. at half-past five the white caps could be seen coming from the northeast, and before we got the spanker down the gale struck us, about six points on the starboard bow. the old ship reeled to leeward, with the lee rail under water. the decks were almost perpendicular. it seemed that no power on earth could right her to an even keel again. there were two men at the wheel, trying to keep her off before the gale, but it was of no avail, for she refused to answer her helm, and lay throbbing as if undecided whether to seek a watery grave, or to continue her fight for victory. swanson, by a heroic effort, cut the fore and main sheet, and then let go by the run. the tense situation was relieved as the booms flew seaward over the lee rail. we then kept her off before the gale with the wind on the starboard quarter, immediately setting to work to reef the fore and main sail. by nine o'clock, three hours and a half later, it was no longer a gale, but a hurricane. with three reefs in the foresail and a goose-wing spanker, we ran before it. it was too late to heave to. with such a tremendous sea running it would mean destruction to ship and crew to try the latter move. as it was, the ship was awash fore and aft from seas breaking over her. should the hurricane hold out for ten or twelve hours more with our present rate of speed we should be dashed to pieces against one of the gilbert group. at four bells the velocity of the hurricane was so great that one was in danger of being blown off the schooner. we rigged life-lines on the fore and main decks, also on the poop deck, and by their help the crew managed to keep from being washed or blown overboard. the sea looked like an immense waterfall, one enormous roaring mass of foam. occasionally from out of this terrible cataract a himalayan sea would gain in momentum and dash itself against our starboard quarter, submerging the vessel. at such times all that would be identifiable of the "wampa" would be her rocking spiral masts. like a struggling giant she would raise her noble head and shake herself clear of this octopus, shivering, but never spent. about noon the hurricane jumped suddenly from the northeast to east southeast, without losing any of its velocity. in order to keep running before it, and keep the wind on our starboard quarter we hauled more to the northward and westward, although to do this it was necessary to drive into a beam sea, which made it all the more dangerous. also the sea was driving from the east southeast and this formed a cross sea. when these two seas came together, the "wampa" would rise and poise on them as if on a pivot. in this position, and with the gale blowing on the starboard quarter, her head would be thrown into the beam sea. it looked as if we could not survive. there was constant danger of our being broken up into small pieces. we dropped the peak of the spanker that formed the goose-wing sail, put it into gaskets, and ran with a three-reefed foresail. we then put the oil-bags over the stern in the hope of quieting these angry seas. but this was useless. while we were fastening the lines that held the oil-bags in the water, a crushing comber came whistling along and filled our stanch little ship again from stem to stern. when she shook herself clear of the boiling foam i noticed that our oil-bags were gone, and with them the captain's boat which hung from davits over the stern. old charlie and dago joe were steering. old charlie had a faraway look in his watery eyes as he spoke and said: "i am afraid, sir, this will be my last trick at this wheel." i spoke harshly to this old sailor, saying, "to hell with sentiment, this is no place for it. watch your steering and don't feel sorry for yourself." had i known what was so soon to happen i should not have so upbraided this poor harmless old soul. i have often regretted it. riley, who was taking no chances, was seemingly not all handicapped by his one eye. always alert and as agile as a tiger, he went about the decks as if nothing were out of the ordinary, although to hear him talking to himself one would think that he expected to be extinguished by every sea that came. he had about twenty feet of manila rope tied about his waist with the end held in his hand. when a sea would hit us riley would see it coming, and would pass the rope end around a belaying-pin or anything that he thought would hold his weight. it was while she cleared herself from the sea that carried away the captain's boat that i found riley twisted around the spanker sheet like an eel. it took him some time to extricate himself, always watching the progress of the stern sea, and not seeming to notice his number ten brogans, which had woven themselves into the spanker-sheet falls. the hurricane was raising havoc with riley's mustache. having blown all over his face, it looked as if the only way to quiet it would be to put it into a plaster of paris cast. he finally pulled himself clear of the sheet, exclaiming: "be hivins, and wasn't that a close call--" just then swanson came running aft and reported that the martingale guy had carried away on the flying-jibboom. it was then that my heart sank within me. i knew what to expect. dismantled,--then to perish at sea! chapter xxviii the master returns the thought of our dead captain came to me, of what his will would have been in this crisis of life and death, and i paused to wonder why he had not rested until he was assured that i would not carry his precious treasures back with me. did he expect this situation, and doubt my ability to cope with it? action followed thought, and i ordered the second mate and the crew forward to see what could be done with the martingale guy. still the humor of the moment appealed to me. as riley left the poop he shouted, "be the holy st. patrick, it has blown the buttons off me oilskin coat." there was no question about its blowing, but it was also possible that his snakelike position on the spanker-sheet had something to do with the lost buttons. it was now past noon. none of the crew cared to eat, preferring the wave-swept deck to anything the cook had to offer. the murderer who pays for his crime on the gallows and enjoys his ham and eggs on the morn of execution may be happy indeed, but this does not apply to the sailor. when there is a life and death battle on with the elements, he is there to grab the one last chance if there be one. if not, he prefers a watery grave to claim him with his stomach empty. the seas kept coming larger, and every time one would break and spend itself on the decks i thought it would be the last, and that she could not arise. but she shook herself clear as she climbed the waves; then again the sea, and again the dread. i could not leave the poop nor the two men at the wheel. a wrong turn at this howling, raging time, would mean quick despatch to the land of no awakening. sometimes even the helmsmen grew afraid, but a word of encouragement sufficed to quiet them. while i was standing to windward of the men at the wheel, watching her every move as she was pitched hither and thither on this crazy spiral sea, she shipped a green sea that shook her from stem to stern. it was with great difficulty that she raised her black hull to the raging storm again. i shouted to the men at the wheel. it was too late. she had broached to with the stern sea on the beam, and the beam sea right ahead. then the beam sea submerged her, and by it i was carried across the poop deck, and found myself held under the wheel-box, with both legs pinned in a vise-like grip by the tiller, which extended forward of the rudder-head. although dazed and strangled by the terrible impact of the water, i managed to twist the upper part of my body towards the wheel and to murmur, "for god's sake keep her off." my weakened voice was lost in the tempest. there were no ears to hear my pleadings. the men at the wheel were gone. gone, indeed, to a watery grave, and perhaps the others also. with me it would not take long. just another raking like the last one, and then the finish. again the cook's words echoed louder than the raging storm, "do we finish here?" as i lay there pinned to the deck, too helpless to even call aloud, and as it seemed waiting, waiting, for the executioner to spring the deadly trap, i was conscious that the door of the companion-way had closed with a bang so terrific that it sounded above the storm. i twisted my head and shoulders around to see if i dared to hope. there before me stood the hindoo stowaway. he did not notice me lying there pinned under the wheel-box, nor could i manage to attract his attention. with opal eyes glowing green and fiery red, he sprang to the wheel, and with magnificent strength pulled on the spokes till they screeched louder than the storm as they were dislodged from their oxidized fittings. harder and harder he pulled on the wheel. he didn't even notice the seas breaking over him. the mysterious thing about him was that he seemed to know what he was doing. he was keeping her off before it. in doing this he removed the tiller from my legs. at last i was free. as i struggled and crawled to the weather-rail for support, the hindoo shouted in clear and ringing tones, in true seamanlike fashion, looking neither to the right nor left, but straight ahead, as if staring into a land-locked harbor. he repeated his order for the second time in a high tenor voice: "get an axe out of the donkey-room and cut away the lee martingale guy. your flying-jibboom is gone overboard and is still held by the lee guy. it is plowing a hole in the port bow." i knew but one law. the law of self-preservation. my arms were locked tight around the stanchion that supported the weather-rail. that quick command of the hindoo brought me sharply to the realization that i was not yet given that quick despatch to the land of nowhere, but was still in the flesh, and very much alive. my first rational thought was, "what in hell is the hindoo doing at the wheel?" my pride as a sailor resented the affront put upon my ability as a sailor by a stowaway who was daring to assume the command of my ship, and daring to issue orders to me. letting go my hold on the stanchion, i cautiously made for the hindoo helmsman. while in the act, she shipped another drencher. i was carried off my feet and washed away to the lee scuppers. but i managed, by some interposition of divine providence, to fasten my arms around the mooring-bitt, thus saving myself from an angry and cruel sea, which seemed to delight in playing with me as a cat does with a mouse, only to swallow me up in its fathomless depths. once again she wrenched herself free of the mad swirl and her stern went down until we were in a valley between mountains of water. i realized as i looked up at the bows which seemed to be towering above me, that the flying-jibboom, like a clipped wing, was missing. like a flash i wondered how the hindoo knew that the jibboom was gone. as her stern ascended high into the air, i jumped for the wheel and with an exclamation of joy i shouted, "god in heaven, the captain!" there he stood beside the hindoo. the dead captain. the same heavy mustache covered the lower lip. the same fiery eyes that knew no defeat. he was looking straight ahead with muscle-set jaws. he appeared as if in the flesh and ready as of yore to battle with the elements. then, like a flash, he vanished, and the hindoo stood alone, pulling and tugging on the wheel with his supple arms. he spoke, and his usually high-pitched tenor voice rang out piercingly clear. "cut away your jibboom, you have no time to lose. have no fear." i knew that her former captain was in command of the ship, and that his masterly seamanship wrought through the hindoo. i crept forward with new courage to do his bidding. huddled together beneath the forecastle-head stood what remained of the crew, who seemed not to know that two of their number were gone. the second mate was praying, and helpless from fear to be of any use in handling the schooner. riley had his three-inch sailor's rope fast to the windlass with one extra turn around his body. he was taking no chances. swanson was the only one without fear. when i called for a volunteer to cut away the flying jibboom he made for the axe and rushed onto the sea-swept forecastle-head. as the schooner arose high in the air, he swung over the lee bow and with one stroke of the axe cut away the hemp lanyard that was holding the massive spar from its freedom. for five hours more we battled with the hurricane. the foretopmast went overboard, and all our boats were smashed into firewood. the lee bulwarks, between the mizzen and mainmast, were washed away, and still the hindoo held the wheel and issued his orders. many times i offered to take the wheel, and ordered him to go below. he would wave me away with his hand, saying: "not yet,--soon, soon." about six o'clock, twelve hours and a half after the hurricane struck us, the wind let up some. we then went to work with a will to patch up what was left of the "wampa," and for the first time since half-past five o'clock that morning, we realized how hungry we were. it was while giving orders to the cook that i looked towards the wheel and saw that the hindoo was missing. calling swanson to take the wheel as i ran, i rushed to find him. there by the wheel he lay, where he had fallen, limp as a rag,--unconscious. gathering him easily into my arms, i carried him to the captain's room, laying him in the bunk as carefully as if he were a babe newborn. for two hours we worked over him, the crew unchidden tiptoeing back and forth in clumsy ministrations, the socialist cook refusing to leave him. as he finally came back to earth from those astral regions he so easily frequented, a sigh of relief, almost hysterical, went up from the whole ship. surely there had been enough of tragedy! along about eight o'clock the wind fell very light. as there was still a heavy swell running, it would be dangerous to put sail on her for she would shake it into threads. while walking up and down the poop deck i could hear riley and the cook working over the stowaway. my thoughts turned to old charlie and to dago joe, who were sleeping their last sleep out there at sea. had it not been for him, for him who had loved his ship, we would all have shared the same merciless fate. what might have happened had i followed my first impulse to cast the hindoo overboard? the cook came running up the companion-way very much excited, and said "come down quick, the hindoo is showing signs of life." in the captain's room, under the sickly and only lamp, the frail body was moving from side to side, sometimes making a feeble effort to sit up, often swinging his arms as if to ward off some impending danger. then he asked for a drink of water and gradually became rational. when i told him what a wonderful service he had performed, he smiled and said, "surely you can't mean me." i insisted, telling him in detail how, when two men had been washed overboard, he had seized the wheel and saved the ship. "you must be mistaken," he protested, "i have not been on deck, and i cannot steer, i know nothing whatever about a ship as a sailor. but i have just awakened from a dream that was worse than your christian hell." chapter xxix the home port "the wind is from the south-southeast, sir," sang out swanson from the wheel. riley gave voice to my impulse when he said, "thank god, it is the southeast trades again, sir." the days that followed brought us fine weather and a gentle breeze. we were fortunate enough to escape the doldrums. the southeast trades carried us into the northeast trade winds. in latitude 30° north we struck the westerly winds that blow fair for the pacific coast of the u. s. a. fifty-six days from suva we rounded lime point, sailed up frisco bay, and dropped the hook off goat island. the owner welcomed me at his office, and was pleased indeed to know that his favorite schooner was once again in her home port. later, when we were towed alongside the wharf, the good ship "wampa" was the object of much speculation among the old hard-shelled water-front men, not so much from her battered condition, although she was minus port bulwarks, foretopmast and flying jibboom, as from some air of mystery which in a conscious way seemed to emanate from the very hull of her. veterans of the deep who were in port loading new cargoes, would come and go, walking in silence like pallbearers. possibly this was due to the appearance of the hindoo stowaway, or it may have been that the occult voyage of the "wampa" had been aired in rooney's steam beer joint which was at the end of the wharf. yet with all this hushed solemnity, i do believe that it was i who most sincerely mourned our captain and the two honest, simple sailormen whose lives had been so unprotestingly given to their duty. many a voyage have i had since then, but at no time have i ever felt at once so near to humanity, and to the infinite. the hindoo, who had picked up and grown fat on the cook's pea-soup and salt-horse, went to a home which i found for him with a hotel man, who advanced the entry-fee, and put him to work as a porter. he saved his money and, after familiarizing himself with the customs and conventions of the western people, he moved north to the state of oregon, where he went into the real estate business, acquiring, up to eight years ago, a goodly sum of money. the socialist cook exchanged his greasy dungarees for a pair of hand-me-down creaseless serge pants. with these and a much-worn broadcloth coat that had long withstood gales from the critics of equal distribution, he entered once more the harness of socialism. with him he took toby, the black cat, to a life ashore. i believe, though, that his voyage on the "wampa" had changed his materialistic ideas. riley swore that he had made his last trip on windjammers, but that should necessity compel him to take again to the sea, he would sail in a gentleman's yacht. there he would be sure of frequent home ports, each with its black-eyed susan reigning supreme. but conditions were not as riley had planned. the steam beer was as plentiful as ever, but the dinero was running low, and he had to take the first thing that offered that would reef and steer. since then i have met him many times. swanson, the most daring and best sailor of the "wampa's" crew, went to a navigation school in san francisco. with his second mate's papers he put off on a long southern voyage, and after a few years he became captain. for my services the owner of the "wampa" promised me the command of a vessel that was overdue from south america, and which was expected any day. after two weeks had passed without news from the south american wanderer, i headed north. the yukon was calling for men of endurance and men of red blood to come and uncover her hidden treasures. frontier boys in the south seas by capt. wyn roosevelt illustrated by rudolf mencl new york hurst & co., inc. publishers the frontier boys by capt. wyn roosevelt this series tells the adventures of jim, jo, and tom darlington, first in their camp wagon as they follow the trail to the great west in the early days. they are real american boys, resourceful, humorous, and--but you must meet them. you will find them interesting company. they meet with thrilling adventures and encounters, and stirring incidents are the rule, not exception. historically, these books present a true picture of a period in our history as important as it was picturesque, when the nation set its face toward this vast unknown west, and conquered it. 1. frontier boys on overland trail 2. frontier boys in colorado 3. frontier boys in the rockies 4. frontier boys in the grand canyon 5. frontier boys in mexico 6. frontier boys on the coast 7. frontier boys in hawaii 8. frontier boys in the sierras 9. frontier boys in the saddle 10. frontier boys in frisco. 11. frontier boys in the south seas _illustrated, 12mo, cloth price per volume, 50 cents_ copyright, 1912, by the platt & peck co. contents chapter. page. i. an encounter 9 ii. a conference 16 iii. picking up the ends 26 iv. buffeted 30 v. wherein are several surprises 42 vi. the professor's story 48 vii. the storm king 63 viii. the journey begun 72 ix. a plot 87 x. at san matteo bay 94 xi. on board the sea eagle 108 xii. treachery 115 xiii. an adventure 129 xiv. the pursuit 143 xv. the chart 153 xvi. the island of bohoola 162 xvii. the hurricane 167 xviii. a mysterious happening 177 xix. the cave 186 xx. another adventure 197 xxi. the capture 207 xxii. the search 212 xxiii. the chief of rarihue 224 xxiv. on board the marjorie 236 xxv. conclusion 245 frontier boys in the south seas chapter i. an encounter. juarez was sleepy, very sleepy. he had been traveling on a railroad train for several days, and while ordinarily he could adapt himself to circumstances, traveling by car instead of having a soothing influence as it does with some, seemed to keep him awake. he was thoroughly tired out, and was standing, just now, when our story opens, on dark and lonesome dock in san francisco. he was awaiting the return of jo and tom darlington, his comrades in many trying and nerve-racking ventures, and he did not observe, or at least he did not give heed to a single, tall, sturdy figure quietly approaching him from the back, but keeping the while in the shelter of the warehouse roof which cast a heavy shadow upon the floor of the dock. juarez, as we have said, was sleepy, so sleepy that it seemed to him that the most desirable thing in the world would be to lie down upon the rough and knotty planks upon which he was standing and give himself up to the drowsiness which was overpowering him. for the time he had entirely forgotten jo's last admonition: "remember, captain bill broome is in town, and he'll sure get you if you don't watch out." he had smiled grimly at the warning, visions of some of his experiences with the redoubtable captain passing through his mind, but he had in no other way shown any evidence that the words of jo had made any impression upon him. nevertheless he had mentally promised himself to be on his guard, but the sleepy spell that he could not shake off put old bill broome and everything else out of his mind. beside, how could the captain know that he was in town? it would seem that if he, the captain, knew anything at all about the whereabouts of the boys, he would place them, jo and tom in new york, and juarez in kansas, for they had arrived in san francisco only a few hours before and their visit too a most unexpected one. juarez, the reader should know, was a youth of eighteen, and although the son of american parents, he had been stolen by indians when a child and had been brought up by them. he and his sister had been rescued by jo, tom and their elder brother jim. he had many of the traits and habits peculiar to the wild life he had led so long, and ordinarily could be depended upon to be watchful and alert. but to-night, after the long railroad journey, he found himself in a large city where safety was seemingly assured. with the insistent desire for sleep he relaxed his vigilance, and was only recalled to wakefulness and a recognition of his surroundings when he felt himself suddenly seized and his arms pinned fast to the rough wall of the building against which he had been carelessly leaning. we have made some mention of the early life of his comrades, the frontier boys, and the reader will likely wish to know more about them. jo and tom were twins; however, the former was the most active and go-ahead, but the real leader in their adventures was james, the elder brother. it would be difficult to find anywhere a finer specimen of young manhood than james, better known among his friends as jim darlington. tall, rather slender in build, but well proportioned, with muscles as hard and strong as though they were wrought of steel, he had the strength and quickness of a catamount, and was afraid of nothing, but even more than this, he was manly, honest, resourceful, and to be depended upon to the last. he was not exactly handsome, but the self-reliant way in which he carried himself made him conspicuous even in a crowd. with it all he was in no way assertive or aggressive, but calmly ready to meet whatever might happen to come whether it were good or ill. from his home town in new york state, jim had been suddenly called to the far west to look after his yacht, the sea eagle, an ocean going boat equipped for propelling power with sail and engine. he had bought the boat fairly enough, but on enforced conditions, which captain bill broome, the former owner, had recently found a way to override, illegally, of course, but he was in possession, which is generally said to be nine points of the law. juarez had known nothing of the sea eagle complication, but one day a stranger had come to the kansas town where he lived, enquired for him and had promptly laid before the youth a proposition to join in a venture to search for lost treasures in the south seas. the professor, for so he introduced himself, had all the needed funds for the venture, but lacked experienced assistants. he wanted them not only with experience, but honest as well, for naturally, if success attended his efforts, and the sought for treasure was found it would prove an ever present temptation to an unruly crew, or one disposed to evil. juarez had accepted the offer as soon as made. the quiet life of the farm, and even the occasional visits to the small, nearby country town were dull indeed. to one of his active nature this life was very monotonous. he had promptly wired, at the professor's request, to james darlington, and jo, receiving the message in his brother's absence, had, after consulting tom, wired acceptance of the very liberal offer made. so it had come about that jim being in san francisco on one mission, his brothers and their friend had arrived to take part in another enterprise. reaching san francisco, effort had been made by the three boys to locate jim, but so far unsuccessfully. the reader of the "frontier boys in frisco" is fully conversant of the episode which had taxed jim's time and attention. the boys had arranged to sleep aboard the professor's boat, and juarez was awaiting the return of jo and tom, who had gone upon some errand. juarez, thus suddenly awakened, struggled vainly but furiously for a few moments to break the iron grasp that held him as in a vice. then, with indian cunning he apparently gave up the attempt and ceased to struggle, but resolved to renew his efforts at the first opportunity that offered. he had been taken so unaware that he had no chance to see who it was that had stolen upon him from the back, seized him, and held him with his face to the wall of the building against which he had been leaning. "ho!" cried a gruff voice, "i have got you at last." "it looks that way," admitted juarez. "who are you and what do you want?" "you," replied the other. "what do you want with me?" went on juarez. "that you will soon find out," was the reply, with just a suspicion of exultant laughter in the tone of the speaker, at the same time relaxing his hold a little. with the quickness of a panther, juarez, as he felt the other's hold relax, slipped from his grasp, and whirling about seized his opponent in turn and a moment later the two were rolling and tumbling about on the floor of the dock. they were so equally matched in strength that it seemed only by chance or through some lucky turn in his favor that either would be able to overcome the other. chapter ii. a conference. jim darlington and john berwick, the latter the once time engineer of the sea eagle, were on the morning on which our story opened, after an early breakfast, seated in a secluded part of the rotunda of the commercial hotel, where, safe from possible eavesdroppers, they were discussing the events of the previous day. "well, jim," asked berwick, "what comes next?" "i don't know," answered jim. "i am just trying to think it out." "well, i hope your mind is in better condition than mine," returned berwick, "i don't seem to see any way out." "then, we must make one." "i confess it's too much for me," went on berwick, sitting back resignedly. "that old rascal of a bill broome seems to have made a clean sweep of it this time. he's got the young senorita safe in his clutches on the sea eagle, and with that sister for a jailer, as far as i can see he will sail away with her and we can sit here and chew our thumbs for all we can do." berwick was referring to his own and jim's experiences as related in a previous book, the "frontier boys in frisco." "i am not so sure of that," exclaimed jim, shutting his teeth down with a snap. "i am not through with that old pirate yet." "i'm with you there, jim," agreed berwick. "i owe him something on my own account, but i don't see any prospect of an immediate payment." "if we only knew which way he was going." "that's a pretty big if," said berwick. "maybe not as big as it looks," returned jim. "at any rate, i mean to find out." "how are you going to do that?" "i don't know yet, but i mean to find a way." "i think you will, jim. have you no plan in view?" "none, except to get a boat and follow him. i'd give half a fortune if i only had jo and tom here." "and juarez," put in berwick. "and juarez, of course." "why not telegraph for them? it would only take a week for them to come?" "i'm afraid broome would not wait for them to get here," answered jim with a smile. "whatever we do has got to be done quick." "i wonder what he is going to do with the senorita, anyway," went on berwick. "hold her for a ransom, i suppose," answered jim. "i've got it!" he cried, springing to his feet. "come on." "what now?" demanded berwick. "it's all right," replied jim, "i'll explain as we go along." "glad of it," responded berwick, "but i'm blessed if i see it." "why, you see," began jim, but as he spoke a bellboy with a yellow envelope in his hand came up to him. "telegraph for yo, sah," he said, handing the envelope to jim. "for me!" exclaimed jim in surprise. "yes, sah," replied the boy. "just done come." tearing open the envelope, jim read the message with an exclamation of surprised wonder. "no bad news, i hope," interposed berwick. "on the contrary, it's more than good. just what i was a moment ago wishing for," replied jim, handing him the slip. "what do you think of that? jo and tom are actually on their way here. why, and for what purpose i don't know, but so it is." "of all things!" ejaculated berwick. "what can it mean?" "that luck is with us," said jim. "we will get the sea eagle back yet." "i hope so," replied the engineer, dubiously, "but--" "now, john, don't be bringing in any buts," retorted jim. "don't you believe we can do it?" "haven't any doubt of it," returned berwick, laughing heartily at jim's impetuous speech. "i was only going to say that broome is a pretty tough customer." "we won't quarrel about that," admitted jim, with a grin. "he is about the toughest proposition we have been up against." "have you any plan in mind," went on berwick. "i think the first thing to do," answered jim, "is to go and see senor de cordova and learn what he has heard of the senorita." "why do you think he has heard anything?" "if broome is holding her for a ransom, as we believe, he will send word to her father as to when and where to send the money." "that seems reasonable," agreed berwick. "i propose to be there, and have a hand in the proceedings." "oh, you do! and how do you propose to get there?" "can't say yet until i know the when and where of it. it will probably be in some secluded place where they will expect to be safe from attack, which will suit us all the better, as we will give them a surprise. if we can't do any better we will follow them." "going to swim after them?" "it isn't as bad as that," laughed jim. "i think we will be able to pick up a boat somewhere that will serve us. the first thing to do is to find out where they are going." "that does seem to be advisable," returned berwick, "if we expect to be there." "now, don't be sarcastic, old chap," replied jim, good-naturedly. "you know what i mean. of course, all our plans must be based on that." "all right, jim," agreed berwick, "but how do you propose to get that information?" "ask senor de cordova." "don't believe he will tell you," said berwick laconically. "why not?" "well, if he has had word from broome, he has probably been warned not to say anything about it." "i hadn't thought of that," admitted jim, "but still i think he will tell us. it fairly makes me wild when i think of that girl in the hands of those ruffians." jim clenched his hands as he vowed to himself that it would go hard with them if any harm came to her. "same here," responded berwick heartily. jim was pondering deeply, and sat gazing through the windows. "do you know where to find the senor?" berwick went on a few minutes later. "i suppose he is stopping at the palace. that is where we saw them the other day." a few minutes walk brought them to the hotel, where, on inquiry, they learned that the senor had been stopping there, but that he had gone away that morning. "no, he did not say where he was going," the clerk informed them. "he went away on horseback and his man on another mount." "then he will probably return to-day?" suggested jim. "who knows?" the clerk answered with a shrug of his shoulders. "no, he did not say where he was going or when he would be back. no, he hasn't given up his room. if it is anything of importance about which you wish to see the senor, you might interview his lawyer, mr. reynolds at no. 10 court street, who, perhaps might know where he has gone." "were they his own horses?" went on jim. "couldn't say," replied the clerk. "perhaps the porter can tell you. he went for the horses, i believe. here, pedro," calling the porter, who was standing nearby, "you got the horses for the senor this morning, didn't you?" "si, senor," answered the porter, a swarthy mexican. "where did they come from?" asked jim. "from ross and mclanes," replied the porter. "the senor told me to tell them to send around the best horses they had in the stable, no matter what they cost. they were mucho hermosa, very handsome. he paid for them right down. never questioned the price." "sorry i can't give you more information," added the clerk, "but i think if you want to find the senor, you had better see mr. reynolds." "thank you," replied jim. "we will go there." "hem!" commented berwick when they were on the street again. "we didn't find out very much." "i don't know," answered jim. "at least we have found that he has heard from broome." "how do you make that out?" "he went away unexpectedly or he would have made more preparation, and he left no word where he was going or when he would be back, which shows that he was going on some secret mission." "you are probably right," admitted berwick, after a moment's thought. "we won't be able to get any information from him." "but we may get something from his lawyer," replied jim cheerfully. "he probably knows where he has gone." "what shall we do to get there, walk or ride?" "better ride, i think," said jim, hailing a cab. "we haven't any time to lose." it was only a short distance, and in less than fifteen minutes they were in the office of mr. william howard reynolds, who was better known to the shady side of san francisco than he was to the reputable inhabitants of the town. the office was in an old, rather dilapidated building, not far from the city hall. "mr. reynolds is in," so the clerk in charge of the outer office informed them, "but is particularly engaged at this time. if the gentlemen will be seated, i will learn if mr. reynolds will see them." going into an inner office, he returned a moment later to say that mr. reynolds was very busy, and that he would not be able to give them any time unless their business with him was of importance. "tell him," directed jim, "that i wish to see him on a matter of much importance to senor de cordova." the clerk, a man of about forty, with an expressionless face, except for a cunning twinkle about the eyes, took the card jim handed him, and again disappeared into the inner room. at this moment jim, who was standing by the windows looking upon the street, happened to glance down and caught a glimpse of the familiar figure of captain broome, who had apparently just emerged from the building. "i wonder what he was doing here," muttered jim to himself. "who? what?" asked berwick. "sh!" whispered jim, "i will tell you later." "mr. reynolds will see you for a few minutes," announced the clerk, holding open the door to the inner office for them to pass through. chapter iii. picking up the ends. the room which jim and the chief engineer entered was furnished in marked contrast to the outer room, which was plainly, even meagerly equipped with a few chairs and a table or two and a desk. the inner room was luxuriously and lavishly fitted up with a handsome mahogany desk, easy chairs, fine paintings upon the walls and costly rugs upon the floor. motioning to them to be seated with a sweep of his hand, upon which glittered a serpent ring of peculiar design with ruby eyes which seemed to glow as if alive, the lawyer eyed them coldly for a moment through half closed eyes. "you wished to see me upon business connected with the senor de cordova," he said, without any preliminary greeting. "yes," replied jim quietly, "i have been referred to you as being in charge of his affairs." "by whom?" "the clerk at the palace hotel." "ah, indeed. what is the nature of your business with him?" "that i will communicate with him personally," answered jim, who had conceived an instant distrust of the man. "what i wish to know is his present address." the lawyer leaned back in his chair and softly whistled for a moment with a sort of hissing sound. "he's concocting some sort of a scheme now," thought jim, who was regarding him critically. "i cannot inform you of his exact whereabouts," remarked the lawyer, "but he is somewhere in the northern part of the state. he was called away on some important business." "was it in connection with the abduction of his daughter?" asked jim, rising to his feet and standing beside the desk looking directly into the eyes of the lawyer. "eh, what is that?" asked the lawyer, hastily shuffling the papers on his desk, but not before jim had caught sight of the words "san mat--" in a familiar handwriting. "i said, has his journey any connection with the abduction of his daughter?" repeated jim. "what do you know about the abduction of the senorita de cordova?" asked the lawyer, sharply. "perhaps you had something to do with it." "i haven't anything to do with it," answered jim, "but i know who did, and i know where the senorita is." "indeed, you seem to think, young man, that you know a good deal. suppose i were to put the matter in the hands of the police?" "just as you like," responded jim, "there is my address if you want me. you can find me there any time. i think," turning to berwick, "there is nothing more to be gained here." "there doesn't seem to be," replied berwick. "then don't waste any more of my time," said the lawyer sharply. "wickham," to the clerk, "you can show these gentlemen," with a sneering emphasis on "the gentlemen," "out." thus curtly dismissed, jim and his companion made their way to the street. as soon as they had gone, the lawyer hastily wrote upon a sheet of paper: "look out for a young fool who calls himself james darlington, and knows more than is good for him," to which he added the initials w. h. r. and calling wickham into the room gave it to him with orders to see that it be delivered at the address given, where it would come into the hands of captain broome at once. this done, mr. reynolds leaned back in his chair, and began whistling softly. "i think, mr. james darlington, that a voyage with captain broome might teach you not to meddle in other people's affairs," he said to himself, with an ugly expression on his face. the message reached its destination within a few minutes after it had been sent, and was in the hands of captain broome in less than half an hour. "ha!" snorted broome, when he read it. "i think i can take care of him. hey, manuel," to a swarthy mexican dwarf, who was with him. "that jim darlington is making trouble again. get on his trail so i can catch him." "si, senor," replied the mexican with an ugly grin. "shall i give him the knife?" "no," responded broome, vindictively, "i want him alive." chapter iv. buffeted. "i don't know how you feel, chief," remarked jim, when the two were out on the street again, "but it strikes me that, as we have something of a busy day ahead of us, and don't know just where we shall bring up, it wouldn't be a bad plan to make sure of some lunch now." "i don't see any objection to it," replied the engineer. "didn't think you would," answered jim with a laugh. "never knew you to refuse a meal yet. if i remember rightly there's a restaurant just around the corner where we can get something to eat and get a chance to map out our plans. the cooking isn't quite up to the delmonico standard, but it is good and there is plenty of it." "well, that means there's enough of it such as it is," said the engineer, "but i guess i can stand it if you can. lead on, jim." jim led the way around the corner, not, however, without casting a glance back and walking for several doors past the place he had spoken of. then, after looking about him, he retraced his steps and entered the restaurant, which was an unpretentious place on a side street. "there's a table over there," he said, indicating one in the rear of the room, "that will suit us. we can see all who come in and won't be conspicuous ourselves." "what's all this mystery, jim?" asked the engineer, when they had taken their seats and given their order. "i have a feeling that that mexican imp of deformity, manuel, isn't far away, and we can't afford to take any chances." "you are right there, jim," responded berwick heartily. "that chap gives me the shivers. he's more like a snake than a man." "that's just it. he's so confoundedly slippery, it almost seems that you never can get a hold on him, and if you did, what can one do with such a miserably deformed body? ugh!" "one never feels easy when he's anywhere about," admitted berwick. jim made no further comment, but he was evidently thinking deeply. "the next thing to do," began jim, when the meal had been served and the waiter gone to attend to other duties, "is to see if we can get a ship--" "and follow them," put in the engineer. "i'd like to get there ahead of them if we could." "if we only knew where the place was." "oh, i know that," said jim quietly. "you do!" exclaimed the engineer in astonishment. "where is it?" "san matteo bay--" "san matteo. where is that?" "about seventy-five miles down the coast." "how did you find it out?" "mr. reynolds told me." "mr. reynolds!" echoed the engineer, "when?" "when we were there," replied jim laughing at the look of astonishment on his companion's face. "you remember that he told us that the senor had gone into the northern part of the state." "but you just said that san matteo was 'down' the coast." "of course," responded jim, a trifle impatiently. "don't you see that he wanted me to think that he went the other way from what he did?" "i see. then when he said he went north--" "it was then," broke in jim, "that i happened to catch a glimpse of a paper on his desk with a name on it. i wouldn't have noticed it only for his anxiety to cover it up when i was standing there, and i just caught this much--'san mat--'" "why do you think it meant san matteo?" "because san matteo is just the place that would suit broome for his purpose. there is scarcely anyone living around there. it's about three or four days' journey by land and about two by water, so broome can give the senor a couple of days start and see if he makes any attempt to evade the conditions, and still be there to meet him on time." "i see, you have a long head, jim, but what is to prevent broome from getting the ransom and still keeping the girl?" "you and i." "humph!" returned the engineer, "that looks to me like a pretty big contract we are taking up." "it is," responded jim, "but we have got to carry it through." "it looks to me," went on the engineer, "as if we were going to be pretty busy for the next few days." "and the sooner we get started, the better," added jim. leaving the restaurant, jim and the chief engineer walked leisurely to the corner, where they stood for a few minutes, ostensibly watching the hurrying crowd of people on the street, but nevertheless keeping a watchful eye for anyone who might be dogging their footsteps. "seen anything of that imp of darkness?" asked the engineer. "no," replied jim, "he isn't anywhere in sight, but i don't believe he is very far away." "can't we shake him off some way?" "that's rather doubtful, but we can lead him a merry chase." "that's something. what's the plan?" "we will walk down the street," explained jim, "as if we had no particular purpose in view, then we will separate, and you will go one way and i the other. then, unless, as tom says, 'he is two gintlemen in wan,' and can go both ways, he won't know which one of us to follow." "trust him for that," said the chief engineer, "he's sure to follow you." "so much the better," returned jim. "i think i'll manage to keep him busy for the rest of the afternoon." "what do you want me to do?" "you can go down to the maritime exchange, and see if you can learn of something in the way of a yacht that will serve us until we can get the sea eagle back. one to buy or hire, whichever is offered. you know what we want." "all right. i guess i can locate something." "meantime," continued jim, "i will go up the bay and look over anything in the harbor. that will puzzle manuel if he is after me." they separated, and the engineer sprang into a passing street car, and with a "so long, jim," disappeared. jim reached the wharves through another street, secured a rowboat and started on his quest, which occupied his time for several hours. it was a little after the appointed time when jim arrived at the designated meeting place coming from across the bay in his boat. "call this five o'clock?" grumbled the engineer, when he joined him a moment later. "i was beginning to think that gorilla broome had gobbled you at last. i have been hanging around for the last hour waiting for you. well, what luck?" "found some makeshifts, but not just what i want. how was it with you?" "failed entirely." "well, get into the boat," directed jim, "and we will talk things over as we go along." "where are you going now?" "out to take a look for the sea eagle, and see if she is still there." "you haven't told me what you found," persisted berwick. "one thing i am sure of, i lost that fellow manuel." "see anything of him?" "not a thing. maybe he was after you instead of me." "heaven forbid," ejaculated berwick, with a half glance backward. "so you did not find a ship for us?" repeated jim. "there doesn't seem to be anything in port that we can get. just missed getting one, though. martinex sold a ship this morning that would have just suited us." "that's tough," sighed jim. "we have got to have one before broome gets away." "don't know where you are going to get it." "neither do i," returned jim. "but we are like the boy and the hedgehog, 'we have just got to get one.'" by this time they had come within sight of where the sea eagle lay riding quietly at her anchor, but not going close enough to be recognized by any on board who might be on the watch. "there isn't any signs of their getting ready to sail," decided jim, after a few moments study of the yacht. "so i think we are safe for another day." "there is something that would suit us to a t," remarked berwick on their way back, indicating a trim looking schooner-rigged yacht. "she's a beauty," he observed enthusiastically. the yacht seemed to rest as lightly upon the water as a sea bird. long, low, with not too much freeboard, it rose and fell on the waves, tugging at the anchor chains as though impatient to slip her leash and bound away on her course. it was painted in a pale metallic yellow that glittered in the rays of the setting sun like gold. "the owner of that boat won't hire her," declared berwick. "i bet he thinks more of her than he does of his wife." "i don't believe he has one," declared jim. "almost as good as the sea eagle, isn't she?"--which was high praise from jim. "perhaps we could hire her. we might take a look at her." "the storm king!" he exclaimed, when they came near enough to read the name on the bow. "why that is the boat the old captain told us about when he had the brush with broome." "_brush_ with _broome_ is good," said berwick, with a laugh, "but i thought he said that boat was in the south seas." "must have come in. the captain said singleton owned her. maybe he would like to charter her. we'll try him anyhow. storm king, ahoy!" hailed jim pulling up to the side of the yacht. "boat ahoy," answered a sailor on deck. "is the captain on board?" asked jim. "d'ye mean captain wilkins?" "i guess yes," answered jim, "i would like to speak to him." "i admire your nerve, jim," said berwick, in an undertone. "coming on board, sir?" asked the sailor, making ready to heave a small line. "yes," returned jim, "heave away." catching the line the sailor had thrown, jim and berwick climbed the gangway ladder to the deck where they were met by captain wilkins, a grizzled old seaman, attired in an undress uniform. he was tall, stoutly built, with an alert air about him that impressed both jim and berwick favorably at the start. "how do you do, gentlemen?" the captain greeted them with punctilious politeness, "glad to meet you." "and we are very glad to meet you, captain wilkins," returned jim. "this is a fine boat you have." "isn't she," returned the captain with enthusiasm. "there was never a better come out of a shipyard. look at her lines. why she sets on the water like a duck. and roomy, too. she ain't one of the slim waisted kind where you don't have room to turn around. why, lord love you, lads, ye could be no more comfortable if you put up at the palace hotel." "you're right there, captain," agreed berwick, "i never saw a prettier boat. i can see you carry quite an armament." "oh, that was for use in the south seas. she was engaged in trade down there, and we used to have a brush occasionally with the pirates. not of late, however, for they learned to leave her alone." "do you own her?" asked jim. "haven't such good luck. wish i did. no, she belongs to a professor with a long name, though i'm blessed if i know what he's going to do with her. just bought her a couple of months ago, and fixed her all up. overhauled the hull and rigging, put in new tackle and fixed up the engines as good as new." "do you think he would sell her?" asked jim. "not him," responded the captain. "he has just got her fixed to suit him. she's fit for a queen now. just come below and take a look around." accepting the invitation, jim and berwick went below and inspected the staterooms and found that they fully justified the captain's praise. "ye gods and little fishes!" exclaimed berwick, "it looks more like a lady's boudoir than a ship's cabin." "i fancy you've hit it, don't you know," agreed the captain, "i kind of fancy that he's going off on a bridal tour." "where is the professor now?" asked jim. "he's off east somewhere," replied the captain. "i wouldn't be surprised if he's gone after the lady." "much obliged to you, captain," said jim, when they had gone up on deck again, "i'm awfully sorry she can't be bought. i think she would have just suited us." "you can't never tell," observed the captain, philosophically, when they were leaving, "you might hunt up the perfesser when he gets back. perhaps the lady might change her mind. such things have happened." "so i have learned," laughed berwick. "well, goodbye, captain. we may act on your advice." chapter v. wherein are several surprises. john berwick had taken the oars on leaving the storm king, and had pulled for some time in the direction of the city. without speaking, he gave undivided attention to his task, while jim seated in the stern sheets, was also silent, lost in thought. "well, jim," began berwick, after a time, as they were nearing the city wharves, "have you decided on your next move?" "yes," responded jim, rousing himself. "the next thing i am going to do is to get dinner. "then," continued jim, "i am going to bed and get a good night's sleep and make a fresh start in the morning." "a most sensible thing, jim," agreed the man at the oars. "that's what broome is going to do, too." "what?" asked jim. "make a good start in the morning." "can't help it if he does," growled jim. "have you anything better to suggest?" "no, i suppose that we have done all that we can." "but not all that we are going to do!" snapped jim. "i'll find some way of squaring our accounts. "hallo!" he cried in an undertone a moment later. "now what do you think of that?" "what is it?" asked berwick in alarm. "look there on the wharf." "by the beard of neptune! you're right!" exclaimed berwick, dropping his oars in his surprise, and nearly capsizing the boat as he grabbed for one. "easy there, old fellow," cautioned jim, "remember i haven't got my bathing suit on." "what in the name of all that is wonderful is _he_ doing there?" "looks as if he was taking a nap," said jim. "sh! don't wake him!" as berwick with his hand to his mouth was about to call. "we'll crawl up on him and take him by surprise." "make him think old broome has got him," chuckled the engineer. berwick pulled the boat gradually up to the wharf, and after making fast, the two conspirators climbed up on to the wharf and crept toward the unsuspecting juarez, as has already been told in the opening chapter of this book. juarez had not recognized his antagonist, and struggled furiously. the two rolled and tumbled about on the floor of the wharf, there being no time or opportunity for any explanation. berwick, who had watched the outcome of the "surprise" with amusement, thinking it had gone far enough, was about to interfere, when jo and tom, who had come up unobserved, threw themselves into the melee, and in a trice had jim secure and powerless to move. "whew!" panted juarez. "that was a close call." "i told you to watch out!" declared jo. "but it isn't broome." "jo! tom!" called berwick, who was shaking with laughter at the turn the affair had taken. he stepped out of the shadow where he had been hiding. "hallo!" cried tom, suspiciously. "who is it?" "it is i, john berwick," responded the engineer, between peals of laughter. "better let your captive up, but keep out of his reach. it's jim." "jim!" exclaimed jo and tom together. "what is jim doing here?" "just giving juarez a little surprise party," explained berwick. promptly while still talking the boys had released jim, who got on his feet sputtering and angry. "hold on, jim," expostulated berwick. "it's all your own fault. you brought it on yourself. but, i say, juarez, where did you come from?" "just came on from home," said juarez. "thought i'd give _you_ a surprise." "you did all right," laughed berwick. "it seems to have been a surprise party all around." "ho!" cried jo, "that ain't all, we've got a bigger surprise yet." "what is that?" "what do you say to a trip to the south seas and a search for a treasure island?" "for a what?" "what are you talking about?" demanded jim, who had been slowly recovering his good humor. "a trip to the south seas," reiterated jo. "i say," interposed berwick, "i thought you said, jim, that the first thing you were going to do was to get dinner. i begin to feel a hollowness in my interior that needs attention. suppose we postpone explanations until we have had something to eat." "now, you're talking sense," agreed tom. "and we'll hunt up the professor and have him, too." "the professor!" exclaimed jim. "who is he?" "oh, the professor with a name as long as the alphabet," replied jo. "he can explain better than we can." "the professor with the long name!" cried jim and berwick simultaneously. "what do you know about such a man?" "nothing," replied the boys, "except that he has engaged us to go on the storm king for a treasure hunt. what is the matter with him?" "well, that beats all!" said berwick weakly. "what's all the palaver about anyhow?" demanded jo. "i thought we were going to get something to eat before we had any more talk." "come on," said berwick. "i know i'm dreaming, but want to get the dinner before i wake up." "where is the professor?" demanded jim. "he's at the golden gate hotel," answered jo. "we all came on together and went to the hotel. then we came out to hunt you up. we were going to get a boat and row out to the sea eagle." "lucky you didn't," returned jim. "old bill broome has got the sea eagle again." "he has!" cried jo and tom in consternation, "what did you let him take her for?" "that was unavoidable," volunteered berwick. "he has some illegal claim which jim can't upset, the lawyers say." "can't we get her back again?" asked juarez. "we certainly will," answered jim, "now that you are all here. i'm awfully glad to have your help." "let's go and see the professor," suggested juarez. "perhaps he will help us out." "of course, he will," said tom. "he'll know just what to do." "which is more than we do," remarked berwick to himself. chapter vi. the professor's story. it was only a short walk to the golden gate hotel, where they found that the professor was in his room. they sent to him to ask if he would see them. a moment later the bellboy returned, accompanied by a spare but sinuously built man of medium height. it was difficult to judge his age, though jim conjectured him to be about forty. still, he might have been either ten years older or younger. he had a sharp but pleasant face that had been warmed to a deep brown by the ardent rays of the tropic sun. his moustache and full beard in the fashion of the day, was dark brown, almost black, and was closely trimmed like his hair, which was quite gray--an individual that you would know at once as a man that had done something worth while. his movements were deliberate, but so easy and graceful that there was not a fraction of wasted effort, and much quicker than they appeared to be. his eyes were clear and penetrating, and, as juarez expressed it, "seemed to look right through you." "that's the professor," whispered jo to jim as the man came into the rotunda where the boys were waiting. "there isn't much of him, but he's all there." coming toward them, he cast a rapid glance over the group that seemed to appraise them all in one moment. "you are james darlington," he said in a pleasant drawl, advancing to jim with outstretched hand. "i would recognize you anywhere from your likeness to your brothers. i am very glad to meet you. and," turning to the engineer. "mr. berwick," answered jim. "he is the chief engineer of the sea eagle." "glad to know you, mr. berwick," said the professor. "i suppose, mr. darlington, that these young gentlemen have told you about my expedition. not yet. oh, by the way, have you dined? no? so much the better. neither have i, so we will have dinner first and our talk later." "but," objected jim. "objection overruled," returned the professor promptly. "you are my guests to-night. i hope you are hungry." "no," replied berwick, "we are way beyond that. we're starved." "then we won't delay any longer," returned the professor with a low laugh that was pleasant to hear, and leading the way to the dining room. "shall i order the meal?" he asked, when they were seated at the table. "there are some dishes they have here that i can specially recommend." "all right," said tom. "i'm ready to tackle anything." when the meal, during which all reference to the purpose which had brought them together was strictly tabooed, was over, the professor invited them to his rooms and told them to make themselves at home, and he would explain the purpose he had in view. "now," began the professor, settling himself in a big chair and lighting a curious looking pipe, "where shall i start?" "that's a queer looking pipe," interjected tom, who had been regarding the object with a good deal of interest. "it is a little odd," agreed the professor. "what do you think it is?" "looks like a skull of some kind," ventured jim. "not a bad guess," replied the professor. "it is part of the skull of an ophidian." "an o' what?" ejaculated tom. "not an owat," corrected the professor, "but a giant ophidian of palazoic times." "gracious!" cried tom. "i thought it was something awful, but i didn't suppose it was as bad as that." "i suppose there is a story connected with it," said berwick. "yes," replied the professor, "rather a tragic, though a common enough one in that region." "we would like to hear it," suggested jo. "well," began the professor slowly, "imagine if you can the depth of a tropical jungle with a wilderness of tangled vegetation, of arching palms and giant forms whose fronds sway in the air high above a man's head. through this tangle there creeps a naked savage intent on the hunt for some animal upon which he can feed. in front of him, pendulous from an over hanging branch there falls a rounded body like a mighty cable, whose green and yellow colorings mix in with those of bush and tree. as the savage creeps beneath, there is a sudden motion in the cable. it comes to life and coils about the man. "with a shrill cry of fear, the man tries to unloosen the deadly folds, grasping the slimy serpent about the throat in a desperate clutch. but all in vain. they writhe and struggle, but neither relax their hold, and they fall to the ground beneath the arching palms. "the seasons come and go. the ferns and palms die and bury the snake and his victim beneath the fallen leaves and floods bring down the waste from the hills and cover them more completely." "my goodness!" cried tom. "did you see it?" "not actually," answered the professor. "all that happened a long time, years, centuries, aeons, perhaps, ago. what i know is that one day on making an excavation we found the two skeletons, that of the man and the snake in such a position as to indicate the story i have told you. i picked up the skull and the fancy took me to have it mounted and made into a pipe. but that isn't getting on with the business." "are you a zoologist?" asked berwick. "no," replied the professor. "i suppose you are thinking of my title. i use that because people generally know me better that way, and--" he smiled broadly--"it's easy to say. i am a mineralogist--a mining engineer. i got the title of professor from a college back east where i lecture occasionally on mineralogy and petrology. people haven't time to write my name though it's not so difficult to pronounce." "sure enough," said jim. "i do not know your name yet." "let me write it for you," said the professor. and taking a sheet of paper this is what he penned. featheringstonehaughleigh. "you will always be just plain professor to me," determined jim, and there was a general laugh. "to resume," went on the professor, "for the past three or four years i have been down in the south sea islands prospecting. acting for an english syndicate which had an idea that there were some gold or silver mines that could be developed." "did you find any?" questioned jim. "none that were worth while, but while i was there i came across an old sailor who had a story of a fabulously rich mine that was located on one of the islands. he didn't know just where, and had been hunting for it for a good many years, traveling from island to island in his quest." "couldn't he find it?" "all he had to guide him was a rudely drawn map of the island that was located somewhere in the southern seas. he worked all alone, for he was afraid to share his secret with any for fear that they would kill him to get it all." "are they as bad as that down there?" asked tom. "about as bad as they are made, a good many of them are," replied the professor. "but, to get on with my story, it happened that i was enabled to do him a good turn on one occasion, and he confided his secret to me. i tried to help him to find the island, but, as the longitude and latitude were rather vague, we couldn't locate it. i helped him all i could, and when he was taken down with the fever, just before he died he gave me the map on the condition that if i found the mine i would share with his family, which i agreed to do." "do you think there was any foundation for his story?" asked jim. "i think there is. at least i thought there was enough in it to give up my work for the syndicate and organize an expedition to hunt for it. it seems, according to brook's story, john brook was his name, that his father when a young man was a sailor on an english vessel. on one of his voyages, his ship was captured by pirates and the crew were made prisoners. they were carried to the pirates' lair on an island away from the usual track. "here, those who did not join the pirates were compelled to do all the rough work about the place. as there was no means of getting away from the island except by the pirates' vessel, they were not kept very close watch of, and were allowed the freedom of the place. this island, it would seem from his description, was of volcanic origin, and had a mountainous ridge, several hundred feet in height at one end. as this part of the island was exceedingly rough and rocky it had no attraction for the pirates, who kept to the low ground along the shore. "in one of his rambles about the island the sailor came upon a ravine leading up into the mountain, and he followed it up to where it ended in a fissure in the rocks. he was curious to see what the inside looked like, and returning another day, entered the fissure, which lead into a large cavern, where, according to his story, the walls were glittering with gold." "fool's gold," interjected berwick. "so i thought at first," responded the professor, "but brooks said that his father picked up a half dozen nuggets ranging in size from that of a bullet to that of a walnut. he seems, like his son, to have been a secretive sort of a man, for he kept his discovery from his shipmates. from time to time he made visits to the mine as he had opportunity, gathering the nuggets, which he kept concealed about his person until he had accumulated a considerable store, hoping that some time he would be able to make his escape, which, with several of his companions, he was finally able to do." "how did he manage to get away?" asked jo. "it seems, from the story, that he and some of his shipmates, having procured a small boat, which they secreted at the mountainous end of the island, and stocked with provisions, they set out on a dark and stormy night when there was less chance of detection. the storm developed into a gale which they ran before, and which drove them many miles, bringing them into the course of trading vessels, one of which a day or so later, picked them up and landed them in a chilian port. here brooks sold a nugget and got money enough to get home. on his return he talked much of the mine, and drew a map of it for his son, who started out in search of it." "how did he expect to find it when he didn't know its location?" questioned jim. "he had it figured out something like this. the place where they were picked up by the vessel was about latitude 9 south, longitude 129 west. now, when they were picked up they had been driving for some thirty-six hours before a southwest wind at not less than fifteen knots an hour. this would make about five hundred and forty miles they had come from the island, which must, therefore, lie somewhere between five or six hundred miles to the southwest." "i should think that would be the spot where he would look for it," said juarez. "that is what he did, and so have i," was the reply, "but we were, neither of us, able to locate it." "do you think it really exists?" asked jim. "i am quite certain of it," answered the professor. "at any rate, i am going to make another attempt, and i want you to go along with me." "what do you want with us?" questioned jim. "well," replied the professor, slowly, "i need some efficient help, and i have had my eye on you boys for some time. i had heard of you, that you were thoroughly trustworthy and could be depended upon in any emergency, and i decided that you were just the kind of companions i wanted. but i may as well tell you right at the start that this is not going to be a picnic party; we are going to have our work cut out for us, and plenty of it, so if you go along you are likely to see some pretty exciting times before we get through." "that don't scare us any," put in jo. "i didn't think it would," the professor went on, "and if it turns out as i believe it will, we shall all have all the money we need for the rest of our lives." "but why should you take us in?" persisted jim. "why, if we should succeed in finding the treasure," the professor explained, "it would be a great temptation to those who learned of it to use any means, fair or foul, to get possession of it. that is one of the reasons i want you. i feel that i can depend upon you through and through." "i think you can," responded jim quietly, but not the less emphatically. "what we say we are ready to stand by." "i am quite sure of it. now, the proposition i have to make is this: i will finance the expedition, taking all the risk. now wait"--to jim, who was about to interrupt. "if we succeed i will take one-half of what we get. out of my half i will provide for brook's family. the other half i will divide, one quarter for you and one quarter to the crew. how does that strike you?" "that's fair enough," agreed the boys. "should we fail, i will pay you for your time." "oh, we'll take our chances on that," broke in jo. "we'll get enough fun out of the trip to pay for that." "when do you want to start?" asked jim. "i'm ready now. if you are, i think we can get off within a day or two." "i would like to go with you," went on jim, "but there is something i would like to attend to first." "may i ask what that is?" inquired the professor. whereupon jim told him of the seizing of the sea eagle, and of the abduction of the senorita de cordova. "broome!" exclaimed the professor, when jim had concluded, "is that old rascal mixed up in that?" "do you know him?" asked jim in turn. "a little," replied the professor, dryly. "he tried to work off some of his little tricks on me, but i wasn't to be caught napping. do you happen to know a particular friend of his, one called manuel?" "ugh!" broke in berwick. "don't speak of that incarnation of wickedness or i shall begin to smell brimstone. i'd rather contend with his satanic majesty, himself." the professor made no comment, but asked, "have you any plans?" "nothing definite," answered jim, "except to get to the place where the girl is to be returned and see that the bargain is carried out." "good!" agreed the professor. "that is the first step, of course. now, if you want us, i and my boat are at your service." jim sprang to his feet. "oh, thank you!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, "we shall be ever indebted." "don't mention it," returned the professor. "i have a little score to settle with broome, myself. i have reason to think he is after me. in some way he has found out about the mine and the map that i have and he is ready to resort to any measures to get possession of it. so you think san matteo is the place appointed?" "i feel sure of it." "where are you stopping?" continued the professor. "at the commercial hotel," replied jim. "well, then we won't waste any more time. suppose you meet me at the foot of market street to-morrow morning at six o'clock. we will then go on board of the storm king and be ready to take up the chase at once if the emergency arises. it is late now, too late for you to go aboard, so i will arrange for jo and tom to stay here to-night." then to jim and juarez he added: "good-night, and remember to-morrow it's six o'clock sharp." "good-night," responded those addressed. "we'll be there." a room adjoining that occupied by the professor was secured for the boys and their baggage was brought up from the office where it had been temporarily deposited. chapter vii. the storm king. it was still lacking a few minutes of the hour named when jim, juarez, and berwick, who did not intend to be left out of the venture, arrived with their handbags at the wharf at the foot of market street. the professor had not yet arrived. the sun had risen above the hills, and the place was in heavy shadow. putting down their bags upon the wharf, the boys walked to the water edge and began a discussion of the merits of the boats at anchor in the harbor. they were soon joined by jo and tom. unobserved, a dwarfish figure stole noiselessly from the shadow, and seizing upon the nearest bag--it was jim's--he ran swiftly down the wharf. not quickly, however, as to escape the watchfulness of juarez, who, to make up for the dereliction of the previous evening, was especially alert. with a shout of alarm to the others, juarez set off at once in pursuit of the flying figure, which had already disappeared around a corner. jim and tom followed more leisurely, depending upon juarez to run down the culprit. berwick and jo remained as a guard over the rest of their baggage. "what happened?" cried jo. "that villain, manuel," replied berwick. "he has made off with jim's handbag. he seems to be everywhere at once." "juarez will catch him," said jo, confidently. "i hope so," returned berwick, "but an eel has nothing on him for slipperyness." and so it proved, for the others came straggling back, one by one, without having found any trace of the mexican or the bag. "that's rather an unauspicious beginning to our trip," commented berwick. "did you have anything of importance in your bag, jim?" "nothing but my clothes," replied jim, ruefully. "but it's bad enough having him carry them off right in front of us. that's another score i have to settle with him." "he will be carrying some of us away, if we aren't careful," put in jo. "hallo, look there! what in the name of goodness is that coming?" cried juarez, indicating a strange object which was advancing down the wharf. seen in the half-light of the morning, it seemed to consist principally of arms and legs which were wildly waving in the air. "looks like a big devil fish," cried tom. "better look out, boys." but as it came nearer it resolved itself into two figures, one of which, the larger, was carrying the smaller, which latter was squirming and struggling in an effort to escape. "it's the professor!" cried juarez, "but what the mischief has he got there?" "that's it!" cried jim, joyfully. "he's got the 'mischief' himself. it's manuel." "hurrah!" exclaimed jo and tom, running forward to meet him. "where did you get him?" "you will find your bag back upon the wharf," explained the professor, when he came near, holding the snapping, snarling object up in the air with a vicelike grip on the waistband of its trousers. "and mine, too," he added, as the boys started off on a run in the direction indicated. "i caught this viper sneaking along with a bag that i knew did not belong to him, and that i took to belong to some of you. what do you think we had better do with this thing?" indicating manuel. "i think," observed berwick, "we had better take it on board with us and put it in a cage like any other wild beast." "not a bad suggestion, that," agreed the professor. "that's about the best thing we could do with him." but with a sudden twist the wily mexican slipped from his loose trousers, leaving the garment in the professor's grasp. "hi--stop him!" shouted jo, making a futile attempt to seize him. but with an inarticulate snarl of rage, the mexican made a headlong plunge from the wharf into the water, disappearing from sight. "ugh!" exclaimed the professor, holding up the empty trousers. "he's shed his skin like the snake he is. he had better take them along," tossing them into the water. "we will get him when he comes up," cried tom. but, although the boys ran along the string piece of the wharf looking for him to reappear, they saw nothing more of him. an officer in uniform was called and told of the circumstances. after watching for some time they were obliged to conclude that the villainous mexican had at last met his just desert. "well," remarked jo, at length, "i guess we have seen the last of him." "i sincerely hope so," returned berwick, "but that fellow has more lives than a cat." "there doesn't seem to be any use of waiting any longer," said the professor. "he doesn't seem to be coming back. there is nothing we can do and we may as well go on." by this time the sun was up, and the wharf was beginning to be astir with people. the boatmen were coming and going over the bay, intent on business. hailing one of the larger boats, which was rowed by two hawaiians, the professor asked them if they could carry the party out to the yacht. "si, senor," replied one of the rowers. "take you all; no sink the boat." although the boat sank nearly to the gunwales when they were all on board, and they were uncomfortably crowded, still the water was calm and the trip to the yacht, which was anchored about a quarter of a mile out, was made without any mishap. "well, what do you think of my ship?" asked the professor, when they drew up alongside the storm king. "she's as pretty as--as--" began jo. "as a picture," added tom. "as a pink," supplemented juarez. "as she can be," finished tom. "wait until you get on board," interposed the professor. "we have been on board," put in jim. "indeed!" exclaimed the professor. "when?" "yesterday," replied jim. "berwick and i called on the captain. we thought perhaps we could secure her for our trip." "that expresses your opinion," said the professor with a laugh. "you wouldn't have wanted her unless you thought she was pretty good." "that's right," agreed jim. "she looked good to me." "good morning, captain," called the professor to captain wilkins, who was standing by the gangway waiting to receive them. "i have brought out some young men who are going to show us how to sail the yacht." "good morning, professor," replied the captain. "same to you, gentlemen. they say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but i think it is never too late to learn. if you have any new tricks of seamanship i shall be glad to learn them." "that's only a joke of the professor's captain," replied jim. "all we know is enough to stand watch, and do our trick at the wheel if need be." "well said, lad," responded the captain, heartily. "are you going to make a voyage with us?" "yes," replied the professor, "they are booked for the trip. now, how soon do you think we can get away?" "well, now that depends," replied the captain, rubbing his chin, thoughtfully. "did you bring the new engineer along with you?" "the new engineer?" asked the professor. "what do you mean?" "don't you know, sir," replied the captain, "mr. ward has gone? 'twas day before yesterday he went ashore, and when he came back he had another man with him. said he had a better job, and was going to leave. said this other man was going to take his place. thought he had it all arranged with you." "the first i have heard of it," said the professor. "i told him i had nothing to do with it," went on the captain. "if you said it was all right, it was all right." "so, we haven't any engineer," said the professor. "that's awkward. i suppose we shall have to lose a lot of time while we hunt up another." "why not mr. berwick?" suggested jim. "he's a first class engineer, and he wants to go with us anyway." "why, of course," replied the professor. "never thought of that. how stupid of me. how is it, mr. berwick, will you take the place?" "suits me to the dot," replied the engineer. "wanted to go along, and glad to be of use." "all right, mr. berwick. suppose you take hold at once and look things over." "very well, sir," replied berwick. "lucky i brought my traps along." picking up his bag he descended into the engine room followed by juarez. "well, how is it?" inquired the professor, when berwick came on deck again a little later. "everything all right?" "indeed no," replied berwick. "looks as if somebody had been tampering with the engine. lot of loose bolts and nuts. if she had been started up there would have been a pretty smash-up. however, i think two or three hours' work will put it all right." "that must be some of broome's work, i suppose," commented the professor. "bribed the engineer. you see what we have ahead of us, boys. go ahead and do the best you can, mr. berwick. but i suppose we had better have breakfast first. got anything to eat on board, captain?" "fully provisioned, sir," replied the captain. "i told your steward that you would want breakfast and i think he has it ready." "very well, then," said the professor. "that seems to be the next thing in order." a handsome, and what was more important, a very competent man, the steward proved to be. the professor explained that ever since his early youth pedro had been in his employ, and his father before him for many years. chapter viii. the journey begins. "well, boys," said the professor, "have you had enough breakfast?" "i don't know whether i have had enough or not," responded jo. "but i'm afraid i can't eat any more." "that's bad," remarked the professor. "i'm afraid there is something wrong with you. still, if you go on deck, perhaps you will be better by dinner time. but while we are down here you might pick out your staterooms. this is the captain's room, and this is mine. that is the engineer's room. but you can take any of the others you want." looking over the rooms about which there was really little choice, jo and tom selected one to their liking, and juarez decided on the invitation of john berwick to room with him as he was going to act as assistant engineer on the voyage. this left jim with a cabin to himself. the boys had but just settled the matter when they were startled by a series of loud and angry exclamations from the professor. "now, what do you think of that?" he cried, when the boys rushed into the saloon where he was standing holding up his handbag in which a long slit had been cut with a sharp knife. "their audacity passes all bounds!" he went on wrathfully. "they have got it at last." "what is lost?" asked jim. "the chart, the map of the island," replied the professor. "i don't know as it will do any one else much good. besides the points of the compass it has only mystifying figures on it, but it's a bad loss for all that." "are you sure it is gone?" asked jim. "well, it isn't here," replied the professor. "fortunately, i can remember the latitude and longitude, which is really the important thing." "what was the paper like?" put in tom. "it was just a rude chart," answered the professor. "it was in a flat box. i put it in the box to keep it safe from getting wet or worn out. i got tired of carrying it with me so i put it in the bag last night, not intending the bag should get out of my sight. and i don't know when it did." "looks as if we had spies all around us," said jim. "it certainly does," agreed the professor. "but now that we are on the yacht we will be safe." "humph!" muttered tom, who had just returned to the cabin after a moment's absence, "i'm not so sure about that, but," he continued, "was the box anything like this?" he held up to their gaze a thin oblong tin box. "why, it looked like that!" exclaimed the professor, taking the box tom offered to him. "why, it is it! what are you doing with it?" "i found it in my bag this morning," explained tom. "i thought that it belonged to jo, and that he had dropped it in by mistake." "i suspect that is just what i did in an absent-minded spell this morning," said the professor. "the joke is on me, boys. perhaps it is a lucky thing that i did it, for i think now, seeing this slit in my bag that the best thing i can do is to have you take care of it for me." "don't you think you had better keep it?" protested jim. "not after this experience," replied the professor, holding up the cut bag. "besides, i think it will be decidedly safer with you." "very well, then," replied jo. "we will do our best to take care of it." "i know that," said the professor. jo and tom spent the morning going over the yacht getting acquainted with its equipment and with the crew. the latter were mostly hawaiians with one irishman, an englishman and the mexican steward. juarez was busy down in the engine room with berwick, and jim and the professor were in consultation in the cabin over their plans to outwit broome. "the marjorie of liverpool," remarked tom. the speaker was standing on the after deck studying the vessels in the harbor. he read the name he spoke through a pair of binoculars. it was a small steamship anchored not far from the storm king. they had passed it early in the morning on their way to the yacht, but he had not noticed it particularly until now. "i wonder where she came from, and where she is going?" went on tom. "from liverpool, i suppose," replied jim, who had joined them, "and quite likely she is going back again." "wonder how she got way out here?" continued tom. "you are full of wonder to-day," laughed jim. "steamships go anywhere and everywhere. here comes the captain. we can ask him." "what is it you want to know?" inquired the captain, who had overheard jim's remark. "we were just talking about that steamship there, the marjorie, and speculating as to what she is and what she's doing here." "it's pretty hard to tell that," replied the captain, after taking a look through the glasses. "she's english built and rigged, that's certain, but i don't know what she's doing so far from her home port." "she has good lines and looks as though she might have speed," criticized jim. "ay, ay, lad, ye're right there," agreed the captain. "she looks like a cross between a yacht and a trader. i suspect that is what she is, a trader." "she seems to have a big crew for a trader," said jim, who had been studying the vessel while talking. "and she looks as though she might carry a pretty heavy armament, too." "have you noticed that?" observed the captain. "ye have a good eye, lad, and a quick mind. i was just thinking the same thing myself. i wouldn't wonder if she was doing some contraband trade down the coast. i see she is going out, soon." "how do you know?" asked jo. "she is getting steam up." "so is the sea eagle," exclaimed tom. "they have started their fires. she must be going out, too." "looks like it," put in jo. "there is broome now, with some of his men." pulling along close under the stern of the marjorie, there was seen a small boat in which was captain broome with his chief subordinates. "see anything of manuel in their boat?" asked jo. "no," replied tom. "he isn't in the boat. they must have left him behind." "he must have been drowned," said jo. "i don't know about that," replied tom, "but it is certain he isn't in the boat; there are four men besides the captain and on top of their other baggage is a big hamper." "how's the engine, mr. berwick?" asked the professor of the engineer, calling down into the engine room. "all right now, sir," replied the engineer. "we are just going to get up steam." "very good," said the professor. "keep it up, for we may want to start any minute. keep your eyes on the sea eagle, captain, and let us know if she shows signs of getting under way." "ay, ay, sir!" responded the captain. "feel any better now, jo?" asked the professor, with a smile, "it is pretty near time to eat again." "i'm all right again now, professor," responded jo. "better get ready then, for i hear pedro rattling the dishes down there." "i think"--began tom, when they were down in their staterooms taking a washup before the noon meal. "that it is time for dinner," interrupted jo. "no, sonny," replied tom. "my thoughts are not as your thoughts, always on the gross material, but--" going to the door, he called jim into the room. then, after a look into the saloon, closed the door. "hist!" whispered jo. "the plot thickens." "what is it now, tom?" asked jim. "i think"--began tom, in a low tone. "you said that before," interrupted jo. "but i don't believe it." "that it would be a good plan," continued tom, "to hide the chart in some safe place." "not half a bad idea, don't you know," drawled jo, "but where is that safe place?" "i have an idea," went on tom. "clutch it before it gets away," advised jo. "that we can make a secret closet where we can put it." "that is a good scheme," agreed jim, "if--" "hear! hear!" broke in jo. "here, as well as anywhere," replied tom. "what is your plan?" asked jim. "i was thinking of making a secret drawer or closet in this cabin." "do you think we could do it?" asked jo. "i don't know," replied jim. "we can tell better after we try. the proof of the--" "eating is in the pudding," interrupted jo. "let's go ahead and do it." "where do you think is a good place to make it?" asked tom, looking around the room, which was paneled in mahogany. "we might take up a board in the floor." "but some one might get at it from underneath," objected jo. "no danger of that," replied tom. "who is going to look for it?" "well, if there is no danger of anyone looking for it, what is the use of hiding it?" demanded jo. "that's right," agreed jim. "if we are going to do it at all, let's do it thoroughly. if we can take out one of the panels, we can make a dandy place." "that's the idea," chimed in tom. "i think we can take out one of these panels," continued jim, examining the wainscoating carefully, "but we must first get the professor's permission." "we will ask him the first thing after dinner," cried tom. "and there is dinner, now," said jo, as the sound of a gong resounded through the air. the professor was an interesting dinner companion, and even though all felt that serious business was ahead of them, no reference was made thereto. at the conclusion of the meal jo said: "professor feather--" "ingstone," broke in jim. "haughleigh," added tom. "i'm all broke up," laughed the professor. "can we make a hiding place in one of our staterooms?" asked jo. "why, i suppose so," replied the professor. "what do you want to do, play hide and go seek?" "in a way," laughed jim. "we want to make a secret place in which to keep the chart." "oh, i see," interrupted the professor quickly. "by all means." "you see, we can--" "that will do," returned the professor with another laugh. "if you are going to make a secret place the fewer who know of it the more it is of a secret. keep it to yourselves." "even from you?" "from every one," said the professor emphatically. "if you need any tools or anything get them quietly." the brothers lost no time, but at once set about making a place of concealment. jim, who, of the three had the more genius for mechanics, taking the initiative in the work, studying carefully the artistically constructed paneling to settle upon a plan. "do you think it can be done so that it won't be seen?" asked tom. "yes," decided jim. "i think so. by taking off this moulding, we can saw through the edge of the panel, put on leather hinges, and i can make a spring catch. then replace the moulding and it will never show." "that will be easy," asserted jo. "glad you think so," retorted jim. "it will have to be done as nicely as the original work." "when are you going to begin?" "now," answered jim. "only one can work at a time, so you may as well go on deck. i will start the job. i will take one of the panels near the floor. after i have started, we can take turns at the work. when we begin, we want to finish as soon as possible." "all right," returned jo. "let it go." when the others had gone, jim secured from the engineer such tools as he needed, and returning to his room, closed the door. he selected a panel, and was about to take off the molding when he heard some one moving in the cabin. whistling carelessly he opened the door of his room, but there was no one near. the steward pedro, was busily employed at the far end of the room, and the mate was just entering the cabin. "strange," mused jim. "there doesn't seem to be anyone acting suspiciously. i was sure, though, that there was some one near the door just now." he then called to jo, and arranged that he should stay in the cabin on guard. jim returned to his task, and with infinite care removed the molding from the panel. then he called tom below, and working alternately, in a short time they had made the secret opening to the compartment. as it was between the wall of the stateroom and the planking of the vessel, and being inaccessible from any other point, it seemed absolutely safe. the work under jim's direction had been so deftly done that it could not be detected. it was opened by pressing a spring made of wire and placed in an adjoining panel. fastening the box containing the chart with a strong cord, it was lowered into the aperture and the cord fastened to a hook at one side of the opening. "there," said jo, when the box had been lowered, and the place closed. "it will take more than a wizard to find that." "it looks that way," agreed tom, "but--" "oh, you're a regular goat with your buts," cried jo. "what is the matter with it?" "nothing," said tom. "it is all right, but some people can see through a stone wall." "of course they can if it has holes in it, but there ain't any holes in this." this task ended, they went on deck, where they found the professor and the captain intently watching the sea eagle, which had steam up and seemed to be about to get under way. "i was just going to call you," said the professor. "i think that the next act is about to begin." "good!" cried jim. "let's hope they will find something doing that is not down on the program." "isn't it rather late to start?" asked berwick, who had come out of the engine-room, leaving juarez in charge. "not if you are ready," was the professor's answer. "i suppose they think they can slip away from us in the dark," chuckled jim. "it will be something of a surprise if they find us at the bay when they come," said jo. "engine all right, mr. berwick?" asked the professor. "working splendidly," replied berwick. "very well, then," replied the professor, "we will get off at once. i see that the sea eagle is going to start. will you give the word, captain?" the captain passed the order to the boatswain, and an instant later, the crew striking into a chant began to wind up the anchor chain, and in a few moments came the call: "anchor apeak, sir!" "anchor's fast!" called the boatswain. "ready at the wheel," directed the captain from the bridge, where he was standing with the professor. the captain rang the bell in the engine room, the propeller revolved, slowly at first, then more quickly, and the storm king, gathering momentum, was headed through the channel's mouth for the open sea. the voyage had begun. anticipations and hopes ran high. what would the outcome be? "my, but it is good to get the smell of the salt again," cried tom. he and jo were standing in the bow of the boat, taking in long breaths of the salt air which blew in their faces. the spray from the waves, as they curled away from the bow, dashed over them. "and there is better still to come," added jo. "why, here comes the marjorie," cried tom. "we are all moving out at once." the party on board the storm king had been so much interested in getting under way and in watching the sea eagle, that they had forgotten the other vessel until tom had noticed it following in their wake about a mile behind. gaining the open sea, much to the surprise of those on board the storm king, the sea eagle was headed directly to the north under full speed, the heavy volume of smoke from her funnel trailing behind like a cloud. chapter ix. a plot. it was true that the marjorie was following in the wake of the other ships, and some word respecting her mission will be of interest to the reader. our scene is once more the office of that legal adviser of unsavory reputation, to whom earlier reference has been made. "i have some work for you to do, captain beauchamp." the lawyer leaned back in his revolving chair and watched the other man with coldly critical eyes. "ah'm glad teh hear it, suh," replied the other in a soft southern drawl. the two men were sitting in the inner sanctum of attorney reynolds' office. unobserved, there was lying in a half opened drawer of the desk, and within easy reach of his hand a fully loaded revolver. there were but few of his clients that the lawyer received with the drawer closed. "ah, what is it like?" the captain went on, after a short pause, shifting his position to a more easy one. the captain was tall and slender, with a habitual slowness of movement that could be changed on occasion to a tiger-like celerity. his face was thin, with sharply cut features, and dusky brown in color. his eyes were black and deeply set beneath heavy black eyebrows, and a long, sweeping, black moustache hid a thin straight-lipped mouth. "do you know the marjorie?" went on the lawyer. "ah regret ah have not the pleasure of the lady's acquaintance," drawled the captain. "formerly the mercury, of nowhere in particular," added the lawyer. the other man started up with a sudden interest. "what about her?" he asked. "i asked if you knew her," the lawyer went on. "ah reckon ah do," replied the captain with a sigh. "ah never sailed a better boat, suh!" "how would you like to sail her again?" the captain started up eagerly, and then sank back again. "ah reckon there's no such luck for me." "there may be," returned the lawyer, with emphasis on the may. "what is it?" demanded the other quickly. "i have a bit of work i want done," said the lawyer slowly. "if you do it and do it right, the command of the marjorie is yours." "ah'm yoh man," answered the captain. "what is it?" "nothing very difficult. do you know the senor de cordova?" "no. never heard of him. who is he?" "a very wealthy mexican, the owner of a big sugar plantation in cuba." "ah see. yoh want me to capture him and hold him foh ransom?" "you are half right," replied the lawyer. "listen. five days ago, his daughter, the senorita marie, was captured by bill broome. within the next two or three days she will be surrendered upon the payment of five thousand dollars." "and ah'm to crap the five thousand?" "no, wait. the money is to be paid over at mendola." "ah know the place, on san matteo bay." "that's it. now, i want you to pick up the senor and his daughter and take them on board the marjorie--" "what is yoh plan?" "with a few men of your own choosing you will take the san matteo trail and meet them as they come back. it should be no great thing to take them." "ah reckon not. and what am ah to do with them?" "take them on the marjorie." "and then?" "that is for you to decide," replied the lawyer. "whatever you like. all that is desired is that they do not come back. you understand?" "perfectly. yoh can be shuah they won't trouble anyone any mo'." "oh, they don't trouble me any," responded the lawyer. "this is a government matter. he is shipping guns and ammunition into cuba. we represent the cuban revolutionists." "ah see," the captain laughed. "yoh represent the government." he was about to say more but thought better of it, but his thought was--the government is looking for that sugar plantation. "if you do this and make no blunder, the marjorie may be yours." "so," mused the captain. "the plantation is bigger than i thought." "she is fully provisioned," went on the lawyer, "and the old armament is all aboard, stowed away in the hold. you can pick up a crew i suppose?" "ah reckon ah can, if any of the old boys are around. ah'll take a look down around the barbary coast." "then you understand the first thing you have to do?" "ah reckon ah do." "now, do you know professor featheringstone--?" "never mind the rest," the captain broke in. "yoh mean a mining sharp that was down in the south seas?" "that's the man. broome says that he has a chart of a treasure island which lies down that way, and he is going down to locate it." "broome is?" "no, the professor. broome has been trying to get hold of the chart, but hasn't been able. now, the professor is going out to search for the treasure in the storm king. he has a lot of boys, the frontier boys, they call them." "ah have heard of them," said the captain, thoughtfully. "perhaps," suggested the lawyer, "after you have captured the senor, you might follow the storm king and get the chart." "ah see," returned the captain, "but," shaking his head, "that will be difficult." "not so difficult when you know the arrangements made. there will be on board the storm king a friend of yours. he is to secure, if he can, the chart. all the particulars of the arrangement you will find in this letter. read it carefully and follow out every detail." "anything more?" "yes. here is the contract. you will read carefully and sign." the captain laughed, grasping without hesitation a pen. he read not a word, but laboriously penned his name at the point indicated. "and now?" he said. "that is all. here is an order to samson & co., to turn the ship over to you. a prosperous future to you, captain." "and to yoh, suh." the two men looked each other in the face for a moment, then the captain silently took his departure. on leaving the lawyer's office, captain beauchamp went at once to the office of samson & co., where, on presentation of the order, the marjorie was turned over to him. thence to the barbary coast, where he had little difficulty in picking up the crew he needed, including a man of his own type as mate. these he sent on board at once. the engineer was ordered to get everything in readiness for immediate departure. to the mate he gave directions that on the following afternoon he should set out for playys, a small harbor near san matteo bay, and there await his coming. selecting two of the crew upon whom he could rely, the captain hired a team of horses and a driver and set out upon the road to san matteo. they traveled without incident, stopping over night at a hotel on the way, until they came within about a mile of san matteo. here the driver with his horses was sent back, they proceeding the rest of the way on foot. san matteo bay is a point at which it will be seen many interests are centering. chapter x. at san matteo bay. "i thought you said that the rendezvous was somewhere in the south," drawled berwick. he was standing with jim and the professor on the afterdeck of the storm king, watching away in the north the fast disappearing sea eagle. "so i did, and so it is," answered jim stoutly. "that heading to the north is only a ruse on broome's part to lead us in the wrong direction." "hope you are right, but--" returned berwick, leaving the sentence significantly unfinished. "i am going down to the engine-room again. let me know if anything new transpires." "which way shall i lay our course, sir?" asked the captain, coming up to where the others were standing. the professor, before replying, looked at jim inquiringly. "to the south!" insisted jim. "south it is then," directed the professor. "south it is," answered the captain, going back to the bridge. "we will keep on that course until morning," added the professor. "and as there is a fair breeze blowing we will proceed under sail. ask mr. berwick to bank the fires in the boiler." it was now dusk. the stars were showing in the sky, and the lights of the sea eagle were lost in the mist on the horizon. for awhile the voyagers sat around on the deck listening to the professor's stories of his experiences in the south seas, but it had been a long and arduous day and they soon began to grow weary. "i think," began tom, in a pause in the talk, suppressing a yawn. "i think i shall turn in until time for my watch." it had been arranged that some one of the four should always be on deck. "a very sensible idea," agreed the professor; "i think we will all be better for a good night's rest." without incident of note, all through the night the storm king sped on her way south. the party were all on deck early the next morning. it seemed on looking around that they were alone on the wide sweep of water. way off to the west the sails of a vessel showed white like the wings of a bird on the horizon, and far away to the north was a blur from the smoke of a steamer. it was well along in the morning when the bold headline of the cliff that marked the entrance to san matteo bay came into view, and it was middle afternoon when the yacht glided into the bay and sought an anchorage. "broome," said the captain, "knows this harbor as he knows his cabin, but i am not familiar with any part except that near the entrance. it's full of rocks farther in, and i will anchor under the lea of these northern cliffs where i know there is sufficient depth of water." the harbor covered an area of several square miles, and there was to be seen only one other vessel, a small lugger which lay close to the lower end of the bay. "well," remarked berwick, looking about the harbor. "our piratical friend broome doesn't seem to have kept the appointment you made for him, jim." "not yet," replied jim, "but there is still time enough." "and you still hold to the opinion this is the place?" asked the professor. "i may be mistaken," replied jim, "but i don't believe i am. in any case the morning will determine. i am for going ashore then, and will investigate." watches were set for the night, and for each interval of two hours one of the boys was on duty. tom was on deck during the darkest period between two and four, and shortly before the latter hour he noted at a distance, although he could not see the ship, the noise of machinery, and felt sure that a newcomer had entered the harbor. none were surprised at early dawn to observe the sea eagle riding quietly at anchor well toward the inner shore of the harbor, and some two and one-half miles distant. alongside of the sea eagle was a boat of nondescript appearance, the one they had seen the night before, and it was evident that the masters of the two ships had business of importance in hand. "by jove, old fellow," cried berwick, addressing jim, "you were right after all. it is her, all right. we had better be getting ready." "better go fully armed," advised the professor. "you know that they are a pretty tough lot." "tough enough," agreed berwick, "but i think we can take care of ourselves. i am not afraid to tackle anyone except that fiend of a mexican. he is so little and slippery that i never feel quite safe when he is around." "i think we have seen the last of him," put in tom. "perhaps," doubted berwick, "but i don't believe it. he's got more lives than a score of cats." "will you need any help from the crew or myself?" asked the professor. "no," replied jim, "i think we can take care of the situation, and beside," he laughed, "someone will have to look after this yacht or broome will be getting away with her." "he will have a jolly good time doing it," asserted the professor. "by the way, mr. berwick, you might attach a hose to the boiler so we can give them a warm reception if they try to come on board." "what are your plans, jim," the professor asked. "first and foremost to see that the compact for the surrender of their prisoner, the senorita, is carried out. beyond that i must be guided by circumstances." "while captain broome is ashore with his men may be your opportunity to get back your ship." "i have that in mind, but any move now before she is free would add to the peril of the young girl." while they had been talking, the long-boat had been lowered and was now alongside the gangway. "all aboard," directed jim. each member of the party was armed with a rifle and a revolver. it took but a moment for the five to get into the boat. jim and juarez took the oars. "where are you going to land, jim," asked berwick, who had taken the tiller. "it won't do to venture very close to the sea eagle." "the first point where we can find a landing place on the north shore. they will hardly see us at this distance." "just over here is a good place," suggested tom, indicating a break in the rocky cliff where the land sloped down to the water. it was only a short pull to the shore, and ten minutes later the boat was run up on a sandy beach, and the comrades disembarked. making the painter fast to a large rock, the party, under the lead of jim, set out for the other end of the harbor. it was slow moving through the tangled underbrush, and nearly two hours were consumed in a roundabout trip which brought them to a point, where, themselves unobserved, a close and distinct view of the sea eagle and the lugger was obtainable. everyone on board the two boats was busily engaged in the task of transferring from the lugger's hold numerous boxes, cases and casks, which were being stored aboard the sea eagle. berwick clutched jim's arm. "see," he gasped, "on the afterdeck! what did i tell you?" "manuel," muttered jim, with almost a shudder. "it means trouble," grumbled berwick. "nonsense," responded jim. but there was lacking the usual tone of assurance in his voice. he looked at his brothers and juarez. no one spoke. all seemed imbued with the same feeling of inexpressible nervous concern. was it a foreboding of some impending danger? very silently now the party pushed on, and a little later they were able to get a good view of the stretch of land occupying the space between the water's edge and the foot hills, which were a full mile away. it was a level plain with a few large eucalyptus trees of considerable growth clustered a short distance from the shore. one particularly large tree of the group attracted jim's attention, and indicating this one, he announced: "that is where the meeting will be held." the others looked at him in astonishment. to them the trees all looked alike. "how do you know?" they chorused. "see the birds flying about?" there were flying through the air a number of birds. occasionally some of them lit for an interval, but never upon the tree jim had pointed out. "but what of that?" asked tom. "there is some one in that tree," explained jim. "that is why, as you will notice, the birds alight on the other trees, but never upon that one." observing for a continuous period the actions of the birds their maneuvers seemed to confirm jim's theory. "this then," determined jim, "is our place of observation when it comes to the surrendering of the senorita and the paying of the ransom. we cannot be seen here, but can get quickly into action and upon the scene if there is need." "we have the place of ambush," said berwick, "and the next thing to find out, if we can, is, when the villains are to complete the transaction." "for that purpose i am going to attempt to hunt out the senor, and try to secure, if possible, an interview with him." jim had noticed that a faintly marked trail led inland from the shore, and a short way up the nearest hill was seen a low bungalow with out-buildings which jim concluded was a way-house or inn, and the likely stopping place of the senor. "what are we to do?" asked tom. "you four remain here on guard and fire two shots in quick succession if i am wanted." saying this, jim strode away in the direction of the foot hills, but sheltered the while from observation by the forest and underbrush. it was as jim surmised. on the veranda of the inn sat the senor intently reading a book. as jim approached, no other person was in sight. "buena diaz, senor," called jim. instantly the senor sprang to his feet, observing jim for the first time and facing him with a stern, uncompromising look. "so you are concerned in this evil venture, you--" "on the contrary," broke in jim, himself greatly surprised. "i have come to help you." "i have no need of help," asserted the senor, unbending not the least, suspicion in his voice. jim was staggered for a moment and at a loss for words. here was an obstacle he had not thought of. finally he ventured the inquiry:-"you have not, however, recovered your daughter, the senorita?" "no." "and until you do, i assure you, there is grave danger." something in jim's tones seemed to impress the senor with his sincerity, and his future speech indicated the return of confidence. "my daughter is abducted. by whom, i know not. how did you know of this?" "just by chance," replied jim. "but tell me about the capture?" "but i know nothing," protested the senor. "she went out and came not back. then i got word that these men,--these--" the senor stopped. "they warned me to say nothing or that they would kill her." "unless you paid them so much money," added jim. "and you know that, too. it was much--five thousand dollars--but that is nothing if i have my daughter safe again. you think they will come?" "i think they will try to get the reward," said jim, cautiously. "and if they do not come, you will help me find her?" the senor asked, looking into jim's face. "assuredly," responded jim. "but tell me about the arrangements you have made." the senor glanced about, then walked with jim a little distance from the inn. there was no apparent need for the precaution, for there was no one to be seen about the place. "at five o'clock to-day, at an appointed spot, a tree below here, i am to be met by someone who will receive the money." "yes," said jim, "and you already have your men perched in the branches of the tree." the senor made an exclamation of intense "it is the large eucalyptus on the margin of the grove," continued jim. "yes. yes. you seem to know all." "all i must know to aid you effectively," said jim, earnestly. "you speak about the money, but your daughter, what of her?" "that is arranged. she is to be seen by me before the money is given up. she is to be near at hand. i am to see her, it is promised, sitting in a small boat near the shore, and in the care of a good woman who has been her companion." jim could not restrain a laugh. the idea of applying any such word as "good woman" to the virago on board the sea eagle. "captain broome's sister?" suggested jim, inquiringly. "captain broome's sister," repeated the senor. "it is not possible. the captain is a comrade, a friend, engaged by me to carry arms and armament to my confreres in cuba. ah, what am i saying to you, james? my secret, in my anxiety for my daughter, my secret i have told, you must not repeat or disclose." "your secret is safe, senor, but your daughter is on board the sea eagle now, and broome, whatever he may be, is not to be trusted." "i am amazed. it is true the sea eagle is in the harbor. so i was told by the innkeeper this morning. but i knew for what purpose, and i was glad to think that someone was near on whom i could rely in case of need. then i have my trusted man, as you surmised, in the tree to give aid if called upon. but how know you all and so many of these things?" "perhaps i know more. you arranged all the plans through a certain lawyer in san francisco?" "yes. yes." "and he sold you out." "what do you mean?" "that he plotted with broome to get your daughter into his hands, that they might wring another five thousand out of you." "how dare they!" he thought a few moments, his face livid with suppressed rage. then he continued, "they probably counted on my intense interest in cuban affairs, of which i told you, to save themselves. but they are mistaken. i will kill them both." "just now," interrupted jim, "we must attend to the business in hand." "i put the matter in your control." "at the hour named," suggested jim, "do you go to the appointed place. i will be in hiding near at hand with the others of my party. there will be five of us." "and what am i to do?" "do exactly as you have planned. do not, i beg of you, vary one iota. let your man in the tree know that he must be ready for quick action." "you have ever my thanks!" said the senor. very carefully, jim went over in anticipation every move of the arrangement. when about to take leave, the senor wrung his hand expressing his gratitude and they parted. jim rejoined his party and found them eating the lunch they had brought with them from the ship. during the afternoon jim scouted around the country to the north of them with a result that had much bearing upon the future, but he was on hand with the others long before the appointed hour. chapter xi. on board the sea eagle. we must now revert to the afternoon on which the redoubtable captain broome sailed from the harbor of san francisco. it will be recalled that his was the first of the three vessels to leave the harbor. the captain was sitting in the cabin of the sea eagle in consultation with the mexican dwarf whom, concealed in a hamper, he had smuggled on board. it was their purpose to have the boys think that the dwarf had been drowned at the time he had slipped from the professor's grasp and plunged into the waters of the bay. the captain was sitting in a revolving chair in front of the desk, whose top was strewn with papers and charts over which he had been pouring. his thoughts apparently had not been particularly pleasing, for there was a scowl upon his hard face which looked harder than ever, and there was an ugly glitter in his eye which boded evil for whoever crossed his path. nevertheless, the dwarf, who was seated, or rather perched, upon the top of a worn and battered sea chest at the opposite side of the room, regarded him with indifference. if there was anything upon the face of the earth or of its waters of which the mexican was afraid or which had the power to make him blench, he had never met it. for a moment or two the captain glared at the dwarf, who returned his look indifferently. "a nice mess you've made of this business," growled the captain. "it wasn't my fault," returned the dwarf surlily. "then i suppose it was mine," snapped the captain. the dwarf shrugged his shoulders. "you wouldn't let me put a knife in him," he snarled venomously. "the sharks would have had him now." "bah!" sneered the captain. "can't you think of anything better than that? besides, there are four of them. that's too clumsy, anyway. and," he went on after a moment's pause, "i don't believe you could have done it. jim darlington is too smart for you." if it was the captain's intention to arouse all the malignity and vindictiveness of the hunchback's nature to the utmost, he certainly succeeded. the dwarf's eyes blazed with fire, his form trembled with rage and his voice when he spoke resembled more the hiss of an angry snake than the utterance of a human being. "leave him to me now," he hissed. "i will make an end of this senor james and his whole tribe." there was a devilish malignity in the way he spoke that stirred even the captain, callous as he was. "all right," replied the captain, "if that's the way you feel about them, i guess you'll take care of the matter all right." getting upon his feet with an inarticulate growl, the captain lurched across the cabin and up the companion way to the deck, where a quick glance around assured him that there was no one within eavesdropping distance. returning to the cabin he dropped heavily into the chair again. "so the professor is back again?" the dwarf made a surly gesture of assent. "why didn't you get the chart?" "how could i? i paid the porter five dollars to let me handle the bag for a minute, but there was nothing in it." "why didn't you take the bag?" "what was the good? there was nothing in it, and beside there was no chance." "where did he pick up those darlington boys?" "who knows? he came with them on the train--all except jim." "what has this jim been doing?" went on the captain. "nothing. he is crazy. since i saw you, i followed him here, there, everywhere." "did he know you were following him?" "he? no. he is the imbecile." "do you think he knows where we are going?" "no." the dwarf laughed contemptuously. "he knows nothing. they are all of them to hunt for the treasure. he thinks no more of the girl." "don't be too sure of that," returned the captain. "i think he is on our trail, but we will give him the slip yet. and we will be rid of her, the day after to-morrow." "what are you going to do with her?" asked the dwarf. "put her ashore at san matteo. if we don't get rid of her pretty soon he will be bringing the whole pack down on us." "him!" muttered the dwarf, "leave jim to me. but he thinks more of the gold." "why didn't you at least get the papers from him?" "carambo!" hissed the dwarf. "why didn't i? i had the bag and those clumsy gringoes were chasing one another in the dark, when the professor, maledictions upon him, came in my way. who would have looked for him there?" "and he picked you up and spanked you like a bad little boy," said broome, maliciously. "curses on him!" howled the dwarf. "but i--i, manuel de gorgiza," he struck himself on the chest, "will have my revenge on them all. but i fooled them. i swam under the water, and while they waited for me to come up i am under the dock, and i laugh at them all for the fools that they are. they think that i am down at the bottom of the bay, but i will have them yet." "it is time we were getting under way," said the captain, rising. "you will have to postpone your revenge until we come back." going on deck, the captain gave orders to start and in a short time the sea eagle was on her course out through the golden gate. "i wonder if they will follow us," mused the captain. it need only to be recalled that the sea eagle on leaving the harbor headed north, and when the captain was satisfied that he was not followed the ship's course was altered. "the little mexican was right. them boys are looking for the gold," the captain decided, rubbing his gorilla-like hands together with satisfaction. the next day, however, when the sea eagle had entered san matteo bay and captain broome discovered the storm king, he almost exploded with wrath. but the dwarf, who had been standing on the afterdeck, and with a spy-glass watching the other boat, had seen the boys go on shore. his crafty mind had even then conceived a plan of revenge worthy of the arch fiend himself. having devised his scheme, the dwarf went at once to captain broome, who was on the forward deck directing the stowing away of the stuff that was being transferred from the lugger to the sea eagle. the captain listened attentively as the mexican unfolded his plan. when the dwarf had concluded, broome removed his hat and bowed graciously. his only comment was: "i take off my hat to you." chapter xii. treachery. the senor had passed an anxious day. he had at first thought of going on board the sea eagle and demand surrender of his daughter. but he feared, after the revelation made by jim, that he would be but placing in broome's hands opportunity for further evil. at four o'clock, therefore, he summoned the innkeeper, who brought from the corral two horses. one the senor mounted, and leading the other, he started for the arranged place of meeting. jim and his party were at that moment in hiding, as had been arranged. the task of loading the sea eagle had evidently been completed, and the ship itself, under the influence of the tide which was then running out, was moving very slowly toward the ocean end of the harbor. with a begrimed and patched sail flapping listlessly, the lugger could be seen riding motionless at anchor. there was a brief interval of suspense, then there was observed, moving toward the shore from under the lea of the lugger, a small boat. in it were three persons, all well known to jim. the senorita sat in the stern, and so was facing them. at the oars was a big fellow with a bristling red moustache, close-cropped hair, and evil looking black eyes. an equally big, red haired woman, big annie, the captain's sister, was in the bow. this woman, as jim knew from sad experience, was as powerful as a man. when the boat grounded, big annie sprang lightly ashore, and walked rapidly toward the appointed tree under which stood the senor, holding the bridles of his two horses. the watching party hidden from observation were not close enough to the senor to hear what was said by either he or big annie when they met. they saw the former take from his saddle bag a heavy package which he gave the woman. "there is the money!" cried jim, excitedly. "shall we stop them?" asked juarez. "no," answered jim, "but i fear that he is making a mistake. he was not to give up the money till his daughter was on shore." "but you are not going to let them get away with the money, are you?" asked berwick disgustedly. "it seems we must," returned jim. "at least we must for the present. but i mean to get that later." "huh!" muttered tom. "there is no time like now." "all we can do now," protested jim, "is to see that the senorita is safe. she is still in these villains' hands, and if we show ourselves, it will be an excuse for them to try to get away with her. that's what i fear, anyway." "see!" called jo, "the senor is walking with the woman toward the boat." "and he promised me to stay at the tree." jim was wild with anxiety, yet dare not make known his presence. but the opportunity to act was close at hand. reaching the shore, the senor and his daughter were exchanging salutations, while the woman annie sprang lightly into the boat, and it was then swung about, seemingly to allow the girl to land. the man rose from his seat as if to lend aid. big annie took the oars, and immediately, with quickly repeated strokes impelled by her powerful arms, the boat shot away. at the same instant the man grasped the senorita, holding her before him so as to protect himself from harm should the senor be armed. this all happened far more quickly than it can be described. now, all too late, the party in hiding sprang forward. "help! help!" called the senorita. "save me, senor james!" she had at once recognized him among the party. it was a desperate situation. the boys were too far away to be of aid. it was impossible to shoot at the man without risking the life of the girl. twice jim raised his rifle and let it drop, while the senorita's call for help rang in his ears. the irishman continued to hold the senorita as a shield, and the woman, knowing the boys would not shoot her, fiercely swung the oars of the boat, which was headed toward the lugger. in a few moments jim and his party were at the shore, where the senor in desperation raged now that it was all too late, bemoaning his over-confidence and its result. "what shall we do?" cried tom. "get back to the storm king as quick as we can," cried jim, in a frenzy. "we will run the yacht down and get her if we have to follow them to the end of the world. come on!" the boys, headed by jim, started off on the run, when they were halted by a shout from juarez. "here's a boat!" he cried. half hidden in the bushes which fringed the shore was the little dinghy of the lugger. to seize the boat and rush it down to the water was but the work of a moment. "but we haven't any oars!" cried tom. "here is one. yes, a pair!" exclaimed jo, who had been rummaging in the bushes. "let me go with you," pleaded the senor. "i am sorry," replied jim, "but the boat will only hold three, and some will have to stay on shore. there is serious work ahead of us. we don't know how many there may be on board the lugger." "then let me be of the party, i implore you! i am an expert marksman, and can hit the eye of the bull at a hundred yards." "good!" cried jim. "juarez, you are the best long distance runner amongst us. will you give the senor your rifle and run as fast as you can back to the ship and tell the professor to come to our aid with the storm king?" without a word, juarez handed his rifle to the senor and was off with a speed that carried him over the ground almost as fast as a horse could gallop. leaving jo and tom on shore to menace the escaping party with their rifles if there was opportunity, and with berwick at the oars, the dinghy was headed for the lugger. barely had they covered a third the distance when they were surprised to hear a call from the senorita, and looking in the direction of the sound they discovered her standing alone on board the lugger. her captors had disappeared, as they were soon to learn. having first run under the lea of the lugger, they had aided the senorita to climb on board, and they themselves keeping the while out of sight of jim's party, had rapidly rowed the boat around a point of land and were nowhere to be seen. that they were to board the sea eagle, which was still to be observed dropping down the harbor was doubtless their intent, but why had they surrendered the senorita? why taken all the trouble and risk to recapture and put her on board the lugger? it was an enigma for which they were later to find a solution. jim and his party lost no time in boarding the lugger. the meeting of father and daughter was affecting, and jim was covered with confusion by the profuse thanks of the young lady. he beat a hasty retreat to the dinghy, where he was held in conversation for a few minutes by the senor, then going ashore, he picked up tom and jo. he also carried a message to the senor's man. his presence in the tree had not proved of service through no fault of his own. he was now ordered to take the horses back to the inn. on jim's return to the lugger he had a further conference with the senor and told him that in a scouting trip during the afternoon he had run across a party of three, bandits he took them to be, and listening unobserved to their conversation, he had learned of their intention to capture someone. "do you know of a captain beauchamp?" jim asked. "no." "may it not be yourself and your daughter that they are after?" jim asked in conclusion. the senor was visibly agitated. "for myself alone i have no fear," he said, "but, alas, my daughter, and she has already suffered so much." "if i could go with you--" "that's it," broke in the senor, "if you and your brothers will accompany us, we all could be quite safe." jim was complimented by this confidence, and was very loath to hesitate, but his obligations to the professor compelled. he must first refer the matter to him. then an idea occurred to jim, another course was suggested. would the senor's party go on board the storm king, and when again at sea seek a transfer to some passing merchant ship bound for san francisco? the plan well appealed to the senor, and now the best method of getting on board the storm king was considered. while they were talking, as the darkening atmosphere indicated, a storm was brewing, and appeared likely to break very shortly over the hills and bay. the trip by land would be tedious indeed, particularly for the senorita. the dinghy would carry but three, and jim thought, too, that every minute lost would prejudice his chances for the recovery of the sea eagle. one object of his trip had been accomplished, the rescue of the senorita. now his thoughts turned to the sea eagle which at that moment was doubtless upon the ocean and headed for cuba. at least he knew its destination. the thought occurred to jim. why not make use of the lugger on which they now were? suggestion was promptly followed by action. under jim's direction the anchor was quickly raised, the patchwork sail was trimmed and made secure. if the approaching storm held off a bit they could make the run to the storm king in short order. with the relaxation from the intense anxiety of the hours just passed through, the party was indeed a happy one. even their nemesis, the villainous mexican, was forgotten. the senor and berwick--the latter was at the helm--found subjects to discuss of mutual interest. the senorita, meantime, told jim of her experience on board the sea eagle, where she had been for some time a prisoner, and he related very modestly some of the efforts he had made to rescue her. it was beyond the dinner hour, but that fact was forgotten. the senorita, however, was thirsty. "was there possibly water on board to drink?" jim offered to investigate. he had seen through the hatchway in the dim region of the hold a cask or two. he climbed down a broken ladder to institute a search. the first cask when struck with his boot gave out a sound indicating that it was empty. but there was dimly seen another cask farther aft. even near the open hatchway it was dark indeed, and the approaching storm made the gloom almost impenetrable. the second cask was open, the head was out. this fact he determined by feeling about, and reaching down his hand encountered a dry, powdery ingredient. he noted now that there was a dividing partition just aft, on which his hand rested. the partition, he discovered, was hot with an unnatural heat, while the air about him was cool. what was the powdery stuff in the cask? he could not see, but a little held in his hand by sense of smell he recognized. and now a crackling sound beyond the partition wall reached his ear. the whole picture of their awful position at once flashed upon his mind. the lugger was a veritable trap. they had been beguiled aboard with but one horrible purpose in view. there were people captain broome wished to annihilate. the senor was surely one, jim and his party the others. the substance in the cask was powder. doubtless there was more of the same stuff about. the boat was on fire. with one bound jim was back to the ladder, and was quickly on deck. the deep intonation of a crash of thunder reverberated through the air, drowning for the moment his voice. jo saw his blanched face and knew that something unusual had happened. there was no uncertainty in jim's commands. "quick! instantly, senor! your daughter and berwick into the dinghy! ask no questions. we have not a moment to lose!" even as he spoke he was drawing the dinghy alongside, jo springing to his aid. "tom, put into the boat the guns and the senorita's handbag! now, quick, berwick, man the oars! row with all your might away from this boat!" no one had uttered a sound. jim's white face showed there must be motive back of his command, and instant action followed. quickly those ordered to do so had taken their place in the boat. "you are not going to stay and face the danger, whatever it is, alone?" questioned berwick. the oars were even then bending to the first stroke of his powerful effort. jim deigned no reply. "tom, jo, into the water both of you, and swim with the boat!" such is the value of quick obedience to command. with no explanation and without a single question both sprang into the waters of the bay, followed by jim himself. "what's it all about?" jo finally gasped. "not yet. not yet," repeated jim, but even as he spoke there came from the lugger the sound of a most terrible scream. human voice could not give utterance to sound more horrible. all the party in the boat and the swimmers in the water turned toward the direction from which it came to note the cause. at the cabin window in the stern of the abandoned vessel was a face distorted by agony. the person's arms were flung wildly about. it was the mexican dwarf. he it was who had planned the trap in which he now found himself caught. he had set fire to the lugger and was intending to make his escape in the dinghy. the scream had come when he realized that his one avenue of escape was cut off, that his plot had miscarried. even as the horrified observers noted the conditions there came an appalling, thunderous crash. debris filled the air. the old lugger and the evil face at the window were gone--gone, forever. the storm so long delayed broke now in all its fury. jim's party were safe, and thankful for their preservation, but in a rather dubious predicament, although it was really no more wet in the water than in the boat. each of the boys rested a hand on the gunwhale of the little craft and discussed their next move. the problem was soon solved for them. juarez, together with the steward from the ship, rowing the long boat was seen approaching. on board the storm king, the rescued party when they arrived were made comfortable. jim learned that the sea eagle had been quietly maneuvered down the harbor, and under close reefed sail had disappeared into the obscurity of the storm. jim's disappointment was keen, but he felt that he had much to be thankful for, and was not the senorita, herself, a member of the party for a time at least? "besides," said the professor, offering consolation, "mayhap you will make enough from the recovered treasure to buy half a dozen sea eagles." but there was another possibility which the professor did not foresee. the storm lasted well into the night, but the storm king was riding meanwhile safely at anchor. the following morning saw them once more upon the ocean every sail set and southbound. chapter xiii. an adventure. there were unvarying, placid seas and happy hours during the next two days. one item was occasionally commented upon. there could be seen at a distance, which seemed never to change, a steam yacht. but doubtless this was only a coincidence. to jim especially, and perhaps to the senorita, the hours were brief indeed, and when on deck they were always in each other's company. all the party, with the professor as principal spokesman, were assembled after the evening meal, and details were given of experiences in hunting and other activities. the professor's journeying had not been confined to the south seas, and having mentioned the then scarcely known great country in the canadian rockies, he was asked to tell about his adventures there. "it's a far cry from here to saskatchewan, but i recall," said the professor, "a trip that i made a good many years ago, when i first went out to deal with the fur traders. "at the time i speak of our brigade of four boats lay moored on the banks of the great saskatchewan, which river, you know, takes its rise amid the rugged steps of the rocky mountains, flows through the great prairies and woodlands of the interior of rupert's land, and discharges into lake winnipeg. "on this morning the men were ashore at breakfast. on a low gravelly point that jutted out into the stream smoked three large fires, over which stood three rudely constructed tripods, from which depended three enormous tin kettles. robbiboo was the delectable substance contained in these kettles. pemmican is a compound of dried buffalo meat, melted fat, and hair--the latter being an accidental ingredient. mix pemmican with flour and water, boil and stir till it thickens, and the result will be 'robbiboo.' "around these kettles stood, and sat, and reclined, and smoked, about thirty of the wildest and heartiest fellows that ever trod the wilderness. most of them were french canadians; many were half-breeds; some were orkney-men; and one or two were the copper-colored natives of the soil. but canadians, scotch, and savages they were all employed by the hudson's bay fur company; they were all burned to the same degree of brownness by the summer sun; they all laughed and talked, and ate robbiboo more or less--generally more; and they were all clad in the dress of the northwest _voyageur_. a loose-fitting capote, with a hood hanging down the back; a broad scarlet or parti-colored worsted sash round the waist; a pair of cloth leggings, sometimes blue, sometimes scarlet, occasionally ornamented with bright silk or bead work, and gartered at the knees a pair of chamois leather-like moccasins made of deer skin; a round bonnet or a red nightcap, or a nondescript hat, or nothing. "'ho! ho!' shouted the gruff voice of the guide, as the men, having emptied the kettles, were hastily filling and lighting their pipes--'embark, my lads, embark.' "in five minutes the boats were afloat, and the crews were about to shove off, when the cry was raised, 'mr. berry! hold on--where's mr. berry?' "poor berry! i must tell you about him. he was one of those people that are always late, always missing, always in the wrong place at the right time, and in the right place at the wrong time. his companions--of whom there were two in charge of the boats along with himself--called him an 'old wife,' but qualified the title with the remark that he was a 'good soul,' nevertheless. and so he was--a beardless youth of twenty-two, with a strong tendency to scientific pursuits, but wofully incompetent to use his muscles aright. he was forever falling into the water, constantly cutting his fingers with his knife, and frequently breaking the trigger of his fowling-piece in his attempts to discharge it at half-cock. yet he was incomparably superior to his more 'knowing' comrades in all the higher qualities of manhood. "at the moment his name was called, he sprang from the bushes, laden with botanical specimens, and crying, 'stop! stop! i'm coming,' he rushed down to the boat of which he had the special charge, and leaped in. five minutes more, and the brigade was sweeping down the saskatchewan, while the men bent hastily to their oars, and filled the shrubbery on the river's bank and the wide prairies beyond with the ringing tones of one of their characteristic and beautiful canoe songs. "the sun was flooding the horizon with gold as it sank to rest. the chorus of the boatmen had ceased, and the only sound that broke the stillness of the quiet evening was the slow and regular stroke of the heavy oars, which the men plied unceasingly. on turning one of the bends of the river, which disclosed a somewhat extended vista ahead, several black objects were observed near the water's edge. "'hist!' exclaimed the foremost guide, 'they are buffaloes.' "'a terre, a terre!' cried the men, in a hoarse whisper. "a powerful sweep of the steering oar sent the boat into a little bay, where it was quickly joined by the others. "'now, then, let the crack shots be off into the bush,' cried the man in charge of the brigade. 'away with you, gaspard, antoine, jacques. mind you don't waste powder and shoot only old bulls. hallo! mr. berry, not so fast; let the hunters to the front.' "'ah! misser berry him berry bad shot,' remarked a middle-aged indian, regarding the youth somewhat contemptuously. berry armed for the chase with frantic haste, dashing about and tumbling over everything in search of his powder-horn and shot-pouch, which were always mislaid, and moving the muzzle of his gun hither and thither in such a way as to place the lives of his men in constant and deadly peril. he started at last, with the speed of a hunted deer, and made a bold sweep into the woods in order to head the buffaloes. here he squatted down behind a bush, to await their coming. "a short time sufficed to bring the stealthy hunters within range. three shots were fired, and two animals fell to the ground; while a third staggered with difficulty after its companions, as they bounded through the woods towards the prairies, headed by the patriarchal bull of the herd. this majestic animal had a magnificently shaggy mane and a pair of wild glittering eyes, that would have struck terror into the stoutest heart; but berry was short-sighted; moreover, he had concealed himself behind a shrub, through which, as he afterwards remarked, he 'could see nicely.' no doubt of it; but the bush was such a scraggy and ill-conditioned shrub that the buffalo bull could see through it just as nicely, and charged, with a hideous bellow, at the unfortunate youth as it came up the hill. "berry prepared to receive him. for once he remembered to cock his piece; for once his aim was true, and he hit the huge animal on the forehead at a distance of ten yards; but he might as well have fired against the side of a house; the thick skull, covered with its dense matting of coarse hair, was thoroughly ball-proof. "the bull still came on. just at this moment another shot was fired, and the animal hurled forward in a complete somersault; the bush was crushed to atoms, and berry was knocked head-over-heels to the ground, where he lay extended at full length beside his slaughtered foe. "'ah! pauvre enfant,' cried antoine, running up and lifting berry's head from the ground. 'is you hurt ver' moch? dat bull him break de ribs i 'fraid.' "antoine's fears were groundless. in half an hour the youth was as well as ever, though somewhat shaken by the fall. the choice morsels of the dead buffalo were cut off by the men with an adroit celerity that was quite marvelous, and in a very short time the boats were again rapidly descending the stream. "the bivouac that night resounded with more vigorous mirth than usual. the camp fires blazed with unwonted power and brilliancy. the cook's office--no sinecure at any time--became a post of absolute slavery; for there was a glorious feast held beneath the spreading trees of the forest, and the bill of fare was 'buffalo-steaks and marrow-bones.' but if the feast was noisy, the hours that succeeded it were steeped in profound silence. each man, having smoked his pipe, selected for his couch the softest spot of ground he could find, and, wrapping himself in his blanket, laid him down to rest. the deep breathing of untroubled slumber was the only sound that floated from the land and mingled with the rippling of the river; and not a hand or foot was moved until, at day-break, the loud halloo of the guide aroused the sleepers to their daily toil. "a week or two passed, and we had left the lands of the buffalo far behind us, and were sailing over the broad bosom of lake winnipeg. it was calm and polished as a sheet of glass when we entered it, but it did not remain long thus. a breeze arose, the sails were hoisted, and away we went out into the wide ocean of fresh water. lake winnipeg is a veritable ocean. its waves rival those of the salt sea in magnitude, and they break upon a shore composed in many places of sand and pebbles. if we sail straight out upon it, the shore behind us sinks in the horizon; but no opposite shore rises to view, and the unbroken circle of sky and water is presented to our gaze, as it appears on the great ocean itself. "the wind rose almost to a gale as we careered over the billows, but the men had to keep up incessant bailing. it was almost too much for us; but no one murmured, for, had the wind been ahead, we might have been obliged to put ashore and remain there inactive for many days. as it was, we made a rapid run across the lake and entered the river, or rather the system of lakes and rivers, which convey its waters to the ocean. hudson's bay was our goal. to this point we were conveying our furs for shipment to england. "many days passed, and we were still pushing onward towards the sea-coast; but not so rapidly now. the character of the navigation had changed very considerably, and our progress was much slower. now we were sweeping over a small lake, anon dashing down the course of a turbulent stream, and at other times dragging boats and cargoes over the land. "one afternoon we came to a part of the river which presented a very terrible appearance. as far as the eye could reach, the entire stream was a boiling turmoil of rocks and rapids, down which a boat could have gone with as much safety as it could have leaped over the falls of niagara. our advance was most effectually stopped, as far as appearance went. but nothing checks the onward progress of a northwest _voyageur_ except the want of food. "the boats were run successively into a small bay, the men leaped out, the bales of furs were tossed upon the banks of the river, and the boats hauled up. then every man produced a long leathern strap, with which he fastened a bale weighing upwards of 90 lbs. to his back; above this he placed a bale of similar weight, and trotted off into the woods as lightly as if he had only been laden with two pillows. the second bale is placed above the first by a sleight-of-hand movement which is difficult to acquire. poor berry well nigh broke his back several times in attempting this feat, and eventually gave it up in despair. "in an hour the packs were carried over the 'portage,' and deposited beside the still water at the foot of the rapids. then the men returned for the boats. one was taken in hand at a time. the united crews seized the heavy craft with their strong hands, and shoved against it with their lusty shoulders; a merry song was struck up, and thus the boat was dragged through the forest for nearly a mile. the others quickly followed, and before evening all was carried over, and we were again rowing down stream. "not long after this we came to a rapid, in the midst of which was a slight waterfall. the water was deep here, and the rocks not numerous, and it was the custom to run the boats down the rapids and over the fall, in order to save the labor of a portage. three of the boats ran down in grand style, and reached the foot in safety. berry and i were in the last boat. the steersman stood up in the stern with his hands resting on the long heavy sweep, while his gaze was directed anxiously towards the boiling flood into which we were just entering. the bowman, an immensely powerful man, stood up in front, with a long strong pole grasped in both hands, ready to fend off from the sunken rocks. the men sat in their places, with their oars ready for action. "'now, boys, look out,' cried the guide, as we plunged into the first billow of the rapids. the boat flew like an arrow straight towards a rock, which was crested with white as the water burst against its ragged front. to all appearances our doom was sealed. the bowman regarded it with a complacent smile, and stood quite motionless, merely casting a glance backward. the steersman acknowledged the glance with a nod; one long stroke of the great oar--the boat turned sharply aside, and swept past in safety. there was no danger in such a big blustering rock as that! "'prenez garde!' cried the bowman, in a warning tone, pointing to a spot where lay a sunken rock. the steersman's quick hand turned the boat aside; but the bowman had to lend his aid, and the strong pole bent like a willow as he forced the boat's head away from the hidden danger. and now the fall appeared. it was not high, perhaps four feet, but there was a mighty gush of water there, and it was a bold leap for a heavy boat. "'prenez garde,--hurrah!--lads, give way!--well done!' the boat plunged almost bows under, but she rose again like a duck on the foaming water. the worst of it was past now; but there was still a ticklish bit below--a bend in the river, where the sunken rocks were numerous, and the surface of the water so white with foam, that it was difficult to detect the channel. "the bowman's duty now became more arduous. with knitted brows and compressed lips he stood, every nerve and muscle strung for instant action. the steersman watched his movements with intense earnestness, in order to second them promptly. ever and anon the stout pole was plunged into the flood, first on one side, then on the other; the two guides acted as if they had been one man, and the obedient craft sprang from surge to surge in safety. suddenly the bowman uttered a loud shout, as the pole jammed between two rocks, and was wrenched from his grasp. "'another! another vite! vite!' "one of the crew thrust a fresh pole into his hand. plunging it into the water, he exerted his giant strength with such violence as nearly to upset the boat, but it was too late. the planks crashed like an egg-shell as the boat dashed upon the rock, and the water began to rush in, while the stern was swept round, and the blade of the steering oar was smashed to atoms. almost before we had time to think we were swept down, stern foremost, and floated safely into an eddy at the foot of the rapids. a few strokes of the oars brought us to the land; but, short although the interval was between our striking the rock and running ashore, it was sufficient to half-fill the boat with water. "the danger was barely past, and the intense feeling of it was still strong upon my mind, yet these lighthearted _voyageurs_ were jesting and laughing loudly as they tossed the packs of furs out of the water-logged boat; so little did they realize the imminence of the peril from which they had been delivered. "the remainder of that day was spent in drying the furs that had been wetted, and in repairing the damaged boat. afterwards we continued our voyage, which, without further accident, terminated at length on the shores of hudson's bay." chapter xiv. the pursuit. the morning of the third day was an epoch in the lives of the passengers on board the storm king, for a passing vessel was signaled. it hove to, and the captain quite willingly accepted as passengers to his next port of call, san francisco, the senor and his daughter. it is needless to say that jim gazed long and intently after the lotus which bore away the senorita and her father, and equally long and intently, although jim did not know it, did the young lady watch the storm king until it had become but a speck on the horizon. for several hours jim was seen no more on deck, and many a merry quip was bandied at his expense. what jim was doing will appear later. "it is certainly out of the ordinary," admitted becket. he had just come aft to where the professor was consulting with jo and tom. they had been discussing the action of the marjorie, the ship which had taken its departure from san francisco on the same day and very hour that they had sailed, and which had again been sighted when they left san matteo. she was trailing about a mile astern of them, and here it was the third day since they had sailed. "she has been following us right along," observed tom. "do you think she is going the same way we are?" "a man might be justified in thinking so," replied berwick, dryly. "i mean," corrected tom, "to the island?" "i don't know what to think," admitted the professor, "but i don't like it somehow." "it is queer," reiterated the engineer. "let us run away from him," suggested jim, who now joined them. "i have tried to outsail him, but it's no use," returned the captain. "she is burning up the coal, yet only traveling as fast as we do under sail." "suppose we try again and see if she is really following us." "let us radically change our course, captain, and see if they follow us," said the professor. "that isn't a bad idea," agreed the captain. "it won't do any harm to try it. we will have her head put due west. i see that we are running about s. s. w. now. if they change their course it will be pretty conclusive evidence that it is purpose and not chance that keeps them in our wake." "mr. berwick," said the professor, "the wind is light and fitful, suppose we add steam to our propelling force. give us all the speed you can, and we will see if we can't shake them off." "all right, sir," replied the engineer, going toward the engine room. "i will do my very best to get all the speed there is in her." an hour later the throbbing of the engine, as the pressure was gradually increased, was felt throughout the vessel. like a spirited steed with a bit in her teeth, and at the snap of the whip the vessel darted forward, plunging through the long rolling waves, and leaving behind her a white wake that curved like a bow as her prow was turned to the west. the group on the after deck of the storm king watched with interest the course of the other vessel, which was now being rapidly distanced, would pursue. "hurrah!" cried tom. "we are leaving her behind." "but she is getting up more steam," observed jo, as a thickening volume of smoke poured from her funnel. "she is following us, too," cried tom a little later. "she evidently likes company." it was evident from the change in her course that the marjorie was bent on keeping near the storm king. "she is just like some people," went on tom. "she doesn't wait for an invitation, she is coming along, too." the storm king, under a full head of steam was rolling off the knots, and increasing the distance from the marjorie. "if we can keep this up," said tom, joyfully, "she will soon be hull down." "if we had a nigger to put on the safety valve," said the professor. "a nigger on the safety valve," questioned tom, "i don't understand." "why they say that on the mississippi river when they have a race on, they put a negro on the safety valve to keep it down when the pressure gets so high as to blow it off at the regular set weight." "but that must be dangerous," objected tom. "of course, it is," laughed the professor, "but nobody cared for danger where there was a race on." but in the meantime the marjorie was once more picking up the distance and growing more distinct. for three or more hours the race went on, but the marjorie regained and then maintained her relative distance, and the professor reluctantly directed the captain to slow down. "it is no use," he said. "we cannot shake her off that way. we might as well resume our regular course." the following morning the same conditions were found to prevail. the distance between the boats seemingly never changed. "she is a good boat and jolly well sailed, don't you know," remarked the mate, who was a typical english sailor. "what is that flag for?" asked tom suddenly. "what flag is that?" asked the captain in return. "why, that one there," replied tom, pointing to a square of red bunting flying from a davit of their own ship. "that," laughed the captain. "well, you ought to know better than i do." "why?" asked tom. "really," said the captain, "didn't some of you boys put it there?" "why, of course not," disclaimed tom. "i thought maybe it was some kind of a signal." "well, i'll be blowed," exploded the captain, "if i didn't think you did it for a lark." "there is one like it on the marjorie," said jim, who was using the binocular. "well, what do you think of that!" burst out the captain. "what does it mean?" asked tom. "it means that someone on board is exchanging signals with the marjorie," replied the professor. "i wish i could catch them at it," muttered the captain, grimly. "let us take turns in watching," suggested jim. "i am going to do a little watching on my own account," growled the captain, making a dash for the supposed signal. "don't pull it down," advised the professor, "perhaps we can see who puts them up." "i think you are right." "they are doing some kind of signaling on the marjorie now," went on jim. "i can see some one waving a flag." "there isn't anyone here who could see it," said the captain, looking over the deck. "let me have a look," taking the glass. "there is some kind of signaling going on, but who can it be to?" jo walked quietly to the stern of the boat, and leaning over the rail looked down. the stern windows of the cabin afforded a view of the pursuing vessel, and where the signals could be observed, but he could not see if anyone was there. something did attract his attention, however, though it only impressed itself on his mind as an odd chance. a keg was floating in the wake of the storm king, but most unusual things are sometimes seen on the surface of the ocean, hundreds of miles from land. "perhaps there is someone in the cabin," he suggested, as he came back to where the captain was standing. "by jove!" gasped the captain, making a dash for the companion way, "i believe you have it." at this moment the steward came on deck. "see here!" roared the captain, "what is the meaning of this?" the steward smiled complacently, and said, "why, sir, i know nothing about the flag. i have finished my tasks in the pantry, and came on deck for a breath of air." the captain, debating the matter in his mind, concluded he would say no more at that time, and turned his attention again to the others. the steward went about his duties. "they have quit signaling," reported tom. "what do you make of that other ship's continued interest in us, captain?" asked the professor. "i'm blessed if i know," he replied. "it's too deep for me. they have been following us ever since we left the bay, and i'm blessed if i don't think they are after us. but i cannot imagine for what purpose." "i suspect," said the professor, "that they have some knowledge of the fact that we are after a treasure." "oh," said the captain, "but they can't expect to keep us under observation for a long trip like this. it would be ridiculous." "what they want most likely is the chart. only with its aid can anyone locate the island or the treasure." the captain sat for a few moments in thought. "there must have been somebody on board getting the signals. now who could it be?" "one of the crew," suggested tom. "quite likely," agreed the captain, "unless--" "what?" said the professor. "it was the steward." "no," said the professor. "you can leave him out. he has been with me for years." "all the more reason," returned the captain. "he'll jolly well stand watching. what we have got to do is to watch out, and perhaps we can trap them." "i think--" he added. with a sudden thought he got up and went to the companion way, returning slowly to his seat. "i may have a clue." "what is it?" cried tom. "it is only an idea, don't you know, and i won't say anything until i work it out. you say the chart is aboard?" "yes." the captain whistled softly for a minute. "better put it away somewhere." "that has already been done," admitted the professor, looking at the boys. "it is hidden away, and i don't think anyone can find it." "even if they could find it, how could they get away with it?" inquired tom. "that's easily done," explained the captain, "when they find it." "when!" interrupted tom. "maybe only a matter of days," returned the captain. "they will signal to the other ship, put it in a keg, drop it over and the others will pick it up." "a keg," queried jo. "i saw a keg floating in the wake of our ship just a little while ago." chapter xv. the chart. "indeed! then you had better investigate your hiding place and see if your chart is secure." jo acted immediately upon the suggestion, and went below. closing the door of his room, he pressed the spring that should open the adjoining panel. it did not respond readily to the pressure of his hand. evidently it had been tampered with. with feverish haste he tried again and again, and finally his efforts were rewarded with success. the door flew open. the box was raised, but the chart was not within. jo had so long been detained that the others had meantime descended to the cabin. "the chart is gone," cried jo. unobserved by all but jim, the steward had entered the cabin from the aft companionway. there were exclamations of astonishment, but the steward gave not the slightest heed, going about his duties without apparent interest. the captain now noticed his presence, and questioned him closely, but with no result. meantime, jim took the professor aside, and together they went to the deck above, and then climbed quite away up into the ship's rigging. when they were absolutely alone, jim said, "whom do you suspect, professor?" "i can think of only one person," was the answer. "beside you boys and myself, only four people have access to the cabin. i do not suspect the captain or the steward. berwick you have confidence in. may it not be the mate?" "i know who it was that took the chart," said jim, "and i called you up here where no one could possibly overhear, to tell you." "then it is not lost beyond recovery?" "on the contrary, it is safe, and you and i will be the only ones knowing where it is." "i am all anxiety." "it is here in my pocket." "you certainly surprise me. what prompted this move on your part?" "i felt that someone was after the chart, and i thought of a way to mislead them." "go on. i am all interest." "i made a copy of your chart and substituted it for the original, then i put the copy in the hiding place." "and the copy was stolen?" the professor inquired ruefully. "what about that? won't it disclose our secret?" "the copy, if you may call it such, that i made," laughed jim, "had the descriptions and instructions altered so that it will be misleading rather than helpful." "good!" said the professor. "you are an assistant after my own heart. our chances of searching undisturbed are greatly improved." "if we keep this secret to ourselves," continued jim, "the others will be constantly on the lookout, and we may yet run down the one guilty of the theft." "yes, even if they only get a fictitious chart, we would like to know who it is and for what purpose it was taken." their conference over they returned now to the deck. the day passed without event worthy of record, and it was growing dark when the captain again joined the others. "going to have a blow," he said, looking to the west where a mass of dark clouds were piling up. "the barometer is falling. it is just the time to try a little experiment." "what is that?" asked tom. "i am going to try and give our friends the slip," replied the captain. "there are no other ships in sight," sweeping the horizon with his glass. "how are you going to do it?" asked tom. "wait and see," replied the captain. in the west it was growing darker. the storm brewing clouds, as they piled up blotted out the stars. there was scarcely a breath of air. the sea rose and fell in long, slow undulations. away in the distance the roar of the storm was audible. "double reef the sails," the captain commanded at the same time changing the course so as to steer directly toward the approaching storm. the party at the captain's suggestion had donned their oilskins and were now crouched in the shelter of the cabin top watching with fascinated interest the coming of the storm. "better get a good strong hold," advised tom, "it's going to blow great guns." higher and higher rose the clouds until all of the west was of inky blackness through which there ran, now and again, a streak of light that was blinding in its intensity. the storm broke now with a flash as if the whole firmament was aflame, and with a roar that drowned the thunder a solid wall of blackness enveloped them, blotting out everything except the ship's lights, and there came down apparently a deluge of water. "put out the lights," commanded the captain, in the first lull of the storm. the vessel was still rolling and pitching, and the wind was howling through the shrouds. in total darkness, now, the ship plunged forward through the angry waves that crashed against her bow with a force that shook her from stem to stern, while the wind played weird tunes overhead. "we will keep her on the course she is running a half hour," determined the captain. by that time the storm had about blown out, and when the command was turned over to the mate the ship's regular course was resumed. "i think," began the captain, the next morning when the boys came on deck, "that we have seen the last of the marjorie." "i hope so," replied the professor, who was scanning the horizon with a glass. "it is almost too good to be true, but they do not seem to be in sight." it was a beautifully clear day after the storm. the wind had blown all the clouds away, and the sky was a deep transparent blue. the air was crisp, and for the latitude, cool, and the sea rose and fell in long broken swells through which the yacht was racing at the rate of a dozen knots. they were alone on the vast expanse of water; no other vessel was in sight, although way to the southwest a faint trail-like smoke showed on the horizon against the deep blue of the sky. "is that the marjorie off there, do you think?" asked tom. "cannot say, i'm sure," replied the captain. "but we will just hold to our course and see if she raises. i doubt if they see us, and the marjorie will have a hunt to pick us up again." "i can't see anything of them," said the captain, an hour later, sweeping the horizon with his glass. "we can lay over course direct for the island of bohoola." relieved of the shadow of impending trouble which the persistent trailing of the yacht by the mysterious vessel had cast over them, the spirits of all rose perceptibly and as nothing was seen of her for the next two or three days some began to think that it was only a coincident of their sailing upon the same course, and that their fears had been unfounded. several days of steady progress under full spread of sail carried the voyager on beyond the equator. no incident worthy of note transpired. there was, of course, a constantly augmented desire for the sight of land and for the varieties and delicacies of food denied them. hard tack and salt fish become very monotonous if too long persisted in. hopes of an early termination of the journey were beginning to run high when, as the captain determined that they had arrived at a point estimated to be less than three days from their destination. the other boys were now told the story of the chart then in jim's possession, and one day together with the professor, a careful study of the descriptions and instructions were gone over. they were careful to see that no one was near either cabin door, but they did not observe that both the mate and the steward, who were much in each other's company, were seated on the cabin roof. the instructions contained in the chart were meagre in the extreme. the location of the island was fairly well given, but after that much seemed to be left to chance. the main and essential feature which all impressed on their memory was "an opening to a cave high up and difficult of access." a blue stone marked in some way the entrance. the next morning the sun rose hot almost beyond endurance to greet an atmosphere of perfect calm. not a ripple stirred the surface of the great southern sea. the storm king, master in a turmoil, was conquered and helpless when denied a breeze, and lay with drooping canvas, motionless. so passed that day and the next with discomfort to the voyagers and without progress. "there is only one thing to do," determined the professor. "mr. berwick, will you start up the engine, and we will end our trip under steam?" everything being in readiness, the fires were lit and the generation of steam gotten under way. at a signal the engine's mechanism responded to the movement of a lever. almost immediately there was a crash that shook the ship from stem to stern. it was at once apparent to all on board that something serious had happened. everyone was at the moment on deck, except those engaged in the engine room, and to that spot all ran to investigate. berwick was found with a wounded hand, resulting from his efforts to stop the machinery. juarez had accomplished this, but to the gaze of all there was offered a badly wrecked mechanism. berwick was livid with rage and more concerned by the mishap to the engine than by the pain in his injured hand. someone, it was found, had tampered with the machinery. who was the culprit? "how serious is the injury?" inquired the professor. berwick shook his head and looked at his injured member, about which jim was skilfully applying a bandage. "i fear it will be several days," was the gloomy response. "but we will get right at it." even berwick, however, was disappointed with the progress he could make toward repairing the distorted machinery, although he had the helpful aid of all the boys. there were exasperating delays. essential parts of the machinery were not to be found and substitutes had to be made. the unvarying calm and sultry heat persisted. chapter xvi. the island of bohoola. but there is an end to all things, and at last the long wished for breeze sprang up. the sails filled once more, the ship sped on and hope revived. a welcome sound at noon the next day brought everyone on deck. "land, ho!" called the forward watch. "where away!" shouted the mate who was on duty. "off the starboard bow!" the captain had just finished his task of determining their location, and had recognized the fact that the island they sought might be near at hand. the hours went by more swiftly now, all watching interestedly the new field of their endeavor, the treasure isle. would they find fortune and a successful ending to their venture? oddly enough the thought uppermost in the minds of all was the possible abundant supply, not of treasure, but of fresh water and something good to eat. the land which they were rapidly approaching appeared to be of considerable extent. headlands, it was seen, rose somewhat abruptly from the sea. at their base they could see a line of white caused by the incessant action of the waves as they broke upon the shore. "it doesn't seem as if there was any place to make a landing," said the professor, looking at the long line of breakers and the spray that was flung in the air. "can't tell until you are close in," replied the captain. "we'll run along the shore a ways." continuing thus till within half a mile of the coast, the yacht was brought about, and with sails close hauled, followed its contour for quite some time without success. "looks like a bit of smooth water over there," said the captain, indicating a place in the near distance. "bring her up to the wind," he ordered. "we will take a look into it." the yacht had now been brought about and with sheets eased off she was drifting slowly on the tide. "who will compose the first landing party?" asked the captain. "jim, juarez and myself," answered the professor. "the steward and one of the crew to row." the boat was launched and equipped. one empty water cask and a bucket was carried along. was the island inhabited? from the ship's deck no sign of life was discernible to the naked eye or indeed by careful search with the spy glass. the party went, however, fully armed and prepared for any emergency. there was, they found, a recession in the shore several hundred feet in width through which the waves extended their course, later to break in foam on submerged rocks a hundred yards beyond. the boat shot rapidly forward, and readily passed through the opening between the cliffs. on each side, the rocks, jagged and rough, rose threateningly, but a further recess to the right afforded shelter, and the water became comparatively smooth. passing through the channel and rounding the obstructing rocks they found another passage of similar extent which led further inland and brought them into a little crescent shaped bay of something like a half mile in length by a quarter of a mile in width. at several points were observed small strips of sandy beach, and strange wading birds of the stork species were seen, but not a suggestion or sign of a habitation. "crescent bay!" cried jim, noting the shape. "isn't it fine here!" "it's fine!" exclaimed the professor. "who would think of such a place as this hidden away in the fastness of these hills. it's like some of the secret haunts of the buccaneers." "it would be a nice bit of seamanship to bring a craft through that channel, though," said juarez. "but i believe it could be done," said jim. the scenery grew wilder and more beautiful with every stroke of the oars. from caverns of leafy shade came the gleam and flicker of many colored plumage. few readers but are familiar with the glowing color in which voyagers have painted the beautiful islands of the south pacific. nature has lavished upon them her rarest gifts; deep shadowy groves, valleys musical with murmuring streams, lofty mountains rising into the sapphire heaven out of a girdle of eternal foliage; wonderous visions of color in shrub and flower, the golden-yellow of the low-growing chinquapins, and the blood red osiers; a bright fresh air, redolent of fragrance, and a sea dimpling in cloudless sunshine. but this fairy region, where shakespeare might have fitly placed his oberon and titania, was inhabited by a race unworthy of its charms; a race enervated and corrupted, and abandoned to all those vices which usually accompany or originate in a degrading and sanguinary idolatry. the tahitians were not cannibals, but they sacrificed human victims in frightful numbers on the shrines of their hideous divinities. intoxication and theft were their predominant vices; continual wars decimated the population so that in some cases great islands were left absolutely without an inhabitant; infanticide was a universally prevalent custom, and that fully two-thirds of the young were cruelly murdered is a fact vouched for by the missionary williams, one of the most intelligent, persevering, and successful of the pioneers of the true religion in polynesia. this beautiful tahitian group of islands was, therefore, a sink of vice and crime. chapter xvii. the hurricane. "i see a cascade or waterfall on the hillside yonder," cried juarez. "then we will make a landing somewhere along the beach in that direction," ordered the professor. slowly they approached the shore, and landing carefully reconnoitered, but nothing was observed to warrant their caution. a spring, pouring forth a constant stream of limpid, cool water, was readily located, and here each found satisfying refreshment. about them everywhere were luxuriant growths, and tropical fruits of many varieties were within reach of the extended hand. water was conveyed to the boat, and the cask filled to transport a supply to the ship. a quantity of yams were gathered for the party on board while they themselves ate of the fruit to their heart's content. as they walked inland they came upon charming glens and defiles well up the mountain side, and still above them rose great castleated turrets, all draped in mosses and flowering shrubs forming the abode of many a bird of prey that on their approach rose screaming to the sky. "but this is a vast space that we have got to examine," said jim, speaking in a low voice to the professor. "i wonder where," quoting from the chart, "we are to find the cave opening--the opening high up and hard to reach, with a blue rock somewhere about?" "we shall go about it systematically, as soon as we find travel safe. if there are inhabitants we must conduct our exploitations in groups. if otherwise we can spread out and cover the ground much more rapidly." on the return trip toward the boat, a strong odor of sulphur attracted their attention, and a mineral spring was located. here for the first time they found indications that others had visited the spot, but how recently could not be determined. "seemingly," suggested the professor, "this is a remedial water, the virtues of which may be known to the occupants of the other islands hereabouts." farther on, near the shore, jim came upon a rude shack, or shelter, built of boughs, and the roof thatched with leaves resembling palms, and further on at the shore juarez dropped upon his knees examining a mark upon the sand. "a foot print," he said, "but not very recently made." the return to the ship was without incident, and by the following day all except the captain and tom, the latter was not feeling well, made trips to the shore. jo and juarez made a long detour inland and on their return reported many interesting sights, but no sign did they find of inhabitants. they had climbed to a high altitude, reaching the uppermost point by a circuitous route, but descending again by a rugged route much shorter but very difficult to negotiate. "phew!" exclaimed tom, on coming on deck the following morning as the sun like a ball of fire was showing in the eastern horizon. "it is going to be a corker to-day, all right. why, even the ocean is sizzling." "feel all right to-day?" asked jo. "yes, or i would if it was only cool." the yacht was still lying to, about a half mile off shore. the sails hung loosely with not enough air to stir them. "it's a nice morning for a row," suggested jo. "the water is as smooth as oil. you are the only one who has not been ashore. want to go?" "no rowing for me," groaned tom. "i'm not a phoenix. i'm going to sit in the shade and fish." "fish!" cried jo. "what do you expect to catch here?" "i don't know," replied tom. "maybe i might catch a boiled cod or something like that." "don't you want to go on shore, then?" asked jo. "not bad enough to row there," answered tom. "glad to go if you will do the rowing." "we will have to take the long boat. the steward went ashore in the yawl early this morning." "early!" cried tom. "what do you call this? i guess it was late last night." "well, he's gone, anyhow. we want to get off pretty soon if we are going before the sun gets hot." "before!" cried tom. "say, if you wanted to do that you ought to have gotten away last week." "say, fellows," cried juarez at this moment, "what do you think that means?" the party were soon gathered on the after deck and were looking with interest at the land. "what is that?" asked tom in turn. "that smoke over there." "smoke! where?" "see the top of that hill," juarez indicated with his outstretched arm. there was an elevation which must have been miles inland, and from which a thin column of smoke was rising into the still air. "it is a signal of some kind," said jim. "i didn't notice it before." "it has just started," replied juarez. "it wasn't there a moment ago. i wonder what it means, and who is making it?" "it is a common signal among uncivilized people," replied jim. "savages the world over use smoke for signaling. they use it especially as a warning against the approach of an enemy or of strangers." "well, what do you find of interest?" asked berwick, joining them, the captain following a moment later. "we were just looking at that column of smoke over there," replied tom. "do you think it is a signal of some kind?" "what is that?" asked the captain. "that column of smoke on the hill over there," repeated tom. "eh, what! start my plates!" exclaimed the captain. "we will have to look into that a little later." "see how straight it goes up," commented jim. "there doesn't seem to be a bit of air stirring." "not a bit, anywhere," assented berwick. "not enough for steerage way." "i'm thinking we'll have all the wind we want and some to spare afore ye know it," said the captain. "there's a hurricane abrewing or i miss my guess." "what? on this clear day?" asked the professor. "i don't see how you can tell unless you feel it in your bones." "no, but the barometer indicates something unusual. it is falling very rapidly." then scanning the horizon in all directions, he added, "i wonder which way it is coming. that barometer is going down too fast for comfort." saying this, he called all hands and set about preparations for a storm, concerning the coming of which there was not the slightest apparent and visible indication. "there it comes, now," cried the captain as a puff of wind from out of the east filled the double reefed sails, and a little later a mist blotted out the sun. "it is coming out of the east." "is there any danger?" asked the professor? "well," replied the captain, slowly, "lying off the lea shore, in a hurricane isn't exactly the place i should pick out for safety." "can't you beat to windward?" suggested the professor. "that's what we can try," returned the captain. "hard down with the helm! pull in the sheets!" a heavier blast struck the sails now, and heeled the yacht well over. "steady as you are!" under the impulse of the wind, the yacht sprang forward with sails close hauled, beating up into it. "it's no use," admitted the captain, as the strength of the wind increased. "we haven't gained an inch. something must be done quickly." "what?" asked the professor. "how is that channel into the harbor which you told me about?" asked the captain, turning to jim. "do you think we can get through it?" "if the day were fair, and the engine was working it might be done," replied jim. "but under sail in this wind it will be a hazard, sir." "you are not thinking of attempting that passage in a storm, are you?" asked the professor, in evident alarm. "i don't think there is much choice in the matter," confessed the captain. "we may go to pieces if we try it, and we are pretty certain to go to pieces if we don't." the yacht was now rolling and pitching on the heavy seas, and the blasts of wind were becoming stronger and more angry, whistling through the rigging with the shrill sound of a gigantic fife. "shall we take in another reef?" shouted the mate. "no. put two men at the wheel and tell them to work lively! jim, a few words with you." a brief conference followed, then taking his station amidship, with jim well forward, the captain shouted his orders to the sailors and helmsmen. jim signaled by means of a pocket handkerchief in his hand, facing first the course of the channel, and at intervals looking toward the captain. every motion was correctly interpreted by the commander. "the helm to the port side! port your helm! jam it down hard! haul in the main sheet; haul close! quick now! in with the lugger and jib!" the captain was hurling his orders so quickly that his words tripped over one another. the men sprang to obey the commands. the yacht meanwhile entered the channel between the cliffs and was driving headlong for the rocks ahead which presaged a certain end to its career. but just as the fatal crash seemed imminent and unavoidable, the bow swung around, and with the end of the boom buried in the foam of the breaking waves the storm king glided into the deeper waters that opened to the right. "my goodness!" cried tom, drawing a long breath, "but that was a close shave. i thought we were gone for sure. i don't mind things that happen on land, but that's the worst experience i've been through yet." "oh, cheer up," cried jo. "there is plenty more to come." "it's a good thing we had a good captain," said jim. "that was a nice bit of work." "worthy of one of the oldtime pirates," added the reassured professor. "i'll have to bring that in." the captain awarded full credit to jim's skill as a pilot. it was another instance where close observation had brought worth while results. while they were talking, the yacht had run into the inner harbor, and here even with the fierce wind playing havoc in the tree tops and out at sea, the high hills afforded good and safe shelter. chapter xviii. a mysterious happening. the barometer rose shortly and climbed up as rapidly as it had earlier fallen. in a brief time the skies had cleared and the wind settled to a steady breeze. "it seems to me," said the professor, looking about him, "that it was a difficult thing to get in here, but to get out is going to be a more difficult one." "it will be all right," replied the captain, "if berwick will fix up that old tea kettle of his and give us some steam." then addressing the engineer, "can't you do this while we are in here?" "maybe i can," replied the engineer, "if there is no more of the devil's handiwork. there would not be much the matter with the machinery, if there was not somebody undoing things." "the sailors will have few duties, now, and we will have a double watch set over the engine room," said the captain. the distance to shore was now so short that getting back and forth was a simple task, and as security was so seemingly assured, permission was given for any outside of those on duty, to land and rove about at will. "as we have found the island, let's find the cave," suggested jo, as they were preparing for a trip ashore. "then we can go home," added tom, who, however ready to venture forth, was even more disposed toward the home journey. whatever desire he may have had toward early home going in this instance was destined by events he could not forecast, to be blotted out. "there is that column of smoke again," announced jo, as he grasped the oars. his brothers and juarez were with him in the boat. the others once more observed the curious signal, if such it were, but gave no special heed other than to note its distance. on land, however, they bent their footsteps in the direction of the phenomenon although they could no longer see it for a guide. they found themselves trailing off on a route they had not before taken, and had gone perhaps half the distance which they had estimated as required, when they came upon a curious clearing in the woods. it was about forty yards in diameter, and surrounded by a complete circle of trees, their boughs interlacing about seventy feet above to form a lovely green canopy. so regular were the trees that it seemed as if they had been planted by human hands hundreds of years before. at first they did not notice, because of the somewhat dim light, that on the far side of the amphitheatre there rose sheer a wall of rock well covered with vines, and then all of one accord and simultaneously exclaimed. "there's a cave!" "hurrah, we've found it," added tom. "don't go so fast," admonished jim. "there may be more than one cave on the island." "but the opening is high up," demurred tom, "and it looks as if it might be hard to get into. how shall we do it?" all thought of the column of smoke was blotted from their minds as they surveyed the task before them, so suggestive of sought-for achievement. the opening to the cave was fully forty feet above the level on which they stood. no safe foothold could be discovered on close examination of the face of the rock which rose sheer to the top, perhaps a hundred feet. "i'll warrant there is some other entrance," suggested jim. "seems to me this place we are in was one time a sort of temple or auditorium, and that opening up there in the rock may have been the pulpit." "it's sure no easy job to get up there from this level," admitted jo. "suppose we deploy around and hunt for the side door." this they did, that is, jim went one way, while jo and tom sought for an opening in the opposite direction, but without success. juarez had meantime studied the face of the vine clad rock below the mouth of the cave, and when his companions returned he undertook the ascent or climb. mounting first on jim's stalwart shoulders he found crevasses into which he dug his toes, and with his great knife scooped out fragments at irregular distances, thus by degrees mounting to the cave's mouth. once a secure footing gained, he let down his lariat, and one after the other, the boys climbed up, and all stood looking out upon the auditorium below. surely a more beautiful green bower of exaggerated proportions could not be imagined. but it was not scenery that had induced them to seek the cave, and at once their thoughts turned to the business at hand. the floor of the cave was dry, and the place showed no signs of recent occupancy. it extended into the rock beyond the limit of vision. jim had thoughtfully gathered and sent up a bundle of fagots, some dry slow burning sticks, one of which was now lighted. the blaze cast a fitful glare upon walls that shown in places with metallic gleams. while jim and juarez busied themselves near the entrance with the digging into and examination of some mounds of earth which excited their curiosity, jo and tom with the burning fagot penetrated deeper into the tunnel, for such it seemed to be. it presented at the start nothing out of the ordinary. it was simply as jo put it, an enlarged burrow of irregular width and height, varying in width from six to eight feet and in height the same. the sides were of earth with here and there a stone. whether of natural formation or an artificial construction the boys could not determine. "doesn't seem to be anything worth seeing in here," said tom, who was in the lead and carrying the torch. "we might as well go back." "oh, go on a little further," urged jo. "perhaps we shall find something." "i'll bet, if we do, it's something we don't want," objected tom. "well, we needn't take it if we don't want it," retorted jo. "let me go ahead." as jo spoke, pressing forward they came to a sudden enlargement along the way, the walls receding on either side. jo raised his torch for a better view when a grinning skull flashed out of the darkness, nodding and bobbing at them, while a rattling and whirring noise resounded through the cavern. with a cry of astonishment, jo let fall the torch which was quenched as it fell upon the floor, and at the same time something big and indescribable struck him full in the face. so confused were they by the suddenness and unexpectedness of the attack, and encompassed as they were by the absolute blackness, the first thought of the boys was to run to the entrance of the cave, and this they set about to do with the greatest possible promptness. but both boys as they started were grappled by unseen antagonists with whom they were locked in a deadly embrace, struggling and straining as they wrestled in the darkness, until tom almost at the point of exhaustion was roused to a frenzy by the rattling of bones and the feel of a skeleton hand on his arm. with a sudden, not to be denied effort, he threw off his adversary and rushed wildly through the cave, followed by jo, who had bested his opponent. in the meantime, jim and juarez were still poking in the little mounds near the cave's mouth and wholly unconscious of the trying experience of the two explorers. the commotion and sound of rapidly moving feet aroused them, and almost immediately jo and tom appeared upon the scene. somewhat breathlessly, both speaking at once, they tried to describe their uncanny experiences. "hold on a minute," said jim. "let's get the straight of this. we were just about to follow you in, for we found nothing in the little mounds. let's know what to expect." "i will have to go back anyway," said jo. "i dropped my gun." "sure. we'll go with you," replied jim. "now what was it grabbed you?" "it?" replied tom. "i should say there were three or four of them." "what were they like?" broke in juarez. "spirits?" "well, i don't know just what a spirit is like," replied tom. "but it was a pretty solid kind of thing that he had hold of me." "me, too," added jo. "and it snorted and puffed like a grampus." "well, i suppose we are lucky to get off as easy as we did," said tom, "though i should like to know what they were. i thought the whole lot of skeletons were coming after us, but i don't believe they could do any puffing or snorting. it's time we were getting along." "we will be ready for them this time, whatever they are," determined jim, who had been lighting torches so that each could be supplied with one. "come on then," said jo. "we must keep together and be on the lookout." arming themselves each with a heavy fagot which made a serviceable club, the four bent their footsteps in the direction of the chamber of weird experiences. the silence in the cave was profound, the occupants, if any, not betraying their presence by the least sound. cautiously the boys advanced, pausing now and then as they approached the place where the surprise had occurred, to listen and gaze as far as they could into the heavy darkness; but all was silence. "i think they have gone," said jo at length, in a voice in which there was a tremor of excitement. "no, there they are," replied tom in a whisper. "where?" asked jim. "there!" responded tom, indicating several suspended skeletons of full length which were held against the walls, and which the light now revealed. "oh," said jo, "it wasn't them." "well, one of them was," returned tom, "for i felt his hand on me." "must have been this one, then," said jim, kicking a group of bones with his foot. "here is one of them lying on the floor. you must have knocked him out, tom." "here, jo, is your gun all right," interposed juarez. chapter xix. the cave. the place in which the boys stood was a circular room about thirty feet in diameter, with a height of some twenty feet. there was but one entrance, that by which they had come, but high up on the wall were several small openings or tunnel-like passages. around the wall of the chamber was a row of skeletons, standing stiffly upright. there was a great roughly hewed stone god or idol on the farther side, while here and there close around it on the surface of the natural stone floor were marks where fires had been built. at either side were pyramidial walls of human skulls, all perfect, though those that formed the bottom rows were black with age. as the light from the torches flashed into the space several large bats that were in the openings began to fly wildly about. "i wonder where they have gone?" said tom, gazing blankly around. "there was certainly something that had hold of me, but there isn't anything here now." "what was it like?" asked jim, suddenly. "how should i know," returned tom. "i couldn't see it in the dark." "but you could feel it, couldn't you?" persisted jim. "why," returned tom, "i don't know, just like any person i should say." "and you, jo," went on jim. "what was yours like?" "why, like anybody, i suppose," was the somewhat indefinite description. "now, what is the matter?" demanded tom, as jim dropped to the floor in a paroxysm of laughter. "oh, ho, ho. it's too funny for anything," returned jim in intervals of his merriment. "what is?" demanded tom. "the whole business," returned jim as he struggled to regain control of his feelings. "let us in on the funny part," said tom, a little sourly. "well, you see, when you dropped the torch--" "you mean that's the time we didn't see," put in tom. "one of those big bats flopped into your face--." "well?" "then you two started to run, and, of course, you ran into each other and thought something had gotten hold of you. oh, ho, ho!" and once more jim was doubled up in his paroxysms of merriment. "i guess you are right, jim," said jo, somewhat sheepishly, but joining in the laugh. "i think the joke is on us." "what is this place anyhow?" asked tom, seeking to change the embarrassing subject. "was it an underground prison?" "i think it was a burial place of some tribe," replied jim, when he was able to control his laughter. "you see the skeletons are all standing up in like positions as if they were placed there after death." "what are the bats doing in here?" "they must come in through these passages above. some holes probably let out onto the side of the hill, and the bats go in and out through them at night." "i think," said tom, as they made their way back to the entrance, "that taking all together, that was the worst scare i ever had." "shake on that, tom," said jo. a further search through the cave was fruitless of results, so far as looked for treasure was concerned, and their original plan of investigating the smoke signal was taken up. a walk of another mile brought them to the spot they sought. they had thus far encountered no one, or any indication of the presence of inhabitants on the island. they gained finally the summit of the hill from which the column of smoke was ascending. they found that this had been made by building a fire in a small chimney of stones and covering it with wet leaves. there was an opening below which gave just sufficient draft to keep the fire smouldering. but little could be seen of the land from the top of the hill on account of the thick woods, but by climbing one of the taller trees, which they did in turn while the others kept guard, they were enabled to make out that they were on an island of many miles extent, and that another island lay some five or six miles to the southwest. most unexpected of all their discoveries, they saw in the distance far out upon the ocean a steamer which was apparently approaching the island. the distance was too great to determine with any definiteness anything about her character or probable intentions, and further information on that point would have to be sought at a later time. "i can't understand that smoke business," said tom, once more examining the chimney-like arrangement curiously. "it was certainly made by someone, yet there doesn't seem to be anyone about." "they may be on the other side of the island," suggested jim, "or they may have come from the other island and gone back again." "but why should they have come over here and made the fire?" persisted tom. "you will have to ask them," laughed jim. "i am sure i don't know, or why they should have lighted it at all. but some of us had better return to the ship or i am afraid that the professor will be getting anxious." arriving at the landing place, tom elected to go on board. he felt that he had had enough of excitement and adventure for one day. jim accompanied him, while jo and juarez, the spirit of investigation awakened, promptly set out on an exploring expedition returning however without incident at nightfall. "well," began the professor that evening when they had gathered on the deck awaiting the supper call, "what did you find out about the island to-day?" "not much of importance," replied jim, "except that it is of very considerable extent, very rugged and mountainous." "but jo had an awful scare," broke in tom. "you mean you did," protested jo. "how was that?" asked the professor. "why, we found a cave with the entrance way up in the air. we thought at once that it was the one we were looking for, but it did not turn out to be," explained tom. "and then we found a lot of skeletons in there, and they got after us." "the skeletons did?" "well, something did," replied tom with a grin. "then jo and i beat a hasty retreat." "each got hold of the other in the dark," explained jim, laughing, "but i guess they had a jolly time of it till they broke away and ran. it sure was funny." "are you certain there wasn't anything unnatural in there?" "we couldn't find anything alive except some bats, when we went back," replied tom, "although we hunted all over." "what kind of a place is it?" "the cave?" "no, the island." "it seems to be an uninhabited island as far as we could see," answered jim. "didn't you discover any signs of people at all?" "yes," replied jim. "the same sign we saw from this deck. the smoke signal." "that cave will bear further investigation. it is certainly very curious," mused the professor. "what is?" queried tom. "about that smoke on the mountain." "what do you think of it?" asked jim. "it is a signal of some kind, but if the island is uninhabited, who could have made it?" "why couldn't the ones who made it come from some other island?" asked jim. "and gone back again," suggested jo. "perhaps so," replied the professor, "but that doesn't make it any clearer." "you never can see through smoke very well," suggested jo. "true," laughed the professor, "but still somehow i don't like it." "then we saw a ship in the distance, apparently headed for this island, but far off the southern shore." "six o'clock," broke in tom, as four bells were struck. "i think i will accept the invitation to dine." "a good plan," commended the professor, "and monday we must get an early start and learn, if we can about that ship you saw, and begin a more thorough exploration." "i think so, too," replied tom. "what?" asked jim. "take more 'rations' with us," replied tom. "wake up, boy," cried jo, giving him a shove and toppling him over on deck. "you think so much about rations that you are getting irrational." "that gives me an idea," began juarez, when jo and tom had been separated and quiet restored. "an idea of war?" asked berwick. "no," laughed juarez. "but would it not be a good thing to go on shore and camp there until we had made a complete exploration of the place?" "just the thing!" cried jo and tom. "i am afraid it is hardly wise," demurred the professor. "ugh!" sniffed tom. "i guess we can take care of ourselves." "besides, there isn't anyone on the island," added jo. "better not act on that assumption," advised the professor. "i don't know but what it would be a good plan," said jim. "we would be able to get over it more quickly if we didn't have come back to the boat every night." "there is something in that," admitted the professor, "though as far as i can see this doesn't look like the portion of the island shown on the chart." "no," admitted jim, "but this may be the opposite end of the island." "that is true, too. suppose we go down into the cabin and have another look at it?" "do you think it will be safe?" asked berwick. "safe? why not?" "you know what happened to the other one," laughed the engineer. "it probably slipped off the string," replied the professor, "and dropped down into the bilge. anyway we appoint you watchman to see if anyone is spying about." "all right," agreed berwick, "but i've got a kind of feeling that that little devil of a mexican ain't far away." "booh!" broke in tom. "didn't we see him go up into the air with the lugger?" "maybe we did," admitted berwick gloomily, "but i don't believe fire would ever hurt him." "i don't believe he is fire proof," declared tom. "and even if he is that isn't any reason why we shouldn't have a look at the map." it was some time after supper before the matter was again alluded to, then they all went below to further study the chart. taking the precious paper from his pocket and spreading it out on the table, jim and the professor analyzed carefully the various marks and drawings. "we have got pretty well fixed in mind now the shape and landmarks of the island," said jim, when they had studied the document carefully. he then folded up the chart, putting it back in his pocket. "we should keep our eyes open when we are on shore. there are two or three landmarks that ought to help us find the cave without much difficulty if this is the place." "there cannot be many caves," concluded the professor, "with entrances high above the ground as this one is described to be." the following morning, the day being sunday, was spent quietly on shipboard. it had been the custom of the professor since the commencement of the voyage to have such observances of the day as seemed fitting. there was a service which he himself conducted at eleven o'clock. thereafter, all who wished were this day allowed to go on shore. of the frontier boys, jim and juarez early in the afternoon availed themselves of the privilege. juarez was the only one, however, to wander away from the landing beach. jim spent some time readjusting and oiling his own and his brother's guns, which he had brought with him. jo and tom had said that they, with berwick, would join him later in the afternoon. chapter xx. an adventure. juarez had intended on going a short distance, but the bright sunlight, the charm of the hills, the luxuriant foliage, the unusual and brilliant wild flowers, all these attractions, coupled with his own exuberant spirits lured him on. he reached by a roundabout route the top of the mountainous elevation which, in company with his comrade, he had explored the day before. willing to rest now in the shade of some bushes he lolled upon the ground, and lulled by the whispering melodies of the trees was about to drop off to sleep. suddenly his attention was attracted to some motion in the underbrush at a point a third of the way down the mountain. he watched intently and knew that some person, two, probably, were ascending the slope. in his efforts to secure a better viewpoint, he stretched far forward, too far, it turned out, and catching wildly and ineffectively for a support, greatly to his astonishment, he slipped and fell to a ledge below. the distance was not great, but his head in the descent came in contact with a projecting rock, and although he landed upon a growth of thickly foliaged bushes, he was rendered unconscious by the blow he had sustained. he was aroused some time later by voices near at hand, one of which he immediately recognized. it was the steward of the storm king who was speaking. "i sent you the chart in the keg, but i have learned that the young fellow jim had a copy of it, which he carries always in a water proof paper in his pocket." the listener did not move. he was as securely hidden as if by a prearranged plan. he had not been observed, and while he did not see the speakers he knew that those to whom the steward was talking must be of the rival ship's crew, probably it was the leader himself who was present here, and possibly the mate, for he could tell from the voices there were two of the desperadoes. "why have you not secured the copy and destroyed it?" came the inquiry. "i cannot do it. the fellow suspected me. besides he is a terror, and i dare not." "dare not! what would your life be worth if i told the authorities at home what i know about you?" there was something said by the other man which juarez could not hear, but he caught the word captain. "dash it, man!" said the one addressed. "i believe you are right!" then it was the steward who spoke. "i only know," he said, "that i got the chart out of the secret hiding place into which it was put. i cannot say if it is the original, the right chart." "then it is the papers which that fellow you speak of has now that we must have. there is something wrong about the chart we have been working with. we were evidently on the wrong island entirely. things did not figure out right." "it's about the original chart that i came to tell you to-day," responded the steward. "jim is at this moment alone in the little shack on crescent bay." "well," said the captain, "why don't you get it?" "it cannot be gotten unless you kill the fellow." "well," drawled the captain, "and why not? you have done--." "don't! don't! i had been drinking then," was the plaintive protest. "so you want to turn the pleasant task over to me, eh? well, i guess between the two of us we can manage one young cub, eh mate marion?" there was no reply, but doubtless the mate acquiesced by a motion of the head. "i warn you, captain beauchamp, that although he is young, jim darlington is a difficult one to handle," cautioned the steward. "jim darlington!" gasped the captain. it was his turn to be surprised. "i thought he was dead." "on the contrary, he is very much alive, as are the other frontier boys." "well, i'll be blessed," said the captain, "the old innkeeper and the senor's man told me all the party had gone up with the old hulk." amid frequent expressions of astonishment the steward told the story, as he had learned it, of the affair at san matteo bay, ending with the rescue of the entire party. "poor reynolds," laughed captain beauchamp. "he must have had a jolly meeting with the senor. i wrote to reynolds that everybody had been blown sky high, and that the slate was clean." the mate, whose voice was a low grumble, made some remark which juarez could not hear. "yes, about that jim," the captain was saying. "what we want to do is to surprise him, take him unawares." again the murmur of the mate's voice, but he spoke too low for his words to be heard. "it's near dusk," resumed the captain. "in half an hour it will be pitch dark. we'll jog along towards the bay and take some observations." the listener heard no more. some bird flitted into a branch close beside juarez and uttered a gentle chirp. he knew that he was alone. he knew, too, that a serious task was cut out for him. to descend the mountain by the route he had come and reach the shack or shelter at the landing place would necessitate his passing the villainous pair he had overheard. this they would likely prevent. the feat was well nigh impossible. it seemed right good fortune that he had overheard their plans, but how could he circumvent them? he had it. a sudden inspiration burned into his soul. he must descend by the precipitous route on the side toward the sea down which he and jo had traveled the day before. they had made the descent for pleasure, then, helping each other, and in broad daylight. could he do the trick alone and in the dark? he tried to scramble to his feet. the effort sent a paralyzing pain through his head and neck, and he relaxed again with a stifled moan. after a moment he tried again, more slowly now, and in spite of the terrible pain, soon staggered to his feet. he looked about. directly above him was an overhanging boulder. it was upon its jagged edge he had struck when falling. below was the stone turreted, bushy mountain side. supporting himself with his hands he crept around the base of the boulder and soon got a broader outlook. his gun, as too great a handicap to carry on his trip, he discarded, carefully secreting it. a considerable interval must have elapsed since he received that paralyzing abrasure from the rock against which he had struck, for the sun was gone and a melancholy gloom was settling over the wild landscape. assuredly he must be moving. those unscrupulous cutthroats would stop at nothing. and was not jim, his dearest and most admired friend, in danger? it was an agonizing thought that gripped his mind. he sprang forward with a spasmodic intake of the breath, and sped like a wild faun along the rugged hillside. he did not know that his face and head were caked with clotted blood. he even forgot the throbbing pain. he would climb down the cliffs by the difficult and undetermined route he had traversed the day before. bursting through thickets and stumbling across darkening ravines he reached the point from which the perilous descent of the cliff side could be undertaken. gloomy crags towered above him, and below, the almost unknown forbidding way, crowded with tragic uncertainties. but not a moment could be spared. without hesitation he plunged recklessly into the abyss and in a moment was hugging the cold rocks, clutching at supporting twigs and undergrowths, sliding, slipping, almost falling down a frightful precipice. once he lost his hold entirely and felt himself whirling through the darkness, but he writhed himself upright in his fall and brought up with a smash and a crash in the dense foliage of a quertel nut tree. he did not feel the torn skin on face and hands, nor know that a fresh torrent of blood burst from the abrasure on his head. he groped blindly for the splintered rocks at the trees' base, felt their resisting force and lunged forward once more. soon he found himself on a sloping bench or shelf whose surface was on a level with the tops of some trees below, and he remembered the spot. here jo and he had enjoyed a grand view of the ocean, enveloped in mystery and obscurity. owing to the absence of shrubbery it was lighter here, and out of pure necessity he was compelled to halt for breath. he leaned against the wall of rock for a moment before commencing the next stage of the journey. he remembered that his former passage had led him for a hundred feet or more before bringing him to another drop. straining his eyes along the stretch of shelf he suddenly beheld an object emerge from the darkness and grow larger as it approached. then appeared another and another till he had counted six, all in regular indian file and moving in absolute silence. there was a moment of dreadful uncertainty. clearly these were the natives of this or some nearby island, and the first that he or any of his party had seen. the only weapon that juarez possessed was a hunting knife. he pressed himself against the rock and held his hand to throttle the beating of his heart. they approached. now he heard the soft shuffle of their feet. closer, and the first was nearly abreast of him. closer still, and the man glided by not three yards away, as--happy relief--did his followers. they passed, and still he moved not. the subdued twinkling of the falling gravel, the swish and rattle of the boughs and he was alone. then his breath came back with a spurt, and he realized that he had been near to suffocation. it was not that he feared for himself. but that awful responsibility, the warning of jim. he must do nothing, attempt nothing, that would involve the possibility of delay. but there was no time for musing. the half of his dangerous descent was before him. he hurried forward again, almost running along the shelving bench although he knew that a perpendicular drop of many yards was but a few inches from his nimble feet. he knew where to make the next plunge downward for the shelf pinched out, and there was no other way of advancing. down he went among insecure boulders, fragments of the upper cliff thrown off by some convulsion of nature, and again he had a dangerous fall. he struck upon his side and slid for a rod not unlike a log, bringing up with a serious injury against a boulder. below were dwarf compametos trees, and beneath them he squirmed, the meager light shut out entirely by their dense foliage. soon a bed of prickly leaves and ferns told him that he was over the worst of the road. still there was much treacherous footing ahead and he stumbled and tripped more than once. but now he was nearing the shack, and he must exercise all his caution taught by long experience with the indians. noiseless and as stealthy as a cat he squirmed through the tangled underbrush till he reached the sandy margin of crescent bay. still keeping within the shadow of the forest growth, he advanced rapidly, fearing every moment that some overt act would advise him that he had not been swift enough. now he was within call of the shelter, and he gave a peculiar signal, a note of warning for jim if he were awake. there was no response. none when the call was again repeated louder. horrible thought! was he too late? chapter xxi. the capture. selecting a convenient resting place, jim had sat down, and for the second time, taking up his rifle, went over it carefully, testing the lock and cleaning and oiling the various parts. he gave the same attention to the other guns. when this was done, he went over the ammunition to see that it was all in order. then, having no further task to engage his attention, a drowsy spell appealing, he lay down upon a moss covered bed of nature's fashioning, and was soon fast asleep. when he awoke he knew that a considerable interval had elapsed, and that the day was waning. he looked toward the ship, but all was quiet there. "it is time that juarez was getting back," he thought. "i hope that he hasn't got into any trouble. and the boys, too, were coming ashore. but i suppose," he added whimsically, "they had to wait till berwick was satisfied that manuel wasn't anywhere around. i don't see any signs of their coming," again looking toward the yacht, "i think i will see if i can find juarez." he had little difficulty in following juarez's trail as he had gone straight forward in the direction of the valley which skirted the peak or elevation for which he had started. although he was not apprehensive of an attack, jim went forward cautiously, looking about him as he proceeded, with his gun ready for use in case of need. he had gone a little more than a quarter of the way to the cliff when the ground became rugged with large rocks and occasional deep crevices. he became impressed at this point with the fancy that someone was about. he stood motionless, and himself hidden discovered that someone was in fact approaching. the man was moving slowly and seemingly without special caution. in the shadow of the underbrush jim did not at first recognize that it was the steward whose movements he was observing. then he knew that it was that individual. here was an opportunity perhaps to learn something of this suspected person, and intent on this object jim stealthily followed in the other's footsteps. he was mystified by his actions, for the steward seemed to have no definite motive in view. he moved slowly about in an erratic course, first in one direction then another, without apparent reason. the precautions jim would ordinarily have taken to keep a lookout about him were omitted, and of a sudden he was himself set upon by two muscular individuals who seemed to spring from space, and taken so entirely unawares, before he recognized his danger, his arms were pinioned. notwithstanding his strenuous struggles he was quickly bound and a helpless captive. he had had no opportunity even to get a look at his captors before he was blindfolded. "we want yer company for a period," a soft well modulated voice, with a southern accent, was speaking. "make no trouble, and i will know that you are a wise young man." "i do not know you. what do you want?" "first and foremost the chart you have in your pocket. i will, since your hands are tied, with your kind permission, help myself to that now." needless to say, the speaker sought out and took possession of the desired document, carefully bestowing it in his own pocket. "now to introduce ourselves, for you doubtless observed that there are two of us. this is mate marion, and i am captain beauchamp, at your service." "by what right, captain, do you detain me, and take from me my possessions?" "oh, all is fair in love or war, is it not so?" ignoring the question and recognizing the probability that argument was useless, jim contented himself with an inquiry: "what do you propose doing with me?" "i shall be most pleased to entertain you on board my ship." "for what purpose is my presence wanted there?" "just for the pleasure of your company. i hear that you are a fine young fellow, and i may have a proposition to make to you that will be worthy of your consideration. just now the thing to do is to get back to the marjorie. i will make this offer now. if you will go along with us without causing any trouble, you shall, as a reward, not be harmed." "but i am blindfolded." "that is a condition easily remedied," saying which, the handkerchief was removed from the captive's eyes. jim recognized the fact that he had been trapped, and was in the hands of a wily, adroit villain, but protest or a struggle for freedom would be unavailing under the existing circumstances, and he believed that his wisest plan was to make the best of his fate pending better opportunity to change the conditions of things. guided by the captain and mate a long march was undertaken, and at a late hour, with slight knowledge of the locality, jim was put into a rowboat and conveyed on board a ship riding at anchor in an open bay. he was soon to learn that he was a prisoner on board that vessel of questionable purpose, the marjorie. so much information the captain himself conveyed to him when releasing the bonds that had held secure his arms. he was placed in a small compartment known as the ship brig, and a securely locked door barred his egress. chapter xxii. the search. toward dusk on sunday evening, tom, after a lazy day, having once more perused the paper bound love story which he invariably carried in his pocket, was reminded of his promise to join jim and juarez on shore. he called to jo, and, while waiting for him, let down into the long boat at the ship's side some small casks, which were to be filled with fresh water. "when you get ashore, send the steward on board," said the professor. "it's near supper time, and he should be here." "what did he go ashore for?" asked tom. "he said that he wanted to look for some kind of leaves that he wished for flavoring." "h'm," drawled tom. "hope he hasn't gone to look for something to poison us with." "what makes you so prejudiced against the steward, tom?" asked the professor. "there isn't anything against him, except that he is a mexican, and--" "that's enough for one thing," asserted tom. "i am pretty sure that he is the one that has caused all the trouble here." "but why?" persisted the professor. "he has been my steward off and on for many years, and he has always been faithful and honest." "maybe he has," persisted tom. "but still i don't trust him." "all right, tom," replied the professor, laughingly, "keep your eye on him, but still i think he is all right." "i say, tom," broke in jo, who had climbed down into the small boat, "if you are coming you had better make a start and hurry up berwick. it will be night before we get away. say, what did you do with the rowlocks?" "what would i do with them," retorted tom. "left them in their place, of course." "well, they are not there now," grumbled jo. "how do you think we are going to row without any rowlocks?" "what is that?" asked the professor. "somebody has taken the rowlocks out of the boat," complained tom, "and jo seems to think i did it." "perhaps some of the crew took them out when they were unloading it last," suggested the professor. but a hasty questioning of the men who had hoisted out the filled casks showed that they had not removed them. "it is certainly strange," admitted the professor. "are they all gone?" "all of them," returned jo, emphatically. "well, you will have to get some out of the storeroom," said the captain, who had been attracted by the discussion. "i think it is likely someone has taken them out and forgotten them." "now, then," cried jo, when the other rowlocks had been put in. "where's berwick? give him a hail, will you?" at this instant berwick came up the ladder from the engine room, excitedly swinging an iron bar. "hallo," called tom. "what have you got there?" "what do you think of that!" demanded berwick as he came toward the others. "what is it?" asked the professor. "it is an iron bar that i found wedged in the engine," replied berwick. "i thought i would take a look over the engine before i went ashore and i found this." "what was it doing there?" asked the professor. "well, it wasn't doing anything," replied berwick, grimly, "but if the engine had been started with that thing in it, it would have made a junk heap of the whole thing in about ten seconds." "how did it get there?" asked tom. berwick shrugged his shoulders. "you know as much about it as i do. whoever put it there meant mischief. if that infernal little hunchback isn't around--" "his first cousin is," supplemented tom, "but he has gone ashore now and i don't believe he will be back." "who are you talking about?" demanded berwick. "the steward." "i am not quite ready to concede that," said the professor, "but i think there is a traitor aboard somewhere, and there is mischief brewing. it seems to me that the best thing to do is to get jim and juarez on board again until we can clear this thing up. get over, boys, into the boat. i am going with you." tom ran down the ladder into the boat, followed by the professor, and in a moment the boat was speeding for the shore as fast as tom and jo could pull it. "where are your guns?" asked the professor, when they landed. "we left them with jim," replied jo. "he was to bring them ashore and clean them up." "jim and juarez were to be somewhere abouts but i don't see either of them," put in tom. "they certainly are not here now," exclaimed the professor, anxiously. "they can't be far away," said tom. "wait until i give them a call. ohe-ee! jim! juarez! oho-e-e!" he shouted. there was no response, however, to their repeated calls. "it's strange," said the professor. "look around and see if you can find their trails." "here's the guns," cried jo, a moment later, "hid away in these bushes." "that's queer," commented the professor, "they must have gone off somewhere, but why?" "here's juarez's trail," announced tom. "i can see, too, that he went off first and that jim went afterward." "better take your guns along, boys," advised the professor. "there is no telling what we may meet." picking up their guns the boys started off on the trail with tom in the lead. they had not gone very far on the way when tom stopped and raised his hand. "there is something or someone coming," he whispered as the others came up with him. "get behind or into the bushes until we see who it is, or what." only a person with ears trained by experience in the woods would have detected the approach of someone as tom had. there was an occasional snapping of a twig or rustling in the bushes as the coming object moved. there was an unevenness about the movements that puzzled the boys. with his rifle cocked and ready for instant use, tom crouched behind the bush ready for quick action if necessary. then as the figure of someone came into view, moving slowly, and stealthily through the woods, he sprang forward. "hallo, juarez," he called. "anything the matter? where have you been?" "where is jim?" asked juarez. "jim?" echoed tom. "i don't know. isn't he with you?" "then those pirates have got him!" exclaimed juarez. "i tried to get back to warn him, but i had a fall, and it took me longer than i expected." "come. sit down and tell us about it," said the professor, fixing, meanwhile a place beneath a tree, "while i see what is the matter with you. where are you hurt?" "it is my foot," explained juarez. "i expect i strained it when i fell. i can hardly walk." "hardly!" exclaimed the professor when he examined juarez's foot. "it's a wonder you walked at all. you have a dislocation. and your head, too?" "never mind that," cried juarez. "never mind anything. we want to get after the pirates." "all in good time, juarez," replied the professor. "the first thing to do is to get you into shape again, for we shall need your help. here, tom, you get a hold of this leg. hold it steady, now, ready." with a little click the bone slipped back into place when the professor gave a pull and a little twist to the foot, but although juarez's face went white, he did not utter a sound. "now," commanded the professor, "see if you can get some cold water, jo, and tom, you find something for a bandage. you'll find some sail cloth among the stuff we brought in the boat." tom was off in a second to return presently with a strip of cloth as jo came up with his cap full of water. tearing the material into strips and dipping them into the water, the professor soon had both juarez's head and foot bandaged in a way that gave him comparative relief. "now," said the professor, "tell us about jim." whereupon juarez told briefly of his journey that afternoon, and how, when trying to observe the approach of some strangers, he had fallen, and then he repeated the conversation he had overheard, and told how he had tried to get back to the shore in time to warn jim of the impending danger. all listened intently and tom could not avoid an occasional interruption to express his opinion of the steward. "the villain!" cried tom between his teeth, in a tone that boded ill for the man. "you were evidently right," the professor reluctantly admitted, "the man is a traitor." "i hope we catch him," cried jo. "come on, now," says tom, starting up. "where are you going?" asked the professor. "to help jim. if you will stay with juarez, jo and i will follow up his trail," responded tom. this seemed feasible and wise and aided by some instructions given by juarez they were in a measure able to make good progress. they soon came upon a place where there were evidences of a struggle, and here they carefully searched about and called loudly, but got no response. but one inference was possible, jim had been overpowered by a superior force and made prisoner; so they reluctantly returned to the professor with this report. "we can't do anything more to-night," determined the professor. "it is too late. if there are enemies about under cover of darkness they have every advantage. i think our best plan would be to go back to the storm king and make our plans for to-morrow. with a night's rest, juarez will be in shape to help us, and we will have berwick, too." "but they may kill jim before morning," objected tom. "i don't think there is any danger of that," replied the professor. "they would not have bothered to take him prisoner if any harm were intended. if we went on now, even if we knew what direction to take, we would only be working in the dark, literally and figuratively. we will have to reconnoitre a little first and plan accordingly." "i don't know but what you are right," admitted tom, very reluctantly, "but it doesn't seem the right thing to do to leave jim that way." "festina lenta, tom," rejoined the professor. "you remember the old proverb, 'make haste slowly.' we'll do more by not trying to do things too quickly. we will go back and get ready for to-morrow." "what do you know about this captain beauchamp, who is evidently the commander of the marjorie?" jo inquired. "he is a buccaneer, a pirate and a slave to do the bidding of anyone who will pay for his service. still he has the reputation for dealing fairly and is far more likely to hold jim as hostage for ransom or other advantage than to do him bodily harm." "have you ever had dealings with the captain?" "no. i have never seen him. know of him only by hearsay. he is rather well educated, and, i hear, sometimes speaks with a southern drawl, but he even varies that to suit himself." "i shall be better satisfied when i know jim is safe," concluded jo. "indeed we all shall," said the professor, and addressing juarez, "what do you make out about the natives, whom you observed as you were coming down the cliff side?" "i knew that they were natives by their dress, or lack of it," said juarez. "they had but very little clothing on, and i believe that two of the party were ill, for the other four at times assisted their comrades." "likely you were right," asserted the professor. "probably it was a pilgrimage to the sulphur spring." with occasional help and the aid of a stick which jo cut to a proper length and fashioned in the form of a crutch, juarez was able to get back to the boat with comparative ease, and they were soon rowing toward the yacht. arriving on board they found that the steward had not yet returned. "a good thing for him," asserted tom. an opinion which no one could gainsay. "now, boys," advised the professor when a late supper had been eaten and a short consultation had been held, "you had better get off to your bunks. even if you don't feel inclined to sleep, you will get some needed rest, and that is important, as we are likely to have a hard day's work ahead of us for to-morrow." chapter xxiii. the chief of rarihue. before dawn of the next morning the party were all on deck ready for a start as soon as it was light enough to see their way through the woods. hardly had they assembled, however, when there came one of those sudden terrific storms which are so frequent in the southern seas. the downpour lasted about a half hour to the regret of jo and tom, who had hoped to readily strike and follow the trail of jim and his captors. some other plan would now be necessary. "i think," said the professor, who, in the absence of jim, had tacitly assumed the leadership, "that we had better go prepared for an overnight stay." "why do you think it will take us so long?" questioned jo. "that is something we cannot tell," responded the professor. "we don't know what we may have to contend with. we have a powerful and wily enemy in captain beauchamp, and we will have to accomplish our ends by strategy rather than by force." "have you got any plan, professor?" asked tom. "only in a general way," replied the professor. "we shall have to act as seems best as things turn up." "what is the first thing to be done?" asked tom. "i propose," answered the professor, "that we go to the place where you saw the column of smoke." "what do you expect to find there that we did not?" "nothing, perhaps, but i think that that is the highest point on the island," explained the professor, "and from there we ought to be able to get a fair idea of the size and shape of the place and the character of the country." "and from that we can plan our campaign," said berwick. "exactly. now, then," he went on a moment later, "if you are all ready we will get away. be careful, boys, for it is more than likely that our movements are watched." the first faint light of the coming day was beginning to show, and the stars were fading before the coming dawn. away off to the right of the yacht as she swung at her anchor on the incoming tide the shore loomed heavy and black, a thick blot in the inky darkness. there was almost an unnatural stillness over the harbor, the only sound to break the quiet being the soft lap, lap, of the ever restless waves beating against the side of the vessel. their voices sounded so unnaturally loud when they spoke to one another that they all unconsciously dropped their tone to a whisper. despite his protests that he was in fit condition to accompany the others, it was decided that juarez should remain on the yacht. "you are really not able to travel," insisted tom. "and you will be in shape to-morrow when we will need you more," added jo in an effort at consolation. "beside," explained the professor, "you may possibly be of more service here than if you went along. the captain might need your aid, for we cannot tell what may happen, and you are the only one beside mr. berwick who knows anything about the engine." "if you really think so," reluctantly acquiesced juarez. "most decidedly," affirmed the professor. "i would advise that you get up enough steam in the boiler to sound the whistle if necessary. i don't know that there will be any occasion for it, but if, for any reason, you should want to call us, you can give three blasts upon the whistle, and we will act accordingly." during this time the boys had been silently taking their positions in the small boat; tom, by direction of the professor, in the bow, while jo and berwick took the oars. "you need to keep a sharp lookout ahead," advised the professor when they started. "we are liable to run into almost anything, and we don't want to be caught unawares." "all right," responded tom. "i've got my eyes and ears wide open." as silently as a spectral boat, the little craft slipped through the darkness, the rowers dipping their oars almost without a creak or jar. nevertheless they advanced rapidly toward the shore that loomed up grim and forbidden like a wall of impenetrable darkness. it was but a few minutes before the boat was run up on the beach at the foot of the cliffs and the party disembarked. the boat was then carried a sufficient distance on to the shore and hidden in the heavy underbrush. "now, boys," began the professor when they had completed their preparations, "you are our scouts and we have to depend upon you to thwart our enemies, if they are about. tom, you had better take the lead, and jo will cover the rear. instead of the long way around that you took when you last sought the smoke signal, i think we will adopt the direct and more rugged climb, as less liable to ambush. when you are ready, go ahead." without making any reply, tom, with his rifle in his hand ready for immediate use, slipped away among the bushes. berwick followed, then the professor and jo last. it was light enough at this time for tom to make his way among the rocks, which at this point were piled up in great masses, covering the ground just as they had fallen from the cliffs above. there was a semblance of a path or way through the rocky defile which led with many turns and twists along the course of what, in the wet season was apparently the bed of a stream, but although this roadway was less difficult to negotiate, tom ignored it and kept to the more rugged way, skirting the bed of the water course. pushing on energetically, tom opened up a gap between himself and the others for whom the professor set the pace, a less rapid one. glancing ahead they saw that tom had halted and was signaling for a cautious advance. a little farther on the hum of voices broke upon their ears. they were approaching the sulphur spring, and from that direction the sound emanated. there was a babble of tongues, jabbering in some unfamiliar language. "a party of natives at the spring," concluded the professor. a cautious approach brought the islanders under observation, though the professor and his party were hidden from the others. there may have been a dozen of the tribe men grouped about the spring. the one, most impressive appearing of the lot, had evidently but just completed a bath and just resumed his scanty garments which he was then adjusting. this person was not as dark of skin as those about him, and from the servilent actions of the others it could readily be assumed that he was their king or chief. none of the party were armed. the professor viewed the scene for a brief interval, then, without hesitation stepped from behind the barrier of leaves. instantly the islanders were alert and calls and exclamations filled the air. all were, however, silenced by the chief, who turned now for the first time and faced the visitors. to the latter's great astonishment the chief immediately sprang forward, advancing toward the professor. jo and tom quickly raised their rifles, but as quickly lowered them again, when they saw that the approach was without menace. the onlookers' astonishment was greater still when they heard the chief in the best of english say, "my dear friend, what are you doing here?" "rather, may i say," was the prompt reply, "what are you doing here, my dear jranvin? what in all reason brought you to this end of the world?" thus saluted, and with further manifestations of regard, esteem and affection the two men grasped hands, and with the other hand upon each other's shoulders, stood thus for a full minute. it was the professor who first bethought himself of the surroundings, and with a recognition that they were not alone upon the scene, he cried: "here, boys, and berwick. here is my old and well regarded friend. let me make you acquainted, jranvin, with jo darlington and his brother tom and mr. berwick." greetings were exchanged, the islanders indifferently looking on, and the professor undertook to hastily satisfy the curiosity of his friends. there was little he could say, however, and explanations had to come naturally from the chief, for such he announced himself to be. "it's not a long story," he said, "my being here, and very briefly, in a nutshell, it is this----" "why," broke in the professor, "when i last saw you in london, you were ill, had been ill for a long time, and in truth i may say, i never thought to see you again on this earth." "that's the starting point," said mr. jranvin. "i was condemned, given up to die, by slow and harrowing processes, but chance, if there ever be such a thing in this world, started me on a voyage to japan. that's some years ago. to japan i never got." "shipwrecked?" questioned the professor. "you hit it. shipwrecked, and right upon this island. and over here on our island of rarihue we have lived ever since. my health is restored and my life is lived among my friends here, who made me their chief," and he waved his hand to the party of islanders grouped about. "my friends they are, and as true as steel." "then do you never intend to go back to your home and country?" ventured jo. "home i have none, nor country. this is my world and none other am i likely to seek." "you do not live then on this island?" "no, but now and then i send here or come for a supply of the waters of this wonderful mineral spring. it possesses health-giving properties that would be recognizable by any expert. here is a chance for you, my dear friend, to make a fortune," he said, laughing. "by the way, you have not told me yet what brought you to this far off quarter. going to settle down and live a life that's worth while?" "we are looking for a fortune, and a mineral one, but not a mineral spring." mr. jranvin, or the chief, as they soon learned to call him, glanced quickly at the party and for a moment studied each face. "all willing to jeopardize your lives for gold, and when gotten what do you do with it?" "why, live in comfort," laughed the professor, "as you do." "yes, as i do _without_ it," returned the other, smilingly. "perhaps, though, you can help us in our search, since having no need, we cannot be robbing you." "you will find no treasure on this island," was the firm response. and then he again looked intently into each of the three faces before him, ignoring only that of the professor. "you have looked for the treasure yourself," questioned the professor, "and there was none here?" "there _was_," replied the chief. "but _it is gone_." "the fortunes of war," said the professor lightly. "really, though, while we have been talking we may have been devoting to you time we owe to one of our party, for our expedition this morning is one of search of a missing member of our company." the chief was then told of jim's probable capture by the captain of the marjorie. "beauchamp, eh? so he is around again. well, we on rarihue concern ourselves but little with the outside world. rarihue has no harbor and only small boats can effect a landing. excepting for bohoola the island we are on, and one other uninhabited island, there is no other land within two hundred miles. we are not a fighting people, and have no real need to be. i've taught them to fight only for their homes. but if i can help you in any way, be assured of my willingness." the professor told of his own ship, and the harbor where it was anchored. the "north" harbor, the chief recognized it to be. could information be given as to the probable anchorage of the marjorie? "surely. in the south harbor, which is less than a half dozen miles away, on the other side of the island. wait a moment," added the chief. "i will speak with my men." this he did, and promptly reported. "yes, there is a ship at anchor there. it is quite certainly your objective point." censuring himself for the long delay, the professor now gave the order to press on. the two old time friends, thus oddly thrown together, grasped hands and made promises to meet once more before the great oceans should separate them again. "tell beauchamp," the chief cried after them, "if you see him, that he too is too late. the treasure is gone." chapter xxiv. on board the marjorie. jim had a restless night. he was sadly disappointed with himself, that he should have so carelessly allowed his enemies to triumph over him. he could not imagine for what purpose he was now detained, and he was very determined upon seeking an early opportunity to escape. in the circumscribed quarters of the brig in which he was confined, he could move about but little. there was a small porthole, but far too small for any possibility for escape through the opening. the night was hot and little air astir. he gazed purposelessly through the porthole, dozing anon till far after the middle of the night, he was aroused to active interest by seeing the lights of another ship. from his viewpoint, the harbor's opening toward the sea was visible. there was commotion now over his head, the running about of sailors, calling the captain to the deck. the mate and others of the crew all assembled on the deck above, and very near jim's compartment. the first exultant thought in jim's mind was that the professor with the storm king had come to his rescue. the more logical reasoning determined that it would have been quite impossible to have accomplished any such result in so short a time. furthermore such a move would have been foolhardy and impractical. no, there must be some other explanation to be sought. the mysterious arrival was puzzling captain beauchamp and his company, who, indeed, took the new arrival to be the storm king. this jim readily determined by the talk of those leaning against the deck rail. "are you sure that no lights are showing below?" it was beauchamp's soft voice. "there are no lights lit on board, sir. your orders were that none should show in this harbor." "then they can't locate us in the dark. before dawn have all the guns looked over and everything made in readiness for an attack." "is that young fellow worth fighting for?" asked the mate. "i thought to keep him while we looked for the cave, and his party don't know that we have got him." "but they will soon find out. any one of those frontier boys can follow even a rabbit trail." "so? i never thought of that. well, we will make a dicker with them. if they find the treasure, and divide fairly, we will----. say, it's beginning to rain. let's get under cover. when it rains here it's a deluge." jim had listened interestedly to the conversation, and was cognizant now of the heavy downpour. "it will make the atmosphere a little cooler," he mused, "but it will also wash out the trail." with the first gleam of light, the storm having ceased, the deck was again peopled with interested spectators, and jim, listening, was treated to a surprise that, figuratively speaking, nearly took his breath away. "say, it looks like--what do you make it out to be, marion?" "it looks like--it is, the sea eagle." "the sea eagle," gasped jim, in a barely suppressed voice. "say, but what queer things do happen," and once more a breath of exultant joy possessed him. then the misery of his situation reasserted itself. here was his own ship near at hand, and he a helpless prisoner, and he fairly raged and struck the cabin door with impotent fury. later on, as the light increased, he was able to see his beloved ship clearly outlined against the sky, and, closely observant of all that transpired, he saw broome himself, giving directions from the bridge. signals were evidently exchanged between the two ships, for later, broome was seen to enter a small boat which was rowed toward the marjorie. jim had nothing to do for a while. he surveyed the surface of the bay for signs of breaking fish, or the splash of a vagrant water bird, dreaming of the possibilities built on the hope of repossessing himself of the sea eagle. then again came the sound of voices on deck. the two captains were in conference. "a big storm," jim heard captain broome say. "we weathered it well, but the swedish bark which we had sighted had been for some time in distress, could not stand the strain and had to be abandoned." "then you have all the crew of the lost ship aboard?" "what could we do but lend a hand?" said captain broome in an apologetic tone, as if deploring the necessity for an ordinary humanitarian act. "how large a crew, and who is their commander?" "a dozen of the beggars and blessed with appetites that are insatiable. captain ter tofte luhrensen was in command. he was also the owner of the lost vessel." "and what do you propose to do with them?" "why do you ask?" was broome's diplomatic response. "i just thought you might have in mind the leaving of the crowd on this island." "well, i might, if you wish me to." "and i just don't wish it. i have got trouble enough with the professor's crew." "so featheringstone is here? has he located the treasure?" "not yet. well, there's lots of things to talk over, my dear broome. let's have a spread, a feast. get your sister and her husband, and we will discuss the situation over a bowl of punch." "i'm with you, and send your crew over to the sea eagle. let them have a jollification." jim could but faintly hear their voices now, for the speakers had moved aft. he had noticed one point in particular. beauchamp had never referred to the fact that a prisoner was confined on the deck beneath him. now, to jim's mind came the insistent need to escape, and very carefully he examined every surface, angle and crevice of his prison. all this was unavailing, however. surely it was a hard fate that he must sit there so helplessly. his only dependency evidently was upon help to come from the outside. one thing he determined to do, however. when the door of his cabin was opened for any purpose he would make a break for liberty, and fight his way, if need be, single-handed. but if breakfast was to be brought to him to afford this needed opportunity, it was long deferred. three hours, he estimated, had passed thus. during this time he had seen red annie and her husband rowed to the marjorie. the swedes in a long boat were busily occupied in bringing fresh water in casks from the shore to the sea eagle, and on board the latter the jollification was decidedly in progress as he could both see and hear. on board the marjorie, all was quiet. he could occasionally hear the murmur of voices, but nothing more. looking just now toward the sea eagle he saw that the combined crews of the two ships were manning the long boat. there was scarcely a man among them now who could be regarded as moderately sober. the majority were immoderately intoxicated. they were singing ribald songs and the recitative, between the melodies was composed of oaths such as jim had never heard. the men in the long boat did not succeed in getting clear of the sea eagle without some violent altercations, first with the swedes and then among themselves. the jovial songs were quickly abandoned in favor of yells and shouts and threats, oars were freely and indiscriminately used, and there seemed to be a breaking of heads all around. "there seems to be a regular melee," thought jim, as he stood by the porthole, observing the lively scene. he watched the men leap from thwart to thwart of the boat and make for one another like bulldogs. he thought he knew exactly how the fight would end, and it did end precisely as he anticipated. more than a dozen men cannot carry on a naval engagement of that sort for a long time without an accident of some kind, and no one had reason to be surprised when an unsteady man, balancing himself on an unsteady gunwhale, to strike at a particular "friend" with a heavy oar, failed in his aim, and went headlong into the water; nor was it in any way unnatural or contrary to the laws of gravitation that the bow of the boat on being released of his weight, should jump up, thereby interfering with the man who was balancing himself astern and sending him overboard with equal dispatch. just at that moment, jim was startled by a voice close beside him, for he had had no intimation that anyone was about. turning quickly, he discovered that a small panel in his door had been slid aside and a plate of food was pushed through and into his extended hands. needless to say, the food was welcome, but the method of serving dashed away the hope and plan of escape he had had, and so ardently counted upon. but the voice! that he recognized as familiar, although he did not at once remember to whom it belonged. suddenly he knew. it was the steward, pedro, come probably to mock him in his captivity. he never had liked the man. his unvarying servilitude, and now the full knowledge of his treachery to his employer thoroughly awakened all his ire. "i have brought you this food." jim could not refrain from hissing from between his clenched teeth, "you traitor!" chapter xxv. conclusion. an arduous tramp of a half hour brought the professor and his party to the base of the steep incline that led to their objective point. here they halted a moment for a rest and looked about them. the side of the cliff, which was two or three hundred feet in height, was heavily wooded and ran upward at an acute angle, but with several ledges that stretched across the face so that an ascent was possible, but only at the expense of a considerable journey. steady effort, going from one ledge to another, climbing through crevices and around projecting barriers finally brought them to the summit. here, on a small open space, they found the remains of the fire which had been the source of the column of smoke, the embers, notwithstanding the wetting they had had, still giving out a little vapor. "well, boys, we can go no higher except by the aid of the branches of the trees." "i was considering which tree to climb," responded tom. "that one on the point is the highest, but the one nearer us we climbed before and is the easiest to get up." "let it be the highest," determined the professor. it was not an easy task they had undertaken, as the trees were several feet in diameter, without a branch for eighteen or twenty feet from the base; but the boys, with the aid of berwick and the professor, by dint of clinging like flies to each little projection in the trunk, managed to get a hold on the lower branches and pull themselves up into the trees; then by degrees to the highest point that could safely be reached. "phew," said tom, who was the first to get to a place where he could look off over the surrounding country, "what do you think of that?" "what is it?" panted jo. "look there!" answered tom. "looks as though we had our work cut out for us." "it does look interesting," coincided jo, who had gotten up to where he could see about. away off to the south, a distance of about five miles in a small harbor lay two ships, one of which, even at that distance, the boys had no difficulty in recognizing as the marjorie. they were riding quietly at anchor, but there were small boats passing to and fro between the two vessels and the shore. they also noted that the mountains extended to the south, with another range a little farther away, beyond which the ground sloped away again down to a nearly level plain, which ran away to the water's edge. the mountains were heavily wooded, and the plains or more level surfaces, as well. to the east the mountains appeared to extend in an unbroken range to the shore. "well," said the professor, when they had climbed down. "what did you find out?" "the marjorie is off there," replied tom. "and another, vessel, too," added jo. "humph!" ejaculated the professor, "this doesn't seem to be any place for us!" "but what about jim?" asked tom. "oh, that's another matter," said the professor, in a whimsical way he had when confronted by a serious problem. "one thing at a time, you know." "how do you think they know we were here?" asked berwick. "i have it!" cried tom, excitedly, "the smoke!" "what about it?" said jo. "why, don't you see," responded tom. "it was a signal." "well, suppose it was, what has that got to do with them?" "everything," replied tom. "that was a sign that the storm king was here." "but who did it?" persisted jo. "that villain of a steward," asserted tom. "you know that someone on board was signalling to the marjorie, and just as soon as we got in here he made some pretense to get ashore." "tom is right," agreed berwick. "i knew it was him," lamented tom, "and to think we let him get away." "i am afraid that that was because of my over-confidence," admitted the professor, "but i was deceived in him. he had been to the south seas with me, you know." "well, it can't be helped now," declared jo, philosophically. "the question is, what is the next thing to do?" "let us make a reconnoitre down by the harbor, and see what we can find out," suggested berwick. "perhaps we might get an opportunity to capture a prisoner or two that we could hold as a hostage for jim." "that's a good scheme," agreed the professor. "i hope we can get a hold on that villain of a steward," cried tom, vindictively. "or that imp, manuel," added jo. "don't speak of him," remonstrated berwick. "it is like a premonition of evil whenever i hear his name." "come on," said tom, picking up his rifle. "the sooner we get there, the better." as they journeyed toward the harbor, the professor related to the others the facts concerning his acquaintance with mr. jranvin, now the chief of rarihue. he spoke of his fine character, and recalled his long struggle with adversity because of inherited pulmonary trouble. "and do you really believe that he knows about the treasure and that it is gone?" asked tom. "i believe that he speaks of what he knows, but i think it not unlikely that he could tell, if he would, where it is gone." "then is our venture a failure?" "who can tell? anyway we shall not give up the search." as there seemed reasonable assurance that they were alone in the forest, they advanced rapidly and exercised no special caution till they were nearing the harbor. approaching the fringe of wood near the water's edge, they carefully made their way to a point where an unobstructed view was had of the bay. tom was the first to announce to the others the identity of the other vessel they had seen from the tree top. "by all that is wonderful! if there isn't the sea eagle just moving out of the harbor!" "the sea eagle? well, this is hard," said jo. "just to arrive in time to see her sailing away." "and what a row they are having on board the marjorie; looks like a regular mutiny," cried berwick. the panorama on the bay, which was being enacted before them, was one of startling interest. what had happened to have brought the now disappearing sea eagle to the harbor they could not determine, but disorder and confusion was apparent on the marjorie's decks. "captain beauchamp is not to be seen," said the professor. "there seems to be merely a lot of sailors, and it looks as if two factions were contending for the mastery." "jim is not there," said jo, sadly. "i wonder what has become of him?" "probably he is still a prisoner, and we--hush! there is somebody moving through the woods!" some one was approaching, but in a slow and hesitating manner, yet making no effort at concealment. "it is the steward," whispered jo, after a moment. "be ready, tom, we will get him for sure!" absolutely motionless they all were until the steward had come to within a dozen feet of where they lay hidden, then, as he turned to move in another direction, jo and tom, at a signal from the former, sprang to their feet and with one bound were upon their intended prisoner. they bore him to the earth and held him secure, while berwick quickly bound his hands behind his back. greatly to the surprise of all, the steward offered no resistance and made no effort whatever to escape. he hung his head on seeing whom his captors were and looked like a man suffering abjectly. "quick, you villain," cried jo, grasping his arm. "where is my brother?" without hesitation came the answer, "he is quite safe. he has escaped." "how can we know?" the steward looked only at the professor and for answer said, "may i speak with you alone for a moment?" "certainly not. say openly what you have to say," was the answer. "i think," interposed berwick, "i would grant his request. it can do no harm." the boys and berwick separated, each taking a few steps in different directions so as to prevent any possible attempt at escape. the two thus left alone, although under close observation, conversed earnestly for a few moments, and then the professor called the others together. "it is a deplorable matter," said the professor. "this man is deserving of condemnation and of punishment. he has been a traitor to our cause, but he admits fully his crime and wants to atone in any way he can. jim, he says, was confined on board the marjorie, but he himself helped him to escape and he believes that jim is now safe and sound, probably by this time on board the storm king." "how can we be sure of that?" jo asked. "we have only this man's word, and in a sense his word is valueless, but he can go with us and we can deal with him accordingly, if he tells not the truth." "what's happening on the marjorie?" asked berwick. the steward did not know. he told of liberating jim, who had gotten into the sea eagle's dory, and had ordered the two swedes who manned the oars, and who of course did not know him, to row him ashore. the steward, filled with remorse for his treachery to the professor, had later swam to the land and, uncertain what to do, now really welcomed his capture. "we will leave your fate to later consideration," said the professor, "and if jim is not found on board, it will go hard with you." the other made no protest to this decision and promptly they undertook the return journey to their ship. every precaution was taken to prevent the escape of the steward, but he made no effort in that direction. he walked with bowed head, misery in his face and manner. fully two thirds of their return journey had been accomplished when they were startled by the sound of three long blasts from the storm king whistle. what new danger might portend? onward now they pressed with the utmost speed, and arriving at the water's edge they saw the welcome sight of the storm king riding safely at anchor, and recognized two familiar figures on the bridge. jim was one, safe and sound to all appearances, and the other jranvin, the rarihue chief. another sight greeted their eyes. it was two long, rakish crafts, manned by many dusky islanders which lay peacefully enough along side the big ship. in a brief interval all were on board and explanations were in order. jim was uproariously welcomed and quickly told his story, which brought astonishment to the ears of his listeners. briefly this was his tale: the steward had unlocked his door and paved the way for his escape, but jim had not rowed ashore. he had observed the contending factions of the two ships, who having rescued from the water those who had fallen overboard from the long boat, for the nonce fraternized and were bent on a visit to the marjorie for further orgies and libations. noting the absence of broome's men from the decks of the sea eagle, jim had quickly changed his plan. he had ordered his two oarsmen to row him to that vessel. on the deck he had found only the swedes and their commander, captain luhrensen. boarding the ship, jim had said: "i am the owner of this boat." it was an astonishing declaration, but jim drew from his pocket papers which bore out his assertion, and he soon won to his standard the ship-wrecked commander, and with him, of course, went his crew. at once the ship had been gotten under way. broome and his crew were all on board the marjorie. it was evident that beauchamp and broome and other officers were securely imprisoned in the marjorie cabin while the sailors were discussing with more or less forceful animation their next move. jim, with the decks of his beloved sea eagle once more beneath his feet, had made all speed under sail and steam to the entrance of the harbor where lay the storm king, and had come aboard to report his safety and the successful outcome of his venture. one startling tale had scarcely been assimilated when another was offered for their consideration. the chief of rarihue stepped forward and embracing the professor, said: "you remember this morning i told you that the treasure for which you sought had gone? it is gone from the cave in which you hoped to find it. but i will tell you now, i am the present possessor." "then i congratulate you most heartily," responded the professor. "may you live long and enjoy it." the chief shook his head, smiling the while. "i may find use for a little of this wealth," he said, "and i am going to ask you, my dear friend, to take it back with you." "i will most gladly do your bidding." "and fairly rewarded you shall be. i can trust you and i like the looks of your associates." saying this, he walked to the gunwale and called in their native tongue to the occupants in the boats. upon his order, many bags of woven grass, their contents of considerable weight, were hoisted aboard. "ten per cent of what this realizes, and i think there is value to a quarter of a million, i want deposited to my credit in the bank of england. i may never call for it, but _all the remainder is yours_." "hurrah for the chief of rarihue!" cried tom, and a right ringing cheer was given. "and now," said jim, "we must not tarry here. professor, you have won out and do not need me any longer. i have my sea eagle and her papers indent her to cuba. with captain ter tofte luhrensen as sailing master, to cuba she shall go." to cuba the sea eagle did go, as those interested in the fortunes of the frontier boys may learn in a volume to follow, "the frontier boys in cuba." "you are released, albeit with reluctance," slowly answered the professor, "and my thanks for your valued aid. your share of our success will be deposited in the bank of america, new york, against your homecoming." "and whom can you spare to go with me, and who wants to go to fight for freedom's cause?" jo and juarez were quickly by his side and with less alacrity, tom joined them. all looked at berwick. "mine for a quiet life," said that worthy, laughing. "i shall stay by the professor." a word more as to the steward. after careful consideration and a talk with mr. jranvin, he was left with the islanders. he deserved punishment, but his belated renunciation of his evil ways and his helpfulness to jim were taken into account. as jim had said, there was no time to be wasted, and within an hour adieux had been said, and the two ships were steaming in absolutely diverse directions, the one to san francisco and the other to cuba. the end. transcriber's note: minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and intent. philosopher jack, by r.m. ballantyne. chapter one. treats of our hero and others. if the entire circuit of a friend's conversation were comprised in the words "don't" and "do,"--it might perhaps be taken for granted that his advice was not of much value; nevertheless, it is a fact that philosopher jack's most intimate and valuable--if not valued--friend never said anything to him beyond these two words. nor did he ever condescend to reason. he listened, however, with unwearied patience to reasoning, but when jack had finished reasoning and had stated his proposed course of action, he merely said to him, "don't," or "do." "for what end was i created?" said the philosopher, gloomily. wise and momentous question when seriously put, but foolish remark, if not worse, when flung out in bitterness of soul! jack, whose other name was edwin, and his age nineteen, was a student. being of an argumentative turn of mind, his college companions had dubbed him philosopher. tall, strong, active, kindly, hilarious, earnest, reckless, and impulsive, he was a strange compound, with a handsome face, a brown fluff on either cheek, and a moustache like a lady's eyebrow. moreover, he was a general favourite, yet this favoured youth, sitting at his table in his own room, sternly repeated the question--in varied form and with increased bitterness--"why was i born at all?" deep wrinkles of perplexity sat on his youthful brow. evidently he could not answer his own question, though in early life his father had carefully taught him the "shorter catechism with proofs," while his good old mother had enforced and exemplified the same. his taciturn friend was equally unable, or unwilling, to give a reply. after prolonged meditation, jack relieved his breast of a deep sigh and re-read a letter which lay open on his desk. having read it a third time with knitted brows, he rose, went to the window, and gazed pathetically on the cat's parade, as he styled his prospect of slates and chimney cans. "so," said he at last, "my dreams are over; prospects gone; hopes collapsed--all vanished like the baseless fabric of a vision." he turned from the cat's parade, on which the shades of evening were descending, to the less romantic contemplation of his empty fire-grate. "now," said he, re-seating himself at his table and stretching his long legs under it, "the question is, what am i to do? shall i kick at fate, throw care, like physic, to the dogs, cut the whole concern, and go to sea?" "don't," said his taciturn friend, speaking distinctly for the first time. "or," continued jack, "shall i meekly bow to circumstances, and struggle with my difficulties as best i may?" "do," replied his friend, whose name, by the way, was conscience. for a long time the student sat gazing at the open letter in silence. it was from his father, and ran thus:- "dear teddie,--it's a long time now that i've been thinkin' to write you, and couldn't a-bear to give you such a heavy disappointment but can't putt it off no longer, and, as your mother, poor soul, says, it's the lord's will and can't be helped--which, of course, it shouldn't be helped if that's true--but--well, howsomever, it's of no use beatin' about the bush no longer. the seasons have been bad for some years past, and it's all i've been able to do to make the two ends meet, with your mother slavin' like a nigger patchin' up the child'n's old rags till they're like joseph's coat after the wild beast had done its worst on it--though we _are_ given to understand that the only wild beasts as had to do with that coat was joseph's own brothers. almost since ever i left the north of england--a small boy--and began to herd cattle on the border hills, i've had a strange wish to be a learned man, and ever since i took to small farmin', and perceived that such was not to be my lot in life, i've had a powerful desire to see my eldest son--that's you, dear boy--trained in scientific pursoots, all the more that you seemed to have a natural thirst that way yourself. your mother, good soul, in her own broad tongue--which i've picked up somethin' of myself through livin' twenty year with her--was used to say she `wad raither see her laddie trained in ways o' wisdom than o' book-learnin',' which i'm agreed to myself, though it seems to me the two are more or less mixed up. howsomever, it's all up now, my boy; you'll have to fight your own battle and pay your own way, for i've not got one shillin' to rub on another, except what'll pay the rent; and, what with the grey mare breakin' her leg an' the turnips failin', the look-out ahead is darkish at the best." the letter finished with some good advice and a blessing. to be left thus without resources, just when the golden gates of knowledge were opening, and a few dazzling gleams of the glory had pierced his soul, was a crushing blow to the poor student. if he had been a true philosopher, he would have sought counsel on his knees, but his philosophy was limited; he only took counsel with himself and the immediate results were disastrous. "yes," said he, with an impulsive gush, "i'll go to sea." "don't," said his quiet friend. but, regardless of this advice, edwin jack smote the table with his clenched fist so violently that his pen leapt out of its ink-bottle and wrote its own signature on one of his books. he rose in haste and rang the bell. "mrs niven," he said to his landlady, "let me know how much i owe you. i'm about to leave town--and--and won't return." "ech! maister jack; what for?" exclaimed the astonished landlady. "because i'm a beggar," replied the youth, with a bitter smile, "and i mean to go to sea." "hoots! maister jack, ye're jokin'." "indeed i am very far from joking, mrs niven; i have no money, and no source of income. as i don't suppose you would give me board and lodging for nothing, i mean to leave." "toots! ye're haverin'," persisted mrs niven, who was wont to treat her "young men" with motherly familiarity. "tak' time to think o't, an' ye'll be in anither mind the morn's mornin'. nae doot ye're--" "now, my good woman," interrupted jack, firmly but kindly, "don't bother me with objections or advice, but do what i bid you--there's a good soul; be off." mrs niven saw that she had no chance of impressing her lodger in his present mood; she therefore retired, while jack put on a rough pilot-cloth coat and round straw hat in which he was wont at times to go boating. thus clad, he went off to the docks of the city in which he dwelt; the name of which city it is not important that the reader should know. in a humble abode near the said docks a bulky sea-captain lay stretched in his hammock, growling. the prevailing odours of the neighbourhood were tar, oil, fish, and marine-stores. the sea-captain's room partook largely of the same odours, and was crowded with more than an average share of the stores. it was a particularly small room, with charts, telescopes, speaking-trumpets, log-lines, sextants, portraits of ships, sou'-westers, oil-cloth coats and leggings on the walls; model ships suspended from the beams overhead; sea-boots, coils of rope, kegs, and handspikes on the floor; and great shells, earthenware ornaments, pagodas, and chinese idols on the mantel-piece. in one corner stood a child's crib. the hammock swung across the room like a heavy cloud about to descend and overwhelm the whole. this simile was further borne out by the dense volumes of tobacco smoke in which the captain enveloped himself, and through which his red visage loomed over the edge of the hammock like a lurid setting sun. for a few minutes the clouds continued to multiply and thicken. no sound broke the calm that prevailed, save a stertorous breathing, with an occasional hitch in it. suddenly there was a convulsion in the clouds, and one of the hitches developed into a tremendous cough. there was something almost awe-inspiring in the cough. the captain was a huge and rugged man. his cough was a terrible compound of a choke, a gasp, a rend, and a roar. only lungs of sole-leather could have weathered it. each paroxysm suggested the idea that the man's vitals were being torn asunder; but not content with that, the exasperated mariner made matters worse by keeping up a continual growl of indignant remonstrance in a thunderous undertone. "hah! that _was_ a splitter. a few more hug--sh! ha! like that will burst the biler entirety. polly--hallo!" the lurid sun appeared to listen for a moment, then opening its mouth it shouted, "polly--ahoy!" as if it were hailing the maintop of a seventy-four. immediately there was a slight movement in one corner of the room, and straightway from out a mass of marine-stores there emerged a fairy! at least, the little girl, of twelve or thereabouts, who suddenly appeared, with rich brown tumbling hair, pretty blue eyes, faultless figure, and ineffable sweetness in every lineament of her little face, might easily have passed for a fairy or an angel. "what! caught you napping?" growled the captain in the midst of a paroxysm. "only a minute, father; i couldn't help it," replied polly, with a little laugh, as she ran to the fireplace and took up a saucepan that simmered there. "here, look alive! shove along! hand it up! i'm chokin'!" the child held the saucepan as high as she could towards the hammock. the captain, reaching down one of his great arms, caught it and took a steaming draught. it seemed to relieve him greatly. "you're a trump for gruel, polly," he growled, returning the saucepan. "now then, up with the pyramid, and give us a nor'-wester." the child returned the saucepan to the fireplace, and then actively placed a chair nearly underneath the hammock. upon the chair she set a stool, and on the top she perched herself. thus she was enabled to grasp the lurid sun by two enormous whiskers, and, putting her lips out, gave it a charming "nor'-wester," which was returned with hyperborean violence. immediately after, polly ducked her head, and thus escaped being blown away, like a hindoo mutineer from a cannon's mouth, as the captain went off in another fit. "oh! father," said polly, quite solemnly, as she descended and looked up from a comparatively safe distance, "isn't it awful?" "yes, poll, it's about the wust 'un i've had since i came from barbadoes; but the last panful has mollified it, i think, and your nor'-wester has pollyfied it, so, turn into your bunk, old girl, an' take a nap. you've much need of it, poor thing." "no, father, if i get into my crib i'll sleep so heavy that you won't be able to wake me. i'll just lie down where i was before." "well, well--among the rubbish if ye prefer it; no matter s'long as you have a snooze," growled the captain as he turned over, while the fairy disappeared into the dark recess from which she had risen. just then a tap was heard at the door. "come in," roared the captain. a tall, broad-shouldered, nautical-looking man entered, took off his hat, and stood before the hammock, whence the captain gave him a stern, searching glance, and opened fire on him with his pipe. "forgive me if i intrude, captain samson," said the stranger; "i know you, although you don't know me. you start to-morrow or next day, i understand, for melbourne?" "wind and weather permittin'," growled the captain. "well, what then?" "have you completed your crew?" asked the stranger. "nearly. what then?" replied the captain with a touch of ferocity, for he felt sensations of an approaching paroxysm. "will you engage _me_?" asked philosopher jack, for it was he. "in what capacity?" demanded the captain somewhat sarcastically. "as an ordinary seaman--or a boy if you will," replied edwin, with a smile. "no," growled samson, decisively, "i won't engage you; men with kid gloves and white hands don't suit me." from the mere force of habit the young student had pulled on his gloves on leaving his lodging, and had only removed that of the right hand on entering the captain's dwelling. he now inserted a finger at the wrist of the left-hand glove, ripped it off, and flung it with its fellow under the grate. thereafter he gathered some ashes and soot from the fireplace, with which he put his hands on a footing with those of a coal-heaver. "will you take me now, captain?" he said, returning to the hammock, and spreading out his hands. the captain gave vent to a short laugh, which brought on a tremendous fit, at the conclusion of which he gasped, "yes, my lad, p'r'aps i will; but first i must know something about you." "certainly," said the philosopher, and at once gave the captain a brief outline of his circumstances. "well, you know your own affairs best" said captain samson when he had finished; "i'm no judge of such a case, but as you're willin' to ship, i'm willin' to ship you. come here before ten to-morrow. good night. there, it's a-comin'--hash--k--!" in the midst of another furious paroxysm edwin jack retired. not long after, the captain raised himself on one elbow, listened intently for a few seconds, and, having satisfied himself that polly was asleep, slipped from his hammock--as only seamen know how--and proceeded to dress with the utmost caution. he was evidently afraid of the little sleeper among the rubbish. it was quite interesting to observe the quiet speed with which he thrust his great limbs into his ample garments, gazing anxiously all the time at polly's corner. issuing from his own door with the step of an elephantine mouse, the captain went rapidly through several streets to the house of an intimate friend, whom he found at supper with his wife and family. "evenin', bailie trench; how are 'ee, mrs t? how's everybody?" said the captain, in a hearty rasping voice, as he shook hands right and left, while one of his huge legs was taken possession of, and embraced, by the bailie's only daughter, a pretty little girl of six. "why, samson," exclaimed the bailie, after quiet had been restored, and his friend had been thrust into a chair with little susan on his knee, "i thought you were laid up with influenza--eh?" "so i was, bailie, an' so i am," replied the captain; "leastwise i'm still on the sick-list, and was in my hammock till about half an hour ago, but i'm gettin' round fast. the night air seems to do me a world o' good--contrariwise to doctor's expectations." "have some supper?" said mrs trench, who was a weakish lady with watery eyes. "no supper, mrs t, thank 'ee; the fact is, i've come on business. i should be on my beam-ends by rights. i'm absent without leave, an' have only a few minutes to spare. the passenger i spoke of has changed his mind and his berth is free, so i'm glad to be able to take your son ben after all. but he'll have to get ready quick, for the _lively poll_ sails the day after to-morrow or next day--all bein' well." the eyes of young benjamin trench sparkled. he was a tall, thin, rather quiet lad of eighteen. "i can be ready to-night if you wish it, captain samson," he said, with a flush on his usually pale face. beside mrs trench there sat a sturdy little boy. he was the bosom friend of ben--a bright ruddy fellow of fourteen, overflowing with animal spirits, and with energy enough for three lads of his size. this youth's countenance fell so visibly when ben spoke of going away, that mrs trench could not help noticing it. "why, what's the matter, wilkins?" she asked. "oh, nothing!" returned the boy, "only i don't like to hear ben speak of leaving us all and going to australia. and i would give all the world to go with him. won't you take me as a cabin boy, captain samson?" "sorry i can't, lad," said the captain, with a grin, "got a cabin boy already." "besides, your father would not let you," said mrs trench, "and it would never do to go without his leave. only misfortune could come of that." "humph! it's very hard," pouted the boy. "i wanted him to get me into the navy, and he wouldn't; and now i want him to get me into the merchant service, and he won't. but i'll go in spite of him." "no, you won't, watty," said ben, laying his hand on his friend's shoulder. "yes, ben, i will," returned little wilkins, with such an air of determination that every one except ben laughed. "now, bailie," said the captain, rising, "i'm off. the truth is, i wouldn't have come if it had not been important to let you know at once to get your boy ready; but i had no one to send except polly, and i wouldn't send her out at night by herself for all the wealth of indy. moreover, _she_ wouldn't have let me out to-night for any consideration whatever. she's very strict with me, is my little keeper. i wouldn't for the world she should wake and find me gone. so, good-night all." ten minutes more, and the guilty man entered his dwelling on tiptoe. in order to get into his hammock with extreme caution he forsook his ancient method of a spring, and mounted on an empty cask. the cask was not equal to the emergency. he went through the head of it with a hideous crash! spurning it from him, he had just time to plunge into his place of repose and haul the clothes over him, when polly emerged from her lair with wondering eyes. "what ever was that, father?" "nothin', my dear, nothin' in partickler--only a cask i kicked over. now, then, poll, since you're keepin' me awake in this fashion, it's your dooty to soothe me with an extra panful, and another nor'-wester-so, up wi' the pyramid; and after you've done it you must turn into your crib. i'll not want you again to-night; the cough's much better. there--thank 'ee. pollyfy me now--that's right. good-night." oh, base mariner! little did you merit such a pleasant termination to your evening's work; but you are not the only wicked man in this world who receives more than he deserves. two days after the incidents just related a noble ship spread her canvas to a favouring breeze, and bowing farewell to her port of departure, commenced the long long voyage to the antipodes. she was not a passenger ship, but a trader; nevertheless there were a few passengers on her quarter-deck, and among these towered the colossal figure of captain samson. beside him, holding his hand, stood a fairy-like little creature with brown curls and pretty blue eyes. not far from her, leaning over the bulwarks, benjamin trench frantically waved a handkerchief and wiped his eyes. the signal was responded to, with equal feeling, by the bailie, his wife, and little susan. a good number of people, young and old, assembled at the pier-head, among whom many waved handkerchiefs, and hands, and scarfs, and hats to the crew. among the sailors who gazed wistfully towards the pier was one who made no farewell signal, and received no parting wave. philosopher jack had concealed his intention of going to sea from all his college chums, and a bitter feeling of loneliness oppressed his heart as he thought of his old father and mother, and the lowly cottage on the border hills. he had not, indeed, acted in direct opposition to the wishes of his parents, but he had disobeyed the well-known scripture command to do them "honour," for he had resolved on his course of action without consulting them, or asking their advice. he felt that he had very selfishly forsaken them in their old age; in the hour of their sore distress, and at a time when they stood woefully in need of his strong muscles, buoyant spirit, and energetic brain. in short, edwin jack began to feel that he required all his philosophy, and something more, to enable him to face the future with the unflinching courage of a man. so the ship moved slowly on, revealing on her stern the "_lively poll_" in letters of burnished gold--past the pier-head, down the broad river, out upon the widening firth, beyond lighthouse, buoy, and beacon, until at last the fresh atlantic breezes filled her snowy sails. and ever as she rose and sank upon the rolling waves, their swish and thud fell strangely on the ear of one who lay deep down in the recesses of the hull, where--among barrels of pork, and casks of tar, and cans of oil, and coils of rope, and other unsavoury stores--he consorted with rats and mice and an uneasy conscience, in thick darkness. this was a "stowaway." he was a sturdy, bright, ruddy little fellow of fourteen. down in that unwholesome place, with a few ship-biscuits and a bottle of water to keep him alive, he would have looked like a doubled-up overgrown hedgehog if there had been light enough to reveal him. thus, with its little world of hopes and fears, its cares and pleasures, and its brave, trembling, trusting, sorrowing, joyful, anxious, reckless hearts, the good ship passed from the shores of britain, until her sails quivered like a petrel's wings on the horizon, and then vanished into the boundless bosom of the mighty sea. chapter two. tells of a ghost and an overwhelming disaster. it may seem strange, nevertheless it is true, that ignorance is a misfortune which now and then results in good. of course we do not make this remark in commendation of ignorance, but if baldwin burr had not been ignorant and densely stupid, philosopher jack would not have had the pleasure of instructing him, and the seaman himself would not have enjoyed that close intimacy which frequently subsists between teacher and pupil. even polly samson derived benefit from baldwin's want of knowledge, for, being remarkably intelligent for her years, and having been well taught, she took great pleasure in enlightening his darkness. "how is it," she asked one day, while sitting on the cabin skylight and looking up in the man's rugged countenance, "how is it that you are so stupid?" burr, who was steering, gave the wheel a turn, looked up at the mast-head, then round the horizon, then down at his questioner with a bland smile, and said-"well now, miss polly, d'ee know, that's wot i can't exactly tell. p'r'aps it's 'cause of a nat'ral want of brains, or, maybe, 'cause the brains is too much imbedded in fat--for i'm a fleshy man, as you see-or, p'r'aps it's 'cause i never went to school, my parients bein' poor, uncommon poor, though remarkably honest. i've sometimes thought, w'en meditatin' on the subject, that my havin' bin born of a friday may have had somethin' to do with it." "oh, baldwin," said polly with a little laugh, "surely you can't believe that. father says it's all nonsense about friday being an unlucky day." "p'r'aps it is, an' p'r'aps it ain't," returned the cautious seaman. "i regard your father, my dear, as a deeply learned man, and would give in, if i could, to wotever he says, but facts is facts, and opinions is opinions, you can't change that, nohow you fix it. wot's the cap'n's opinions, now, as to ghosts?" "he don't believe in 'em at all," was polly's prompt answer. "no more do i, for father knows everything, and he's always right." "he's a lucky man to have you, polly, and there's a lucky boy knockin' about the world somewheres lookin' out for you. a good daughter, it's said, inwariably makes a good wife; which you don't understand just now, but you'll come to in course of time. hows'ever, as i wos observin', i've been of the same opinion as your father till two nights ago, when i heard a ghost right under the deck, it seemed to me, blow my hammock, where there's nothin' but ship's stores and rats." "heard a ghost!" exclaimed polly, with opening eyes. "ay, an' seed 'im too," said burr. "night before yesterday i heer'd 'im as plain as i hear myself. he wos groanin', an' it's quite impossible that a tar-barrel, or a cask, or a rat, could groan. the only thing that puzzled me wos that he seemed to snore; more than that he sneezed once or twice. now, i never heard it said that a ghost could sleep or catch cold. did you, polly?" polly laughed and said that she never did, and asked eagerly what the ghost was like. "it was wery much like an or'nary man of small size," said the seaman, "but it were too dark to make out its face. i know the figure of every soul in the ship by this time, an' i could swear before a maginstrate, or a bench of bishops, that the ghost is neither one of the crew nor a passenger." "why didn't you speak to it?" asked polly. "so i did speak to it, but it wouldn't answer; then i made a grab at it, but it was as active as a kitten, dodged round the mainmast, flew for'ed on inwisible wings, and went slap down the fore-scuttle, head first, with a crash that would have broke the neck of anything but a ghost." at this interesting point the conversation was interrupted by edwin jack, whose turn it was to relieve the man at the wheel. he nodded to polly as he came up, took his post, and received the ship's "course" from burr, who thrust his hands into his pockets, and left the quarter-deck. edwin was by this time a considerably changed man, although but a few days at sea. the rough blue trousers, guernsey, and pea-jacket, took as naturally to his strong limbs as if he had been born and bred a sailor; and already some huge blisters, a few scars, and not a little tar, had rendered his hands creditable. steering at the time was a mere matter of form, as a dead calm prevailed. our philosopher therefore amused himself and polly with commentaries on the ghost-subject which burr had raised. late that night, when the stars were shining in a cloudless sky, and winking at their reflections in the glassy ocean, the ghost appeared to edwin jack. it was on this wise: jack, being one of the watch on deck, went to the port bulwarks near the foremast shrouds, leant over, and, gazing down into the reflected sky, thought sadly of past, present, and future. tiring at last of his meditations, he went towards a man who appeared to be skulking under the shadow of the long-boat and remarked that it was a fine night, but the man made no reply. "a most enjoyable night, shipmate," he said, going closer. "i'm glad you think so," said the ghost, "it's anything but enjoyable to _me_. the state of the weather hasn't much effect, either one way or another, on a fellow who is half-dead with hunger, half-choked with a cold caught among the rats and stores, and half-killed by a tumble down the fore-scuttle, or whatever may be the name of that vile ladder that leads to the regions below." "surely," exclaimed jack in surprise, seizing the ghost by the shoulders and looking close into its face, "i have heard your voice before now, and, eh?--no, i don't know you." "yes, philosopher jack, you do know me," returned the ghost; "i've had the honour of playing cricket with you on the green, though you've forgotten me, and no wonder, for i've suffered much from bad air and sea-sickness of late. my name is walter, more familiarly watty wilkins." "little wilkins!" exclaimed jack, in surprise, "well, you _are_ changed; you don't mean to say that you've run away from home?" "that's just what i've done," said the poor lad in a tone of despondency; "but you've no occasion to shake your head at me so solemnly, for, to all appearance, you have run away too." "no, wilkins, you are wrong, i have walked away, being my own master, and i have done it openly, though i admit somewhat hastily--" jack was interrupted at that moment by ben trench laying a hand on his shoulder. "it strikes me," he said, in some surprise, "that i recognise the voice of a townsman--mister jack, if i mistake not?" "no, sir," replied the philosopher, "not _mister_, only edwin jack, seaman aboard the _lively poll_. you are right, however, in styling me townsman. allow me to introduce you to another townsman, mr watty wilkins, stowaway on board of the same vessel!" trench had not, in the darkness, recognised his friend. he now seized him by both shoulders, and peering into his face, said-"o watty, watty, have you really done it? i had thought better of you." "i _said_ i would do it, and i've _done_ it," returned the little youth somewhat testily; "and now i want to know what is to be done next." "report yourself and take the consequences," said jack, promptly. this advice being seconded by ben trench, watty wilkins went aft to the captain, who had just come on deck, touched his cap, and confessed himself. for some moments the captain spoke not a word, but looked at the young culprit with a portentous frown. then, uttering something like a deep bass growl, he ordered the lad to follow him into his private cabin. when there, captain samson seated himself on a locker, and with a hand on each knee, glared at his prisoner so long and so fiercely from under his shaggy brows, that watty, in spite of his recklessness, began to feel uneasy. "so, youngster, you've run away?" he said at length, in deep solemnity. "yes, sir," replied wilkins. "and you think yourself a fine clever fellow, no doubt?" "no, sir, i don't," said watty, with much humility. "i knew your father, boy," continued the captain, assuming a softer and more serious tone, "and i think he is a good man." "he is, sir," returned the boy promptly. "ay, and he is a kind man; he has been kind to _you_, i think." watty hung his head. "he has fed you, clothed you, educated you since you was a babby; nursed you, maybe, in sickness, and prayed for you, no doubt that god would make you a good, obedient and loving son." the boy's head drooped still lower. "and for all this," continued the captain, "you have repaid him by running away. now, my lad, as you have made your bed you shall lie on it. i'll clap your nose to the grindstone, and keep it there. steward!" a smart little man answered to the call. "take this boy for'ed, and teach him to clean up. don't spare him." in obedience to this order the steward took little wilkins forward and introduced him to the cook, who introduced him to the coppers and scrubbing brushes. from that day forward master watty became deeply versed in the dirty work and hard work of the ship, so that all the romance of a sea life was driven out of him, and its stern realities were implanted. in less than three weeks there was not a cup, saucer, or plate in the ship that watty had not washed; not a "brass" that he had not polished and re-polished; not a copper that he had not scraped; not an inch of the deck that he had not swabbed. but it must not be supposed that he groaned under this labour. although reckless, hasty, and inconsiderate, he was not mean-spirited. making up his mind to do his best in the circumstances, he went cheerfully to his dirty work, and did it well. "you see," said he to philosopher jack, as they chanced one dark night to have a few minutes' talk together near the weather gangway, where watty paused on his way to the caboose with a soup-tureen, "as the captain says, i've made the bed myself, so i must lie on it and i'm resolved to lie straight, and not kick." "right, watty, right," said jack, with a sigh; "we have both been fools, so must grin and bear it." watty greeted this remark, to jack's surprise, with a sudden and unexpected yell, as he received a cut from a rope's-end over the back. "what, idling, eh?" cried the steward, flourishing the rope's-end again. in a burst of rage the poor boy raised the soup-tureen, and would infallibly have shattered it on the man's head if jack had not caught his arm. "come, wilkins, mind what you're about," he said, pushing him towards the forepart of the ship to prevent a scuffle. a moment's reflection sufficed to convince wilkins of the folly, as well as uselessness, of rebellion. pocketing his pride and burning with indignation, he walked forward, while the tyrannical steward went grumbling to his own private den. it chanced that night that the captain, ignorant of what had occurred, sent for the unfortunate stowaway, for the mitigation of whose sorrows his friend ben trench had, more than once, pleaded earnestly, but in vain. the captain invariably replied that watty had acted ungratefully and rebelliously to a kind father, and it was his duty to let him bear the full punishment of his conduct. watty was still smarting from the rope's-end when he entered the cabin. "youngster," said the captain, sternly, "i sent for you to tell you of a fact that came to my knowledge just before we left port. your father told me that, being unwilling to disappoint you in your desires, he had managed to get a situation of some sort for you on board a well-known line of ocean steamers, and he only waited to get the thing fairly settled before letting you know about it. there, you may go for'ed and think what you have lost by running away." without a word of reply watty left the cabin. his day's work had just been completed. he turned into his hammock, and, laying his head on his pillow, quietly wept himself to sleep. "ain't you rather hard on the poor boy, father?" said polly, who had witnessed the interview. "not so hard as you think, little woman," answered the captain, stroking the child's head with his great hand; "that little rascal has committed a great sin. he has set out on the tracks of the prodigal son you've often read about, an' he's not sufficiently impressed with his guilt. when i get him into a proper frame o' mind i'll not be so hard on him. now, polly, go putt your doll to bed, and don't criticise your father." polly seized the huge whiskers of her sire, and giving him an unsolicited "nor'-wester," which was duly returned, went off to her little cot. we do not mean to trouble the reader with all the incidents of a prolonged voyage to southern latitudes, during which philosopher jack formed a strong friendship with ben trench and watty wilkins; continued his instruction of the amiable and unfathomable baldwin burr, and became a general favourite with the crew of the _lively poll_. suffice it to say that all went well, and the good ship sailed along under favouring breezes without mishap of any kind until she reached that great ocean whose unknown waters circle round the southern pole. here, however, good fortune forsook them, and contrary-gales baffling the _lively poll_ drove her out of her course, while tumbling billows buffeted her severely. one night a dead calm prevailed. the air became hot, clouds rose rapidly over the sky, and the barometer--that faithful friend of the mariner--fell unusually low. "how dreadfully dark it is getting," said polly, in a low, half-frightened tone to baldwin burr, who was at the wheel. "we're going to have a night of it, my dear," replied the seaman. if he had said that the winds and waves were going to "have a night of it" baldwin burr would have been more strictly correct. he had scarcely uttered the words when the captain gave orders to close-reef the top-sails. our philosopher, springing aloft with his comrades, was out on the top-sail yard in a few seconds. scarcely had the sails been reefed when the gale burst upon the ship, and almost laid her flat upon the foaming sea. at first the very violence of the wind kept the waves down, but they gradually rose until the ship was tossed on their crests and engulfed in their hollows like a cork. as the force of the gale increased sail was further reduced, until nothing but a mere rag was left and even this at last was split and blown to ribbons. inky clouds soon obscured the sky, and, as night descended on the wild scene, the darkness became so intense that nothing could be seen except the pale gleam of foaming billows as they flashed past over the bulwarks. in the midst of the turmoil there came a blinding flash of lightning, followed instantly by a terrible crash of thunder. this was succeeded by a sound of rending which was not the result of elemental strife. "foremast gone, sir," cried one of the men, staggering aft. seizing an axe, the captain sprang forward. edwin jack followed. they found the ship's-carpenter already at work cutting the shrouds and other ropes that held the wreck of the mast. as flashes of lightning followed in quick succession they revealed a scene of ruin on the forepart of the vessel, with the tall figure of edwin as he stood on the bulwarks wielding an axe. at last the wreck was cleared, but the seas were now bursting over the decks and sweeping away everything not made fast. among other things the long-boat was carried away, and ere long all the other boats were torn from their fastenings or destroyed. it was a fearful night. even the most reckless among the sailors were overawed by such a display of the terrors of god. at such times scoffers are wont to become tremblers, and those who "trust in god" find him "a very present help in trouble." the gale was as short-lived as it was fierce. by the dawn of the following day it had abated considerably, and it was found that less damage had been done to the ship than might have been expected. "we're all right, polly, thank god!" said the captain, earnestly, when he ventured to open the companion hatch and go below. "you prayed for us, dear, didn't you?" "yes, father, i did; i prayed that our lives might be spared, if he pleased." "well, polly, our prayers have been answered," said the captain; "our lives are spared and the ship is safe, though we've lost the foremast and the boats. however, that can be putt to rights; we'll rig up a jury-mast and get on famously, so keep up your heart, old girl, and give us a nor'--. there, you'd better stay below yet awhile; it's dirty on deck." the weather was not long of improving. a profound calm followed the storm. bright sunshine banished the thunder-clouds. the contrast between the dangers just past and the peaceful condition that prevailed had the effect of raising the spirits of all on board the _lively poll_ to an unusual height, so that snatches of song, whistling, and cheery remarks, were heard on all sides among the busy crew as they rigged up a new mast, bent on new sails, and repaired the various damages. when night put a stop to their labours, and every one sought repose, except the watch and the captain and the man at the wheel, the same peaceful calm continued. only the long undulating swell of ocean remained to tell of the recent storm, while the glassy surface reflected a universe of stars. it was at this time of profound repose and fancied security that the death-knell of the _lively poll_ was sounded. in the southern seas there is a little creature, named the coral insect (of which we shall have more to say hereafter), which is ever at work building walls and ramparts on the bottom of the sea. these rise by degrees to the surface,--rise above it--and finally become some of the fairest isles of the pacific. charts tell of the isles, but no charts can tell the locality of coral reefs which have just, or barely, reached the surface. the _lively poll_ was forging slowly ahead under a puff of air that only bulged her top-sails as she rose and sank on the majestic swell. presently she rose high, and was then let down on a coral reef with such violence that the jury-mast with the main-topmast and all the connected rigging, went over the side. another swell lifted her off, and flung her on the ocean's breast a total wreck. the scene that followed may be imagined. whatever could be done by an able and active seaman in such an emergency was done by captain samson. water was rushing in through the shattered hull. to pass a sail under the ship's bottom and check this was the first act. then the pumps were rigged and worked by all on board. besides ben trench there were three gentlemen passengers. these took their turn with the rest, but all was of no avail. the ship was sinking. the utmost efforts of those whose lives seemed dependent on her only delayed the final catastrophe. "there is no hope," said the captain in a low tone to his chief mate, to whom he gave some rapid orders, and went below. it was daybreak, and the first gleam of light that leaped over the glassy sea tinged the golden curls of polly samson as she lay sleeping on one of the cabin sofas. she awoke and started up. "lie still, darling, and rest as long as you may," said the captain in a low tender voice, "and pray, polly, pray for us again. god is able to save to the uttermost, my pet." he said this without pausing, as he went to his berth and brought out a sextant, with which he returned on deck. standing near the foot of the companion-ladder, watty wilkins had heard the words, "there is no hope," and the few sentences addressed to the child. his impressionable spirit leapt to the conclusion that the fate of all on board was sealed. he knew that the boats had all been swept away, and a feeling of profound despair seized him. this was quickly followed by contrition for his past conduct and pity for his father, under the impulse of which he sat down in a corner of the steward's pantry and groaned aloud. then he wrote a few lines in pencil on a piece of paper, bidding farewell to his father. often had he read of such messages from the sea being wafted ashore in bottles, but little did he expect ever to have occasion to write one. he had just put the paper in a bottle, corked it up, and dropped it out of one of the cabin windows, when he was summoned on deck, and found that a raft was being hastily prepared alongside. already some casks of biscuits and water had been lowered on it, while the carpenter and several men were busily at work increasing its size and binding it together with iron clamps, hawsers, and chains. there was urgent need for haste, as the ship was fast settling down. "now then, my lads, look alive!" cried the captain, as he lifted his little daughter over the side. "the ship can't float much longer. here, jack, catch hold." edwin sprang to the side of the raft, and, standing up, received polly in his arms. "take care of her! hold her tight!" cried the anxious father. "trust me," said philosopher jack. the child was placed on the highest part of the raft with the passengers, and partially covered with a shawl. the crew were then ordered to leave the ship. having seen every one out of it captain samson descended and gave the order to shove off. this was quickly done, and the distance was slowly increased by means of two large oars. the huge mass of spars and planks moved gradually away from the doomed vessel, whose deck was by that time little above the level of the sea. they had not got more than a few hundred yards off, when baldwin burr, who pulled one of the oars, uttered an exclamation. edwin jack and ben trench, who knelt close to him fastening a rope, looked up and saw the captain standing on the high part of the raft near polly and little wilkins, waving his right hand. he was bidding farewell to the old ship, which suddenly went down with a heavy roll. another moment, and only a few ripples remained to mark the spot where the _lively poll_ had found an ocean tomb. chapter three. adrift on the great ocean. sunshine gladdens the heart of man and causes him more or less to forget his sorrows. the day on which the _lively poll_ went down was bright and warm, as well as calm, so that some of those who were cast away on the raft--after the first shock had passed, and while busily employed in binding the spars and making other needful arrangements--began to feel sensations approaching almost to hilarity. polly samson, in particular, being of a romantic turn of mind, soon dried her eyes, and when called on to assist in the construction of a little place of shelter for herself on the centre of the raft, by means of boxes and sails, she began to think that the life of a castaway might not be so disagreeable after all. when this shelter or hut was completed, and she sat in it with her father taking luncheon, she told him in confidence that she thought rafting was "very nice." "glad you find it so, polly," replied the captain with a sad smile. "of course, you know," she continued, with great seriousness of look and tone, "i don't think it's nice that our ship is lost. i'm very very sorry--oh, you can't think how sorry!--for that, but this is such a funny little cabin, you know, and so snug, and the weather is _so_ fine; do you think it will last long, father?" "i hope it may; god grant that it may, darling, but we can't be sure. if it does last, i daresay we shall manage to reach one of the islands, of which there are plenty in the southern seas, but--" a roar of laughter from the men arrested and surprised the captain. he raised the flap of sail which served as a door to the hut--polly's bower, as the men styled it--and saw one of the passengers dragged from a hole or space between the spars of the raft, into which he had slipped up to the waist. mr luke, the passenger referred to, was considered a weak man, mind and body,--a sort of human nonentity, a harmless creature, with long legs and narrow shoulders. he took his cold bath with philosophic coolness, and acknowledged the laughter of the men with a bland smile. regardless of his drenched condition, he sat down on a small keg and joined the crew at the meal of cold provisions which served that day for dinner. "lucky for us," said one of the sailors, making play with his clasp-knife on a junk of salt pork, "that we've got such a fine day to begin with." "that's true, bob," said another; "a raft ain't much of a sea-goin' craft. if it had blowed hard when we shoved off from the ship we might ha' bin tore to bits before we was well fixed together, but we've had time to make all taut now, and can stand a stiffish breeze. shove along the breadbasket, mate." "you've had your allowance, bob; mind, we're on short commons now," said baldwin burr, who superintended the distribution of provisions, and served out a measured quantity to every man. "there's your grog for you." bob corkey growled a little as he wiped his knife on his leg, and accepted the allowance of "grog," which, however, was only pure water. "are you sure the raft can stand a storm?" inquired watty wilkins of philosopher jack, who sat eating his poor meal beside him. "sure?" responded jack, "we can be sure of nothing in this life." "except trouble," growled corkey. "oh yes, you can be sure of more than that," said baldwin burr; "you can always be sure of folly coming out of a fool's mouth." "come, come, baldwin, be civil," said philosopher jack; "it's cowardly, you know, to insult a man when you can't fight him." "can't fight him?" repeated burr with a grin; "who said i couldn't fight him, eh? why, i'm ready to fight him now, right off." "nevertheless, you can't," persisted the philosopher; "how could two men fight on a raft where there's not room for a fair stand-up scrimmage between two rats? come now, don't argue, burr, but answer little wilkins's question if you can." "stowaways don't desarve to have their questions answered," said corkey; "in fact, they don't desarve to live. if i had my way, i'd kill little wilkins and salt him down to be ready for us when the pork and biscuit fail." "well, now, as to the safety of this here raft in a gale, small wilkins," said baldwin, regardless of corkey's interruption, "that depends summat on the natur' o' the gale. if it was only a half-gale we'd weather it all right, i make no doubt; but, if it should come to blow hard, d'ee see, we have no occasion to kill and eat you, as we'd all be killed together and eaten by the sharks." "sharks!" exclaimed mr luke, whose damp garments were steaming under the powerful sun like a boiler on washing-day; "are there sharks here?" "ay," said corkey, pointing to the sea astern, where the glassy surface was broken and rippled by a sharp angular object, "that's a shark a-follerin' of us now, leastwise the back fin of one. if you don't believe it, jump overboard and you'll soon be convinced." this reference to the shark was overheard by polly, who came out of her bower to see it. the monster of the deep came close up at that moment, as if to gratify the child, and, turning on its back, according to shark habit when about to seize any object, thrust its nose out of the water. for one moment its double row of teeth were exposed to view, then they closed on a lump of pork that had been accidentally knocked overboard by corkey. "is that the way you take care of our provisions?" said the captain, sternly, to baldwin. "we've got a big hook, sir," said edwin jack, touching his cap; "shall we try to recover the pork?" "you may try," returned the captain. little wilkins uttered something like a war-whoop as he leaped up and assisted jack to get out the shark-hook. it was soon baited with another piece of pork. ben trench, who had a strong leaning to natural history, became very eager; and the men generally, being ever ready for sport, looked on with interest and prepared to lend a hand. the shark, however, was cautious. it did indeed rush at the bait, and seemed about to swallow it, but suddenly changed its mind, swam round it once or twice, then fell slowly astern, and finally disappeared. although the fish was not caught, this little incident served to raise the spirits of every one, and as the calm sunny weather lasted the whole day, even the most thoughtful of the party found it difficult to realise their forlorn condition; but when evening drew near, the aspect of things quickly changed. the splendid ocean-mirror, which had reflected the golden crags and slopes, the towers and battlements of cloud-land, was shivered by a sudden breeze and became an opaque grey; the fair blue sky deepened to indigo; black and gathering clouds rose out of the horizon, and cold white crests gleamed on the darkening waves. the men gathered in anxious groups, and polly sat in the entrance of her bower gazing on the gloomy scene, until her young heart sank slowly but steadily. then, remembering her father's advice, she betook herself to god in prayer. young though she was, polly was no sentimentalist in religion. she believed with all her heart in jesus christ as a living, loving saviour. her faith was very simple, and founded on experience. she had prayed, and had been answered. she had sought jesus in sorrow, and had been comforted. the theologian can give the why and how and wherefore of this happy condition, but in practice he can arrive at it only by the same short road. one result of her prayer was that she went to sleep that night in perfect peace, while most of her companions in misfortune sat anxiously watching what appeared to be a gathering storm. before going to rest however, polly had an earnest little talk with her father. "polly," said captain samson, sitting down under the shelter of the tarpaulin, and drawing the child's fair head on his breast, "i never spoke to you before on a subject that p'r'aps you won't understand, but i am forced to do it now. it's about money." "about money!" exclaimed polly in surprise; "oh, father, surely you forget! the very last night we spent on shore, you spoke to me about money; you gave me a half-sovereign, and said you meant to give a blow-out to old mrs brown before leaving, and told me to buy--stay, let me see--there was half a pound of tea, and four pounds of sugar, and three penn'orth of snuff, and--" "yes, yes, polly," interrupted the captain, with a smile, "but i meant about money in a business way, you know, because if you chanced, d'ee see, ever to be in england without me, you know,--it--" "but i'll never be there without you, father, will i?" asked the child with an earnest look. "of course not--that's to say, i _hope_ not--but you know, polly, that god arranges all the affairs of this world, and sometimes in his love and wisdom he sees fit to separate people--for a time, you know, _only_ for a time--so that they don't always keep together. now, my darling, if it should please him to send me cruising to--to--anywhere in a different direction from you, and you chanced ever to be in england alone--in scotland, that is--at your own home, you must go to bailie trench--you know him--our old friend and helper when we were in shoal water, my dear, and say to him that i handed all my savings over to mr wilkins--that's watty's father, poll--to be invested in the way he thought best. when you tell that to bailie trench he'll know what to do; he understands all about it. i might send you to mr wilkins direct but he's a very great man, d'ee see, and doesn't know you, and might refuse to give you the money." "to give me the money, father! but what should i do with the money when i got it?" "keep it, my darling." "oh! i see, keep it safe for you till you came back?" said polly. "just so, poll, you're a clever girl; keep it for me till i come back, or rather take it to bailie trench and he'll tell you how to keep it. it's a good pot o' money, poll, and has cost me the best part of a lifetime, workin' hard and spendin' little, to lay it by. once i used to think," continued the captain in a sad soliloquising tone, "that i'd live to cast anchor near the old spot, and spend it with your mother, polly, and you; but the lord willed it otherwise, and he does all things well, blessed be his name! now you understand what you're to do about the money, don't you, if you should ever find yourself without me in scotland, eh?" polly did not quite clearly understand, but after a little further explanation she professed herself to be quite prepared for the transaction of that important piece of financial business. poor captain samson sought thus to secure, to the best of his ability, that the small savings of his life should go to polly in the event of her being saved and himself lost. moreover, he revealed the state of his finances to philosopher jack, ben trench, and watty wilkins, whom he found grouped apart at a corner of the raft in earnest conversation, and begged of them, if they or any of them should survive, to see his daughter's interest attended to. "you see, my lads, although i would not for the world terrify the dear child uselessly, by telling her that we are in danger, it must be clear to you that if a gale springs up and our raft should be broken up, it's not likely that all of us would be saved. yet polly might escape, and some of you also. we are all in the lord's hands, however, and have nothing to fear if we are his followers." ah! that "if" went home. the captain did not lay stress on it; nevertheless stress was laid on it somehow, for the three youths found it recurring again and again to memory that night, though they did not speak of it to each other. as the night advanced, the threatening gale passed away; the stars came out in all their splendour, and the morning sun found the glassy sea again ready to reflect his image. thus they floated for several days in comparative peace and comfort. but it came at last. one evening a squall came rushing down on them, turning up the sea, and converting it to ink and foam as it approached. the rag of sail with which they had previously courted the breeze in vain was hastily taken in; the fastenings of everything were looked to. polly was placed in her canvas bower, and the whole structure of the raft was strengthened with a network of hawsers and cordage. when the squall struck them, the raft appeared to tremble. the seas broke clean over them, several articles not properly secured were swept off, and weak points in the main fastenings were made plain, as the spars, beams, and planks writhed and struggled to get free. but captain samson and his men were equal to the occasion; an iron clamp here, and an extra turn of a chain or hawser there, made all fast, so that before the squall had time to raise the sea, the raft held well together, and yielded, without breaking, to the motions of the waves. of course every one was drenched, including poor little polly, for although the tarpaulin turned off the waves and spray above, it could not prevent the water spirting up between the spars from below. but polly was, according to baldwin, "a true chip of the old block;" she bore her discomforts with heroism, and quite put to shame poor mr luke, whose nervous temperament caused him great suffering. thus was spent a night of anxiety. the next day was little better, and the night following was worse. in addition to the violence of the wind and constant breaking over them of heavy seas, the darkness became so intense that it was difficult to see where damage to the fastenings occurred, and repairs became almost impossible. about midnight there was a terrible rending of wood in that part of the raft lying farthest from polly's bower, and a great cry of fear was heard. the more courageous among the men sprang, by a natural impulse, to assist those in distress. it was found that a large portion of the raft had broken adrift, and was only held to it by a single rope. on this portion were two passengers and one of the crew. the former were apparently panic-stricken; the latter made frantic but futile attempts to haul in on the rope. "bear a hand, boys!" cried edwin jack, as he laid hold of the inner end of the rope. strong and willing hands were ready, but before they could lay hold the rope parted, and jack was dragged violently into the sea. he rose like a cork. little wilkins lay down, and stretched out a helping hand. jack caught it, and would infallibly have dragged the little fellow into the water if ben trench had not thrown himself on his legs and held on. baldwin burr seized hold of ben, and the captain coming up at the moment, lent his powerful aid. jack was saved, but the broken part of the raft, with its hapless occupants, was swept away and lost sight of. this sad event had naturally a very depressing effect on every one. true, the portion of the raft which had broken away was large enough to sustain the unfortunates who were on it. moreover, some of the provisions had also gone with them, so that there was hope of their holding out for a time and being picked up by a passing ship, but the hope was slight, and in the event of rougher weather, their fate would be certain. for six days and nights the raft was tossed about on the open sea. it could scarcely be said that it sailed, although as large a mast and piece of canvas as they could set up urged it slowly though the water when the wind was strong. as to steering, that was next to impossible, and in truth it did not matter much how they steered. constant exposure by night and by day now began to tell on the less robust of the crew. little polly, however, was not one of these. she possessed a naturally good constitution, and was, besides, specially cared for by her father, who devoted all the powers of an inventive mind to the strengthening and improving of "the bower." in this he was ably assisted by philosopher jack, whose love for the child deepened daily as he watched the sweet contented manner with which she received every drenching--and she got many--and the anxious way in which she inquired for, and sought to help, those of the party whose health began to fail. among these latter was ben trench. "ah! polly," said ben one sultry forenoon when she brought him a glass of sweetened lime-juice and water, "you're a kind little nurse. i really don't know how i should get on without you." "upon my word," said little wilkins, pouting, "you're a grateful fellow! here have i been nursing you all the morning, yet you seem to think nothing of that in comparison with polly's glass of lime-juice." "come, watty, don't be jealous," said ben; "it's not the glass of lime-juice, but polly's sympathetic face beaming behind it, that does me so much good. besides, you know, polly's a girl, and a girl is always a better nurse than a man; you must admit that." watty was not at all prepared to admit that, but his being spoken of as a man did much to mollify his hurt feelings. "but i do hope you feel better to-day," said polly, observing with some anxiety the short, half-breathless manner in which the invalid spoke. "oh yes! i feel better--that is to say, i think i do. sometimes i do, and sometimes i don't. you know, polly, i came on this voyage chiefly on account of my health, and of course i must expect to be a little damaged by so much exposure, though your good father has indeed done his best to shelter me. why, do you know, i sometimes think the berth he has made for me between the logs here is a greater triumph of his inventive genius than your bower. i often think they spoiled a splendid engineer when they made your father a sailor." polly laughed at this, and watty wilkins tried to laugh, just by way of keeping up his friend's spirits and being what baldwin called good company; but poor watty could not laugh. he had loved and played with ben trench since ever he could remember, and when he looked at his pale face and listened to his weak voice, a dread foreboding came over him, and brought such a rush of feeling to his heart that he was fain to leap up and spring to the farthest end of the raft, where he fell to hauling and tightening one of the rope-fastenings with all the energy of his little body and soul. "land ho!" shouted one of the men at that moment from the top of a cask, which formed the outlook, where, every day and all day, a man was stationed to watch for a sail or a sign of land. an electric shock could not have produced greater excitement than these two words. "where away?" exclaimed the captain, leaping up beside the look-out. "on the port-bow, sir,--there!" pointing eagerly. "i don't see it--oh--yes--no. it's only a cloud. who ever heard of the port-bow of a raft? bah! your eyes have been squintin'. not a bit of it, i see it--low lyin'; why, i see the palms--and i see the nuts--ah, and the monkeys, no doubt a-eatin' of 'em--hip, hip, hurrah!" such were some of the exclamations, ending in a long, deep-toned, british cheer, with which the discovery of land was greeted. in a short time all uncertainty was removed, and the land was clearly made out to be a small coral island with its narrow outlying reef, and a few cocoa-nut palms waving thereon. the joy of the shipwrecked crew was excessive--somewhat in proportion to their previous depression. they shook bands, laughed, cheered, and in some cases wept, while a few clasped their hands, looked up, and audibly thanked god. "you'll soon get ashore," said polly, laying her hand on ben trench's arm. "ay, and the cocoa-nut milk will set you up and make you fat in no time," added watty wilkins. "so it will," returned ben, who had not risen like the others; "we'll have jolly times of it, won't we? like robinson crusoe. oh! how i wish that sister susan was here! she would enjoy it so much. it's an island, isn't it?" "yes," said edwin jack, coming forward at the moment, "a coral island, with plenty of vegetation on it. so cheer up, ben, we shall soon be ashore." not so soon, however, as they expected, for the wind was light, although favourable, the raft was heavy, and the two oars had but little influence on it. the sun sank and rose again before they drew near to the reef. inside the reef, between it and the island-shore, there was a lake or lagoon of calm water, but outside, on the reef itself, a heavy swell broke with continuous roar. to get involved in those giant breakers would have been destruction to the raft, and probably death to most of those on board. one narrow opening, marked by a few shrubs and palms on either side, formed the only portal to the calm lagoon. the captain himself took the steering oar, and summoned our philosopher to his assistance. "give way now, lads, with a will." as many men as could grasp the two oars laid hold of them, and bent their backs till the strong wood cracked again. gradually the raft neared the opening. as it did so the ground-swell began to act on it. by degrees the towering billows--which seemed to rise out of a calm sea and rush to their destruction like walls of liquid glass--caught it, dragged it on a little, and then let it slip. at last one great wave began to curl in hissing foam underneath, caught the raft fairly, carried it forward on its boiling crest, and launched it with lightning speed into the opening. the space was too narrow! one of the projecting spars touched the reef. instantly the fastenings were rent like pack-thread, and the raft was hurled forward in disconnected fragments. one of these turned completely over with several men on it. another portion passed through the opening and swung round inside. the steering oar was wrenched from jack's hands, and struck the captain into the water. as if by instinct, jack sprang to the "bower," caught polly in his arms, and leaped into the sea. at the same moment wilkins ran to the rescue of his friend ben. these two were on the part that had swung round to the calm side of the reef, and watty waded to it with ben on his back. the captain and all the rest were washed in a cataract of foam and wreckage through the opening into the lagoon, and pitched by curling eddies on the shore. in a few minutes they all stood in safety, panting, but uninjured, on the white sands of the coral reef. chapter four. the coral island--proceedings therein. the island on which the raft with its occupants had been cast was of small size, not more than six miles in extent, and lay low in the water. nevertheless it was covered with luxuriant vegetation, among which were several groves of cocoa-nut palms, the long feathery branches of which waved gracefully in a gentle breeze, as if beckoning an invitation to the castaways on the reef to cross the lagoon and find shelter there. but crossing the lagoon was not an easy matter. "shure it's a mile wide if it's a futt," said one of the men as they stood in a group on the reef, dripping and gazing at the isle. "no, simon o'rook," said bob corkey, in that flat contradictions way to which some men are prone; "no, it's only half a mile if it's an inch." "you're wrong, both of you," said baldwin burr, "it ain't more than quarter of a mile. quite an easy swim for any of us." "except my polly," observed the captain quietly. "ay, and those who are too weak to swim," said watty wilkins, with a glance at his friend ben, who had lain down on the sand and listened with a calm untroubled look to the conversation. "you don't seem at all anxious," whispered polly to ben. "no, polly, i'm not. i have lately been taught how to trust in god by your example." "by mine!" exclaimed the child in extreme surprise. before ben could reply the captain turned and called to polly. "come here, my duckey; edwin jack offers to swim over the lagoon to the island with you on his back. will you trust yourself to him?" "yes, father," answered the child promptly. "but maybe there are sharks," suggested o'rook. there was a momentary silence. in the excitement of the occasion every one had forgotten sharks. what was to be done? the raft was utterly destroyed. only a few of the logs which had formed it lay on the reef; the rest were floating on the lagoon at various distances, none nearer than fifty yards. "there's nothing for it, then, but to reconstruct our raft," said the captain, throwing off his coat and shoes; "so these logs must be secured." he had only taken two steps towards the water when philosopher jack grasped his arm. "stop, sir, it is your duty to look after polly. now lads, those who can swim come along!" another instant and he was in the sea, regardless of sharks, and striking out for the floating wreckage, closely followed by o'rook, corkey, burr, and watty wilkins. strange to say, eight other men of the crew could not swim, although they had managed somehow to scramble on the reef. whether it was that the sharks were not there at the time, or that the number and energy of the swimmers frightened them, we cannot tell, but each man reached a log or plank in safety, and began pushing it towards the reef. it was when they drew near to this that the trial of their courage was most severe. the excitement and gush of daring with which they had plunged in was by that time expended, and the slow motion of the logs gave them time for reflection. o'rook's lively fancy troubled him much. "if the baists would only attack a man in front," he muttered, "it's little i'd mind 'em, but to come up behind, sneakin' like--hooroo!" at that moment a branch of coral, which projected rather far from the bottom, touched o'rook's toe and drew from him an uncontrollable yell of alarm. baldwin burr, who swam close behind, was humorously inclined as well as cool. he pushed the plank he was guiding close to his comrade's back, dipped the end of it, and thrust it down on o'rook's legs. the effect was even more powerful than he had hoped for. "a shark!--a sha-a-a-rk!" howled o'rook, and dived under the broken main-yard, which he was piloting ashore. coming up on the other side, he tried to clamber on it, but it rolled round and dropped him. he went down with a gurgling cry. again he rose, grasped the spar with his left arm, glared wildly round, and clenched his right hand as if ready to hit on the nose any creature--fish, flesh, or fowl--that should assail him. "take it easy, messmate," said burr in a quiet tone; "sorry i touched you. hope it didn't hurt much." "och! it was you, was it? sure, i thought it was a shark; well, well, it's plaised i am to be let off so aisy." with this philosophic reflection o'rook landed with his piece of timber. enough of material was soon collected to form a raft sufficiently large to ferry half of the party across the lagoon, and in two trips the whole were landed in safety on the island. "you don't mean to tell me, jack," said baldwin burr, "that this island was made by coral insects?" "yes, i do!" said jack. "from the top to the bottom?" asked burr. "from the bottom to the top," said edwin. baldwin asked this question of the philosopher during a pause in their labours. they were, at the time, engaged in constructing a new bower for polly among the flowering shrubs under the cocoa-nut palms. polly herself was aiding them, and the rest of the party were scattered among the bushes, variously employed in breaking down branches, tearing up long grass, and otherwise clearing ground for an encampment. "how could insects make an island?" asked polly, sitting down on a bank to rest. "don't you know, poll?" said edwin; "why, i thought your father taught you about almost everything." "oh no," replied polly, with an innocent smile, "not everything yet, you know, but i daresay he will in the course of time. tell me about the insects." "well, let me see, how shall i begin?" said jack, leaning against the bank, and crossing his arms on his breast. "the coral insects, polly, are very small, some of them not larger than a pin's head. they are great builders. there is lime in sea-water. the insects, which are called corallines, have the power of attracting this lime to them; drawing it away from the water, so to speak, and fixing it round their own bodies, which is called secreting the lime. thus they form shells, or houses, to themselves, which they fix at the bottom of the sea. having laid the basements of their houses close together, they proceed to add upper storeys, and thus they add storey to storey, until they reach the surface of the sea. they work in such innumerable millions that, in course of time, they form reefs and islands, as you see." "but i _don't_ see!" said polly, looking round; "at least, i don't see corallines working." "ah, good," said baldwin, with a nod of approval to the child, as if to say, "you have him there!" "true," returned the philosopher, "because the corallines can only work under water. the moment they reach the surface they die; but those that remain continue their labours on the sides of the reef or island, and thus widen it. then the waves break off masses of coral, and cast them, with drifting sea-weed and other things, up on the reef, which makes it higher; then sea-birds come to rest on it. the winds carry seeds of various plants to it, which take root, grow up, die; and thus thicken the soil by slow degrees, till at last, after a long, long time, the island becomes a pretty large and fertile one like this." "wonderful!" exclaimed polly; "what a clever insect!" "clever indeed," returned edwin; "especially when we consider that it has got no brains." "no brains!" echoed baldwin. "no, it has little more than a stomach." "oh! come now," remonstrated baldwin; "we can't believe that, can we, miss polly? even a house-builder must think, much more an island-builder; and no fellow can think with his stomach, you know." "nevertheless, it is as i tell you," continued jack, "and these little creatures manage to create hundreds of islands in the southern seas, by their perseverance, energy, and united action. quite an example to man--eh, baldwin?" "ha! just so--a long pull, and a strong pull, and a pull all together. i think we'd better act on the principles of these corry-lines, else miss polly's bower won't be ready afore dark." so saying, the seaman and our philosopher resumed their work with such united energy--aided by polly herself--that a very comfortable habitation of boughs and large leaves was finished before the day closed. it resembled a large beehive, was overshadowed by dense foliage of a tropical kind, and carpeted with a species of fern. polly was profuse in her thanks, and when it was finished, called to her father to come and admire it. the stout mariner at once obeyed the summons. he quitted the pile of firewood on which he had been labouring, and with a violently red face and perspiring brow, appeared on the scene, bearing a mighty axe on his shoulder. "splendid!" he exclaimed, with beaming admiration. "it's fit for the queen of the coral isles." "for whom it is intended!" said philosopher jack, quickly. polly laughed, for she understood the compliment, but suddenly became grave, as she remembered ben trench, and said, "no, no; it must be used as a shelter for ben." "that's kind of you, polly," said watty coming up with a huge bundle of grass and foliage for bedding at the moment; "but ben has got friends to remember him as well as you. bob corkey and i have made him a hut on the other side of the bushes--there, you may see the top of it through the leaves." "does any one know where mr luke is?" asked the captain. none of those assembled at the bower had seen him for some hours, and captain samson was on the point of organising a party to go in search of him, when one of the crew came in from the bush and said he had gone off with simon o'rook to the highest point of the low islet, to ascertain if possible its extent. "he's all right if o'rook is with him," said the captain to polly, in confidence, when they went into the bower together; "but he's not to be trusted away by himself. i never saw a man more unfit to look after himself." "and yet he is a good, kind man, father," said polly. "true, quite true, poll," replied the captain, musingly. "i wonder why it is that some men seem as if they had been meant for women; maybe it is by way of balancing those women who seem to have been meant for men!" polly listened to this with a look of grave consideration, but not having formed an opinion on the subject, wisely held her tongue. meanwhile o'rook led his companion towards the highest part of the islet, which, being clear of trees, seemed likely to afford them a good outlook. the sailor was a man of inquiring disposition, and, being of a free-and-easy nature, did not hesitate to speak out his mind on all occasions. after walking beside his tall companion and eyeing his thin figure and sad countenance in silence for some time, he said-"you're a cadaverous sort o' man, mr luke." "think so?" said mr luke, gently. "of course; i can't help thinkin' so, because i see it," returned o'rook. "was it a fall, now, w'en you was a babby, that did it, or measles?" "neither, that i am aware of," replied mr luke, with a good-natured smile; "my father before me was cadaverous." "ah!" said o'rook, with a look of sympathy, as he touched the region of his heart with his left thumb, "p'r'aps it was somethin' o' this sort, eh? i've bin through that myself in the ould country, where as purty a--well, well, it's all over now, but i've a fellow-feelin' for--" "no," interrupted mr luke, with a sigh, "it wasn't a disappointment, it was--oh! what a splendid view!" they had reached the top of the ridge at the moment, and the view of the verdant islet that burst upon them might well have called forth admiration from men of coarser mould than they. o'rook forgot for a few minutes the subject of his curiosity, and compared the prospect to some of the beautiful scenery of ireland, though there was no resemblance whatever between the two. he soon returned, however, to the previous subject of conversation, but mr luke had ceased to be communicative. "what is that lying on the beach there?" he said, pointing in the direction referred to. "it's more than i can tell," answered o'rook; "looks like a boat, don't it?" "very," said mr luke, "and there is something lying beside it like a man. come, let's go see." the two explorers went rapidly down the gentle slope that led to the beach, and soon found that the object in question was indeed a boat, old, rotten, and blistered with the sun. beside it lay the skeleton of a man, with a few rags of the garments that had once formed its clothing still clinging to it here and there. it was a pitiful sight. evidently the unfortunate man had been cast away in an open boat, and had been thrown on that beach when too much exhausted to make a last struggle for life, for there was no sign of his having wandered from the boat or cut down bushes, or attempted to make a fire. his strength had apparently enabled him to get out of the boat, that was all, and there he had lain down to die. for some time the two wanderers stood contemplating the sight in silence, and when at length they spoke it was in low, sad tones. "poor, poor fellow," said mr luke, "he must have been shipwrecked, like ourselves, and cast adrift in the boat. but i wonder that he is alone; one would expect that some of his comrades must have got into the boat along with him." "no doubt," said o'rook, "they was all starved at sea and throw'd overboard. come, mr luke, let's bury him; it's all we can do for him now." saying this, o'rook threw off his jacket and, with his companion's assistance, soon scraped a hole in the sand. into this they were about to lift the skeleton, when they observed that its right hand covered a decayed remnant of rag, under which was seen a glittering substance. it turned out to be the clasp of a notebook, which, however, was so decayed and glued together that it could not be opened. o'rook therefore wrapped it in his handkerchief and put it in his pocket. then they buried the skeleton, and rolled a large mass of coral rock upon the grave to mark the spot. a careful examination was next made of the old boat and the locality around it, but nothing whatever was found to throw light on the fate of the vessel to which the man had belonged. returning to the encampment, o'rook and his companion found their friends busy preparing supper, which consisted of some provisions saved from the raft, and cocoa-nuts. in a few seconds the whole party was assembled in front of polly's bower, listening attentively, while o'rook described the discovery of the skeleton to the captain, and produced the old notebook. deep was the interest of every member of that little community as the captain attempted to open the book, and intense was the expression of disappointment on each countenance--especially on that of polly--when, after a prolonged trial, he utterly failed. "let philosopher jack try it," exclaimed watty wilkins eagerly. the captain at once handed the book to jack with a smile. "to be sure," said he, "a philosopher ought to understand the management of books better than a skipper; but when a book is glued hard and fast like that, it may puzzle even a philosopher to master its contents." jack made the attempt, however. he went to work with the calm deliberation of a thorough workman. by the aid of heat and gentle friction and a little moisture, and the judicious use of a penknife, he succeeded at last in opening the book in one or two places. while he was thus engaged, the rest of the party supped and speculated on the probable contents of the book. "here is a legible bit at last," said jack, "but the writing is very faint. let me see. it refers to the state of the weather and the wind. the poor man evidently kept a private journal. ah! here, in the middle of the book, the damp has not had so much effect." as he turned and separated the leaves with great care, jack's audience gazed at him intently and forgot supper. at last he began to read:- "`_saturday, 4th_.--have been three weeks now on short allowance. we are all getting perceptibly weaker. the captain, who is not a strong man, is sinking. the boat is overcrowded. if a gale should spring up we shall all perish. i don't like the looks of two of the men. they are powerful fellows, and the captain and i believe them to be quite capable of murdering the most of us, and throwing us overboard to save their own lives.' "here there is a blank," said jack, "and the next date is the 8th, but there is no month or year given. the writing continues:- "`i scarce know what has passed during the last few days. it is like a horrible dream. the two men made the attempt, and killed big george, whom they feared most, because of his courage and known fidelity to the captain; but, before they could do further mischief, the second mate shot them both. the boat floats lighter now, and, through god's mercy, the weather continues fine. our last ration was served out this morning--two ounces of biscuit each, and a wine-glass of water. _sunday, 11th_.--two days without food. the captain read to us to-day some chapters out of the bible, those describing the crucifixion of jesus. williams and ranger were deeply impressed, and for the first time seemed to lament their sins, and to speak of themselves as crucifiers of jesus. the captain's voice very weak, but he is cheerful and resigned. it is evident that _his_ trust is in the lord. he exhorts us frequently. we feel the want of water more than food. _wednesday_.--the captain and williams died yesterday. ranger drank sea water in desperation. he went mad soon after, and jumped overboard. we tried to save him, but failed. only three of us are left. if we don't meet with a ship, or sight an island, it will soon be all over with us. _thursday_.--i am alone now. an island is in sight, but i can scarcely raise myself to look at it. i will bind this book to my hand. if any one finds me, let him send it to my beloved wife, lucy. it will comfort her to know that my last thoughts on earth were of her dear self, and that my soul is resting on my redeemer. i grow very cold and faint. may god's best blessing rest--'" the voice of the reader stopped suddenly, and for some moments there was a solemn silence, broken only by a sob from polly samson. "why don't you go on?" asked the captain. "there is nothing more," said jack sadly. "his strength must have failed him suddenly. it is unfortunate, for, as he has neither signed his name nor given the address of his wife, it will not be possible to fulfil his wishes." "maybe," suggested o'rook, "if you open some more o' the pages you'll find a name somewheres." jack searched as well as the condition of the book would admit of and found at last the name of david ban--, the latter part of the surname being illegible. he also discovered a lump in one place, which, on being cut into, proved to be a lock of golden hair, in perfect preservation. it was evidently that of a young person. "that's lucy's hair," said o'rook promptly. "blessin's on her poor heart! give it me, philosopher jack, as well as the book. they both belong to me by rights, 'cause i found 'em; an' if ever i set futt in old england again, i'll hunt her up and give 'em to her." as no one disputed o'rook's claim, the book and lock of hair were handed to him. soon afterwards polly lay down to rest in her new bower, and her father, with his men, made to themselves comfortable couches around her, under the canopy of the luxuriant shrubs. a week passed. during that period captain samson, with polly, jack, and wilkins, walked over the island in all directions to ascertain its size and productions, while the crew of the _lively poll_ found full employment in erecting huts of boughs and broad leaves, and in collecting cocoa-nuts and a few other wild fruits and roots. meanwhile the bottle thrown overboard by watty wilkins, with its "message from the sea," began a long and slow but steady voyage. it may not, perhaps, be known to the reader that there are two mighty currents in the ocean, which never cease to flow. the heated waters of the equator flow north and south to get cooled at the poles, and then flow back again from the poles to get reheated at the equator. the form of continents, the effect of winds, the motion of the earth, and other influences, modify the flow of this great oceanic current and produce a variety of streams. one of these streams, a warm one, passing up the coast of africa, is driven into the gulf of mexico, from which it crosses the atlantic to the west coast of britain, and is familiarly known as the gulf stream. if watty wilkins's bottle had been caught by this stream, it would, perhaps, in the course of many months, have been landed on the west of ireland. if it had been caught by any of the other streams, it might have ended its career on the coasts of japan, australia, or any of the many "ends of the earth." but the bottle came under a more active influence than that of the ocean streams. it was picked up, one calm day, by a british ship, and carried straight to england, where its contents were immediately put into the newspapers, and circulated throughout the land. the effect of little wilkins's message from the sea on different minds was various. by some it was read with interest and pathos, while others glanced it over with total indifference. but there were a few on whom the message fell like a thunderbolt, as we shall now proceed to show. chapter five. tells of plottings and trials at home, with doings and dangers abroad. in a dingy office, in a back street in one of the darkest quarters of the city, whose name we refrain from mentioning, an elderly man sat down one foggy morning, poked the fire, blew his nose, opened his newspaper, and began to read. this man was a part-owner of the _lively poll_. his name was black. black is a good wearing colour, and not a bad name, but it is not so suitable a term when applied to a man's character and surroundings. we cannot indeed, say positively that mr black's character was as black as his name, but we are safe in asserting that it was very dirty grey in tone. mr black was essentially a dirty little man. his hands and face were dirty, so dirty that his only clerk (a dirty little boy) held the firm belief that the famous soap which is said to wash black men white, could not cleanse his master. his office was dirty, so were his garments, and so was his mean little spirit, which occupied itself exclusively in scraping together a paltry little income, by means of little ways known only to its owner. mr black had a soul, he admitted that; but he had no regard for it, and paid no attention to it whatever. into whatever corner of his being it had been thrust, he had so covered it over and buried it under heaps of rubbish that it was quite lost to sight and almost to memory. he had a conscience also, but had managed to sear it to such an extent that although still alive, it had almost ceased to feel. turning to the shipping news, mr black's eye was arrested by a message from the sea. he read it, and, as he did so, his hands closed on the newspaper convulsively; his eyes opened, so did his mouth, and his face grew deadly pale--that is to say, it became a light greenish grey. "anything wrong, sir?" asked the dirty clerk. "the _lively poll_," gasped mr black, "is at the bottom of the sea!" "she's in a lively position, then," thought the dirty clerk, who cared no more for the _lively poll_ than he did for her part-owner; but he only replied, "o dear!" with a solemn look of hypocritical sympathy. mr black seized his hat, rushed out of his office, and paid a sudden visit to his neighbour, mr walter wilkins, senior. that gentleman was in the act of running his eye over his newspaper. he was a wealthy merchant. turning on his visitor a bland, kindly countenance, he bade him good-morning. "i do hope--excuse me, my dear sir," said mr black excitedly, "i do hope you will see your way to grant me the accommodation i ventured to ask for yesterday. my business is in such a state that this disaster to the _lively poll_--" "the _lively poll_!" exclaimed mr wilkins, with a start. "oh, i beg pardon," said mr black, with a confused look, for his seared conscience became slightly sensitive at that moment. "i suppose you have not yet seen it (he pointed to the paragraph); but, excuse me, i cannot understand how you came to know that your son was on board-pardon me--" mr wilkins had laid his face in his hands, and groaned aloud, then looking up suddenly, said, "i did not certainly know that my dear boy was on board, but i had too good reason to suspect it, for he had been talking much of the vessel, and disappeared on the day she sailed, and now this message from--" he rose hastily and put on his greatcoat. "excuse me, my dear sir," urged mr black; "at such a time it may seem selfish to press you on business affairs, but this is a matter of life and death to me--" "it is a matter of death to _me_," interrupted the other in a low tone, "but i grant your request. my clerk will arrange it with you." he left the office abruptly, with a bowed head, and mr black having arranged matters to his satisfaction with the clerk, left it soon after, with a sigh of relief. he cared no more for mr wilkins's grief than did the dirty clerk for his master's troubles. returning to his dirty office, mr black then proceeded to do a stroke of very dingy business. that morning, through some mysterious agency, he had learned that there were rumours of an unfavourable kind in reference to a certain bank in the city, which, for convenience, we shall name the blankow bank. now, it so happened that mr black was intimately acquainted with one of the directors of that bank, in whom, as well as in the bank itself, he had the most implicit confidence. mr black happened to have a female relative in the city named mrs niven--the same mrs niven who had been landlady to philosopher jack. it was one of the root-principles of mr black's business character that he should make hay while the sun shone. he knew that mrs niven owned stock in the blankow bank; he knew that the bank paid its shareholders a very handsome dividend, and he was aware that, owing to the unfavourable rumours then current, the value of the stock would fall very considerably. that, therefore, was the time for knowing men like mr black, who believed in the soundness of the bank, to buy. accordingly he wrote a letter to mrs niven, advising her to sell her shares, and offering to transact the business for her, but he omitted to mention that he meant to buy them up himself. he added a postscript on the back, telling of the loss of the _lively poll_. mrs niven was a kind-hearted woman, as the reader knows; moreover, she was a trusting soul. "very kind o' maister black," she observed to peggy, her maid-of-all-work, on reading the letter. "the blankow bank gi'es a high dividend, nae doot, but i'm well enough off, and hae nae need to risk my siller for the sake o' a pund or twa mair income i' the year. fetch me the ink, peggy." a letter was quickly written, in which worthy mrs niven agreed to her relative's proposal, and thanked him for the interest he took in her affairs. having despatched peggy with it to the post, she re-read mr black's epistle, and in doing so observed the postscript, which, being on the fourth page, had escaped her on the first perusal. "hoots!" said she, "that's stipid. i didna notice the ps." reading in a low tone, and commenting parenthetically, she continued, "`by the way, did not one of your lodgers, a student, sail in the _lively poll_, (atweel did he; he telt _me_, though he telt naebody else, an' gaed muckle again' _my_ wull) as a common sailor?' (common indeed! na, na, he was an uncommon sailor, if he was onything.) `if so, you'll be sorry to learn that the _lively poll_ is lost, and all her crew and passengers have per--'" instead of reading "perished" poor mrs niven finished the sentence with a shriek, and fell flat on the floor, where she was found soon after, and with difficulty restored to consciousness by the horrified peggy. that same morning, in his lowly cottage on the scottish border, mr john jack opened a newspaper at the breakfast-table. besides mrs jack there sat at the table four olive branches--two daughters and two sons--the youngest of whom, named dobbin, was peculiarly noticeable as being up to the eyes in treacle, dobbin's chief earthly joy being "treacle pieces." mr jack's eye soon fell on the message from the sea. of course he knew nothing of the writer, but recognised the name of the vessel as being that in which his son had sailed for the southern seas, for our hero had written to tell of his departure, although he had not asked or waited for advice. mr jack was a man of strong nerve. rising quietly from the table, he left the room, but his wife noticed the expression of his face, and followed him into their bedroom. "what's wrang, john?" the poor man turned abruptly, drew his wife to him, and pressed her head on his breast. "o maggie!" he said, in a low husky voice, "`the lord gave, and the lord hath taken away,' can you finish the sentence?" "ay, `blessed be the name o' the lord,'" said mrs jack in a tremulous voice; "but what--" "listen," said her husband, and he read out the fatal message. "it canna be--oh! it canna be--that my teddie is gone," said the stricken mother, clasping her hands; "i canna, i winna believe it. are ye sure that was the ship's name?" "yes, too sure," answered her husband. "i've mislaid the dear boy's letter, but i'll go and see mrs niven. he mentioned it, i know, to her." there was yet another house in scotland into which the message carried profound grief; namely, that of bailie trench. need we say that the supposed loss of an only son was a crushing blow, rendered all the more terrible by the thought that death had been met so suddenly in a voyage which had been undertaken in search of health? but we will spare the reader further details, and return once more to the coral island, where we left the castaways making themselves as comfortable as the nature of the place would admit of. and, truth to tell, there are many people in civilised lands much less comfortably situated than were these same castaways. the weather, as o'rook said, "was splendacious, almost equal to that of ould ireland." cocoa-nuts and other fruits were abundant. the lagoon swarmed with fish, including sharks, which rendered fishing an excitingly dangerous, as well as enjoyable, pastime. polly samson found gardens of coral and seaweed in crystal pools, which she could gaze at and admire for hours, though she could not walk in them. but she could, and did, sympathise with the little fish of varied size and colour which darted about in these water gardens, and philosopher jack found in them an inexhaustible theme for discourse to the teachable and inquisitive baldwin burr. the captain found enough of employment in directing and planning generally for the whole party. cutting firewood, gathering nuts and wild fruit, fell to the lot of bob corkey; and simon o'rook slid naturally into the office of cook. the remainder of the men were employed at various jobs, according to circumstances. watty wilkins was a passionate fisher. he divided his time between the lagoon and the couch of his sick friend bell trench, who soon began to improve on rest, sunshine, and cocoa-nut milk. as for mr luke, being fit for nothing, he was allowed to do very much what he pleased, except at meal times, when o'rook made him wash the dishes, many of which were merely flat stones. in short, the place was, according to polly, a sort of paradise, and would have been almost perfect, but for a tendency in one or two of the men to quarrel, and a powerful disposition in bob corkey and simon o'rook to argue. though the arguing never quite degenerated into quarrelling, and the quarrelsome men never absolutely came to blows, their tendencies made this coral paradise imperfect. two of the most troublesome men, named respectively bounce and badger, were cured by the captain in the following manner:--they had been quarrelling verbally for half an hour one morning, calling each other names, and threatening, as usual, to fight, but not doing so. "come, lads, follow me," said the captain to them sternly, and much to their surprise. he led the way to a neighbouring grove, where he stopped. "now," said he, "this is a cool, shady spot. i want to know which of you two is the best man. come, go to work and fight it out. i'll see fair play." bounce and badger showed much unwillingness, whereupon the captain buttoned his coat, turned up his wristbands, doubled his enormous fists, and declared that they would have to fight with him if they would not fight with each other. "but we don't want to fight, sir," said bounce, humbly, seeing that the captain was thoroughly in earnest. "very well, then, shake hands," said the captain, in a tone so peremptory that the men were fain to obey. "now, go back to camp together," said the captain, "and let us have no more boasting--d'ee understand?" they went off at once. after that there was less disagreement and no threatening to fight among the men. one morning--it was a sunday--the captain called the whole party together after breakfast, and announced the fact that he was going to preach them a sermon. "you see, my lads," said he, "since you have agreed that i shall continue to be your captain on shore as well as at sea--to be the governor, in short, of this little colony--it is right that we should come to a distinct understanding as to our new position, and be guided by fixed laws. in time i will draw you up a code which i hope will be ratified by yourselves, and will work well. to-day i mean to start by preaching a sermon. i pr'pose to do so every sunday, and to have family prayers every morning. is that agreed to?" "agreed," said nearly every one. bounce and badger laughed, however, supposing that the captain was jesting. but he was very far from jesting. taking no notice of the laughter, he continued, in an earnest, impressive manner, which enforced respect while he pointed towards the other side of the island-"my lads, the skeleton that lies over yonder furnishes me with a text: `one is taken, and another left.' that poor fellow was taken away from this life. you and i have been left behind. assuredly we have been left for a good purpose, and the merciful god who has spared us means that we should henceforth live for his glory. my lads, you all know what a blessed thing is a state of peace, and you also know what a miserable thing it is to be for ever quarrelling. since we landed on this island, we've had a little of both. i took in hand to stop the quarrelling the other day, in my own way. p'r'aps it wasn't altogether my own way either, for i've read in the bible of smiting a scorner, that the simple might take warning. however, be that as it may, that system may serve a turn; but it's not the straight road to come to a state of peace. if we are to live happily here, my lads, to avoid quarrelling, to honour our maker, and to prove to each other--as well as to angels and devils, who may be lookin' on for all that i know--that we stand on a higher level than the brutes, we must square our conduct by the rules and laws laid down by the prince of peace, whose desire is that on earth men should live together in peace and goodwill. i'll now read you some of these laws." here the captain drew a small bible from his pocket, and slowly read the fifth chapter of matthew's gospel, pausing at each verse, and commenting thereon, after his own peculiar fashion, to the surprise of all who heard him; for although all knew the captain to be an upright man, they were not prepared, by his usually stern look and brusque off-hand manner, for the tender spirit and depth of feeling which he now displayed. "now, my lads," said he, shutting the book, "that's all i've got to say to you to-day, but before closing, let me ask you to think like men--not like children--about what we have been reading. the service of god is not a mere matter of ceremonies. jesus christ came to save you and me, not so much from punishment, as from sin itself. it is a great salvation. those of you who may have been swimming with the current know and care nothing about the power of sin. if you think you do, my lads, turn up stream. try to resist sin, and you'll learn something new. only those who are made willing and strong by the spirit of god can do it successfully. no doubt that remark will set adrift a lot o' thoughts and questions in your minds. to all of them i give you a short text as a good course to steer by: `ask, and ye shall receive.' ask light and ask wisdom. "now, cook," continued the captain, turning to o'rook, "go to work and get your dinner under weigh, for talking makes one hungry. meanwhile, i intend to go and have a short ramble on the sea-shore, and i want to know if there is any small female on this island who wants to go with me." at this polly jumped up with a laugh, put her little hand in that of her father, and stood on tiptoe, with upturned face. the captain stooped, received a stiff nor'-wester, and the two went off together. the following night, as the party were seated round the fire finishing supper, watty wilkins surprised his friends by rising, clearing his throat, extending his right arm, after the manner of an orator, and delivering himself of the following speech:-"lady and gentlemen,--i rise on the present occasion, with or without your leave (`order,' from ben trench), to make a few pertinent remarks (`impertinent,' from philosopher jack) regarding our present strange and felicitous circumstances. (hear, hear.) our community is a republic--a glorious republic! having constituted captain samson our governor, pastor, and lawgiver, it has occurred to me that we might, with great advantage to ourselves, institute a college of learning, and, without delay, elect professors. as a stowaway, i would not have presumed to make such a proposal, but, as a free and independent citizen of this republic, i claim the right to be heard; and i now move that we proceed to elect a professor of natural philosophy, natural history, and any other natural or unnatural science that any of us may happen to remember or invent. (hear, hear, and laughter.) as a student is naturally allied to a professor, and somewhat resembles him--the only difference being that the one knows mostly everything, and the other next to nothing--i further propose that we appoint to this professorship philosopher jack, with a salary of gratitude depending on merit, and the duty of lecturing to us every night after supper for our entertainment." watty wilkins sat down amid great applause, and ben trench seconded the motion, which was of course carried unanimously. philosopher jack at once accepted the professorship, and proceeded then and there to deliver his inaugural address, in which he philosophised of things past, present, and to come, both seriously and humorously, in a way that filled his favourite pupil, baldwin burr, with inexpressible delight. when he had finished, bob corkey rose, and with an air of intense solemnity said-"messmates, my lady, fathers, and brethren,--i begs to offer a observation or two. it seems to me that a college with only one professor ain't quite the thing for this great and enlightened republic. seems to me; therefore, that we should appint a professor who could spin yarns for our amusement, not to say edification. and, for this end, i moves that we appint simon o'rook (great applause), whose gifts in the way o' story-tellin', or nat'ral lyin', so to speak, is unequalled by any nat'ral philosopher on the island." (hear, hear, and cheers, mingled with laughter.) this motion was seconded by bounce, and the appointment was gracefully accepted by o'rook, who, however, declined taking office till the following night as it was getting late, and he required time to compose his professional lies; but he ventured, as a free citizen of the "noo" republic, to move that the house should adjourn to bed. the idea thus jestingly introduced was so far carried into effect in earnest, that philosopher jack did, on many evenings thereafter, amuse and interest his comrades round the camp-fire, by relating many a tale from history, both ancient and modern, with which his memory was well stored. he also proved to himself, as well as to others, the great value of even a small amount of scientific knowledge, by being able to comment on the objects of surrounding nature in a way that invested them with an interest which, to absolutely ignorant men, they could not have possessed. o'rook also fulfilled his engagements to some extent, being not only able, but willing, to spin long-winded yarns, which, when genuine material failed, he could invent with facility. thus the time passed pleasantly enough for several weeks, and the shipwrecked crew succeeded in keeping up their spirits, despite the undercurrent of heavy anxiety with which they were oppressed,--as indeed they could scarcely fail to be, when they reflected on the fact that the island, on which they had been cast, lay far out of the ordinary track of ships. this had been ascertained by the captain, who, it may be remembered, had taken his sextant from the ship, and who, the day before the destruction of the raft on the coral reef, had obtained a reliable observation, and fixed their position. but this anxiety was deepened, and a darker gloom was cast over the party, by an incident which happened soon afterwards. it has been said that watty wilkins was passionately fond of fishing. this business he prosecuted by means of a small raft, made from the remnants of the old one, which he pushed about with a long pole. but the raft was inconvenient; moreover, it had been more than once nearly upset by a shark. watty therefore resolved to make a small boat out of the remains of the old boat beside which the skeleton had been found. in this he was so ably assisted by his friends jack and ben, that the boat--which was a very small one--was launched in the course of two weeks. a pair of light oars was also made, and in this boat the fishing was prosecuted with redoubled vigour. sometimes the three friends went off in company; more frequently little wilkins went out alone. one day he pushed off by himself, and pulled to different parts of the lagoon, casting his line now and then with varying success. the day happened to be unusually calm and bright. when he passed the opening in the reef, the surf appeared less violent than usual, so that he was tempted to pull though it. the breakers were passed in safety, and he soon found himself with a sensation of great delight, floating on the gentle swell of the open sea. he pulled out for a considerable distance, and then cast his lines. so intent was he on these, that he did not observe the approach of a squall till it was almost upon him. seizing the oars, he pulled towards the island, but he had drifted off shore a considerable distance. the wind, also, was against him. his efforts were vain. in short he was blown out to sea. the desperate anxiety of the poor boy was changed to despair when the island gradually receded and finally disappeared. at first the little boat was nearly swamped, but by clever management of the oars watty saved it. the squall was short-lived. before long it again fell calm, and the sky cleared, but nothing was now to be seen save the unbroken circle of the horizon. who can tell the feelings of the poor youth when night descended on the sea? for hours he sat in the stern-sheets quite motionless, as if stunned. [note: see frontispiece.] rowing, he knew, would be of no use, as he might be pulling away from the island instead of towards it. fastening his jacket to an oar, he set it up as a signal, and sat down helpless and inactive, but his mind was busy as he gazed into the depths of the moonlit sky. he thought of home, of the father whom he had so deeply injured, of the prospects that he had unwittingly blighted, of his comrade ben trench, and his other friends on the coral island. as he continued to think, conscience rose up and condemned him sternly. wilkins bowed his head to the condemnation, and admitted that it was just. "oh!" he cried, in a passion of sudden remorse, "o god! spare me to return home and be a comfort to my father,--my dear, dear father!" he put his face in his hands and wept bitterly. sitting thus, overcome with sorrow and fatigue, he gradually sank lower and lower, until he slid to the bottom of the boat, and lay at last with his head on the thwart, in profound slumber. he dreamed of home and forgiveness as he floated there, the one solitary black spot on the dark breast of the solemn sea. chapter six. watty wilkins is tried, comforted, run down, rescued, and restored. when watty wilkins awoke from sleep, the sun was high in the heavens and the sea smooth as a mirror. the poor boy raised himself on one elbow and looked about him, at first with a confused feeling of uncertainty as to where he was. then the truth burst upon him with overwhelming force. not only was he alone in a little, half-decayed boat without sail, rudder, or compass, on the great pacific ocean, but, with the exception of a few fish, he was without food, and, worst of all, he had not a drop of fresh water. what was to be done? an unspoken prayer ascended from his heart to god, as he rose and seized the oars. a belief that it was needful to act vigorously and at once was strong upon him. for several minutes he relieved his feelings by rowing with all his might. then he stopped abruptly, and his spirit sank almost in despair as he exclaimed aloud-"what's the use? i don't know where the island is. i may only be pulling farther away from it. oh! what shall i do?" at that moment of extreme depression, the value of having had a god-fearing father who had taught him the bible was unexpectedly realised, for there flashed into his mind, as if in reply to his question, the words, "call upon me in the time of trouble; i will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me." he pulled in the oars at once, fell on his knees, and, clasping his hands, prayed fervently. watty had been taught a form of prayer in childhood, and had often used it with little or no regard to its meaning. now, in his distress, he prayed in earnest. he meant what he said. it followed, also, that he said what he meant. the old form, being quite unsuitable to the occasion, was forgotten, and very homely language indeed was used, but it was sufficient for the purpose. the substance of it was a cry for pardon and deliverance. that which winged it to the throne of grace was the name of jesus christ. resuming the oars, he rowed gently; not for the sake of directing the boat, but because a state of inaction was disagreeable, and as he rowed he thought of the promise that had been sent to him. strange to say, the latter part of it, "thou shalt glorify me," seemed to take a stronger hold of his mind than the first. "yes," he thought, "the whole promise is true. he will deliver me and make me to glorify himself in some way or other. perhaps he will let me live to return home, and be a comfort to my father." the thought of the sorrow he had caused his father weighed heavier than ever in the poor boy's mind, and the desire to express his repentance, and, if possible, make his father glad again, became very intense. it seemed to him that a millstone would be removed from his heart if he could be allowed, even for one minute, to hold his father's hand and say, "oh, i am so sorry, sorry, sorry that i ran away!" the millstone was not removed at that time, however; but in answer to prayer it was unquestionably lightened. the exercise of rowing and the fresh morning air produced their natural effect ere long on the little castaway. he became ravenously hungry, and turned his eyes inquiringly on the few fish which surged about in the pool of dirty water that had gathered in the bottom of the boat. it was not an inviting breakfast. watty turned his eyes away from it, looked up into the fair blue sky, and tried to think of other things! but the calls of nature were not to be silenced. instead of thinking of other things, he somehow thought of bread and butter. he even fell into a species of argument with himself as to whether it would not be uncommonly pleasant in various supposable circumstances, to eat bread without butter. then he found himself meditating on the delights of butter and jam together, which somehow suggested the scriptural figure of a land flowing with milk and honey. "oh!" he sighed at this point, "if the sea was only milk and honey--milk even without honey!--what a glorious prospect!" he looked at it as if he half thought it would be transformed under the power of his intense wish. then he looked again at the floating fish and shuddered. well might he shudder, for they were contemptible little fish, most of them, with unnaturally large heads, and great staring eyes, as if they had failed, even in death, to get rid of their surprise at being caught. with their mouths opened to the uttermost, they seemed to wish to shout, but couldn't. "i may as well take them out of the dirty water anyhow," he muttered, suiting the action to the word, and spreading the fish on the thwart in front of him. liking their appearance still less in that position, he put them on the thwart behind him, and tried to forget them. impossible! he might as well have tried to forget his own existence. at last, after holding out as long as possible, the poor boy made up his mind to eat a little. then he thought, "if i could only cook them; oh! for only one small lump of live coal from the camp fire on--" the thought was checked abruptly, for he suddenly remembered that he had a burning-glass in his trousers pocket. he might perhaps be able to roast them with that--in a somewhat underdone fashion, no doubt--still, any sort of cooking would be better than none! it need scarcely be said that the attempt failed. the only results were a burnt spot or two and a faint odour that served to intensify his hunger. at last he bit a mouthful out of the back of one of the fish, chewed it viciously, swallowed it in a hurry, and felt very sick. the ice was broken, however, and he got on better than he had expected. but when hunger was appeased, there came gradually upon him the far less endurable condition of thirst. he really felt as if he should choke, and once or twice he dipped his baling-dish over the side, but restrained himself on remembering the journal of the skeleton, wherein it was recorded that one of the men had gone mad after drinking salt water. towards the afternoon hope was revived in his breast by the appearance of clouds indicating rain. it came at last, in a soft gentle shower-far too gentle, indeed, for it could not be collected. what dropped upon the wooden baling-dish seemed to sink into or evaporate off it. the few drops that fell upon his patiently protruded tongue served only to tantalise him. but watty was not prone to give way to despair; at least, not to remain in that condition. he took off his jacket, spread it out so as to form a basin, and eagerly watched the result. alas! the cloth was too soft. it acted like a sponge, into which the rain-drops disappeared. when it became evident that the coat was a failure--refusing even to part with a single drop when wrung,--watty chanced to cast down his eyes, and they naturally fell on his trousers. they were stiff canvas trousers, and very greasy from much service among the dishes. instantly he had them off, and spread out as the coat had been. joy inexpressible--they held water! to convert the body of them into a lake and the legs into two water-courses was not difficult for one whose ingenuity was beyond the average. but oh! the lake basin was slow to gather the precious drops! he caused the two legs to debouch into the baling-dish, and watched eagerly for half an hour, at the end of which period about a wineglassful was collected. he sucked it in, to the last drop, and waited for more. it seemed as if the very sky sympathised with the boy's distress, for soon afterwards the rain increased, then it poured, and finally, watty wilkins was more than satisfied, he was drenched. fortunately the downpour was short-lived. it ceased suddenly; the clouds broke up, and the evening sun came out in full splendour, enabling him to partially dry his garments. in the southern seas at that time, the weather was particularly warm, so that our castaway felt no inconvenience from his ducking, and spent the second night in comparative comfort, his dreams--if he had any--being untroubled with visions of food or drink. once, indeed, he awoke, and, looking up, recalled so vividly the fate of the man who had been cast alone and dying on the coral island, that he became deeply depressed by the thought of meeting a similar fate; but the text of the previous day again recurred to him. clinging to it, he again fell asleep, and did not wake till morning. looking over the side, he saw what sent a gush of hope and joy to his heart. a ship, under full sail, not half a mile off! he rubbed his eyes and looked again. was he dreaming? could it be? he sprang up with a cry of delight and gave vent to a long, loud cheer, as much to relieve his feelings as to attract attention. it was almost too good to be true, he thought. then a voice within whispered, "did you not ask for deliverance?" and the boy mentally responded, "yes, thank god, i did." while he was thinking, his hands were busy refastening his jacket (which he had taken down to sleep in) by a sleeve to its former place at the end of an oar. but there was no occasion to signal. the vessel, a barque, was running straight towards him before a light breeze under full sail--as baldwin burr would have said, with "stuns'ls slow and aloft." believing that he had been observed, he ceased waving his flag of distress. but soon a new idea sent a thrill through his heart. no sign of recognition was made to him as the ship drew near. evidently the look-out was careless. leaping up, watty seized the oar, waved his flag frantically, and yelled out his alarm. still the ship bore majestically down on him, her huge bow bulking larger and higher as she drew near. again watty yelled, loud and long, and waved his flag furiously. the ship was close upon him--seemed almost towering over him. he saw a sailor appear lazily at the bow with his hands in his pockets. he saw the eyes of that seaman suddenly display their whites, and his hands, with the ten fingers extended, fly upwards. he heard a tremendous "starboard ha-a-a-rd!" followed by a terrific "starboard it is!" then there was a crashing of rotten wood, a fearful rushing of water in his ears, a bursting desire to breathe, and a dreadful thrusting downwards into a dark abyss. even in that moment of extremity the text of the morning flashed through his whirling brain--then all was still. when watty's mind resumed its office, its owner found himself in a comfortable berth between warm blankets with a hot bottle at his feet, and the taste of hot brandy-and-water in his mouth. a man with a rough hairy visage was gazing earnestly into his face. "wall, youngster, i guess," said the man, "that you'd pretty nigh slipped your cable." watty felt thankful that he had not quite slipped his cable, and said so. "you went over me, i think," he added. "over you! yes, i just think we did. you went down at the bows--i see'd you myself--and came up at the starn. the cap'n, he see'd you come up, an' said you bounced out o' the water like the cork of a soda-water bottle. but here he comes himself. he told me i wasn't to speak much to you." the captain, who was an american, with a sharp-featured and firm but kindly countenance, entered the berth at the moment. "well, my boy, glad to see you revived. you had a narrow escape. wouldn't have been so if it hadn't chanced that one of our worst men was the look-out--or rather wasn't the look-out. however, you're all right now. your ship went down, i expect, not long since?" "about three or four months ago," answered watty. "come, boy, your mind hasn't got quite on the balance yet. it ain't possible that you could be as fat as a young pig after bein' three or four months at sea in an open boat. what was the name of your ship?" "the _lively poll_." "what! a scotch ship?" "yes; part owned and commanded by captain samson." "_i_ know him; met him once in glasgow. a big, rough-bearded, hearty fellow--six foot two or thereabouts. didn't go down with his ship, did he?" asked the captain with a look of anxiety. "no," replied watty with increasing interest in the american; "we escaped on a raft to an island, off which i was blown, while alone in my boat only two days ago." "only two days ago, boy!" echoed the captain, starting up; "d'you happen to know the direction of that island?" watty did not know, of course, having had no compass in his boat; but he fortunately remembered what captain samson had said when he had ascertained the latitude and longitude of it. "mr barnes," shouted the captain to the first mate, who stood on deck near the open skylight, "how's her head?" "sou'-sou'-west, sir." "put her about and lay your course west and by north. now," said the captain, turning again to watty, with a look of satisfaction, "we'll soon rescue captain samson and his crew. i'm sorry i won't be able to take you all back to england, because we are bound for san francisco, but a trip to california is preferable to life on a coral island. now, boy, i've talked enough to you. the steward will bring you some dinner. if you feel disposed, you may get up after that. here are dry clothes for you. we ripped up your own to save time after hauling you out of the sea." it was not usual for the gentle polly samson to alarm the camp with a shriek that would have done credit to a mad cockatoo, nevertheless, she did commit this outrage on the feelings of her companions on the afternoon of the day on which watty was run down and rescued. her father and all the others were seated around the camp fire among the bushes at the time. polly had left them, intending to pay a visit to one of her beautiful water-gardens on the beach, and had just emerged from the bushes and cast her eyes upon the sea, when she beheld the sight that drew from her the shriek referred to. she gave it forth in an ascending scale. "oh! oh!! oh!!! father! come here! quick! quick! oh!" never since he was a boy had the captain jumped so sharply from a sitting posture to his legs. every man followed suit like a jack-in-the-box. there was a rush as if of a tempest through the bushes, and next moment the whole party burst upon the scene, to find polly--not as they had feared in some deadly peril, but--with flashing eyes and glowing cheeks waving her arms like a windmill, and shrieking with joy at a ship which was making straight for the island under full sail. the captain greeted the sight with a bass roar, philosopher jack with a stentorian shout. ben trench did his best to follow jack's example. simon o'rook uttered an irish howl, threw his cap into the air, and forthwith began an impromptu hornpipe, in which he was joined by bob corkey. baldwin burr and his comrades vented their feelings in prolonged british cheers, and mr luke, uttering a squeak like a wounded rabbit, went about wanting to embrace everybody, but nobody would let him. in short every one went more or less mad with joy at this sudden realisation of "hope long deferred." only then did they become fully aware of the depth of anxiety which had oppressed them at the thought of being left, perhaps for years, it might be to the end of their days, on that unknown island. as the vessel approached, it became apparent that there was some one on board whose temporary insanity was as demonstrative as their own, so wild were his gesticulations. "it's too fur off," said baldwin, "to make out the crittur's phisog; but if it warn't for his size, i'd say he was a monkey." "p'r'aps it's an ourang-outang," suggested corkey. "or a gorilla," said o'rook. "oh!" exclaimed polly, in a low, eager voice of surprise, "i do believe it is watty wilkins!" "polly is right," said philosopher jack; "i'd know watty's action among a thousand." as he spoke, the vessel rounded-to outside the reef, backed her top-sails, and lowered a boat. at the same time the excited figure disappeared from her bow, and reappeared, wilder than ever, in the stern of the boat. as it crossed the lagoon, the voice of watty became audible, and was responded to by a succession of hearty cheers, in the midst of which the boat was run ashore. the excited lad sprang on the beach, and was almost annihilated by the species of miscellaneous embracing that he immediately underwent. need we say that captain samson and his men were only too thankful to have such an opportunity of deliverance? they at once accepted the offer of the american captain, embarked in his ship the following morning, passed cape horn not long after, sailed up the coast of south america, and, in course of time, cast anchor in the renowned harbour of san francisco. at the time of which we write, the excitement about the gold-fields of california was at its highest pitch. men were flocking to that region from all parts of the earth. fortunes were being made by some in a few months, and lost by others, at the gaming-tables, in a few days, or even hours. while a few gained a competence, many gained only a bare subsistence; thousands lost their health, and not a few their lives. it was a strange play that men enacted there, embracing all the confusion, glitter, rapid change of scene, burlesque, and comedy of a pantomime, with many a dash of darkest tragedy intermingled. tents were pitched in all directions, houses were hastily run up, restaurants of all kinds were opened, boats were turned keel up and converted into cottages, while ships were stranded or lying idle at their anchors for want of crews, who had made off to that mighty centre of attraction, the diggings. arrived at san francisco, captain samson and his crew were landed one fine morning at an early hour, and went up to a modest-looking hotel, without any definite idea as to what was best to be done in their peculiar circumstances. feeling a strange sensation of helplessness in the midst of so much turmoil and human energy, after their quiet sojourn on the coral island, they kept together like a flock of sheep, and wandered about the town. then they returned to their hotel and had luncheon, for which so large a sum was demanded, that they resolved to return on board at once, and ask the american captain's advice. they found their deliverer pacing his quarterdeck, with his hands in his pockets, and a stern frown on his countenance. he was quite alone, and the vessel wore an unusually quiet air. "nothing wrong, i hope," said captain samson, as he stepped over the gangway. "everything wrong," replied the american; "crew skedaddled." "what! bolted?" "ay, every man, to the diggin's." "what will you do?" asked captain samson, in a sympathetic tone. "sell off the ship and cargo for what they'll fetch, and go to the diggin's too," replied the other. "moreover, i'd strongly recommend you to do the same." "what say you to that advice, philosopher jack?" asked captain samson, turning to our hero, with a peculiar smile. "i say," answered the philosopher, returning the smile, "that the advice requires consideration." "cautiously replied; and what says my polly?" continued the captain. "i say whatever you say, father." "ah! poll, poll, that sort of answer don't help one much. however, we'll call a council of war, and discuss the matter seriously; but, first of all, let's see how the wind blows. how do _you_ feel inclined, ben trench? bein' the invalid of our party, so to speak, you're entitled, i think, to speak first." "i say, go," replied ben. "and i say ditto," burst from watty wilkins with powerful emphasis. "you wasn't axed yet," observed bob corkey. "besides, stowaways have no right to speak at all." "what says mr luke!" continued the captain. "don't go," answered mr luke feebly. "now, lads," said the captain, after putting the question to the others, "we'll go in for the pros and cons." they went in for the pros and cons accordingly, and after an animated debate, resolved that the path of duty, as well as that of interest and propriety, lay in the direction of the diggings. having settled the matter, and gathered together into a common fund the small amount of cash and property which each had saved from the wreck, they went ashore, purchased the articles necessary for their expedition, and followed the great stream of californian gold-diggers. we shall join them, but let not the reader suppose that we intend to bore him or her with the statistics and details of californian gold-digging. it is our purpose only to touch lightly on those salient points in the adventures of our wanderers which had a more or less direct bearing on the great issues of their lives. chapter seven. failure. there are times, probably, in the life of all when everything seems to go against one,--when plans and efforts turn out ill, or go wrong, and prospects look utterly black and hopeless. such a time fell upon philosopher jack and his friends some months after their arrival at the gold-diggings. at first they were moderately successful, and at that time what amazingly golden visions they did indulge! "a carriage and pair," soliloquised watty wilkins, one evening at supper, while his eyes rested complacently on the proceeds of the day's labour--a little heap of nuggets and gold-dust, which lay on a sheet of paper beside him; "a carriage and pair, a town house in london, a country house near bath or tunbridge wells, and a shooting-box in the scotch highlands. such is my reasonable ambition." "not bad," said philosopher jack, "if you throw in a salmon river near the shooting-box, and the right to wear the bonnet, plaid, and kilt at pleasure." "not to mention bare legs an' rheumatiz," remarked simon o'rook, who was busy with the frying-pan. "sure, if the good queen herself was to order me to putt on such things, i'd take off me bonnet an' plaid in excuse that i'd be kilt entirely if she held me to it. all the same i'd obey her, for i'm a loyal subject." "you're a bad cook, anyhow," said baldwin burr, "to burn the bacon like that." "burn it!" retorted o'rook with an air of annoyance, "man alive, how can i help it? it hasn't fat enough to slide in, much less to swim. it's my belief that the pig as owned it was fed on mahogany-sawdust and steel filin's. there, ait it, an' howld yer tongue. it's good enough for a goold-digger, anyhow." "in regard to that little bit of ambition o' your'n," said bob corkey, as the party continued their meal, "seems to me, watty, that you might go in for a carriage an' four, or six, when you're at it." "no, corkey, no," returned the other, "that would be imitating the foibles of the great, which i scorn. what is _your_ particular ambition, now, mr luke? what will you buy when you've dug up your fortune?" the cadaverous individual addressed, who had become thinner and more cadaverous than ever, looked up from his pewter plate, and, with a sickly smile, replied that he would give all the gold in the mines to purchase peace of mind. this was received with a look of surprise, which was followed by a burst of laughter. "why, you ain't an escaped convict, are you?" exclaimed baldwin burr. "no, i'm only an escaped man of business, escaped from the toils, and worries, and confinements of city life," returned mr luke, with another sickly smile, as he returned to his tough bacon. "well, mr luke, if contrast brings any blessing with it," said edwin jack, "you ought to revive here, for you have splendid fresh country air--by night as well as by day--a fine laborious occupation with pick and shovel, a healthy appetite, wet feet continually, mud up to the eyes, and gold to your heart's content. what more can you desire?" "nothing," replied the cadaverous man with a sigh. the state of prosperity to which jack referred did not last. their first "claim," though rich, was soon worked out, and they were obliged to seek another. this turned out to be a poor one, yielding barely enough of the precious metal to enable them to pay their way, every article of clothing, tools, and food being excessively dear at the mines. nevertheless, they worked on in hope, but what was termed their "luck" became worse and worse every day, so that at last they were obliged to run into debt. this was not difficult to do, for the principal store-keeper, higgins by name, saw that they were respectable, trustworthy men, and felt pretty safe in giving them supplies on credit. one bad result of the debt thus incurred was that the whole tone and spirit of the party was lowered. "it's too bad," growled philosopher jack one evening, as he strode into the tent and flung down his tools; "got barely enough to keep the pot boiling." "better that than nothing," remarked watty wilkins, who was in the act of taking off his wet boots. "_i_ haven't got as much dust as would gild the end of a bumbee's nose. hope some of the others have been more successful. none of them have come in yet except o'rook, who is as unlucky as myself. he's off to the store for something for supper." watty sat down before the fire which burned in front of the tent, and sadly toasted his toes. "i'll tell you what," said jack, sitting down beside him, "i fear we were fools to come here." "not so sure of that" returned wilkins, with a dubious shake of the head. "every one, you know, cannot be lucky. some succeed and some don't. we are down just now, that's all. the wheel of fortune is going round, and something will be sure to turn up soon." "nothing will turn up unless we turn it up for ourselves, you may depend upon that" said philosopher jack. "the captain seemed to preach a different doctrine from that last sunday, didn't he, when he remarked that god sometimes sends prosperity and riches to those who neither ask, work for, nor deserve them?" "true, watty, but these, he told us, were exceptional cases; the rule being, that those who labour with body or mind acquire possessions, while those who don't labour fall into poverty. the simple truth of that rule is partially veiled by the fact that thousands of laborious men labour unwisely, on the one hand, while, on the other hand, thousands of idle men live on the product of their forefathers' labours. besides, didn't the captain also impress upon us that success is not success when it leads to evil, and failure is not failure when it results in good?" "from all which," retorted watty, "you bring forward strong proof that your present growling at bad luck is most unphilosophic, you cross-grained philosopher." "not at all," returned jack. "the captain's principles may, or may not be correct. the mere statement of them does not prove that my ill luck just now is going to result in good. but the worst of it is, that during the time of our good fortune, i had been hoarding up in order to be able to send money to my poor father, and now it has all melted away." "i'm sorry for you, jack," said watty, "but that is not the worst of it to my mind, bad though it be. what grieves me most is, that my dear friend and chum, ben trench, is surely losing his health under the strain of anxiety and hard work. you see, he is not gifted with the gutta-percha feelings and cast-iron frame of philosopher jack, neither has he the happy-go-lucky spirit and tough little corpus of watty wilkins, so that it tells on him heavily--very heavily." poor watty said this half jestingly, yet with such a look of genuine feeling that jack forgot his own troubles for the moment. "something _must_ be done," he said, gazing with a concerned look at the fire. "did you observe that man conway last night up at the store?" "yes; what of him?" "he staked largely at the gaming-table last night--and won." little wilkins glanced quickly in his friend's face. "jack," he said, with a look and tone of earnestness quite unusual to him, "we must not think of _that_. whatever straits we are reduced to, we must not gamble--i repeat, we _must_ not!" "why not, little man?" asked jack, with an amused smile at what he considered an uncalled-for burst of seriousness. "because it is dishonourable," said wilkins, promptly. "i don't see it to be so," returned jack. "if i am willing to stake my money on a chance of black or red turning up, and the banker is willing to take his chance, why should we not do it? the chances are equal; both willing to win or to lose, nothing dishonourable in that! or, if i bet with you and you bet with me, we both agree to accept the consequences, having a right, of course, to do what we please with our own." "now, jack," said wilkins, "i'm not going to set up for a little preacher, or attempt to argue with a big philosopher, but i'll tell you what my father has impressed on me about this matter. one day, when we were passing some ragged boys playing pitch-and-toss on the street, he said to me, `watty, my boy, no man should gamble, because it is dishonourable. to want money that does not belong to you is greedy. to try to get it from your neighbour without working for it is mean. to risk your money in the hope of increasing it by trade, or other fair means, and so benefit yourself and others, is right; but to risk it for nothing, with the certainty of impoverishing some one else if you win, or injuring yourself if you lose, is foolish and unfeeling. the fact that some one else is willing to bet with you, only proves that you have met with one as foolish and unfeeling as yourself, and the agreement of two unfeeling fools does not result in wisdom. you will hear it said, my boy, that a man has a right to do what he will with his own. that is not true. as far as the world at large is concerned, it is, indeed, partially true, but a man may only do what god allows with what he has lent him. he is strictly accountable to god for the spending of every penny. he is accountable, also, to his wife and his children, in a certain degree, ay, and to his tradesmen, if he owes them anything. yes, watty, gambling for money is dishonourable, believe me!' now, jack, i did, and i do believe him, from the bottom of my heart." what jack would have replied we cannot tell, for the conversation was interrupted at that moment by the abrupt appearance of captain samson. he led polly by the hand. the child had an unwonted expression of sadness on her face. "come into the tent. now then, darling," said the captain; "sit on my knee, and tell me all about it. polly has seen something in her rambles that has made her cry," he explained to jack, wilkins, and the rest of the party who chanced to come in while he was speaking. "let us hear about it." "oh! it is _so_ sad," said polly, whimpering. "you know that good kind man jacob buckley, who lives up in redman's gap with his sick brother daniel, who is so fond of me; well, i went up to the gap this afternoon, when i had done cleaning up, to sit with the sick brother for a little. i found him in great anxiety and very ill. he told me that jacob, who had always been such a good nurse to him, is much cast down by his bad luck, and has taken to drink, and that he has lost or spent all his money, and can't get credit at the store. he went out quite drunk last night, and has not returned since. of course poor daniel has had nothing to eat, for he can't leave his bed without help, and even if he could, there isn't a morsel of food in the house." this story created much sympathy in the hearts of polly's hearers. "well now, messmates, what's to be done in this case?" asked captain samson, looking round. "make a c'lection," said o'rook. "here you are," said watty, taking up his cap and dropping several small nuggets into it as he handed it to jack. the philosopher contributed a pretty large nugget, which, in his heart, he had intended to stake at the gaming-table. "well," said he, "we are reduced to low enough circumstances just now, but we are rich compared with poor buckley." the entire party at that time numbered only nine, including polly, bounce, and badger, the other members of the crew of the _lively poll_ having separated soon after leaving san francisco. but as all of them were men of generous spirit, watty's cap soon contained a very creditable "c'lection," which was made up forthwith into a bag, and carried with some cooked provisions by polly to redman's gap, under the safe escort of her father and baldwin burr. the following evening, after supper, philosopher jack quietly put his last bag of gold into his pocket and went off with it to higgins' store. on the way up he entered into a debate with himself as to the rectitude of gambling. he seemed to himself to be composed of two persons, one of whom condemned, while the other defended gambling. but jack had a strong will of his own. he was not to be lightly turned from a purpose, either by the disputants within him or by the arguments of his friend wilkins. being a good reasoner, our philosopher found that the condemner of gambling within him was rapidly getting the best of the argument; he therefore brought the matter to a point by suddenly exclaiming aloud, "now, the question is, shall i do it?" "don't?" said his old, brusque, but faithful friend conscience, with a promptitude that made him quite uncomfortable. "or," continued jack slowly, "shall i go back and wait to see whether things will turn and mend?" "do!" answered his friend at once. if jack had put more questions, he would have received clear and emphatic replies, but he merely said, "pooh!" and when a man says "pooh!" to conscience, he is in a very bad way indeed. at higgins' store gold-miners assembled to buy and sell, to talk and drink and gamble. as the necessaries of life were procured there, miners of all sorts, from the steady to the disreputable, were to be found assembled at times, but it was chiefly the latter who "hung about" the place. no notice was taken of jack as he mingled with the crowd, except by one or two acquaintances, who gave him a passing nod of recognition. at the bar there was assembled a boisterous group, who were laughing heartily at something. jack joined it, and found a tall, half-tipsy man offering to bet with another. when men are smitten with the gambling spirit anything that affords a "chance" will serve their turn. "see here, now," said the tall man, looking round, "i repeat, that i'll bet any man ten dollars--all i have in the world--that there's not any four of the men in this store can prevent my lifting this tumbler of water to my lips." he held out a tumbler in his right hand as he spoke, and straightened his long sinewy arm. some of those present laughed, but one, a short, thick-set, powerful fellow, said "done!" at once, and stepped forward. "well, stranger," said the tall man, with a smile, "lay hold. you ought to be strong enough to prevent me by yourself, but come on some more of you." three strong fellows rose and laughingly grasped the man's arm, while several of the lookers-on began to bet on the event. "now, hold fast," said the tall man, giving his arm a slight but vigorous shake, which had the effect of causing those who held it to tighten their grip powerfully. "oh! you're not strong enough," he added; "come, another of you!" hereupon a fifth man rose, and laid hold of the arm amid much laughter. at that moment a big, rough miner pushed his way through the crowd and demanded to know "what was up." on being told, he drew a bag from his pocket and exclaimed, "i'll bet you this bag of dust if you can match it, that these five men will prevent you easily. they are strong enough to hold goliath himself, if he were here." "sorry that i can't match your bag, stranger," replied the tall man; "i'm only game for ten dollars, and that's already staked." "but _i_ can match it," exclaimed philosopher jack, suddenly producing his bag, which was much the same size as that of the big miner. "now, then, hold fast, but don't break the bone if you can help it," said the tall man, giving his arm another shake. the laugh with which this was received was changed into a roar of delight, when the tall man passed his left arm over the heads of those who held him, and with his left hand conveyed the tumbler to his lips. there was a good deal of disputation immediately, as to the justice of paying up bets on what was obviously a "sell," but it was ruled that in this case they had been fairly lost and won, so that the big miner turned his back on his bag of gold, and, with a deep curse, left the store. never before had edwin jack felt so thoroughly ashamed of himself as when he went forward and took up the two bags of gold. he did it, how ever, and, hurriedly quitting the store, returned to his tent. there was a small portion of the tent curtained off at the farther extremity, as a chamber for polly samson. jack was relieved, on arriving, to find that she had retired to it for the night. he was also glad to observe that all his tired companions were asleep, with the exception of o'rook. that worthy was busy clearing up his pots and pans for the night. "it's late you are to-night," remarked o'rook with a yawn. "yes, i've been to the store," said jack; "hand me that candle; thanks." turning his back on his comrade, he opened the bag which he had won, and looked in. the first thing that met his astonished gaze was the identical nugget which he had contributed the evening before to the sick miner at redman's gap. there was a name inside the bag. holding it near the candle, he read--"buckley!" "they must have been robbed!" he muttered to himself; then, rising, said to o'rook, "i've taken a fancy to go up to the gap to see the buckleys. don't mistake me for a thief when i return." "no mistake at all if i did," returned o'rook, "for you're stealin' a march on us all just now, an' isn't it robbin' yourself of your night's rest you are? ah! then, a wilful man must have his way; good luck go with ye." before the sentence and the yawn that followed it were finished, jack was on his way to the gap. he found the elder buckley seated on a log by his brother's couch, with his face buried in his hands. a glance showed him that the sick man was dying. jacob looked up quickly. his face was haggard from the combined effects of dissipation, grief, and watching. he seemed rather annoyed than pleased by jack's visit. "i'm grieved to see daniel so ill," said jack in a low voice, which, however, roused the attention of the invalid. "dying," said jacob sternly, though in a voice that was scarcely audible. "what have you got there?" he added, almost fiercely, as he observed, and at once recognised, the bag in his visitor's hand. "your property," answered jack. "have you not missed it? i conclude, of course, that it has been stolen from you, because it was gambled away by a big rough fellow at higgins' store this evening." a peculiar smile flitted for a moment across the rugged face of jacob buckley as he said, "no, he didn't steal it. not being able to leave my brother myself, i sent him with it to the store, to try his luck. it was my last throw, contained all i had, includin' the dust and nuggets you and your comrades sent me last night." he said this in a hard, reckless, defiant manner, then looked suddenly in jack's eyes, and inquired with an expression of curiosity how he came by the bag. "i won it, god forgive me," said jack, a deep flush of shame overspreading his face, "and i now come to return what i had no right to win." a sound from the dying man attracted their attention at that moment. "he wants to speak to you," said jacob, who had stooped down to listen. jack bent over the sick man, who said in a low whisper, with occasional pauses for breath, for his strength was almost gone. "god bless you! you've saved his life. he said if he lost that gold that he'd blow out his brains--and he'd have done it--he would; i know jacob--he'd have done it. read to me--the word--the only true gold." jack looked round. jacob had sat down, and again covered his face with his hands. "i have not my bible with me," said jack, "but i can repeat passages from memory." he began with the words, "they that trust in him shall never be put to confusion," when the dying man roused himself, and with a strong effort whispered, "o, sir, i _do_ trust in him! will you try to save my brother from gambling and drink. speak!--promise!" "i will!" whispered jack in his ear. the man's energy left him at once, and he fell back on the pillow, from which he had partially risen, with a deep, prolonged sigh. jacob heard it. springing up, he fell on his knees by the bedside and seized his brother's hand. "o dan! dear dan," he exclaimed, passionately, "don't give way like that. you'll get well soon, an we'll cut this infernal place altogether; we'll go home and work with the old folk. dan, dear dan! speak to me--" he stopped abruptly, and rose with a stony stare of hopelessness, for dan's spirit had returned to god who gave it. without a word jacob set to work to lay out the body, and jack quietly assisted him. having finished, the former put the recovered bag of gold in his pocket, stuck a revolver in his belt, and took up the door key of the hut. "come, jacob," said jack, purposely taking no notice of these actions, "you'll go home and spend the night with me. dear dan wants no tending now. we will return together, and see to his remains to-morrow. come." buckley looked undecided. "you haven't your flask, have you?" he asked eagerly. jack felt in his pockets, and with something like joy found that his flask was not there. "no," said he, "i haven't got it. but come, jacob, you want rest. i'll give you something better than spirits to drink when we reach the tent. come." the man submitted. they went out and, locking the door, walked quickly and silently away. many and anxious were the thoughts that chased each other through the busy brain of our hero during that dreary midnight walk. before it was ended, he had almost resolved upon a plan of action, which was further matured while he prepared a can of strong hot coffee for poor jacob buckley. "this is how the matter stands," he said to captain samson next morning, during a private conversation, while buckley and the others were at breakfast in the tent. "i, who am not a teetotaller, and who last night became a gambler, have pledged myself to do what i can to save jacob buckley from drink and gaming. to attempt that _here_ would be useless. well, we are at our lowest ebb just now. to continue working here is equally useless. i will therefore leave you for a time, take buckley and wilkins with me, and go on a prospecting tour into the mountains. there it will be impossible to drink or gamble; time may cure buckley, and perhaps we may find gold! of course," he added, with a sad smile, "if we do, we'll return and let you know." the captain approved of this plan. jacob buckley and watty wilkins at once agreed to go, and immediately after daniel's burial, the prospecters set out. the entire party, including polly, convoyed them as far as redman's gap, where, wishing them good-speed, they parted company. then the three adventurers passed through the gap, and were soon lost in the wild recesses of the mountain range. chapter eight. success. for more than a month did the prospecting party wander among the californian mountains in quest of gold, but found none--at least not in paying quantities. at first the trip was to each of them full of romance, interest and hope. even buckley began to cheer up after a few days had passed. the craving for drink began to wear off, and grief for his lost brother-whom he had truly loved--began to abate. the wild scenery through which they passed was in itself sufficient to rouse to a high pitch the enthusiasm of such youths as philosopher jack and watty wilkins, while their comrade, though not so impressionable in regard to the sublime and beautiful, was roused to sympathy by their irresistible ardour. the necessity of hunting, too, in order to obtain food, added excitement of a more stirring kind, and an occasional encounter with a grizzly bear introduced a spice of danger to which none of them objected. their various washings of the soil and examination of river beds afforded a sufficient quantity of gold to foster hope, though not to pay expenses. thus they progressed through many a scene of loveliness, where the hand of god had sown broadcast all the forms and hues of grace and beauty which render this world attractive; they also passed through many a savage defile and mountain gorge--dark, gloomy, almost repulsive--which served to enhance their enjoyment of the beautiful by contrast. but as the time passed by they became accustomed to the life, and therefore less appreciative. they failed, also, to find gold in larger quantities, and as the finding of gold was their highest aim, they were proportionally disappointed and downcast. watty, indeed, kept up his spirits pretty well. he experienced the benefit of the change that had taken place in his soul that time when he was alone with god in the little boat upon the sea. he prayed in secret for light, and tried to believe that "all things work together for good to them that love god;" but his faith was weak, and the old heart of unbelief was still very strong. as for philosopher jack, his spirit was still engaged in rebellious warfare. he growled a good deal at his "luck," and was heartily seconded by buckley. in addition to this, jack's spirit was much troubled by his promise to daniel buckley on his deathbed. he shrank, with a strength of feeling that surprised himself, from speaking to jacob about his infirmity, yet he felt the duty lying strong upon him, for he knew well that, if nothing was said, the man would certainly go back to his old habits on returning to the neighbourhood of the store where drink could be obtained. "shall i break the ice at once?" thought jack. "perhaps it would be well to wait till we know each other better." "don't," said the voice of his old laconic friend. but jack did wait, and the longer he waited the more disinclined to speak did he become. he held strongly, however, that a right promise once given should never be broken, and, under a feeling of desperation, said to himself one day, "would it not be much better to end this matter by speaking without further delay?" "do," said conscience, approvingly. and jack did, then and there, the result being that jacob buckley did not take it well, but told him flatly to mind his own business. jack flushed crimson and clenched his fist; then the absurdity of attempting to knock sobriety into a man struck him, and he laughed as he said-"well, buckley, that is just what i am doing, for it _is_ my business to remonstrate with a comrade when i see him give way to a habit which will result in his destruction if not abandoned." after this buckley allowed him to talk a little on the subject, but jack felt the work to be very distasteful. eventually he gave it up, consoling himself with the reflection that at all events he had brought the man away on an expedition where nothing stronger than cold water and hot tea was to be had for love or money. at last the tide turned. on the same day a piece of great good and bad fortune befell our explorers. it happened thus:-watty wilkins roused himself from a golden dream one morning, threw off his blanket looked up at the bush which served him and his comrades as a canopy, and yawned. it was grey dawn. there was that clear sweet light in the sky which gives sure promise of a fine day. seeing that his companions still slept, he drew from his breast a small testament, read a few verses, and prayed. this had been his custom ever since his deliverance by the american ship. soon after, jack moved his bulky frame, rolled round, threw out his arms, and yawned. the yawn awakened buckley, who immediately followed suit--such is the force of example! "i'll tell you what it is, mates," said the latter, sitting up, "that twist i gave my leg yesterday troubles me a little. i shall remain in camp to-day and smoke." "very good," said jack, rising and putting the kettle on the fire with a view to breakfast. "watty and i will go up that valley and prospect. we will expect that you'll eat no more than your share of the provisions during our absence, and that you'll have supper ready for us when we return." the simple breakfast being disposed of and washed down with cans of hot tea, the two friends shouldered their guns and set off up the gorge or narrow mountain valley, near the mouth of which they had bivouacked. there was a belt of wood close to their camp; beyond that a small plain, after crossing which they entered a dense thicket, and began a toilsome march up the bed of a little mountain stream. the channel was nearly dry at the time, but the boulders, which were strewn about everywhere, showed that it was sometimes a formidable torrent. "a likely place for gold," said watty, with a hopeful look and tune. "we've tried many such likely places," replied jack, with a look and tone not quite so hopeful. for several miles they advanced, washing out a panful of dirt here and there, and finding a little gold-dust as usual. mid-day arrived, and they sat down to a cold dinner, consisting of a few scraps of meat left from breakfast. little conversation was indulged in. they were too hungry for that--perhaps too much depressed by hope deferred. "i'll try the banks higher up," said jack, rising. "and i'll try the bed of the stream lower down, just by way of opposition," said watty. they separated, and the latter soon found himself among the boulders, where he continued to search--actively at first, but more lazily as time passed by. presently he came to a wild spot where the stream was overhung by bushes. he turned over a small stone. beneath it was a hole or "pocket". he stooped quickly, and pulled out a nugget of gold about the size of a thimble. he stooped again, and, inserting his hand, pulled at something that would not come. his heart gave a jump and appeared to get into his throat, where it apparently remained, while the blood rushed to his forehead. another pull, and out came a mass of solid gold, about the size of his own fist! a cheer rose to his lips, but he checked it. "p'r'aps there's more!" he said. yes, the greedy little wretch said that! but there was no more in that pocket. quickly turning over several more stones, he found more pockets, with nuggets of various sizes in each. in a short time his specimen pouch was pretty well lined with the precious metal. meanwhile his friend jack was equally successful, the chief difference between them being that the latter washed out the earth on the banks above, and found his gold in little grains and specks, but in such quantities that he felt as if his fortune were already made. towards evening watty hallooed and was replied to. as they walked rapidly towards the pre-arranged rendezvous, each hit on the same idea--that of deception! "well, what luck?" asked watty with a careless air that ill concealed the elation of his heart. "only a little dust--nothing to speak of--at least not as compared with what some fellows get," said jack, whose laughing eye gave the lie direct to his melancholy tones. "see here, watty, this is all i've got." as he spoke, the hypocrite poured the glittering contents of his pouch into his tin wash-pan. "well, _what_ a lucky fellow you are!" said watty, with mouth expanded. "just look here; this is all that i have got." he opened his bag and displayed the nuggets, with the big one in the midst! need we say that these youths found it difficult to express their joy and astonishment? the fact was evident that they had at last discovered unusually rich ground, and they travelled back to the camp to tell their lazy comrade the good news. it was near sunset when they reached the little plain or open space at the mouth of the gorge. here jack turned aside to cut a stick of peculiar form, which had caught his eye on the way up, and which he meant to keep as a souvenir of their discovery and the spot. watty sauntered slowly across the plain. he had just reached the wood on the other side, and turned to wait for his comrade, when he heard two shots in quick succession. there was nothing unusual in this, but when he heard the philosopher utter a loud cry, he started, cocked his gun, and ran a few steps back to meet him. next moment jack burst from the thicket and ran across the plain at a speed that told of imminent danger. from the same thicket there also rushed a large grizzly bear, whose speed was greater than that of jack, though it did not appear to be so. all the blood in watty wilkins's body seemed to fly back to his heart, and immediately after it rushed to his brain and toes. prompt action! no time to think! life! death! watty never afterwards could tell clearly what he felt or did on that tremendous occasion, but jack could tell what he did, for he saw him do it. going down on one knee and resting his left arm on the other, in what is known to volunteers as the hythe position, the little youth calmly levelled his double-barrelled gun. it was charged only with small shot, and he knew that that was useless at long range, therefore he restrained himself and waited. jack and the bear ran straight towards him. "up, watty, up a tree," gasped jack; "it's no use--shot won't hurt him-quick!" as he spoke he darted to the nearest tree, seized a large limb, and swung himself up among the branches. the bear passed under him, and, observing the kneeling figure in front, charged at once. when it was within three feet of him the youth let fly the contents of both barrels into the grizzly's mouth. so true was his aim that about six inches of the barrel followed the shot as the bear rushed upon it. this saved watty, who was violently hurled aside by the stock of his own gun, while the bear went head-over-heels, vomiting blood and rage amid smoke and dust and scattered nuggets of gold! "o watty!" cried jack, leaping down to the rescue with his drawn hunting-knife. but before jack reached him, or the bear had time to recover himself, watty was on his active legs, and sprang up a tree like a monkey. jack caught a branch of the same tree, and by sheer strength swung himself up, but on this occasion with so little time to spare, that the bear, standing on its hind legs, touched his heel lovingly with its protruded lips, as he drew himself out of reach. we need scarcely say it was with beating and thankful hearts that the two friends looked down from their perch of safety on the formidable and bloody foe who kept pawing at the foot of the tree and looking hungrily up at them. "what a mercy that the grizzly can't climb!" panted watty, who had not yet recovered breath. "but he can watch and keep us here all night," said jack, "and we have no means of killing him. i fell and lost my gun in escaping, and yours is doubled up. we're in for a night of it, my boy. why didn't you do what i bade you, get up into the tree with your gun when you saw us coming, and then we could have shot him at our leisure?" "why didn't you lend me your own cool head and clear brain," retorted the other, "and then we might have done something of the sort? but surely the shot i gave him must tell in the long-run." "pooh!" said jack, "it's not much more to him than an over-dose of mustard would be to a cat. however, we've nothing for it but to wait. perhaps buckley may have heard our shots." in this conjecture jack was right. the gold-miner was enjoying an unsocial cup of tea at the time, and fortunately heard the distant shots and shouting. buckley was a prompt man. loading his double barrel with ball as he ran, he suddenly made his appearance on the field, saw at a glance how matters stood, and, being a good shot, put two balls in the bear's carcass with deadly effect. grizzly bears are, however, remarkably tenacious of life. this one at once turned on his new foe, who, getting behind a tree, re-loaded as quickly as possible. as the animal passed he put two more balls in its heart and killed it. "splendidly done!" cried jack, leaping to the ground and shaking buckley by the hand, as he thanked him for his timely aid. almost in the same breath he told of their unexpected good fortune. "now, then," he added, "we'll cut off the claws of this fellow as a trophy, and then to camp and supper." "stop a bit, not so fast," said wilkins, who had descended the tree and was sitting on the ground with a most lugubrious countenance; "we must gather up my nuggets before going. besides, it strikes me there's something wrong with my ankle." this was found to be too true. in scrambling into the tree watty had sprained his ankle badly, and in jumping down had made it so much worse that he could not bear to put even his toe to the ground. he was compelled, therefore, to accept the services of jacob buckley, who carried him into camp on his back. despite his sufferings poor wilkins rejoiced that night with his comrades at their good fortune, and it was long before he or they could cease to talk over future plans and take needful rest. at length buckley rolled himself in his blanket, and lay down. "poor fellow," said jack, seeing watty wince a little, "does it hurt much?" "yes, rather, but i'll be all right to-morrow. now, jack, i'm going to sleep. do me a favour before turning in. just make a pile of my nuggets close to my pillow here, with the big one on the top. there, thanks." "what a covetous little wretch you are becoming!" said jack with a laugh, as he lay down. "have a care, watty, that you don't become a miser." watty made no reply, but in the night, when he thought his comrades were asleep, he was overheard muttering in a low tone: "yes, my dear old dad, you shall have them every one, big 'un as well; at least i'll send you every rap that they will fetch. not that you need it. you're rich enough as it is, but this will show you, perhaps, that my first thoughts after my first luck were of you." a long sigh followed the remark. looking up soon afterwards, jack saw that watty was sound asleep, with the point of his nose reposing on the big nugget. the poor lad's idea of a sprain was not quite correct. instead of being "all right" next day, he found himself to be hopelessly lame, and was unable to move from the camp for a couple of weeks. during that period jack and buckley went forth to the new diggings every morning, and returned at night laden with gold, so that in a short time they had gathered as much as they could conveniently carry. then they resolved to go for their comrades and return with them to continue their labours at what they named grizzly bear gulch. as watty was still unable to walk without great pain, they made a sort of litter of a blanket between two poles. in this contrivance they carried him, with their gold and their other belongings, back to the old diggings. but here, on arrival, they found a wonderfully altered state of affairs. "immediately after you left," said captain samson, over a cup of tea, while polly, who presided, listened with sympathetic delight, "we bought a new claim or two, without much hope, however, of bettering our circumstances. one of these claims we bought for you, jack, with part of the money you left in our charge, one for buckley, and another for wilkins. well, these claims all turned out splendidly, and we've been makin' our fortunes ever since! as you were off prospecting, as much for our benefit as your own, we agreed that it was the least we could do to work a little for you, so we gave your claims a rummage day about, and thus we've made your fortunes too, or part of 'em anyhow. we've bin sendin' home bills of exchange too, and knowin' your wish to help your father, jack, i took upon me to send a small sum to him with your love. i did right didn't i?" "right!" exclaimed jack, seizing the captain's hand and squeezing it; "need you ask? i'm only sorry i didn't dig the gold out with my own hand, and enclose the bill in my own letter. how much did you send?" "only 1000 pounds," replied the captain. "come, don't joke. i'm anxious to know, because he was very hard up when i left." "more shame to you for leaving him, my young philosopher," returned the captain, "but i tell you the truth; i sent him 1000 pounds sterling, and i believe there's as much lyin' here in gold-dust and nuggets that belongs to you. we've all done equally well, i'm thankful to say, and, better than that, good fortune seems to have brought us good health. even ben trench there is able to dig like the rest of us." "not exactly," said ben with a pleasant smile at his old friend wilkins, "but i'm very well, thank god, and able to do a little. i wouldn't have been what i am now but for the care of this dear little nurse." polly was quite pleased with the compliment, and made a liberal offer to supply more tea to any of the company who might want it. all this, and a great deal more, was corroborated by every one present; moreover, it was told them that there were many other claims which had suddenly turned out well, and that the whole aspect of these diggings had changed for the better. "and what of mr luke?" asked jack, glancing round the circle. "gone," said the captain, "nobody knows where. he became gloomier and stranger than ever after you went away, and one morning announced his intention to leave us and return to san francisco. he left, and has not been heard of since. bob corkey, too, is off. he got restless and disappointed at our bad luck, said he'd go away prospectin' on his own hook, and went." "good luck go with him! he was altogether too fond of argifying," said simon o'rook. "he's not the only one," remarked baldwin burr, with a grin. after much consideration and consultation, it was agreed that, in the meantime, the party should remain where they were, and, when their claims began to fail, go off to grizzly bear gulch. this being decided, jacob buckley rose, saying that he was going to visit his friends at higgins' store. jack followed him. when they were alone he said-"now, jacob, don't go, there's a good fellow. you saved my life, i may say, and that gives me a claim on you." buckley frowned, but said nothing. "if you get among your old mates," continued jack, "and begin to _taste_, you're a gone man. god has been very good to us. he has made us rich. we may live to be useful, jacob. think of it." a half sarcastic smile flitted over buckley's face as he said, "you didn't use to be a preacher, jack; what makes you now so keen to save me, as you call it?" "i'm not sure what it is that makes me anxious now," replied jack, "but i know what made me anxious at first. it was your poor brother daniel. that night he died, when he whispered in my ear, it was to make me promise to save you from drink and gambling if i could." "did he?" exclaimed the miner vehemently, as he clenched his hands. "o dan! dear dan, did you say that at such an hour? look you, jack," he added, turning sharply round, "i'll not go near the store, and if i _am_ saved it is dan who has done it, mind that--not you." and buckley held to his word. for months after that he worked with the samson party--as it was styled--and never once tasted a drop of anything stronger than tea. during all that time success continued, but philosopher jack felt in his heart that no success in digging up gold was at all comparable to that of working with the lord in helping a brother-sinner to turn from the error of his ways. as their wealth accumulated, the different members of the party converted it into cash, sent some of it home to the assistance of friends or relatives, and the rest for safe and remunerative investment. for the latter purpose they committed it to the care of mr wilkins senior, who, being a trusty and well-known man of business, was left to his own discretion in the selection of investments. simon o'rook, however, did not follow the example of his friends. he preferred to keep his gold in his own hands, and, as its bulk increased, stowed it away in a small chest, which, for further security, he buried in a hole in the tent directly under his own sleeping corner. in addition to his remittances to mr wilkins for investment, edwin jack sent large sums regularly to his father, for the purpose not only of getting him out of his difficulties, but of enabling him to extend his farming operations. the wheel of fortune, however, had turned upwards with jack senior, and he did not require these sums, as we shall see. while things were going on thus prosperously at the other side of the world, a wonderful change--intimately connected with gold--took place in the "old country", which materially altered the circumstances of some of those personages whose names have figured in our tale. chapter nine. treats of a catastrophe and ruin. we return once again to the cottage on the scottish border. it is not quite so lowly as it was when first introduced to our readers. although not extensively changed, there is a certain air of comfort and prosperity about it which gives it much the appearance of a dirty boy who has had his face washed and a suit of new clothes put on. it has been whitewashed and partially re-roofed. a trellis-work porch with creepers has been added. the garden bears marks of improvement, and in one part there are four little plots of flower-beds, so conspicuously different in culture and general treatment as to suggest the idea of four different gardens. inside of mr jack's abode there are also many changes for the better. the rooms are better furnished than they used to be. several cheap oleograph copies of beautiful pictures adorn the walls, and the best parlour, which used to be kept in a condition of deadly propriety for state occasions only, is evidently used in the course of daily life. a brand-new piano, with a pretty little girl seated before it, suggests advancing refinement, and the expression of the child's face, while she attempts the impossible task of stretching an octave, indicates despair. there is another little girl seated at a table darning with all the energy of a martha-like character. she is engaged upon a pair of juvenile socks, which have apparently been worn last by a cart-horse. books and drawing materials and mathematical instruments on the table betoken progressive education, and, in short, everything without and within the cottage tells, as we have said, of prosperity. it must not be supposed, however, that all this is due to philosopher jack's good fortune and liberality. when the first letter came from california, telling of the safety of our hero and his friends, mr jack was indeed in great material distress, but there was no money in that letter. it was despatched from san francisco at the time of the arrival of the party, along with letters from the other members, informing their various relations of their deliverance. but if the letter had contained tons of the finest gold it could not have added a feather's weight to the joy of the old couple, who, like the widow of nain or the sisters of bethany, had received their dear lost one direct from the lord, and, as it were, back from the dead. then, after an interval, came captain samson's letter enclosing the bill for 1000 pounds, and explaining why philosopher jack himself did not write with it. mr jack senior thankfully used two hundred of the amount, which was quite sufficient to extricate him from all his difficulties. the balance he put into the nearest bank, to be kept for "the dear boy" on his return. from that date god sent prosperity to the cottage on the border. flocks increased, seasons were no longer bad, grey mares no longer broke their legs, turnips throve, and, in short, everything went well, so that, instead of using the large sums of money which his son frequently sent him, mr jack placed them all to "dear teddie's" credit in the bank. in one of these letters, his son mentioned that he had sent still larger sums to the care of mr wilkins senior, to be invested for himself. mr jack, having consulted with his faithful spouse, drew his son's gifts from the local bank, went to the city of blankow, called on mr wilkins, and desired him to invest the money in the same concern with the rest. mr wilkins purchased shares with it in the blankow bank, telling mr jack that he considered it one of the best and safest investments in scotland, that he had invested in it all the funds sent home by his own son and his comrades, and that he himself was a large shareholder. thus did mr jack senior act with all the gifts that jack junior sent him, saying to mr wilkins on each occasion, that, though the dear boy meant him to use the money, he had no occasion to do so, as the lord had prospered him of late, and given him enough and to spare. we re-introduce the jack family to the reader at breakfast-time, not because that was the only noteworthy period of their day, but because it was the time when the parents of the family were wont to talk over the daily plans. mr jack went to the door and shouted, "breakfast!" in a sonorous tone. instantly the octave was abandoned and the socks were dropped. next moment there was a sound like the charge of a squadron of cavalry. it was the boys coming from the farm-yard. the extreme noise of the family's entry was rendered fully apparent by the appalling calm which ensued when mr jack opened the family bible, and cleared his throat to begin worship. at breakfast the noise began again, but it was more subdued, appetite being too strong for it. in five minutes dobbin was up to the eyes in a treacle-piece. this was a good opportunity for conversation. "maggie," said mr jack, looking up from his plate, "the last bill sent us from the diggin's by the dear boy makes the sum in my hands up to two thousand pounds. i'll go to town to-day and give it to mr wilkins to invest as usual." "very weel, john," replied mrs jack, "but it's been runnin' in my mind that it's no that safe to pit a' yer eggs in the same basket. maybe ye might invest it in somethin' else." "that's true, maggie, we shall see," said mr jack, who was at all times a man of few words. as dobbin became at the moment clamorous for more food, nothing further was said on the subject. arrived in the city, john jack made his way to the office of mr wilkins. he found that gentleman with an expression of unwonted resignation on his countenance. "i've brought you more money to invest, mr wilkins," said john jack, sitting down after wiping his forehead, and producing a fat pocketbook; "i thought of doin' it in the old way, but my wife and i have been thinkin' that perhaps it might be wise to put some of the eggs in another basket." a very sad and peculiar smile flitted for a moment across mr wilkins's face. "it is plain that you have not heard of the disastrous failure," he said. "only last week the blankow bank suspended payment, and if the reports as to its liabilities be true, the result will be widespread ruin throughout the country." "do you mean to say that the bank has failed?" asked mr jack, anxiously. "yes, and it is feared that most of the shareholders will be ruined. i am one, you know." "will _you_ be ruined, mr wilkins?" "i fear that the first call will be more than i can meet. i trust that you are not personally involved." "no, thank god, i'm not," said mr jack, with an increasingly anxious look. "but tell me, mr wilkins--for i don't understand banking matters very well--is my son's money all gone?" "all," returned mr wilkins sadly, "and all that my own son has invested, as well as that of his friends!" "how was it, sir," asked mr jack, in a reproachful tone, "that you were so confident in recommending the investment?" "because i thoroughly believed in the soundness of the bank and in the character of its directors. investing my own funds so largely in its stock proves how i trusted it. but i was mistaken. it is a mystery which i cannot solve. perhaps, when the examination of its affairs is completed, light may be thrown on the subject. i hope that no more of your relations or friends have stock in it?" "none that i know of, except indeed my poor friend mrs niven, who was my son's landlady when he was at college. i'll go and inquire about her." mr jack thrust the fat pocket-book into a breast pocket, and buttoned up his coat with the determined air of a man who means to keep hold of what he has got. bidding mr wilkins good-bye, he walked rapidly to mrs niven's house and pulled the bell rather violently. the summons was promptly answered by peggy, who ushered him into a little parlour, where he was quickly joined by mrs niven. "i'm very sorry to hear the bad news," said mr jack, pressing the good woman's hand in sympathy. "what bad news?" asked mrs niven, in alarm. "the bank, you know," said mr jack. "it's very hard, and to think that you're in the same boat with my dear boy, whose fortune is wrecked--" a little scream stopped him, for the word "wrecked" struck a chill to the poor woman's heart. "what! wrecked again?" she cried, "on a bank, in a boat? oh! don't tell me, don't tell me that he's drownded." "no, no," cried mr jack, hastening to relieve her mind, while he supported her to a chair; "no, no; my dear boy's all right. it's the blankow bank i mean that's gone to wreck, you know, and all his money with it, and yours too, i suppose, for you told me you had shares in that bank." "oh! as to that," said mrs niven, greatly relieved, "you may mak' yer mind easy. i've got nae shares intilt noo. i selt them through mr black lang syne. he's a douce, clever, honest felly--a relation o' mine, and a first-rate business man; but for him i'd hae lost my siller, nae doot. he warned me that the bank was nae a right ane, and advised me to sell." mr jack thought that such a clever, disinterested man-of-business, and a relation of mrs niven, might be just the person to give him sound advice at this crisis; he therefore obtained his address, and, after a long chat with the good woman, who would have listened for hours to the adventures of her "bonny lodger," took his departure, and in due time stood at the door of the dirty little office. the dirty clerk ushered the visitor into the presence of mr black, whose presence was more repulsive than it used to be. he received mr jack rather gruffly, and asked his business. "oho! an eccentric character, gruff but honest," thought mr jack, who began by saying that he had just come from visiting his friend mrs niven. mr black's face grew almost green at the name, and his brows scowled fiercely. "strange look for an honest, kindly man," thought mr jack, "but we must never judge from the outward appearance;" then he said aloud, "i went to see her about that bank failure--" "ha!" growled mr black, interrupting, "but for that woman, and that--" he checked himself and said, "but you came here on some matter of business, i suppose. will you state it?" "a very eccentric man indeed, remarkably so, for a kindly, honest man," thought mr jack; but he only said, "i came here to consult you about the investment of two thousand pounds--" "oh! indeed," said mr black, in quite an altered tone, as he rose and politely offered his visitor a chair. "but," continued mr jack, rebuttoning his greatcoat which he had partly opened, "but, sir, i have changed my mind, and bid you good-day." so saying, he went out, leaving mr black standing at the door in stupid amazement and his dirty clerk agonising with suppressed laughter behind his desk. mr black had been groaning and growling all the day at the thoughts of the ruin which had overtaken him--thoughts which were embittered by the knowledge that he had drawn it on himself through the instrumentality of mrs niven. the climax of mr jack's visit did not tend to restore him. recovering from his amazement, and observing the condition of the clerk, he suddenly hurled the cash-book at him. cleverly dodging it, the dirty little creature bolted from the office, and banged the door behind him. meanwhile mr jack cashed his last bill of exchange, returned home, and presented his wife with a bag of gold, which she deposited in the darkest recesses of the great family chest. "that bank gives no interest," said john jack, with a quiet chuckle, as he superintended the deposit, "but we shall always have the interest of knowing that it is there." long afterwards mr wilkins sought to combat mr jack's objection to invest in another scotch bank. "this disaster," he said, "ought not to be called a bank _failure_; it is a bank _robbery_ committed by its own directors, as has been clearly proved, and no more touches the credit of scotch banks in general than the failure of a commercial house, through the dishonesty of its principals, affects the other commercial houses of the kingdom." "it may be as you say, sir," replied john jack, gravely, "an' if it was my own money i might act on your advice. but i intend to take care of what's left of the dear boy's money myself." so saying, the stout farmer threw his shepherd's plaid over his shoulder, and went off to his cottage on the border. but we must pass from this subject. space forbids our going deeper into it, or touching on the terrible consequences of dishonesty coupled with unlimited liability. fortunes were wrecked; the rich and the poor, the innocent and guilty, the confiding and the ignorant as well as the knowing and wise, fell in the general crash. many homes were desolated, and many hearts were broken. may we not believe, also, that many hearts were purified in passing through the furnace of affliction! "all is not evil that brings sorrow," may be quite as true as the proverb, "all is not gold that glitters." some have been glad to say with the psalmist, "it was good for me that i was afflicted." this truth, however, while it might strengthen some hearts to bear, did not lighten the load to be borne. the great bank failure produced heart-rending and widespread distress. it also called forth deep and general sympathy. out among the mountain gorges of california the gold-hunters knew nothing of all this for many a day, and our adventurers continued to dig, and wash, and pile up the superstructure of their fortunes, all ignorant of the event which had crumbled away the entire foundations. at last there came a day when these fortunate gold-miners cried, "hold! enough!" an unwonted cry--not often uttered by human beings. standing beside the camp fire one evening, while some of the party were cooking and others were arranging things inside the tent captain samson looked around him with an unusually heavy sigh. "it's a grand country, and i'll be sorry to leave it," he said. "troth, and so will meself," responded o'rook. it was indeed a grand country. they had lately changed the position of their tent to an elevated plateau near a huge mass of rock where a little mountain stream fell conveniently into a small basin. from this spot they could see the valley where it widened into a plain, and again narrowed as it entered the gloomy defile of the mountains, whose tops mingled magnificently with the clouds. "you see, my lads," continued the captain, "it's of no use goin' on wastin' our lives here, diggin' away like navvies, when we've got more gold than we know what to do with. besides, i'm not sure that we ain't gettin' into a covetous frame of mind, and if we go on devotin' our lives to the gettin' of gold that we don't need, it's not unlikely that it may be taken away from us. moreover, many a man has dug his grave in california and bin buried, so to speak, in gold-dust, which is a fate that no sensible man ought to court--a fate, let me add, that seems to await ben trench if he continues at this sort o' thing much longer. and, lastly, it's not fair that my polly should spend her prime in acting the part of cook and mender of old clothes to a set of rough miners. for all of which reasons i vote that we now break up our partnership, pack up the gold-dust that we've got, and return home." to this speech polly samson replied, promptly, that nothing pleased her more than to be a cook and mender of old clothes to rough miners, and that she was willing to continue in that capacity as long as her father chose. philosopher jack also declared himself willing to remain, but added that he was equally willing to leave if the rest of the firm should decide to do so, as he was quite content with the fortune that had been sent him. simon o'rook, however, did not at first agree to the proposal. "it's rich enough that i am already, no doubt," he said, "but sure, there's no harm in bein' richer. i may be able to kape me carriage an' pair at present, but why shudn't i kape me town house an' country house an' me carriage an four, if i can?" "because we won't stay to keep you company," answered watty wilkins, "and surely you wouldn't have the heart to remain here digging holes by yourself? besides, my friend ben is bound to go home. the work is evidently too hard for him, and he's so fond of gold that he won't give up digging." "ah! watty," returned ben with a sad smile, "you know it is not my fondness for gold that makes me dig. but i can't bear to be a burden on you, and you know well enough that what i do accomplish does little more than enable me to pay my expenses. besides, a little digging does me good. it occupies my mind and exercises my muscles, an' prevents moping. doesn't it, polly?" in this estimate of his case ben trench was wrong. the labour which he undertook and the exposure to damp, despite the remonstrances of his companions, were too much for a constitution already weakened by disease. it was plain to every one--even to himself--that a change was necessary. he therefore gladly agreed to the captain's proposal. baldwin burr, however, dissented. he did not, indeed, object to the dissolution of the partnership of samson and company, but he refused to quit the gold-fields, saying that he had no one in the old country whom he cared for, and that he meant to settle in california. it was finally agreed that the captain, philosopher jack, watty wilkins, ben trench, simon o'rook, and polly should return home, while baldwin burr and jacob buckley should enter into a new partnership and remain at the fields. although, as we have said, most of our adventurers had sent their gold home in the form of bills of exchange for investment, they all had goodly sums on hand in dust and nuggets--the result of their more recent labours--for which strong boxes were made at higgins's store. simon o'rook, in particular,--who, as we have said, did not send home any of his gold,--had made such a huge "pile" that several strong boxes were required to hold all his wealth. the packing of these treasure-chests occupied but a short time. each man cut his name on the lid of his box inside, and printed it outside, and nailed and roped it tight, and took every means to make it secure. then, mounting their mules and travelling in company with a trader and a considerable party of miners, they returned to san francisco, having previously secured berths in a ship which was about to sail for england _via_ cape horn. baldwin burr and buckley convoyed them a day's journey on the way. "i'm sorry you're goin', miss polly," said baldwin, riding up alongside of our little heroine, who ambled along on a glossy black mule. "i am _not_ sorry that we're going," replied polly, "but i'm sorry--very sorry--that we are leaving you behind us, baldwin. you're such a dear old goose, and i'm so fond of teaching you. i don't know how i shall be able to get on without you." "yes, that's it, miss polly," returned the bluff seaman, with a look of perplexity. "you're so cram full of knowledge, an' i'm sitch an empty cask, that it's bin quite a pleasure to let you run over into me, so to speak." "come, baldwin, don't joke," said polly, with a quick glance. "i'm far from jokin', miss polly," returned the seaman; "i'm in downright earnest. an' then, to lose philosopher jack on the selfsame day. it comes hard on an old salt. the way that young man has strove to drive jogriffy, an' 'rithmetic, an navigation into my head is wonderful; an' all in vain too! it's a'most broke his heart--to say nothin' of my own. it's quite clear that i'll never make a good seaman. howsever, it's a comfort to know that i've got edication enough for a landsman--ain't it, miss polly?" polly laughed, and admitted that that was indeed a consoling reflection. while these two were conversing thus, jack and jacob buckley were riding together in the rear of the party. they had been talking as if under some sort of restraint. at last jack turned to his companion with a kind, straightforward look. "it's of no use, buckley, my beating about the bush longer. this is likely to be the last time that you and i shall meet on earth, and i can't part without saying how anxious i am that you should persevere in the course of temperance which you have begun." "thank you, jack, thank you," said the miner heartily, "for the interest you take in me. i do intend to persevere." "i know that, jacob, i know it; but i want you to believe that you have no chance of success unless you first become a follower of jesus christ. he is the _only_ saviour from sin. your resolutions, without him, cannot succeed. i have found that out, and i want you to believe it, jacob." "i _do_ believe it," said the miner earnestly. "dear dan used to tell me that--often--often. dear dan!" "now," added jack, "we shall have to part soon. there is another thing i want to mention. there is a bag of gold with my name on it, worth some few hundred pounds, more or less. i want you to accept it, for i know that you have not been so successful as we have during our short--" "but i won't take it, jack," interrupted buckley. "yes you will, jacob, from an old friend and comrade. it may tide you over a difficulty, who knows? luck does not always last, as the saying goes." still buckley shook his head. "well, then," continued jack, "you can't help yourself, for i've left the bag under your own pillow in the tent!" buckley's reply was checked by a shout from captain samson. they had reached the parting point--a clump of trees on an eminence that overlooked a long stretch of undulating park-like region. here they dismounted to shake hands and say farewell. little was said at the time, but moistened eyes and the long grasp of hard muscular hands told something of feelings to which the lips could give no utterance. the party could see that knoll for miles after leaving it, and whenever polly reined up and looked back, she saw the sturdy forms of baldwin burr and jacob buckley waving a kerchief or a hat, standing side by side and gazing after them. at last they appeared like mere specks on the landscape, and the knoll itself finally faded from their view. at san francisco they found their vessel, the _rainbow_, a large full-rigged ship, ready for sea. embarking with their boxes of gold-dust they bade farewell to the golden shore, where so many young and vigorous men have landed in hopeful enthusiasm, to meet, too often, with disappointment, if not with death. our friends, being among the fortunate few, left it with joy. the _rainbow_ shook out her sails to a favouring breeze, and, sweeping out upon the great pacific, was soon bowling along the western coast of south america, in the direction of cape horn. chapter ten. change of scene and fortune. the fair wind that swept the good ship _rainbow_ away from california's golden shores carried her quickly into a fresh and purer atmosphere, moral as well as physical. it seemed to most, if not all, of the gold-finders as if their brains had been cleared of golden cobwebs. they felt like convalescents from whom a low fever had suddenly departed, leaving them subdued, restful, calm, and happy. "it's more like a dream than a reality," observed ben trench one day, as he and polly sat on the after part of the vessel, gazing out upon the tranquil sea. "what seems like a dream?" asked philosopher jack, coming aft at the moment with watty wilkins, and sitting down beside them. "our recent life in california," replied ben. "there was such constant bustle and toil, and restless, feverish activity, both of mind and body; and now everything is so calm and peaceful, and we are so delightfully idle. i can hardly persuade myself that it is not all a dream." "perhaps it is," said philosopher jack. "there are men, you know, who hold that everything is a dream; that matter is a mere fancy or conception, and that there is nothing real or actually in existence but mind." "bah!" exclaimed watty with contempt; "what would these philosophers say if matter, in the shape of a fist, were to hit them on their ridiculous noses?" "they'd say that they only imagined a fist and fancied a blow, i suppose," returned jack. "and would they say that the pain and the blood were imagination also?" "i suppose they would." "but what if i were to come on them slily behind and hit them on their pates before they had a chance to see or to exert their terribly real and powerful minds?" demanded watty. "you must ask one of themselves, watty, for i don't know much about their views; indeed, i'm not sure that i have represented them correctly, though it's very likely i have, for there is no species of nonsense under the sun that men have not been found to hold and defend with more or less vigour." "would you not call that a proof of the creator's intention that man should exercise the investigative powers of his mind?" asked ben. "i would call it a proof of man's depravity," said wilkins. "what does polly think?" asked jack, with an amused look at the child, whose fair brow wore an anxious little frown as she tried to understand. "i think it's a proof of both," replied polly, with a blush and a laugh; "we have got the power to think and speak and reason, and we are sometimes very naughty." "well said, polly; we must call _you_ the philosopher in future," cried watty. "but jack," he added, with a perplexed air, "it seems to me that we live in such a world of confusion, both as to the limited amount of our knowledge, and the extent of our differences of opinion, while presumptuous incapacity attempts to teach us on the one hand, and designing iniquity, or pure prejudice, seeks to mislead us on the other, and misconception of one's meaning and motives all round makes such a muddle of the whole that--that--it seems to me the search after truth is almost hopeless, at least to ordinary minds." "i admit it to be a great difficulty," replied jack, "but it is by no means hopeless. we must not forget that the world is well supplied with extraordinary minds to keep the ordinary minds right." "true, but when the extraordinary minds differ, what are the poor ordinary ones to do?" asked watty. "use their brains, watty, use their brains," said captain samson, who had come aft, and been listening to the conversation. "your brains, whether good or bad, were given to be used, not to be sold. the power to reason is a gift that is not bestowed only on extraordinary minds. the unlearned are sometimes better reasoners than the learned, though, of course, they haven't got so many tools to work with. still, they are sufficiently furnished with all that's needful to run the race that is set before them. god has given to every man--civilised and savage--a brain to think with, a heart to feel with, a frame to work with, a conscience to guide him, and a world, with all its wonderful stores, in which to do what he will. conscience--which, i think, is well named the voice of god in man--tells him to do _right_, and forbids him to do _wrong_; his heart glows with a certain degree of pleasure when he does well, and sinks, more or less, when he does ill; his reason tells him, more or less correctly, _what_ is right, and _what_ is wrong. the word of god is the great chart given to enlighten our understandings and guide us heavenward. as my reason tells me to go to my charts for safe direction at sea, so every man's reason will tell him to go to god's revealed word, when he believes he has got it. there he will find that jesus christ is the centre of the word, the sum and substance of it, that he cannot believe in or accept the saviour except by the power of the holy spirit. he will also find the blessed truth that god has promised the spirit to those who simply `ask' for him. there is no difficulty in all this. the great and numberless difficulties by which we are undoubtedly surrounded are difficulties of detail, which we may be more or less successful in solving, according to our powers of mind, coupled with our submission to the revealed will of god. to some extent we fail and get into trouble because we lazily, or carelessly, let other men think for us, instead of making use of other men's thoughts to help us to think for ourselves. depend upon it, watty, we won't be able to justify ourselves at the judgment day by saying that things were too deep for us, that things seemed to be in such a muddle that it was of no use trying to clear 'em up. why, what would you say of the mainspring of a watch if it were suddenly to exclaim, `i'll give up trying! here am i--so powerful and energetic, and so well able to spin round-checked, and hindered, and harassed by wheels and pinions and levers, some going this way, and some going that way, all at sixes and sevens, and all for no good end that i can see, buried as i am in this dark hole and scarcely allowed to move at all?' would it be right or reasonable to charge the watchmaker with having made the watch in vain, or made it wrong? of this i at least am convinced, that god is _perfect_, and that all things are working towards a _good_ end, god's sovereignty, our mysterious free-will and personal responsibility being among these `all things.'" while captain samson was discoursing on these important subjects, the look-out on the forecastle reported a sail on the weather-bow. "she's a whaler, i do believe, and her boats are after a sperm whale," said simon o'rook, who stood by the mizzen shrouds looking intently at her through his double glass. simon, being now a rich man, had not only taken a cabin passage, but had bought for himself one of the best binocular telescopes to be had in san francisco. it was soon seen that o'rook was right for the whale rose to blow, and swam towards the _rainbow_, while the boats of the whaler immediately followed in pursuit. great was the excitement on board the _rainbow_ as the men clustered on the forecastle, or ran up the rigging, to watch the chase, while the officers and passengers got out their telescopes. "come here, polly," cried jack; "look through my glass. it's a rare chance you've got of seeing what men have to go through in order to send oil to market." polly at once accepted the invitation. jack assisted her to mount on the top of the capstan, and arranged the glass. "there she blows!" shouted one of the men who had been an old whaler; "there she breaches!" as he spoke the whale rose about three miles to windward of them, not far from the boat that led the chase. the men in the boat were seen to bend to their oars, as captain samson said, "with a will." another moment and the harpooneer stood up in the bow. the spectators were too far off to see the weapon used, but they could perceive the man's action, and there was no possibility of mistake as to the result, when the tail of the enormous creature was suddenly flourished in the air, and came down on the sea like a clap of distant thunder. "oh! oh!!" shrieked the horrified polly, "the boat is gone!" but the boat was not gone. it had been quickly backed out of danger when the harpoon was thrown, and reappeared when the cataract of spray sent up had dispersed. "he's pouring water on the rope now," said jack, in a low excited voice, "to prevent its catching fire as it runs out. they're fast to the fish." "yes, i see," exclaimed polly, squeezing her right eye against the glass and shutting the other with her hand. but in a few minutes there was no need for telescopes, as the whale came straight towards the _rainbow_, dragging the boat after it, while the other boats followed as fast as the men could pull. the whale-ship steered in the same direction, but there was scarcely wind enough to fill her top-sails. suddenly the leviathan came to the surface for breath, not far off, and sent up a grand spout of water on the _rainbow's_ starboard bows. the boat pulled quickly up, and another harpoon was sent deep into the whale's side. it dived immediately, and, turning at an angle, darted off in an other direction. this time the excited onlookers could hear the cheer given by the whalers as the second "iron" was fixed, and replied to it with enthusiasm. soon the boat was carried far away, and the telescopes became again necessary, but ere long the fish turned, and once more made for the ship. it could not have been more than five hundred yards distant when it came to the surface for the third time, and the harpooneer was distinctly seen to drive a lance deep into its side, from which fountains of blood flowed. he had struck its "life," as whalemen express it, and the whale soon went into its dying struggles, in the course of which it hit the boat, stove in its side, and overturned it. there was a cry of consternation on board the _rainbow_ at this. instantly the order was given to lower the boats. philosopher jack and o'rook sprang to obey, by an irresistible impulse, as if they had been part of the ship's crew. in a few seconds two boats were rowing at full speed to the rescue, while the boats belonging to the whale-ship--still far distant--made for the scene of disaster. ere long the rescue party had the great satisfaction of picking up the wrecked whalers, and found that not a man among them had received greater injury than a bruise or two and a ducking. their boat, however, was completely destroyed. they were therefore taken on board the _rainbow_, while the whaler's boats came up and secured their prize. that night, while the stars twinkled at their own reflections in the sleeping sea, the crew of the whale-ship had a "gam" on board the _rainbow_. a "gam," good reader, may be described as a "small tea-party" on the sea. but it differs in many respects from such gatherings on shore, inasmuch as the revellers are not "a few friends", male and female, but are usually absolute strangers to each other, and of the male sex only. but the circumstances of their meeting--on the lone ocean, far from home and friends--have a marvellous effect in opening up the fountains of the human heart. the men and officers fraternised at once. the whalers were chiefly american, the rainbowers principally english, with a slight mixture of irish and scotch. they all spoke the same language; that was enough. soon after the arrival of their guests, powerful friendships were formed. while tea, or rather supper, was being discussed, these were cemented; and, when pipes were lit, confidences of the most touching nature were interchanged. anecdotes and stories naturally followed the confidences, broke up the separate parties, and drew the company more together. the union was finally and effectually concentrated by one of the whalers' crew making a demand for a song. "come, o'rook," cried one of the _rainbow_ men, "let's have `the poor little pig wi' the purple nose.'" o'rook began at once, and sang with such fervour and pathos, that his auditors became quite uproarious in their admiration. but when the irishman called on the whalers for a ditty, a fine-looking youth sang a song of the "homeward bound," in a voice so sweet and true, that the spirit of the men was changed, and many a moistened eye told that deep chords of sympathy had been touched. "can you play the fiddle?" asked one of the men of o'rook, when the song was finished. "sure it's myself can do that same," he replied, with a modest air, which drew forth a peal of laughter. when the fiddle was produced and o'rook struck up reels, and strathspeys, and hornpipes, with a precision of touch and time and perfection of tune that was far above the average of amateurs, the joy of the party could no longer find vent through eye and mouth. they were forced to open the safety-valves of heel and toe. for this purpose the quarter-deck was cleared, and flags were festooned round it; the officers joined, and polly samson was placed on the capstan, like the presiding angel of the scene. ah! reader, if you have not been for many months on the ocean, or in the lone wilderness, without seeing a new face, or hearing a sweet sound, or feeling the power of female influence, you cannot fully appreciate what we describe. there was no drink save coffee and tea at that feast. the _rainbow_ was a temperance ship. but the men required no spirits. each one had more than sufficient within himself. the presence of polly, too, had a powerful effect. every man there saw his own particular polly or susan or nancy in her pretty laughing face and sparkling eyes. "your men are powerful fellows," said the captain of the _rainbow_ to the captain of the whaler; "i've no doubt they'll be quite game for work to-morrow, though they should keep it up all night." "they certainly would," replied the latter, "if called on to do duty; but they won't be required to work to-morrow, for we keep the sabbath on board of our ship as a duty we owe to god, and we find that we are great gainers in health and strength, while we are no losers of fish by doing so." "ha! the great captain scoresby tried that before you, and said that he found keeping the sabbath to be good both for body and soul," said the captain of the _rainbow_. "i know he did," replied the other, "and i am trying to follow in scoresby's wake." it was pretty late in the evening before the whalers could tear themselves away, and when at last they did so, they expressed a unanimous opinion that it had been the most successful gam they had ever had in their lives. not long after parting company from the whale-ship the _rainbow_ sailed into the cold and variable regions south of cape horn. here they experienced what the men styled "very dirty weather." the skies were seldom blue, and the decks were never dry, while it became necessary to keep the stove burning constantly in the cabin, and the berth-ports almost always shut. the effect of all this on poor ben trench was to injure his health severely. his cough increased, and it soon became evident that his complaint, which at first had only threatened to grow worse, had now become chronic and serious. "watty," he said one day, while his friend sat beside his cot reading to him, "it's of no use shutting one's eyes to facts. i fear that i am now hopelessly ill, and that i shall never see father or mother or susan again in this world." "o ben! don't speak like that," said watty, laying down the book, and gently taking his friend's thin hand in both of his. "you mustn't do it. it will only make you worse. when we get out of this horrible region into the trade winds and the sunshine near the line, you'll be a new man. come now, cheer up, ben, and don't let your good little nurse see you with such a sad face." polly's step was heard at the moment. she entered with a bowl of soup. "here, ben, this will do you good," she said, handing him the bowl. "the cook says it's the stuff to stick to your ribs. there now, i can't stop to give it you, for father wants me, but you're all right when watty's by. are you better?" "well, not much," replied ben with a smile; "but i'm always the better of seeing your little face. don't be long of returning, poll." when she had left, ben drank the soup, and then lay down with a sigh. "it may be that the warm latitudes will do me good, watty," he said, "but i don't feel as if they would. still i'm resigned to god's will, though it seems sad to die so young, and just when i've come to know my dear redeemer, and might, perhaps, have done some little work for him. it seems so strange to be saved and not allowed time to _do_ anything." "you _have_ done something," returned his friend with an earnest look; "if i have really turned to jesus at all, it has been through your influence, ben, and i'm sure that jack would say the same of himself; and if he and i are spared to do any good work for our lord, it will be all owing to you." "not to me, watty, not to me," rejoined ben, with a glad look; "but if god's holy spirit has used me as an instrument in this, i shall have cause to praise him for it throughout eternity. oh! is it not strange that in a region where there is so little godliness, and while we were in the eager pursuit of gold, our eyes should have been opened to see and appreciate the true gold? but now, watty," he added in a lower tone, "i want to ask you to do me a favour. i want you to go yourself to our house, without delay, and break it to mother." he paused. watty laid his face in the bedclothes, and wept silently. "they are very fond of you," continued ben, "and i should not like them to hear of it from any one but you. be very tender to susan, watty. poor susan, she will need comfort, and you know how to direct her." for some time ben trench continued talking, and then fell into a quiet slumber, in which his friend left him, while polly watched by his side. the warm latitudes did no good to the invalid. on the contrary, he suffered much from the heat, and became visibly weaker. at last the shores of old england drew nigh. a few days more and they should sight land. they sought to cheer him with this, but there was no answering sparkle in ben's eyes. "yes," he said, faintly, "i shall see them all again, but not _here_." ben was dying when the _rainbow_ approached the british channel. the whole of the previous day a stiff gale had blown, and this had not much abated when night drew on. liverpool was their port, and the captain carried on full sail--more than the good ship could well bear. it is not known whether he felt so sure of his course that he did not think it necessary to shorten sail on nearing the land's end, or that he was anxious, at all hazards, to reach port before ben trench should die, but he held on recklessly, and, in the dead of night, ran the _rainbow_ straight against the high cliffs not far from the cornish town of saint just. the wreck of the ship was complete in a few seconds. all her masts went over the side, and the waves overwhelmed her. she would have gone down in deep water if she had not been dashed between two rocks and held there. time was thus given for one of the boats to be got out, but utter confusion reigned, for the captain had disappeared. no wonder that several of the men leaped into her, crying, "every man for himself," and endeavoured to cast off. "have you got polly?" cried jack, as he dimly saw a figure staggering through the turmoil of wind and whirling spray. "all safe!" gasped captain samson. jack instantly jumped into the boat and found o'rook struggling to prevent one of the men from cutting the hawser. jack knocked the man down, and, hauling the boat close alongside, shouted, "jump, captain, jump!" the captain did so at the right moment, and alighted safely, though with great violence. just then watty wilkins was seen striving to lift ben trench over the bulwark of the ship. it was impossible to render him assistance, though jack tried to do so, for at the moment a towering billow fell on the deck and tore the invalid from his grasp. with a shriek of despair watty fell back into the sea, but was caught by one of the men and hauled into the boat which was then cut adrift. it was not a moment too soon, for the next wave dashed their ship to pieces. as it was impossible to effect a landing among perpendicular cliffs which were lashed by roaring breakers, they were obliged to push out to sea, where they rowed till daylight, and succeeded in reaching penzance harbour. leaving the others to report the news, jack and wilkins started off along the coast to the scene of the wreck. they found the spot, but not a vestige was to be seen of what had so long been their home, save a few broken spars, here and there far down in the clefts of inaccessible rocks. a fisherman, however, told them that several bodies had been thrown into a little bay, and were then lying in a shed near the spot. hastening thither, they found five lying side by side. among them were those of poor ben trench and the captain of the ship--the one strong, stalwart and still ruddy in the face, the other attenuated and ghastly, as might have been expected of one who had, as it were, died a double death. we will not dwell on the terrible scene. while jack and captain samson remained to attend to the dead, wilkins set off, without delay, to be first, if possible, in breaking the sad news to his friend's family, according to promise. in regard to the wreck, it is sufficient to say that she, with all her precious freight was scattered on the rugged coasts of cornwall, and our adventurers stood once more on their native shores without even the means of paying their travelling expenses home. they did not like to speak of their invested wealth, fearing that their statements might be disbelieved. they therefore stood literally in the position of beggars. in this extremity they found the hospitable men of cornwall to be friends indeed and full of sympathy. chapter eleven. return of the wanderer. great was the anxiety of edwin jack as he walked, with light foot and fluttering heart, over the border hills and drew near to the old home. he had not heard from his father for nearly a year. were they all well? had they struggled out of their difficulties with the funds he had sent them. was there no empty chair? such and similar thoughts hurried through his mind as he went along, until he was forced to run for relief. there was a rocky ridge of land in front of him. from the top of this he knew the cottage could be seen. panting with exertion when he gained the top, he sat down on a mass of rock and gazed at the old place till tears disturbed his vision. there it stood as of yore--no change in the general aspect of things, though there did seem one or two improvements about the cottage. but he did not gaze long. starting up again he hurried on. at last he stood in the midst of the old home-circle--all well, and, thank god, not one absent! philosopher though he was, he could not reason down the tears of joy that blinded, and the lump in his throat that well-nigh choked him. after the first wild miscellaneous embrace all round was over, jack (or teddie, as the home-circle called him) found relief by catching up dobbin and burying his face in his neck and curls, regardless of the treacle with which that gentleman was plentifully besmeared. "i've got bad news for you, teddie, my boy," said his father, after they had moderated a little. "nobody ill or--dead?" asked jack, with a look of anxiety. "no, nobody." "then i'm prepared for any other kind of bad news," said our philosopher with a quiet smile. "the blankow bank," said his father, laying a hand impressively on his shoulder, "has failed, and every penny of your gold is gone!" the family had become very grave. jack looked from one to the other with a bewildered air. "you are jesting, father." "no, my boy; i would that it were not true. the distress that is abroad in the land because of this calamity is very great. not only is all your fortune gone, ted, but anything that you may have brought home with you will be taken to pay the creditors of the bank; and they require so much money that it would ruin you, though you had thousands upon thousands of pounds." a strange smile flitted across the youth's face as he replied-"what i brought home with me won't benefit them much, for it lies with the wreck of the _rainbow_ at the bottom of the sea." this was indeed a surprise to the old couple, who now learned, for the first time, that the wrecked ship, about which a rumour had just reached them, was that in which their son had come home. "but, father," continued jack, with a look of deepening anxiety, "if this be as you say, then my comrades must also be ruined, for their gold was all invested by mr wilkins in the same bank." "all ruined," replied the old man in a sad tone. "mr wilkins himself is bankrupt--the first call brought him and many others down." "and yourself father; i hope you had no shares in it." "none, my boy, thank god. prosperity has attended me ever since i got the first money you sent home. _that_ saved me, teddie." a gleam of joy overspread philosopher jack's countenance as he started to his feet. "then am i well and undeservedly rewarded, daddy," he exclaimed; "but all this news is pretty tough. i must go out to tackle it. i'll be back in a few minutes." he sprang through the cottage door and sped away over the moor like a greyhound. reaching the top of a rising ground--from which he could see a boundless stretch of border-land, with the sea in the far distance and the sun setting in a flood of golden light--he drew himself up, and pushing back the hair from his temples with both hands, stood gazing wistfully into the radiant glory. "so like a dream--so like a dream!" he murmured. "it was god who gave; surely it is he who has taken away. can there be anything but good in all this?" his hands dropped to his side as he spoke, and he sauntered slowly down the slope on which he stood. entering a small plantation of fir-trees at the foot of it, he disappeared. when he returned to the cottage all trace of strong feeling was gone. "we won't talk of the bank to-night," he said, "let's be jolly," and jolly he was accordingly. not only so, but he made dobbin jolly too, by supplying him with such a number of treacle-pieces that the child could hardly gasp his refusal of the last slice offered, and was made sticky from the ends of his filthy fingers to the crown of his curly head. it is not necessary, nor would it be pleasant to describe minutely the effect of the "bad news" on the other members of our gold-digging party. captain samson and watty wilkins took it well, but polly and simon o'rook could not easily reconcile themselves to their fate. the former, it is true, sorrowed not for herself, but for her father. o'rook, however, was more selfish, and came down very heavily on what he called his "luck." "sure it's a misfortunate pig i've been iver since i left owld ireland," he remarked to his pipe one day after dinner, being alone with that implement at the time; "an no sooner does the first stroke of good luck befall me, an me fortune's made intirely, than whoop! down goes the whole consarn to the bottom of the say. it's well, hows'ever, that ye didn't go down yerself along with it, simon. ye've raison to be thankful for that, anyhow." if o'rook's pipe did not offer him a comforting reply it appeared to console him with its fumes, for after a pause, during which the smoke played voluminously about his nose, he wrinkled his visage into a smile of good humour. "now, simon," he said, rising and putting the black little implement in his pocket, "you're in a fit state to go an' comfort the widdy." saying which he went out of the cheap refreshment room in which he had dined, and betook himself to the principal street of the city, whose name we have already declined to mention. to explain his remark, we may state here that after the most diligent inquiry without success, the irishman had, by the merest chance, discovered the widow of david ban--in this very city, to which he had accompanied philosopher jack and captain samson, after clearly ascertaining that every vestige of the wreck of the _rainbow_ had disappeared, and that all his gold was irrevocably gone. walking along the principal street one day, he had been attracted by a temperance eating-house named the "holly tree." entering it for the purpose of, as he said, "revictualling the ship," he was rooted to the spot by hearing a customer call out, "another cup of coffee, please, mrs bancroft," while at the same moment an assistant at the counter addressed the comely woman, who replied, "yes, sir," by the name of "lucy." could proof be more conclusive? upon inquiry "lucy" turned out in very truth to be the widow of david bancroft, and the lock of hair corresponded. of course o'rook revealed to her the sad circumstances connected with her husband's end. to say that mrs bancroft was overwhelmed with grief would not be true. she had long mourned him as dead, and although the information, corroborated as it afterwards was by edwin jack and captain samson, did re-open the old wound to some extent, she nevertheless bore it heroically, and took simon o'rook's comforting observations in good part. but we must not anticipate. let us return to watty wilkins. having broken the news of ben trench's death to the bailie and his family--and a terrible duty he found it to be,--watty went straight to his father's house. we drop the curtain on the meeting. the joy of the elder wilkins can only be fully understood by those who can say of an only son, "he was lost and is found." "now, watty, dear boy," said mr wilkins when they came to talk of ordinary matters, "god has mingled mercy with my sorrows. my business has indeed been ruined, and i have passed through the bankruptcy court; but i am by no means so unfortunate as hundreds of people who have been reduced to absolute poverty by this crash. you remember my brother james--uncle jimmy? well, he has got a flourishing business in the west indies. for some years past he had been meditating the establishment of an agency in connection with it in this city. the moment he heard of my failure he offered to make me his agent here, with a good salary. of course i was only too glad and thankful to accept the offer, and after my affairs were wound up, entered upon the office. so now, you see, here i am, through god's goodness, still inhabiting the old house, which i now rent from the person who purchased it. of course i can no longer keep a carriage, and it will cost me some calculation and economy to make the two ends meet, but these are small matters." "oh, father, i'm so glad and thankful!" said watty with sparkling eyes. "but," continued mr wilkins, with a look of profound gravity, "at present i happen to be troubled with a great difficulty." "what's that?" asked his little son, with a ready sympathy that was natural to him, and which his recent experiences had rendered much more powerful. "i find the nature of my duties too much for me," replied mr wilkins with a peculiar smile, "and it is almost impossible that i can get along without a clever, honest, intelligent clerk, or, shall we say, secretary--a character that is not easily found in these degenerate days. can you recommend one, watty?" "o yes," cried the youth, springing up and seizing his father's hand in both of his; "you mean _me_! don't you, now? you _can't_ get on without me." watty felt inclined to dance a hornpipe, but he sat down instead, and, covering his face with his hands, burst into tears of joy. being a tender-hearted man, mr wilkins could not help joining him, but in a moderate degree. we will leave them thus engaged, merely remarking that if the act was a weakness, it nevertheless seemed to do them a world of good. after a considerable time had elapsed, philosopher jack left the border cottage one day, went up to town, and presented himself at his old lodgings to mrs niven. that lady's feelings, under the influence of surprise, had a tendency, as we have shown, to lay her flat on the floor. but the faithful peggy had come to understand her tendencies, and was usually too much for her. when her old lodger made his appearance in her parlour, mrs niven exhibited symptoms which caused peggy to glide swiftly forward and receive her in her arms, whence she was transferred to an easy-chair. recovering, she gave jack what, in the circumstances, was a hearty welcome. "losh me, laddie, ye'll be the death o' me!" "i hope not, mrs niven," said jack, laughing, as he shook her hand heartily and sat down, "for my own sake as well as yours; because i have come to take my old room if it is vacant." "yer auld room, maister jack!" exclaimed the bewildered woman. "yes, if it is not already occupied." "the yin wi' the reeky lum and the view o' chimbley-pots frae the wundy?" "the same. i hope i can have it, for i'm going to college again, and i've an affection for the old place, despite the smoky chimney and the cans on the cats' parade." "yer jokin', maister jack." "indeed i am not, mrs niven." "they telt me ye was in callyforny, an had made 'eer fortin there by howkin' gold." "well, they told the truth, my good woman, but i happened to invest all in blankow bank shares, and--" "wow! wow!" exclaimed mrs niven, whimpering, for she understood full well the meaning of that, "an' 'ee've been ruined! oh dear! weel, weel, ay, ay, an it's come to that. jist like my kind freen' maister black. losh me! man," she added in a sudden burst of indignation, "what for disna the government order a penny subscription ower the hail kingdom to git the puir guiltless shareholders oot o' their diffeeculties?" philosopher jack declined to enter upon so subtle a question, but after finding that his old room was vacant, retook it, and then went out to the region of the docks to pay a visit to captain samson. he found that old salt in possession of his old lodging, but it was wonderfully changed, and, perhaps, not for the better. polly was there, however, and her presence would have made any place charming. "sit down. there is an empty keg to offer a friend," said the captain, looking round the almost empty room. "you see they've cleared me out. had to sell everything a'most." this was true. the marine stores, coils of rope, kegs, charts, telescopes, log-lines, sextants, foreign shells, model ships, chinese idols--all were gone, excepting a table, a chair, a child's crib in a corner, and the hammock, which latter looked more like an overwhelmingly heavy cloud than ever, as it hung over the clean but desolate scene. "but we're going to have _such_ a nice tea," said polly, "and you shall stay and have some." she bustled about the fire, but it had so little heart that even her coaxing nearly failed to make it burn. jack offered to assist. "take care," said polly with some anxiety; "if you cough or sneeze you'll put it out." "but i promise neither to cough nor sneeze," said jack. under their united efforts the fire blazed, and tea with buttered toast ere long smoked on the board. "polly's going to london," said the captain suddenly--almost fiercely. "yes," said polly, hastening to explain; "you see, my aunt maria has been so good as to offer to take me to live with her and put me to school." "ha!" said the captain, almost blowing the buttered toast out of his mouth with contempt, "and aunt maria says she'll make a lady of polly! think o' that, jack; _make_ a lady out of an angel!" the captain was so tickled with the idea that he went off into a roar of sarcastic laughter. "i'll tell 'ee what it is, jack," he continued on recovering, "i shouldn't wonder it in the course of a few months' residence with her, polly was to make a lady out of aunt maria--supposin' that to be possible." "oh! father," remonstrated polly. "come," cried the captain savagely, "give us a nor'-wester--that's it; another--thank 'ee. the fact is, i'm goin' in for nor'-westers durin' the next fortnight--goin' to have it blow a regular hurricane of 'em." philosopher jack hoped, if at all allowable, that he might be permitted to come under the influence of the gale, and then asked why polly was leaving her father. "she's not leavin' me, bless you," said the captain, "it's me that's leavin' _her_. the fact is, i've got a ship. what's left of me is not over young, but it's uncommon tough, so i mean to use it up as long as it lasts for polly. i'm off to the east indies in two or three weeks. if it hadn't been for this aunt maria i shouldn't have known what to do for polly, so i've no call to abuse the stupid old thing. a lady, indeed--ha!" "you might have been quite sure that my father's house would have been open to polly," said jack quite warmly, "or mr wilkins's, for the matter of that." "i know it lad, i know it" returned the captain, slapping his friend on the shoulder, "but after all, this aunt maria--this lady-like individual--is the most natural protector. but now, tell me, what of o'rook?" "i know nothing of him. haven't seen him for several days. when i last met him he seemed to be much depressed, poor fellow. i don't wonder, considering the fortune he has lost. however, wilkins's father is sure to do the best he can for him. he feels so deeply having led him and the rest of us into this--though it was no fault of his, and he went in and suffered along with us. i couldn't understand, however, what o'rook meant by some wild remarks he made the other day about taking to the temperance line and going in for coffee and mutton chops up a holly-tree. i hope it hasn't unseated his reason, poor fellow." while the trio were thus discussing o'rook over a cup of tea, that bold irishman was busily engaged "comforting the widdy" over a cup of coffee in mrs bancroft's private parlour. it is only just to o'rook to say that he originally sought the widow from a simple desire to tell her of her husband's sad end, which, as we have seen, had made a deep impression on his sympathetic heart. when, however, he found that the widow was young, cheery, and good-looking, his sympathy was naturally increased, and the feeling was not unnaturally intensified when he found her engaged in the management of so excellent an institution as the "holly tree public house without drink." at first o'rook confined his visits to pure sympathy; then, when he had allowed a "raisonable" time to elapse, he made somewhat warmer approaches, and finally laid siege to the widow's heart. but the widow was obdurate. "why won't ye have me, now?" asked the poor man one evening, with a perplexed look; "sure it's not bad-lookin' i am, though i've no occasion to boast of gud looks neither." "no, it's not your looks," said mrs bancroft with a laugh, as she raised her eyes from her knitting and looked at her sister flo, who sat opposite, also knitting, and who took a smiling but comparatively indifferent view of the matter. "then it must be because i'm not owld enough. sure if ye wait a year or two i'll be as owld as yourself, every bit," said o'rook. "no, it's not that either," said the widow. "ah, then, it can't be because i'm poor," persisted o'rook, "for with this good business you don't want money, an' i'm great at cookin', besides havin' the willin' hands that can turn to a'most anything. if ye'd seen me diggin' for goold, bad luck to it, ye'd belaive what i tell ye. ah!" he added with a sigh, "it's a rich man i'd have been this day if that ship had only kep' afloat a few hours longer. well, well, i needn't grumble, when me own comrades, that thought it so safe in the blankow bank, are about as badly off as me. when was it they began to suspec' the bank was shaky?" "oh, long ago," said mrs bancroft, "soon after the disappearance of mr luke, the cashier--" "mr who?" demanded o'rook with a start. "mr luke. did you know him?" "i've heard of such a man," replied o'rook with assumed carelessness; "what about _him_?" "well, it was supposed that he was goin' deranged, poor fellow, and at last he suddenly disappeared, no one could tell why; but it's clear enough now, for he was made to put the accounts all wrong, and i suppose the struggle in his mind drove him to suicide, for he was a long, thin, weakly sort of man, without much brains except for figures." hereupon o'rook told the widow all he knew about the strange passenger of that name with whom he had sailed to the southern seas and worked at the gold fields. the conclusion which they came to was that the gold-digging passenger was the absconded cashier. having settled this, o'rook renewed the siege on the widow's heart but without success, though she did not cast him off altogether. the poor man, however, lost patience, and, finally, giving it up in despair, went off to sea. "i've been too hard on him," remarked the widow, sadly, to her sister flo, after he was gone. "you have," was flo's comforting reply, as she rose to serve a clamorous customer of the holly tree. philosopher jack from that time forth devoted himself heartily to study, and gradually ceased to think of the golden dreams which had for so long a time beset him by night and by day. he had now found the gold which cannot perish, and while he studied medicine and surgery to enable him to cure the bodies of men, he devoted much of his time to the study of the book which would enable him to cure their souls. the captain came and went across the seas in the course of his rough calling, and he never came without a heart full of love and hands full of foreign nick-nacks, which he conveyed to polly in london, and never went away without a rousing nor'-wester. watty and his father worked on together in vigorous contentment and many a visit did the former pay to bailie trench, attracted by the strong resemblance in susan to the bosom friend who had reached the "better land" before him. thus time rolled quietly on, until an event occurred which modified the career of more than one of those whose fortunes we have followed so long. chapter twelve. conclusion of the whole matter. if it be true that there is "many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip"-which we have no reason to doubt--it is not less true that many a cup of good fortune is, unexpectedly and unsought, raised to the lips of thankless man. captain samson was seated one fine summer evening in his shore-going cabin, that used to be the abode of fishy smells, marine-stores, polly, and bliss, but which now presented an unfurnished and desolate aspect. he had just returned from a voyage. little "kickshaws" for polly lay on the table before him, and a small fire burned in the grate, with a huge kettle thereon. a stormy sigh escaped the captain as he glanced round the old room. "come, come, samson," he exclaimed, apostrophising himself, "this will never do. you mustn't give way to the blues. it's true you haven't got as much to leave to polly when you slip your cable as you once had; but you have scraped together a little these few years past, and there's lots of work in you yet, old boy. besides, it's his way of ordering events, and that way _must_ be right, whatever it appears to me. why, samson, for all your preaching to others, your own faith isn't as big as a grain of mustard seed. ah! polly, you're a woman now a'most--and a beauty, i'll be bound. i wish you'd come though. you're not up to time, young 'ooman. it's as well you've got one or two faults, just to keep you in sympathy with other mortals. ah, here you come." he hastened to answer a double knock at the door, and checked himself, not a moment too soon, from giving a warm embrace to the postman. under a strong impulse to knock the man down he took a letter from him, flung it on the table, and shut the door. after pacing the room for some time impatiently he sat down, opened the letter, and read it aloud. it ran thus:- "sir--having been for some years past engaged in diving operations at the wreck of the _rainbow_--lost off the coast of cornwall in 18 hundred and something, i write to say that i have recovered a large chest of gold with your name on the inside of it, and that of a man named simon o'rook. most of the gold recovered from the _rainbow_ has been scattered about, but in all cases when ownership could be proved, i have handed over the property. if you can give such an account of the contents of the chest referred to as shall satisfy me that it is yours, the part of its contents which belongs to you shall be restored. "i would feel obliged if you could give me any clew to the whereabouts of o'rook.--i am, etcetera." "the whereabouts of o'rook!" cried the captain, starting up and gazing at the letter; "why, he's my own first mate, an' close alongside at this good hour!" "true for ye," cried a man outside the window, as he flattened his nose against the glass, "an is it polite to kape yer own first mate rappin' the skin off his knuckles at the door?" the captain at once let in his follower, and showed him the letter. his surprise may be better imagined than described. "but d'ee think it's true, cap'n?" "i haven't a doubt of it, but we can settle that to-morrow by a visit to the writer of the letter." "that's true," said o'rook; "which o' the boxes, now, that belonged to us d'ee think it is?" "it can only be one," replied the captain, "that box of mine in which you asked me to stuff the remnant of the gold-dust that you hadn't room for in your own boxes. it was the strongest box o' the lot, which accounts for its not breakin' up like the others." "it must be that. i rowled it up in an owld leather coat bought from an injin the day before we left the diggin's. it's but a small remainder o' me fortune--a thousand pounds, more or less,--but sure, it's found money an comes handy this good day, which reminds me i've got some noose for 'ee. what d'ee think, cap'n?" continued o'rook, with a very conscious look. "how can i think if ye don't give me somethin' to think about?" "the widdy's tuk me after all!" said o'rook. "what! widow bancroft?" o'rook nodded impressively. "moreover," he said, "she's tuk me as a poor beggar with nothin' but his pay, for better and for worse, an', sure now, it's better i'll be than she tuk me for." the captain was interrupted in his congratulations of the mate by another knock at the door. he opened it, and next moment was seized round the neck by a tall, graceful, beautiful, exquisite--oh! reader, you know who we mean. "why didn't you come up to time, old girl?" demanded the captain, while o'rook looked on in admiration. "oh, father," gasped polly, "don't crush me so and i'll tell you." when she had explained that delay in the train had caused her want of punctuality, she shook hands with o'rook, with whom she had renewed acquaintance at the time of his being appointed first mate to her father's ship. then she was bid stand up in a corner to be "overhauled." the captain retired to an opposite corner, and gazed at his daughter critically, as though she had been a fine portrait. "yes, polly, you'll do," he said, while an approving smile wrinkled his vast countenance. "fit for a queen any day. a _lady_--ha! ha! have you done your duty to aunt maria, polly, eh? have you made a lady of her, eh? have you infused into her something allied to the angelic, eh? come, now, a rousing nor'-wester!" with a laugh worthy of her girlhood, polly ran out of her corner and obeyed orders. "now, my pet" said the captain, seating her on his knee, "here are some kickshaws from foreign parts for you; but before letting you look at 'em, i must explain why i asked you to meet me here instead of going to see you as usual in london. the fact is, i had bin longing to take you with me my next voyage, and it would have been handier to have you by me here when we're getting ready for sea, but--but, the fact is, things have taken a sudden turn, and--and--in short, circumstances have come about that i can't speak of just now; only i'm not quite so sure about going to sea as i was an hour ago. but you don't seem to jump at the notion, polly. surely you'd have liked to go--wouldn't you?" "liked, father, of _course_. i should have been overjoyed to have gone with you, but--but--the truth is," she said, with a little laugh and a glance at o'rook, "circumstances have come about that _i_ can't speak of just now." "well, my pet," rejoined the captain, with a puzzled, anxious look, "we'll _not_ talk about 'em. now, you must know that i've got up a small party to meet you here to-night, and expect you to do me credit. the pastry-cook next door has undertaken to send in cakes, and tea, and hot sausages, and buns, at a moment's notice. i expect his man here every minute to lay out the spread. now, who d'ee think are coming? you'll never guess. there's mr and mrs john jack, the father and mother of edwin jack--you remember him, polly? philosopher jack we used to call him." "yes," replied polly, in a low tone. "well, they happen to be in town just now with their family, and they're all coming. then there's my first mate, simon o'rook; he would be coming, only he's come already, a full hour before his time! then there's a mr burr and a mr buckley, both returned from california with fortunes--" "a-rowlin' in gold," muttered o'rook, in a low tone. "you don't _really_ mean, father, that--" "yes i do, polly. i mean that baldwin burr and jacob buckley are coming. i met 'em only two days ago in the streets, going about in chimney-pot hats and broadcloth like gentlemen--which they are, every inch of 'em, if worth and well-doing and wisdom make the gentleman. so, knowing you were to be here, i made 'em promise to come. well, then, there's your old friend watty wilkins, who, by the way, is engaged to be married to susan trench. i tried to get susan to come too, but she's shy, and won't. besides these, there's a doctor of medicine, whom i think you have met before, a very rising young man--quite celebrated, i may say. got an enormous practice, and--" the captain was interrupted by the rattle of wheels outside, and the pulling up of a carriage at the door. polly rose quickly, with a half-frightened look. "don't be alarmed, poll, it's only the doctor," he said, going out to the passage. "pardon my coming so much before the appointed time," said a familiar voice; "but i have something to communicate before she comes--something very important and--" philosopher jack stopped short, for he had entered the room and saw that polly had already come. with one spring he was at her side, seized her in his arms, and imprinted on her lips what her father afterwards called the "stiffest nor'wester he'd ever seen." at the time, however, the captain strode up to our philosopher with a frown. "come, come, doctor," he said, sternly, "there is a limit to familiarity even among--" "pardon me," said our hero, drawing polly's unresisting hand through his arm; "i had no intention of doing it until i had your consent; but somehow--i can't tell how--it came upon me suddenly while i was paying my respects to her in london, not long ago, and before i knew where i was, it all came out, and she accepted me, on the understanding that i should consider it no engagement until i had obtained your consent. so now, i have to ask your forgiveness and your blessing--father." captain samson stood there, bereft of speech, and o'rook stood there, the picture of benignity, in a corner. what the former would have said it is impossible to tell, for at that moment there came an impatient rapping at the door. "hurrah! captain, i could not help looking in before the time," cried watty wilkins, "to tell you that susan's coming after all. the dear girl--" he stopped suddenly, and stared at polly, as if he had applied the term of endearment to her. "the ghost of polly samson!" he exclaimed, after a breathless pause. "nothing of the sort, my boy," said the captain, grasping his little friend's hand, "but an enlarged and improved edition of polly samson, not yet full-bound, but goin' to be, very soon, by philosopher jack." at that auspicious moment the pastry-cook made his appearance, and compelled the party to quit the premises. they therefore went for a stroll while he put things in order. when they returned, it was found that his wonderful powers had made a change little short of miraculous. the floor was swept. chairs had been introduced on the scene. the table groaned, being weak in the legs, under a surfeit of viands. the hammock had been removed. the fire leaped high, as if desirous of going up the chimney altogether, and the huge kettle sat thereon, leaning back, with its spout in the air, pouring its very heart out in a joyous domestic song. need we say that the united party made the most of their opportunity? they spoke of the golden land, of their toils and joys, their successes and losses, and of their heavenly father's guiding hand. the ex-gold-diggers, baldwin burr and jacob buckley, fought their battles over again, and sang the camp-fire songs. philosopher jack sat beside his mother, who was a little deaf, to explain the miners' slang and point the jokes. watty wilkins became involved in susan, and was comparatively useless; but he laughed at the jokes, whether he saw them or not, and joined with telling effect in the choruses. polly sang, in a voice that corresponded with her sweet face, two or three of the hymns with which they had been wont to make vocal the palm grove on the coral island in the southern seas, and philosopher jack related the story of the slaying of the bear at grizzly bear gulch. all this was a rare treat to the family from the lonely cottage on the border, the younger members of which had by that time ascended, through christian example and improved education, to a high level in the social scale. dobbin, in particular, had become a strapping youth of gentlemanly mien, and would as soon have thought of shoe-blacking as of treacle to his bread. he retained a sneaking fondness for it, however, especially when presented in the form of golden syrup. but we must not prolong the scene. it is sufficient to say that they had a glorious night of it, on strictly temperance principles, which culminated and drew to a close when captain samson, opening his bible, and reading therefrom many precious promises, drew his friends' minds from things seen and temporal to things unseen and eternal. thereafter he prayed that neither he nor they should be permitted to forget that a loving father holds the helm and guides the souls of his people, whether in joy or in sorrow, success or failure, through time into eternity. and now it is incumbent on us to draw our story to a close. on the day following the feast captain samson called with his chief mate on the writer of the important letter, and found that his principal chest of gold had indeed been fished up from the deep. he and o'rook were able to give so correct an account of its contents that their claim was at once admitted, and thus the captain became possessor of gold to the value of about four thousand pounds sterling, while o'rook recovered upwards of one thousand. this was only a fraction of their original fortune, but the interest of it was sufficient to supply their moderate wants. going straight off to the holly tree, of which a healthy shoot had been planted in the suburbs, o'rook proceeded, according to use and wont, to "comfort the widdy." "it's a rich man i am, darlin', after all," he said, on sitting down beside her. "how so, simon?" simon explained. "an' would you consider yourself a poor man if you had only me?" asked the widow, with a hurt air. "ah! then, it's the women can twist their tongues, anyhow," cried o'rook. "sure it's about dirty goold i'm spakin', isn't it? i made no reference to the love of purty woman--did i, now? in regard of that i wouldn't change places with the shah of pershy." "well now, simon, if it's the women that can twist their tongues, it's the irishmen that can twist their consciences, so you an' i will be well matched." "that's well said, anyhow," rejoined o'rook. "an' now, darlin', will ye name the day?" "no, simon, i won't; but i'll think about it. there, now. go home, it's gettin' late, and if ye happen to be passing this way to-morrow you may give us a call." thus simon o'rook prosecuted his courtship. in process of time he married the widow, and was finally installed as master of the juvenile holly tree in the suburbs, while his wife conducted the parent stem in town. vegetables and other country produce had to be conveyed to the town tree regularly. for this purpose a pony-cart was set up, which travelled daily between it and the country branch. thus it came to pass that o'rook's californian dreams were realised, for "sure," he was wont to say, "haven't i got a house in the country an' a mansion in the town, an' if i don't drive my carriage and four, i can always drive me cart an' wan, anyhow, with a swate little widdy into the bargain." it is, we suppose, almost superfluous to say that doctor jack and polly samson were united in due course, but it is necessary to record that, by special arrangement, walter wilkins, esquire, and susan trench were married on the same day. more than that, the doctor and watty so contrived matters that they rented a double villa in the suburbs of the nameless city, one-half of which was occupied by dr jack's family, the other by that of wilkins. still further, it was so contrived by philosopher jack that a small cottage was built on an eminence in his garden, in which there was a room, precisely similar in all respects to that in which he had first met his father-in-law. there was a hammock in this room, slung as the original hammock had been, and although the old telescopes and sou'-westers and marine stores and charts had been sold and lost past redemption, a good many new things, bearing a strong resemblance to such articles, were purchased and placed on the walls and in the corners, so that almost the only difference between it and the old room was the absence of fishy smells. there was an improvement, also, in the view; for whereas, in the old room, the window commanded a prospect of about ten yards in extent, comprising a brick wall, a lamp-post, and a broken pump, the windows of the new room overlooked miles and miles of landscape, embracing villages, hamlets, fields, and forests, away to the horizon. in this cottage captain samson took up his abode, rent free, and the money which he was thus enabled to save, or which jack insisted on his saving, was spent in helping the poor all round his dwelling. here the captain spent many happy hours in converse with polly and her husband. to this room, as time rolled on, he brought a small child, to which, although not its nurse, he devoted much of his spare time, and called it "polly." and oh! it was a wonderful sight to see polly the second, with her heart in her mouth and her hair flying in the air, riding the captain's foot "in a storm!" here, too, as time continued to roll on, he fabricated innumerable boats and ships for little boys, whose names were teddie, watty, ben, baldwin, and such like. in this room, also, every sunday morning early, the captain was to be found with a large, eager, attentive class of little boys and girls, to whom he expounded the word of god, with many an illustrative anecdote, while he sought to lead them to that dear lord who had saved his soul, and whose holy spirit had enabled him to face the battles of life, in prosperity and adversity, and had made him "more than conqueror." here, also, in the evenings of the same holy day, he was wont to gather a meeting of old people, to whom he discanted on the same "old, old story." in all which works he was aided and abetted by the families of the double house close by. besides his constant visitors among the young, the aged, and the poor, the captain had a few occasional visitors at his residence, which, by the way, was named harmony hall. among these were bailie trench and his wife, who were naturally attracted to that region by the presence there of a slender, loving, sprightly boy, whose name was benjamin walter wilkins, and who bore--at least they thought he bore--a striking resemblance to their loved and lost son ben. the family from the cottage on the border also paid annual visits to number 1 of the double house (which was the doctor's), and the various members of that family, being very fond of a chat with the old sailor, often found themselves of an evening in "the old store-room" (as the boys styled it) of harmony hall. these visits were regularly returned, chiefly in the summer-time, by the captain and the families of the double house, on which occasions the cottage on the border was taxed to such an extent that philosopher jack was obliged to purchase a neighbouring barn, which he had fitted up as a dormitory that could accommodate almost a battalion of infantry. during these visits the trouting streams of the neighbourhood were so severely whipped that the fish knew the difference between a real and an artificial fly as well as their tormentors, but they were captured for all that. baldwin burr and jacob buckley were also among the occasional visitors at the hall; but their visits were few and far between, because of their having taken up their permanent abode in california. only when they came home on business, once in the two years, had they an opportunity of seeing their old comrade, but they never failed to take advantage of such opportunities. these men were not prone to speak about themselves, but from various remarks they made, and from their general appearance, it was easy to see that they were substantial and influential members of society in foreign parts. from baldwin the captain heard that bob corkey had, during his wanderings, fallen in with bounce and badger, and that these three had formed a partnership, in which they tried their luck at gold-digging, farming, fur-trading, and many other sources of livelihood, but, up to the last news of them, without success. there was hope of them yet, however, so thought baldwin burr, because of the latest remarks made by them in the hearing of credible witnesses. bob corkey, having attained to the lowest depths of destitution and despair, had, it was said, made to his comrades the following observation: "mates, it strikes me that we are three great fools;" whereupon bounce had replied, "we're more than that bob, we're three great sinners;" to which badger had added, with considerable emphasis, "that's a fact," and when men come to this, there is hope for them. the only personage of our tale who now remains to be mentioned is mrs niven. that steady-going female continued her vocation of ministering to the wants of young students, some of whom treated her well, while others--to their shame, be it said--took advantage of her amiability. in regard to this latter fact, however, it may be recorded that peggy proved a sharp-witted, tight-handed, and zealous defender of her mistress. among mrs niven's other boarders there was one who was neither young nor a student. he came to reside with her in the following manner:-one evening peggy was heard in altercation with a man in the passage who seemed bent on forcing his way into the house. the students who chanced to be in their rooms at the time cocked their ears, like war-steeds snuffing the battle from afar, and hoped for a row. mrs niven, after opening the parlour door softly, and listening, called out, "let the gentleman come up, peggy." "gentleman indeed!" cried the irate peggy, who had the intruder by the throat, "he's only a dirty auld blagyird." "niver ye mind, peggy," returned mrs niven peremptorily; "i ken him. let him up." immediately after, there walked into the parlour a bowed, mean-looking, dirty little old man, who, as he sat down on a chair, paid some doubtful compliments to peggy. "oh, maister black, is it you!" said mrs niven, sitting down beside him. besides being all that we have said, mr black was ragged, dishevelled, haggard, and in every way disreputable. "yes, it's me, mrs niven," he replied harshly, "and you see i'm in a sorry plight." "i see, i see," said the good woman, taking his hand and shedding tears. "i kent ye had lost a' by that fearfu' bank failure, but i didna ken ye had come doon sae low. and oh! to think that it was a' through me, an your kindness in offerin' to tak the shares aff my hands. oh! maister black, my heart is wae when i look at ye. is there onything i can dae for ye?" now, it was quite a new light to mr black that his relative had not found him out. he had called in a fit of desperation, for the purpose of extorting money from her by any means. he now changed his tactics, and resolved to board and lodge with her gratuitously. the proposition rather startled the poor woman, for she found it difficult to make the two ends meet, even when her house was full of lodgers. she had not the heart to refuse him, however, and thus mr black was fairly installed in the old room whose window opened on the cats' parade. in her difficulty mrs niven went, as she was in the habit of doing, to philosopher jack, to whom she represented mr black as such a suffering and self-sacrificing man, that his heart was quite melted. "i'll tell you what i'll do, mrs niven," he said. "there is a sum of money in my father's possession, the interest of which enabled me to pay my way when i came back from the gold-fields. my father won't use that money himself and i won't accept it from him. we have therefore resolved to devote it to charitable purposes. now, we will give mr black a small annuity out of it, for your sake, mrs niven." philosopher jack was not, however, so easily deceived as mrs niven. he afterwards "found out" mr black, and told him so in very stern language. nevertheless, he did not stop his allowance. neither did he enlighten mrs niven as to the man's true character, though he kept a sharp eye on him. thus did mr black become a pensioner and a free boarder. there is no sinner on this side [of] the grave who is beyond redemption. that which prosperity and adversity had equally failed to accomplish, was finally brought about by unmerited kindness,--mr black's spirit was quietly and gradually, but surely, broken. the generous forbearance of edwin jack, and the loving christian sympathy of his intended victim, proved too much for him. he confessed his sin to jack, and offered to resign his pension; but jack would not hear of it, as the pensioner was by that time too old and feeble to work. he also confessed to mrs niven, but that unsuspecting woman refused to believe that he ever did or could harbour so vile a design towards her, and she continued in that mind to her dying day. peggy, however, was made of sterner stuff. she not only believed his confession, but she refused to believe in his repentance, and continued to treat him with marked disrespect until her mistress died. after that however, she relented, and retired with him to a poorer residence, in the capacity of his servant. peggy was eccentric in her behaviour. while she nursed him with the assiduous care and kindness of a rough but honest nature, she continued to call him a "dirty auld blagyird" to the last. the expression of this sentiment did not, however, prevent her from holding more polite intercourse. when his eyes grew dim, she read to him not only from the bible, but from the pilgrim's progress and robinson crusoe, which were their favourites among the books of the little library furnished to them by christian friends. and many sage and original remarks did peggy make on those celebrated books. the topics of conversation which she broached with mr black from time to time were numerous, as a matter of course, for peggy was loquacious; but that to which she most frequently recurred was the wonderful career of philosopher jack, for peggy liked to sing his praises, and never tired of treating the old man to long-winded accounts of that hero's ever memorable voyage to the southern seas. the end. [illustration: cover art] [frontispiece: "the girls looked down with a sort of awed curiosity." _see page_ 224.] the girl crusoes _a story of the south seas_ by mrs. herbert strang _illustrated in colour by n. tenison_ london henry frowde hodder and stoughton 1912 richard clay & sons, limited, brunswick street, stamford street, u.s., and bungay, suffolk. contents chapter the first tommy and the others chapter the second uncle ben chapter the third leaving home chapter the fourth aboard the _elizabeth_ chapter the fifth a midnight wreck chapter the sixth the island beautiful chapter the seventh a local habitation chapter the eighth the fishers chapter the ninth the little brown face chapter the tenth anxious days chapter the eleventh a tropical storm chapter the twelfth alarms and discoveries chapter the thirteenth lost chapter the fourteenth in the pit chapter the fifteenth the eleventh hour chapter the sixteenth new terrors chapter the seventeenth the foundling chapter the eighteenth another brown face chapter the nineteenth the shark chapter the twentieth the prisoner in the cave chapter the twenty-first a desperate adventure chapter the twenty-second friends in need chapter the twenty-third the home-coming list of illustrations "the girls looked down with a sort of awed curiosity" (see page 224) . . . . . . . . . . . . _frontispiece_ "lying on a pile of canvas huddled a little figure" "the three together dragged the boat up the beach" "'there!' she cried triumphantly, yet fearfully" "with a final pull they hauled tommy over the brink" "she felt that fangati could not reach her in time" chapter i tommy and the others at noon on a day late in september, the express train from london rested, panting and impatient, for a brief halt at the little countryside station of poppicombe. the arrival and departure of this train was the event of the day to most of the inhabitants, not only of poppicombe, but of the surrounding villages. there were quite half-a-dozen people standing on the platform, and the station staff, consisting of two men and a boy, were moving about briskly. one man was busily engaged in handing various newspapers and packages, which had been thrown from the guard's van, to the people who had been awaiting them; the other man, the stationmaster, was exchanging a few words with the guard, at the end of the platform; while the boy porter, looking about disconsolately for some doors to bang, distinguished himself by suddenly slamming the open door of the luggage van, much to the astonishment of the guard. as soon as the train had rumbled away, the young porter seized a newspaper from a pile standing on a trolly, opened it at a particular page, and, after reading a few words, let forth a wild war-whoop. then, in spite of the glare in the stationmaster's eye, he rushed madly out of the station and looked excitedly up longhill avenue. there in the distance he saw, coming slowly towards the station, a young girl of twelve or thirteen years of age, seated upon a sturdy exmoor pony. although she sat her mount with the ease that comes only to the born rider, a close observer would have noticed that the slight droop about her slim young shoulders became more pronounced as she neared her destination. she was dressed in black, and her plain wide-brimmed sailor hat was trimmed only with a narrow band of crape. she rode forward with an eye that seemed to ignore all outward objects, her thin, small-featured face betokening a mood of deep despondency. her errand had been the same for many days, and day after day she had met with nothing but disappointment. a few weeks ago she had taken the journey at a canter. now, in spite of her natural high spirits, tommy, as she was called by her family and friends, held the reins in such a listless fashion that the pony merely sauntered through the avenue, as though he too shared her depression. her lack of vigour was perhaps the more noticeable because her thin, wiry body looked framed for energy. there was an unmistakable air of health about the young girlish figure, but tommy, although she was quite unconscious of it, was suffering from fatigue of the spirit. she had borne up bravely enough at first, but successive daily disappointments had at length proved too much for her. now longhill avenue does not belie its name. it has a hill, and the hill is long and gently sloping, with rows of tall chestnut-trees on either side. when tommy had reached the foot of the hill, she suddenly became aware that some one was shouting lustily. she started, and looking up quickly, saw a quaint little figure, dressed in corduroys, with a peaked cap much too large for him, wildly waving a paper, and rushing towards her from the station yard as fast as hobnailed boots allowed. she touched up her pony and was soon within hail of the freckled, rosy-cheeked young porter, whose face was spread abroad with smiles. "it's all right, miss, her be sound as bacon," he gasped breathlessly. "see then!" he added, and as tommy came nearer to him he pointed with a grimy thumb to the shipping intelligence column of the newspaper which he had snatched from the pile at the station. tommy took the paper, and, scanning the paragraph eagerly, read: "the barque elizabeth, thirty days overdue from valparaiso, spoken by the liner kildonan castle, in the bay of biscay; all well." as she read these few lines, the whole expression of tommy's face changed. her dark eyes brightened; a wave of gladness seemed to surge through her as she drew herself erect in the saddle. the smile about the corners of her rather wide but sweet-looking mouth deepened, and even her hair, which had appeared dispirited a few moments ago, now curled itself more tightly about her small dainty head. "ah! won't they be glad!" she ejaculated in her clear, brisk voice. "dan, you're a cherub," she cried, "a perfect cherub; you are indeed, dan;" and, turning her pony about, was off like the wind. dan whiddon watched her admiringly. "her do be mortal pleased," he said to himself, "and her naming me 'cherub' be her way o' saying 'thankee,' i reckon. 'cherub,' says she. now what will old berry be calling i?" he clumped heavily back to the station. "now, you young stunpoll," cried the stationmaster sternly, "what do 'ee mean by rampaging off like that?" "miss tommy's uncle bean't a dead 'un arter all, i reckon," said the boy. "his ship be behind time, that's all, and he'll be coming down-along soon." dan's reply was not a particularly lucid one, but as anybody's business was everybody's business in poppicombe, the station-master had no difficulty in understanding the youth. he warned dan of the evil effects of not minding one's own business, and crossing the line, entered into a long discussion with his ticket-clerk concerning miss tommy and her private affairs. meanwhile tommy was galloping at breakneck speed the four miles which led to her home. about a quarter of a mile from plum-tree farm, where the westmacott family, tommy's people, had lived for generations, she espied her sisters standing at the gate leading into the paddock. they had heard the sound of the quick tramp of the pony's hoofs in the distance, and had rushed out to see why tommy on this particular day was riding so furiously. on catching sight of them she repeated, in her own inimitable way, dan's method of breaking the good news. she yelled at the top of her voice, and waved the newspaper high above her head. so excited was she that she almost threw the newspaper at her elder sister, and it dropped in a puddle formed by the recent rains. tommy was off the saddle in a moment, and leaving the pony to find his way to the stable, she picked up the fallen paper, and wiping the dirt from it with her pocket-handkerchief, gave it triumphantly to her tall, dark, handsome sister elizabeth, whilst mary, the second girl, drawing nearer to elizabeth's side, stood quietly waiting. the three girls bore a certain family likeness to each other, but the differences were almost equally striking. the two eldest were tall and slim, and had the same dark-coloured eyes, but there the resemblance ceased. in character they were as far apart as the poles. elizabeth, called after her mother, who had died when tommy was only a few months old, was a capable girl of nineteen years of age, with a magnificent head of rich dark hair, and deep-blue eyes. her manner was grave and quiet. she had been a mother to the two younger girls ever since she could remember, and responsibility had made her old for her years. her father, too, had made her his constant companion, and she had been his right hand in managing the farm and keeping the accounts during the years that had preceded his death a few months before. mary, the second girl, who had just turned fifteen, was as fair as elizabeth was dark, but with the same deep-coloured starry eyes. she was the most studious of the three, and it was always a great delight to tommy, when she found her lost in some book of travel or adventure, to awaken her from her dreams by forming a mouthpiece with her hands and shouting in poor mary's ear, "hallo! are you there?" but tommy's winning smile always disarmed mary's wrath, and, in spite of constant small disagreements, the two were excellent friends. the youngest girl, katherine, our friend tommy, was thin and wiry in build, somewhat short for her years, with small black twinkling eyes, and a little head running over with golden curls. her chief characteristic so far was an endless capacity for getting into scrapes. a demon of mischief always seemed lurking in the twinkling depths of her merry eyes. just now they danced with excitement, as she said: "well, of all the cool customers you must be the coolest, mary, to stand there waiting, and never to change a hair, or look over the paper in elizabeth's hand, or anything. oh dear! oh dear! what can you be made of? dear old uncle ben is coming home, coming home, coming home!" and catching mary by the waist, she sang, "waltz me round, mary, waltz me round," and twirled her sister round and round until she was completely out of breath. "do make her stop it, bess," besought mary gaspingly. "tommy darling, do try to be a bit sensible," said elizabeth, with a smile. "not i!" said tommy, "why should be sensible?" as she gave mary's pigtail a tug. elizabeth, recognizing tommy's mood, and fearing there would be "ructions" presently, tactfully put her arm about her gay-hearted, mischievous small sister, and led the way indoors. this was not the first time by any means that elizabeth had acted as peacemaker in the westmacott family. when she was quite a child, and tommy a mere baby, she had often been called by mrs. pratt, the housekeeper, to see if she could induce "that plaguy young limb" to behave herself. later on, elizabeth had, times without number, pleaded with her father not to be so angry, or quite so severe, with his youngest girl, however trying the child might be; and mr. westmacott, seeing that elizabeth thoroughly understood "the imp of mischief," as he called her the day he had been obliged to summon all hands on the farm to rescue her and her pony from a bog, left her more and more to his eldest daughter's care. then when tommy was old enough to accompany her sisters to "lessons" at the vicarage, again elizabeth had to pour oil on troubled waters, for the vicar, an old friend of her father's, who had undertaken the education of the three girls, and whose word had hitherto been taken as law, often became very irritable when tommy would argue instead of accepting facts. as tommy increased in stature, she became, under elizabeth's wise guidance, more and more amenable to reason, but she never lost her absolute fearlessness and independence. all the girls had been encouraged by their father to live an open-air life, and tommy always led the way instinctively whenever they went riding, driving, rowing and fishing. the farmhouse was the old manor house. the huge kitchen, with its deep-seated fireplace and low-raftered oak-beamed ceiling, was now used as a living-room. it had three deep bay windows, each looking across the flower garden on to the moors. the breath of autumn was in the air, but the hollyhocks and gladioli still flaunted their gay colours, as though they refused to own that summer had ended. the garden was elizabeth's special pride; she loved to keep it an old-fashioned, old-world garden, and had herself planted sweet peas and stocks, and the spiked gillyflower, amongst the lavender bushes and the oleanders. in fact, after her father's death, when elizabeth had found that his assets were really "nil," owing to a succession of bad crops and the cattle-disease spreading so rapidly among the kine, she had had serious thoughts of trying to take up gardening as a profession, but on talking it over with her sisters they agreed that it would be better to wait until the return of their uncle. captain barton was their mother's only brother. he was a deep-sea captain, and at the time of his brother-in-law's death he was sailing in mid-pacific. but at the first port the vessel had touched, he had received a letter from his eldest niece, telling him the sad news, and how things were with them, and asking him to come to them as soon as he could. he had answered the letter at once, and in his reply had done his best to hearten them. he had advised elizabeth to see the landlord, place the facts before him, and ask him if he would allow the rent to be in abeyance until her uncle arrived. the landlord had consented, knowing the family so well, and so one great worry had for a time been taken off elizabeth's young shoulders. she was not obliged to remove at once, but they all knew that it was impossible to keep on the farm, even had it been paying, and several evenings were passed by the three girls in wondering what they could do so as not to be a burden upon their uncle. mary had spoken of teaching, but there would be no money to pay for the necessary training, so that idea had to be given up. tommy had a new idea about every other day as to what she'd do in order to make the family fortune. one day she burnt three of the saucepans, scalded herself rather badly, and made everything around her "sticky," by trying to invent a new kind of jam. another day she concocted the westmacott cure for sick headache, and insisted upon her sisters tasting the "awful mixture," which she assured them was harmless, and was quite annoyed when elizabeth and mary advised her not to invent anything else for a few years. so the days went on, the girls busying themselves about the farm and longing eagerly for the return of the only relation they had in the world. captain barton had given them the probable date of his arrival at plymouth, but when the expected day came and passed without any further news from him, they had all become more and more anxious and alarmed, wondering if his vessel had gone down with all hands and left no trace of her whereabouts. hence tommy's excitement and delight, and elizabeth and mary's quiet joy, on hearing that their uncle was coming to them at last. chapter ii uncle ben during the next three days the girls were restless with excitement. uncle ben would, they were sure, send them a telegram as soon as he reached plymouth, and one or another of them was constantly on the look-out for the messenger from the little village postoffice. they turned out the spare bedroom, and had a grand clean-up; hung fresh curtains, aired mattress and bedclothes, and made things shipshape, as he would say, in anticipation of uncle ben's arrival. on the third day the girl at the post-office rode up on her bicycle with the little brown envelope. tommy flew to meet her, and in another moment was running back to the house crying, "coming to-morrow! to-morrow!" at the top of her voice. of course they drove down to the station next day fully an hour before the train was due. tommy beguiled the time by weighing her sisters and herself on the station weighing-machine, looked in at the booking-office, ran to the signal-box and asked to be allowed to work the levers, and in other ways acted up to her reputation. at last the train was signalled. the three girls looked eagerly down the line. presently the engine rounded the curve nearly half-a-mile away, and as the train rumbled along the straight line towards the station, a red bandana handkerchief was seen vigorously waving at the window of a compartment in the centre. "there he is!" cried tommy, dancing with excitement, and waving her handkerchief in return. "stand back, miss," called the station-master, as she stepped near the edge of the platform. "oh, i shan't hurt your old engine," replied tommy, who, nevertheless, allowed her sisters to take a hand each until the train came to a standstill. then she darted towards the compartment from which issued a short, stoutish man, with a jolly, red face, short, close-trimmed beard, and eyes ready to light up with fun at the slightest provocation. captain benjamin barton was a sailor of the good old-fashioned sort. he had been to sea ever since he was thirteen, when he had run away to plymouth after an exchange of discourtesies with the classical master at the grammar school: he never could abide latin. during nearly fifty years of life at sea he had saved a considerable sum, and had become part owner of his vessel, besides having shares in several others. he still loyally stuck to the sailing ship; the steamship had no attractions for him; and he was never tired of comparing the two, to the great disadvantage of the more modern type. tommy once said that he reminded her of the 'bus-driver behind whom she had sat when on her only visit to london, who had spoken with the bitterest scorn of the motor omnibus. the captain's twinkling black eyes gleamed with fun when tommy assured him artlessly that the 'busman was "just such a dear old stick-in-the-mud" as he was. tommy sprang into his arms as he got out of the railway carriage. he gradually extricated himself from her embrace, and turning to his elder nieces, silently kissed them. in spite of a brave attempt at cheerfulness his eyes were rather dim as he mumbled a word of greeting. he had always been on the best of terms with their father, and, when he was ashore, had been accustomed to make the farm his headquarters. the loss of his brother-in-law had come as a great shock to him; and the remembrance of it, together with the meeting with the three fatherless girls, almost unmanned him for the moment. the red bandana handkerchief came into play again; he blew his nose furiously, declared that railway travelling always gave him a cold, and turning on dan whiddon, the small porter, who was staggering under a trunk he had taken from the compartment, he cried-"now, young samson, don't be too rough with that little contraption of mine." the aggrieved look on dan's face set them laughing, and the tension was relieved. they passed out of the station, and came to the little farm wagonette. tommy was usually driver, but as there was only room for one on the driver's seat, and she declared that she was going to sit with uncle, elizabeth good-naturedly offered to take the reins. when the captain, the other girls, and the trunk were packed in behind, it was a tight squeeze, and dan whiddon, rejoicing in twopence, surveyed the pony doubtfully. "you'm better get out and walk up t' hill," he suggested, with the familiarity of an old friend. "be off and buy your sweeties, samson," said the captain, "or we'll hitch you on as leader." and laughing at his own jest, uncle ben squeezed mary with his right arm, and tommy with his left, and called to elizabeth to get under way. there was little talking on the homeward drive. the younger girls were quite happy nestling against their uncle; and he was thinking of his many former home-comings. but when he entered the bright farm parlour, and saw the spread tea-table, and the blazing fire which mrs. pratt had kindled--then his jolly weather-worn face glowed, and he cried, in the same words he had used a score of times before-"east or west, home is best. how do, jane?" "nicely, thank'ee sir," returned mrs. pratt, with a bob, "except for my poor feet." the girls smiled. they had heard the same question and answer ever since they could remember, when uncle ben came home. tommy meanwhile had removed his hat, mary had slyly stuffed his red handkerchief into his pocket, and now elizabeth gently pushed him down into his favourite arm-chair. mrs. pratt, who suffered from bunions, and hobbled about, made the tea, while mary toasted what was in that country place still called a sally lunn, and elizabeth fetched from the dairy, now very bare and forlorn, a pot of cool delicious devonshire cream. during these preparations tommy was content to sit at her uncle's feet, resting her head on his knees, and now and again giving his horny hand a squeeze. it was tommy, however, who kept things lively at the tea-table. "now, uncle," she would say, "you must have more cream in your tea, or you'll be as nervous as a cat." "very well, my dear," was the meek reply. "afloat i drink it without milk or cream, sea-cows not being tractable animals, you know; but when in rome, do as the rum 'uns do, eh?" "that dreadful old pun of yours! you expect us to punish you, don't you now?" "i'll be punch to your judy," returned the captain, with a hearty laugh, and for some minutes he alternately cracked his simple jokes and devoted himself to his food. "i always say there's nothing in foreign parts to match the cakes and cream of devonshire," he said, "and you'd know it if you lived on ship's biscuit and salt horse, my girl." "where have you been this voyage, uncle?" asked mary. "peru and monte video, and other outlandish parts, my dear. i was held up in the doldrums, and water was running plaguy short; 'water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink,' as that poetry fellow says. one more voyage, my girls, and then i drop anchor for good." "we hoped you would stay with us," said elizabeth. "couldn't do it, bess," he replied. "i can hold a straight course, but i couldn't run a straight furrow for the life of me. no; one more voyage, to the south pacific islands this time, and then i'll take a snug little cottage somewhere by the sea, and spend my days whitewashing it, and getting worse-tempered every day, and you shall keep house for me, and smooth me down." and then tommy put the usual question--it always came from tommy. "what adventures did you have this time, uncle?" uncle ben rubbed his chin, and assumed an air of deep reflection. "adventures! well, the only one worth speaking about," he said slowly, "was when we were becalmed in latitude 35â° south, longitude 152â° east, i think it was. by the chart we should have been about a hundred and fifty miles from the nearest land, but one morning long jimmy--the tall fellow with one eye, you remember----?" "yes," said tommy; "he helped me down the side last time i saw you off." "well, he was look-out at the time, and he sings out, 'land-ho!' i was on deck in a twinkling, i can tell you; and there, a couple of points on the starboard quarter, was a smallish kind of island, and stretching away behind it a lot of little islands pretty near as far as you could see. the biggest was as large as mount st. michael, maybe, and all of a white shiny rock. i made a few remarks about the chart-makers, and was thinking of putting out a boat to examine it, when, bless your eyes! that island began to move, and all the little 'uns after it." here he drank half a cup of tea, and the girls waited breathlessly for him to continue. "some one set up a cry of sea-serpent," he went on gravely, "and sunny pat--the little irishman, you remember---?" "yes, such a funny little man. go on, uncle," said tommy. "well, sunny pat calls out, 'begorra, shure 'tis the way of openin' it is!' and sure enough that big island showed a gash right across the middle, that grew wider and wider, and each side of it there was a row of teeth about as long as a church steeple. jupiter, 'twas a fearsome sight. but sandy sam--you remember him, the big red-headed fellow--he's got more presence of mind than any able seaman i ever met. he outs with a big gooseberry--we'd taken a few bushels on board at greenland--and flings it straight at the monster, knowing that sea-serpents can't abide big gooseberries, being in the same line of business, as you may say. well----" here the story was interrupted, for the girls made a simultaneous rush on the old man. tommy pummelled him. mary put her hand over his mouth, and elizabeth took his half-eaten cake, and declared that he should have no more until he confessed that he had been fibbing. "you naughty wicked old man," cried tommy, as he shook with laughter. "now you shan't have another cup of tea until you've turned out your pockets." "i give in," said the captain. "three to one isn't fair play. i've had enough tea, only let me get my pipe alight and then we'll see." as long as the girls could remember, their uncle, on his arrival, when his first pipe was lit, had turned out his capacious pockets, in which there was always a present of some kind for every one, besides oddments unaddressed which his nieces appropriated at their fancy. settled in the arm-chair, with a big calabash pipe in his mouth, he plunged his hand into a pocket, and brought out the red bandana handkerchief. "that's your flag," cried tommy. "be quick!" "patience," he replied, producing a tin of tobacco and a knife. "we'll let you keep them," said mary. "what next, uncle?" "well, here's a small parcel with somebody's name on it, and it looks uncommon like mary." mary seized the parcel, opened it, and uttered a cry of delight as she unfolded a pretty indian scarf. "oh, you dear!" she cried, giving him a kiss. he plunged his hand again into his pocket and drew out slowly and with a solemn air that made the girls agog with expectation--a short cutty pipe, at which they cried "shame!" then came another small parcel, marked with elizabeth's name, which proved to contain a tortoiseshell comb with silver mountings. another dip brought forth a bright round silver case with a long cord hanging from a hole in the side. tommy pounced on this. "what is it, uncle?" she asked. "it's a contraption for getting a light in a wind, given me by an old friend in valparaiso," replied the captain. "'twas kindly meant, to be sure, but i've never used it, for i've never had any difficulty in lighting my pipe in any wind that ever blew short of a typhoon, and then a man has other things to think about. i'll show you how it's done, and you can keep it against the time when you're an old woman and go round selling things from a caravan: old women of that sort always smoke." "the idea!" exclaimed tommy, but when her uncle had shown her how to obtain a spark by turning a little handle sharply, and how the spark ignited the cord, she took the thing and slipped it into her pocket. then at last came the parcel for which tommy had been eagerly waiting, and she gave a long sigh of pleasure as she drew through her fingers a scarf of exquisite fineness like mary's. "you're a darling!" she cried, giving her uncle a tight hug, and at the same time knocking his pipe from his mouth. "oh, i'm so sorry," she said contritely. "never mind, i'll fill it again for you." captain barton took from his pockets sundry other articles which he divided among the girls, as well as a queer assortment of his personal belongings. when all his pockets were empty, tommy said-"now you can put all that rubbish back; see what a litter it makes!" "for what you don't want, i return humble and hearty thanks," said the captain, using a form of words which they had heard from his lips ever since they were babies. "and now if you can think of anything but fal-lals, we'll settle down and have a cosy talk about things. draw your chairs up to the fire, girls." chapter iii leaving home uncle ben listened attentively as elizabeth gave an account of affairs at the farm. he did not interrupt her, but now and then muttered an ejaculation through a cloud of smoke. elizabeth was clear-headed, and did not take long to explain the position to her uncle. it was impossible to keep on the farm without capital, and the captain, though he had a good sum laid by, was not the man to risk his money in a business of which he knew nothing. so the farm must be sold, and it was clear that when everything was settled up, there would be little or nothing left for the girls to live on. they mentioned the ideas they had had of earning their living, and the obstacles in the way; and captain barton puffed at his pipe, and pulled his beard, and every now and then stroked tommy's hair as she leant against his knee. "hum!" he grunted, when all had said their say. "there's only one way out of the difficulty that i can see." he paused impressively, and the girls looked at him with expectation. "and that is," he went on, weighing each word, "to get you spliced." "spliced!" cried tommy. "married, you mean? me married!" "well, not you, perhaps--not yet a bit, seeing you are only a little tomboy sort of thing----" "thing! how dare you!" cried tommy, pummelling her uncle's leg. "i meant a thing of beauty, my dear," said he meekly, "which, as the poet says, is a joy for ever." "he wouldn't think me a joy for long, i can tell you," returned tommy. "but, really, it's too ridiculous. bess, you don't want to get married?" "not for a living, certainly," said elizabeth. "of course not," added mary. "well, that's squashed," cried tommy, "and if you can't think of anything better, captain barton--why, you're not married yourself!" "no, my dear, i've never tried," replied her uncle apologetically. "well, now, there's that notion i mentioned a while ago--a little cottage by the sea, you know; we four--me and the three graces, eh?" "it would be simply awful, uncle," cried tommy. "whatever should we do all day? we should all become perfect cats, and you'd have a simply horrid time. no, if you want us to live with you, you must take a house somewhere where we could work--earn our salt, you know. i'm not going to be a burden to anybody." "that's a fine spirit, to be sure. then it must be london, i suppose, deptford way or rotherhithe; one of you could keep house for me, and the others could go to classes, and learn teaching or whatever it is you want to do. what do you think of that, now?" "i should love to keep house for you, uncle," said elizabeth. "and mary and i would love to do the other thing, wouldn't we, mary?" cried tommy. "so it's settled, and you'd better advertise for a house at once, uncle." "steady, my dear. as i told you, i must make one more voyage. i've a heap of things to settle up in various parts, and it'll be at least a year before i'm ready. the question is, what can you do for a year? you can't remain here, and i'm not going to set you up in london without me to look after you." "why not? we'd look after each other," said tommy. "couldn't think of it, my dear," said the captain decisively. "it's a facer, that's the truth." "i know what!" cried tommy, suddenly starting up. "take us with you!" "what?" gasped her uncle. "i mean it. let's all go for a voyage. i'd love to go round the world." "nonsense! a parcel of girls in my windjammer with their frills and furbelows--i never heard of such a thing! ridiculous! entirely out of the question!" "why? i don't see it," persisted tommy. "now, captain barton, don't be a stick-in-the-mud, but give us reasons." "my dear, it can't be done," said the captain emphatically. "of course it can't, you haven't got any," said tommy, wilfully misunderstanding him. "just like a man!" "we should really like it, uncle," said elizabeth. "can't be done, bess," he repeated. "but why, uncle?" asked mary. "because--because--well, for one thing i don't carry a stewardess." "oh, you funny old man! bess could be stewardess. another reason, please." "there's no cabin fit for young ladies. it's a hard life on board, and----" "no reason at all," interrupted tommy. "we must learn to rough it, now that we've got to make our way in the world. besides, sea-air is good; it will establish our constitutions, as the doctors say. say yes, uncle, there's a dear!" "well, well, i'll sleep on it," said the captain, temporizing. he was really much perplexed and troubled. the suggestion was a preposterous one, to his old-fashioned way of thinking; but he could not find reasons that would convince these very modern nieces of his, and he hoped that they would drop the wild notion before the morning. but when the girls had gone to bed, and he sat alone, smoking his final pipe, he had to confess to himself that tommy's proposal was the simplest solution of the difficulty. it would not be an easy matter to find comfortable quarters for the girls, but it was not impossible. their society would be very pleasant on board; he would love to have them with him: in short, he decided to give way. so the next morning, when they rushed at him as he entered the breakfast-room, with cries of "uncle dear, do take us," he replied, with a mild reluctance-"well, well, you might do worse." whereupon tommy kissed him and hugged him, calling him "dear old nunky," and went nearly wild with joy. "but, mind you," he said warningly, "you mustn't expect much in the way of comfort. the _elizabeth_ isn't the _lusitania_, you know. she's as tight a little craft as ever sailed the seas, but she wasn't built for first-class passengers. you'll have to manage with a tiny cabin for all three. and i give you fair notice: i keep strict discipline aboard. the slightest insubordination will be punished." "and how do you punish on board ship?" asked tommy mischievously. "first, bread and water for a week. for the second offence, you'll be laid in irons in the hold, where you'll have no company but the rats, and they're uncommon hungry beasts, i can tell you." "how lovely! just like the prisoners in wicked barons' castles in the olden times," cried tommy. "oh, you dear silly old thing, did you think you would frighten us?" and she gave him a hug that made him cry for mercy. "now, girls, to business," he said, when order was restored. "this is wednesday. i must run up to london to-morrow to see my lawyers, so that if anything happens to me you won't be quite unprovided for. remember, bess, they're wilkins and short, of bedford row. not that there isn't plenty of life in the old sea-dog yet, and i hope you won't have to see them for many a day. now, as to clothes; no fal-lals, you know; two serge dresses apiece, and one box for the lot of you. i don't suppose you bargained for that." "we shouldn't think of bringing matinã©e hats," said elizabeth, laughing. "anything you want to keep, out of the things here, you must pack up. i dare say one of the neighbours will store it for you. i'll arrange about selling the rest. i'll see your landlord to-day. you will only have about a fortnight to get ready, so you'd better begin at once." "let's go and see mrs. morris," said mary. "she'll keep our things for us." "won't she be surprised!" cried tommy. "and what fun we shall have!" the girls found their neighbour, mrs. morris, in the midst of her weekly baking. she declared afterwards that the surprise their news gave her nearly "turned" the bread. she readily agreed to store their little stock of personal possessions, but shook her head at the idea of girls wandering in heathen parts, as she put it. elizabeth asked her to accompany them to plymouth and assist them in buying their outfit. this gave great delight to the kind motherly soul. she left her farm but seldom; a trip to plymouth was a notable event in her life; and when she returned with the girls, after a happy day's shopping, the spirit of adventure had so worked upon her that she cried, "well, now, i wish i was going too, that i do." imagine the bustle and excitement of the next few days! uncle ben was in london. in his absence the girls worked hard at their preparations. they got a sewing-maid from the village, and all four worked early and late cutting out and making two sets of blouses, one for ordinary use, and the other for any very hot weather they might encounter on the voyage. even tommy, not usually an industrious young person in such matters, did her fair share, though it was a great trial of patience to have to finish the overcasting of all the seams before elizabeth would lay them aside ready for packing. everything was complete before uncle ben's return. the girls had finished their outfit and packed it away neatly in their new cabin trunk. their treasures were also packed ready to be handed into mrs. morris's keeping. a few pieces of furniture which elizabeth could not bear to part with had been warehoused at plymouth. the remainder, together with the farm stock, was to be sold after their departure. tommy was very woebegone at the idea of selling her pony, and when joe morris offered to keep him for her, and give him his food in exchange for his services (that was his thoughtful and pleasant way of putting it), she hugged the burly farmer and called him a dear old man. at last uncle ben returned. the last arrangements were made, the last adieus said, and one fine day the little party of four drove to the station to take train to southampton, where the barque _elizabeth_ was refitting. the girls waved their handkerchiefs gaily in response to the parting salutations of the villagers; but they fell very silent when their old friends were out of sight, and the captain, looking straight before him, heard a sob or two on each side and behind. like a wise man, he said nothing about the sadness of leaving the old home, but related some of his recent experiences in london. "i met a fine old friend of mine, a missionary," he said. "he is stationed on one of the south sea islands, and hasn't been home for twenty years. a real good sort is henry corke. he has only been home a month, and yet he is going out almost at once. there's devotion for you, girls. i asked him if he'd like to come with us, offered him the attractions of refined female society----" "that was enough to choke him off," interrupted tommy. "i hate to be called a female." "well, perhaps it was a mistake not to say tomboy. anyhow, corke was in too much of a hurry to come with us; prefers one of those dirty clanking steamers. mighty poor taste, i call it." by the time they reached the station the girls had thrown off their despondency, and began to glow with excitement as they realized that they were actually entering upon a new life. chapter iv aboard the "elizabeth" "here we are!" cried captain barton, as the train ran into the dock station at southampton. "now mind you don't get run over." "the idea!" said tommy; "we have been here before, uncle." "so you have, my dear, but good advice is none the worse for being said twice." they made their way across the metals, on which locomotives were hauling and pushing heavy goods wagons, and came to the quay where the _elizabeth_ lay taking in cargo. she looked a mere dwarf beside a castle liner not far away; but she was bright with the glory of new paint, and captain barton gazed at her with an affectionate pride that he would never have felt for a steamship. they went on board. mr. purvis, the scots mate, gave the girls a shy greeting. they smiled at those of the crew whom they recognized, and a look of pained bewilderment settled on the face of one, sandy sam, when tommy asked him if he had any more big gooseberries. "never mention the word to him," said the captain anxiously, as they went below; "he's very sensitive, my dear." "ah! you're afraid your stories will be found out, you know you are," replied tommy. "oh! what a sweet little cabin." the captain had thrown open the door of the cabin which he had prepared for his nieces, next to the saloon. the girls looked in eagerly. "how very nice!" said elizabeth. "i'm glad you like it, my dear," said the captain. "i did my best, and purvis was uncommon useful, too." "a woman couldn't have managed better," said mary. "well, you see, bachelor men like me and purvis get into the way of making up for what we lose. we nearly forgot the looking-glass, though, not having any particular features ourselves to be proud of." the cabin was very daintily got up. the woodwork was beautifully polished. there were two bunks on one side, one above the other, and a third on the opposite side, each with a spotless white bed-cover. on one wall hung a looking-glass; and a tiny wash-hand basin of polished zinc was fitted into a little alcove. there were hooks for hanging clothes on the partition. the clear space between the sides was only two or three feet across. "where shall we put our trunk?" asked elizabeth practically. "in the saloon, my dear," replied her uncle. "we'll fasten it there, to prevent it rolling about if we meet any rough weather." "we shall have to get up one at a time," said tommy, with a laugh. "there isn't room for two to do up their hair at once." "well, i know nothing about that," said the captain, rubbing his bald crown. "you mustn't quarrel or fight about who shall be first, or i'll have to clap you in irons." "where do you keep your irons?" asked tommy. "i'd like to see the dreadful things." the captain looked so much embarrassed that tommy divined the truth at once. "why, you haven't got any," she cried, dancing. "what a naughty old fibber you are!" "well, you see, i pick my crew. them that aren't english are scotch or irish, and very respectable men. but i dare say we can get a set of irons in the town. come along, we'll go and get something to eat; we're too busy to cook on board. i'll just drop in at one of the marine stores and see if they've got a small size of irons for obstreperous females." as they walked up the high street tommy suddenly cried-"look, bess, isn't that little dan whiddon? i wondered why he wasn't at the station to wish us good-bye." she pointed up the street, where she had seen a small oddly-dressed figure pass under the narrow ancient arch that divides the street into above and below bar. they hurried in that direction, but when they reached the spot the figure had disappeared. "i think you must have been mistaken," said mary. "dan wouldn't come so far from home." "i dare say. now, uncle, where shall we go? i'm famished." the captain led them to the crown hotel. he confessed that if he had been alone he would have gone to a humbler place near the docks, where he might meet some shipmates. "but you girls wouldn't like to eat among half-a-dozen sea-dogs smoking shag," he said. as they ate their luncheon he said that he was disappointed with his cargo. he had hoped to have a full ship for the south american ports, but feared that after all he would have to go out light. tommy's assurance that his passengers would make up did not appear to convince him. they slept on board that night, and were very merry at the novel experience of undressing and dressing in such a narrow space. early next morning the ship was towed out into the harbour. she had hardly made a cable's length, however, when the captain received a message semaphored from the quay to the effect that his agent had secured enough goods to complete his freight. it would not be ready for shipment for two days. he did not think it worth while to put back into dock, as the extra cargo could be brought out in lighters. during the next two days the girls were much amused to see their uncle in his little dinghy, which held three at a squeeze, going to and fro between the ship and the shore, propelling himself by means of one oar fixed in a groove at the stern. nothing would satisfy them until he allowed one of the sailors, usually sunny pat, to take them in turn and teach them how to work the little tub in this manner. finding it very easy tommy begged the captain to let her take him ashore, and was delighted when he told her on landing that she would make a skipper in no time. she immediately bought a huge sailor's knife, much to his amusement. her sisters, not to be outdone, in their turn rowed him ashore, and each also bought a knife. "you'd be terrible folk in a mutiny," said the captain, laughing. "i really must see about getting those irons." but when the vessel's hold was filled from the lighters, and the cargo was complete, there were no irons among the equipment. the _elizabeth_ was towed down southampton water; then, the wind being fair, the courses were set, and she was soon sailing merrily down channel. the girls were in the highest spirits. it was a glorious day. the sea glistened in the sunlight, and as the vessel passed through the solent, with the wooded shores of hampshire on the right, and the island on the left, the captain pointed out to his nieces various landmarks and interesting spots, and gave them a first lesson in navigation. in three or four hours they passed the needles. "now, girls," said the captain, "my advice is, keep fairly quiet for a little. there's a bit of a swell, and--well, i say no more." elizabeth and mary remained reclining in their deck-chairs, quietly enjoying their novel experiences. but tommy was as nimble as ariel on the vessel of the duke of milan. she was here, there and everywhere, asking why this and what the other; now exclaiming at a warship that glided silently past, now watching a graceful white-sailed yacht; at one moment standing by the helmsman, then flashing along the deck to ask her uncle for an explanation of something that had caught her attention. the captain watched her with kindly amusement. he did not repeat his warning. "the lass had better get it over," he thought. presently his amusement became mixed with a little anxiety as he saw her growing quieter, and a tinge of green coming into her complexion. at last with a sudden cry of "oh!" she rushed to the companion and disappeared. the other girls followed her anxiously, and for a time they were seen no more. thanks to the steadiness of the ship, and the comparative smoothness of the sea, their sufferings were neither violent nor prolonged; but it was a much-subdued tommy who emerged an hour or two later and meekly put her hand into her uncle's. the next moment she gave a gasp. not a yard away, lying on a pile of canvas, huddled a little figure in brown corduroys and clumping boots. it was dan whiddon, pale, grimy, with tear-stained eyes, fast asleep. [illustration: "lying on a pile of canvas huddled a little figure."] "there's a young samson for you!" said the captain, noticing tommy's look of amazement. "a young rascal of a stowaway. long jimmy heard a tapping in the forehold a while ago, and when the men opened up--a nuisance when all the cargo was nattily stowed--there was this young reprobate, half dead with hunger and fright. you've a deal to answer for, tommy." "why, what have i done?" asked the girl. "well, you and your sisters seem to have spoiled the young scamp. when they brought him up from below he whimpered out that the young ladies had been kind to him, and he didn't like carrying luggage and cleaning railway lamps, and when he heard that you were coming to sea he wanted his mother to get me to take him as a cabin-boy. she boxed his ears. but he found out when you were leaving, and hid in a goods wagon that reached southampton a little before we did, and watched his opportunity to slip on board when the barque was lying at the quay-side. that's all i got out of him; and the motion served him as it serves most landsmen, and he dropped asleep just where you see him there. i'll have something to say to him when he wakes." "poor little fellow!" said tommy. "you won't be hard on him, uncle?" the captain grunted. perhaps he remembered that fifty years before he had himself run away to sea. "a rascally young stowaway," he muttered. "i can't put him ashore, as i shan't touch at any port this side of buenos ayres. and his mother crying her eyes out, i'll be bound. and i'll have to spend several shillings on a cable to tell her he's safe. a pretty thing for a man with three nieces." "i'll pay for the cable, uncle." "what! has she damaged the cable?" asked mary innocently, coming up at this moment. captain barton shook with laughter. "oh, you bookworms!" he said, when he had command of his breath. "take a look at the cable, mary, and see if you think tommy, for all her mischievousness, could do it much damage. no, 'tis another kind of cable we were speaking of--all along of young samson there. what would you do with a stowaway, bess?" he asked of his eldest niece, who had just joined the others. "good gracious!" exclaimed elizabeth, "you were right after all, tommy. what a little sweep he looks!" at this moment dan stirred, opened his eyes, and when he saw the girls smiled sheepishly. "now, young samson, stand up and listen to me," said the captain severely. "lay a hold of that stay there if you can't stand steady. you come sneaking aboard this vessel, ruining my cargo, expecting to fill yourself with my victuals, and all for what? because you didn't like cleaning lamps and carrying luggage. what's that for a reason? there's worse than that aboard ship, i can tell you. if i did my duty, i should have you lashed to the mast and dosed with the cat. and your poor mother crying her eyes out, and the police dragging the ponds, and the government sending detectives to all parts, and wiring to all the recruiting sergeants, spending hundreds of pounds of the country's money all for a discontented young shaver not four feet high. now just you run along to mr. purvis and ask him to forgive you. he's very strict is mr. purvis, much stricter than i am; and then ask sandy sam very politely to fling a few buckets of water over you and scrub you with holystone; and after that go to cook and ask him if he can spare a biscuit and a can of soup; and then i'll see if i can find some clothes that will fit you, and we'll make a man of you, and an a.b. in time." the captain's tone grew less stern and more genial as he went along, and when he had finished dan smiled cheerfully, gave tommy an extra smile, and went aft to obey orders. the run down channel was very pleasant to the girls. they showed the keenest interest in the ship and the doings of the sailors. these rough, good-tempered fellows were flattered by the attentions of their passengers, and never tired of answering their questions. it was not long before all three were able to tie all kinds of sailors' knots, splice ropes, and do other simple things of the kind. they knew the names of the sails and the yards, and tommy in particular never tired of airing her nautical vocabulary. even the ship's cook became their willing slave. elizabeth took him in hand, and he meekly received her instructions, with great advantage to his bill of fare. captain barton declared that it was a good job he was retiring, for this unwonted luxury was killing his seaman's qualities. the evenings were spent in the little deck cabin, where they played at draughts with the captain and mate, or listened to the yarns they spun. mary had brought her mandoline, and on fine evenings they would get up a concert, the sailors singing their chanties and dancing the hornpipe. the captain hunted up some ancient grass hammocks, and when the weather was quite calm the sailors rigged these up on deck for the girls. some of the crew taught them how to make hammocks, using string instead of grass, and they often amused themselves by weaving string bags and baskets. as for dan whiddon, he soon became the pet of the ship. he was a good-tempered little fellow, willing to oblige anybody. he was kept always busy, and it was not long before he found that the life of a sailor was a good deal harder even than that of a porter at a wayside station. "but i likes it, i do," he said once to tommy, "better'n cleaning lamps and such." "you get no tips, dan," she replied. "what's tips!" he said. "i never had no good of 'em, miss. mother took them all except a penny now and then for sweets, and the captain he gives me sweets for nothing, he do, and so i save, don't i, miss?" the weather held fair almost without interruption, and the girls became so well seasoned that an occasional gale did not distress them. as they approached the tropics the heat became rather trying, and then they brought out of their trunk sundry light blouses at which their uncle cocked an eye. "rank disobedience!" he said sternly. "i said serge." "don't they look nice, uncle?" said tommy mischievously, "and we made them ourselves. you can't object to that, my dear man, and we shall wash them ourselves, so there's no laundry bill for you to pay. in fact, you haven't a leg to stand on, so you had better say at once they look sweet and save time. don't you think so, mr. purvis?" "weel," said the scotsman cautiously, "i wouldna say but what they are suitable to the climate, but they're terrible gay like." "oh, you should see bess's evening frock. it's perfectly lovely--chiffon, with pink insertion; it suits her dark hair splendidly." "there, tommy, that'll do," said the captain; "such talk isn't suitable aboard this vessel. you're unruly minxes, and what i'll do with you in london i don't know." "you'll soon get used to it, uncle dear, and i really wouldn't worry if i were you. we'll keep you straight." "a happy girl, purvis," said the captain, when they were alone. "ou, ay, she is that." they spent a couple of days in buenos ayres while captain barton was unloading part of his cargo and settling his affairs. when they left, a certain young electrical engineer asked to be allowed to call on them when he returned to england, and looked very crestfallen when elizabeth told him that they had no address. they were almost disappointed when they rounded the terrible cape horn without encountering a storm. after a short stay at valparaiso, the captain set his course direct for the pacific islands. interested as the girls had been hitherto, they became intensely excited now. mary knew a great deal about captain cook and other early navigators, and all the girls had read a volume of stevenson's on the south seas, which their uncle had brought home once in a colonial edition. the romance of this quarter of the globe had captured their imagination, and they looked eagerly forward to seeing the strange men and women, the gorgeous scenery, the many novel things which their reading and their uncle's stories had led them to expect. chapter v a midnight wreck "well, now, i'm real glad i brought you girls with me," said captain barton, as they sat on deck one evening. "many's the time i've felt a bit lonesome at night between sunset and turning in, but you do help to pass the time away." "pastimes, are we?" said tommy, with affected indignation. "toys! dolls! i won't be called a doll." "very well, my dear, you shan't," replied her uncle, slipping one arm round her waist, and the other round mary's. elizabeth sat on her deck-chair opposite them, knitting the second of a pair of socks. "but, now," continued the captain, "you'd better be turning in. 'tis latish, and sleep, you know, 'it is a precious thing, beloved from pole to pole'; and if you don't get your full eight hours you'll be neither useful nor ornamental, miss tommy." "oh, uncle! it's such a lovely night," pleaded tommy, leaning back on his arm, and looking up into the brilliant sky--a sky such as is seen in the south pacific, and nowhere else in the world. here a heavy figure approached the group from forward. "glass is dropping fast, sir," said mr. purvis. elizabeth's needles ceased clicking. "that means a storm, doesn't it, uncle?" she said. "a bit of a blow, maybe," said the captain. "now, girls, off with you. i'll just make things snug. you go below, and sleep through it, and you'll come up fresh as paint in the morning." tommy grumbled a little, declaring that a storm was impossible with such a clear sky and no wind; but she went below with her sisters, and soon all three were fast asleep in their snug little cabin. it was perhaps two hours later when elizabeth awoke suddenly. there were strange noises overhead, and the ship was rolling and pitching with a violence new to her. every now and then she heard a hoarse shout, and a scurry of feet on deck. the little appointments of the cabin rattled, and presently, as the vessel gave a particularly heavy lurch, the glass water-bottle slipped from its rack, and fell with a crash to the floor. "what is it?" cried tommy, sitting straight up in her bunk. "the sea is rather rough," said elizabeth quietly, "and has sent the water-bottle spinning." "it woke me with a start," said tommy. "my heart is thumping like anything. is there any danger?" "not with uncle on board," said mary from the bunk below. "let's go to sleep again." they lay down, but to sleep was impossible. every moment the movements of the vessel became more violent, and they heard great booming noises as the waves broke over the deck. the roar and shriek of the wind was mingled with the creaking of blocks and the shouts of men. "i can't stand it any longer," said tommy suddenly. "i'm going up to see. come along, girls." she sprang out of her bunk and had to clutch the side to prevent herself from being thrown down. the other girls followed her, and she laughed as they staggered and clasped each other. "what fun!" she said. "we haven't had a real storm before. see who'll be dressed first. you two needn't do up your hair." dressing was a difficult matter; but, helping one another, they managed to get their things on at last and, holding hands, staggered out of the cabin to the companionway between it and the saloon. tommy was the first to climb the ladder, but when she came to the top she gave a cry of dismay. "the hatch is on!" she called. "uncle has battened us down, mean old thing!" she beat on the hatch with her fist, and called shrilly for her uncle; but the sounds were smothered by the greater noises above, and by and by she desisted, and tottered disconsolately down the steps. "let's go into the saloon," she said. "there's more room there than in the cabin. you don't think there's any danger?" she added, as the light of the swinging lamp fell on elizabeth's pale face. "i don't know; i hope not," replied elizabeth. "it's a shame to batten us down," said tommy indignantly. "i'd rather be on deck and know the worst." the three girls went into the saloon, and sat huddled together on a sofa, which was fixed firmly to the wall. they found that only by keeping a tight grip on the sofa, and each other, could they save themselves from being dashed across the room. moment by moment the storm increased in fury. now and again there was a tremendous shock, under which the _elizabeth_ quivered in every plank, and sometimes a sharp report as of woodwork wrenched away. the girls were now thoroughly scared. pressed close together they shivered as they heard these ominous noises. none of them spoke, but tommy gave a little gasp whenever a more than usually heavy sea struck the vessel, and mary gulped down a lump that would keep rising in her throat. hours passed. presently the movements of the vessel became less violent, and at last tommy gave a cry of delight as she heard the battens being struck away from the hatch, and her uncle's voice as he descended the ladder. "ah! there you are, my dears," he said cheerily, as he entered the saloon. "i guessed these little tantrums would have wakened you." "is the storm over, uncle?" asked elizabeth. "pretty near. he's giving a last kick or two. we're very tired and hungry on deck, and you girls can make us some coffee; i know you'd like to make yourselves useful. cook can't be spared at this minute or i wouldn't ask you." "of course we will," said tommy, springing up. "is there much damage done, uncle?" asked mary. "damage! why, bless you, you can't fight without getting a bruise or two, even if you win. the craft's had a bit of knocking about, i won't deny, but what could you expect? now make the coffee, there's good lassies, and knock at the hatch when it's ready." "you are not going to batten us down again?" cried tommy. "well, you see, we don't want everything slopped about below, do we? the coffee wouldn't be worth drinking if a sea washed into it just as you were bringing it up. make it strong, mind, and plenty of sugar." captain barton left them. he had not thought it necessary to say that the cook, who couldn't be spared to make the coffee, was working hard at the pumps. nor that the vessel had lost its foremast, which in its fall had carried away the boats on the leeward side. while the ship was staggering under this blow a heavy sea had struck her and stove in the boats on the weather side. nor did the captain mention that the storm had driven him many leagues out of his course, and that he was desperately anxious lest he should have come within the region of the coral reefs. until daybreak he had no means of ascertaining his whereabouts, and he concealed from his nieces the anxiety with which he awaited the dawn. he had paid his brief visit below merely to reassure the girls. they at once set about making the coffee--no easy task, for though the wind had abated there was still a heavy sea. at last it was ready, and tommy mounted the companion-way, carrying a canful. it was some time before her hammering on the hatch attracted attention, and when it was lifted the can was taken from her by her uncle, who said "thank'ee, my lass. now go down again and have some breakfast; it will be light in an hour or two." "can't we come up, uncle?" "not yet, my dear; we must tidy up first, you know." "can't we help?" persisted tommy. but there was no answer. captain barton had clapped on the hatch. "poor little lassies!" he said to himself. the girls drank some coffee, and ate some biscuits, waiting impatiently for their release. it was no longer difficult to keep their seats; the howling of the wind had ceased, and the noise above gradually diminished, and the vessel steadied. but now they were conscious of a sound that they had not heard before. it was like the clanking of a steam-engine. "i wonder what it is!" cried tommy, springing up. "oh, i do so wish uncle would let us go up. there's no danger now, surely." but the captain still remained above. the clanking sound continued, and slight noises were heard occasionally. the weather became still calmer, and the girls, when they had finished their simple breakfast, began to doze. never since they left southampton had their sleep been broken, and they would have returned to their bunks had it not been so near morning. so they cuddled up together on the sofa, elizabeth in the middle and the other girls with their arms about her. all at once there was a sudden jolt that set the tin cups flying from the table, and made the girls spring up in alarm. they were aware of a strange, rasping, scraping sound. clutching one another, their startled faces asked a mute question, to which, inexperienced as they were, their instinct supplied a clear answer. the ship had struck. there were loud shouts from above, a renewal of the scurrying on deck, then silence. a minute or two after the girls heard the hatch removed, and their uncle hurried down. even in the dim light of the smoky oil lamp they saw how pale and haggard he looked. they were too much frightened to speak. "girls," he said quietly, "put on your macintoshes and anything warm you have, and come on deck at once. don't wait for anything else." he was gone. the very calmness of his tone, the absence of his wonted jocularity, struck them with a chill feeling of dread. silently, with pale faces, the girls fetched wraps and macintoshes from their cabin and hurriedly mounted the companion. when they reached the wet and slippery deck a terrible spectacle lay before them in the light of the crescent moon, shining fitfully out through the scudding clouds. the foremast had snapped off at the height of a man. the deck was strewn with broken spars and a litter of torn sails and shattered rigging. on the lee side the davits were twisted and bent, and the boats had disappeared. on the weather side, the boats still swung on the ropes, but were so battered that it was impossible to hope that they were seaworthy. three or four men were loosing the lashings that secured the little dinghy, others were bringing up provisions from the cook's galley. the monotonous _clank, clank_ of the pumps told how the rest were engaged. close to the dinghy stood little dan whiddon, the cabin-boy, shivering with cold and fear. "show a leg, now!" cried the captain to the men who were busy with the dinghy. he turned to the girls, who stood near the companion, huddled in speechless terror. "you must get into the dinghy, my dears," he said gravely; "we have struck a reef. you can scull her, keep her going gently and look out for a passing ship. don't be alarmed. the sea is smooth, you see. we will make a raft and come after you as soon as we can. my poor old ship is done for." "oh! we can't leave you, uncle," said elizabeth, with quivering lips. "no, we won't," cried tommy, springing forward and clasping his arm. "now, my dears," replied the captain with forced cheerfulness, "you promised to obey orders, you know. we can't save the ship. water is pouring into her; the one chance is to get you safely afloat while we make a raft. you must go for my sake. there must be land hereabouts; you'll see it when the sun gets up, and i lay you won't be ashore an hour before we join you. come along now, all's ready." the captain's firmness showed that further remonstrance was vain. he led them to the side where the dinghy had been lowered. elizabeth was helped into it, and as she turned away, after embracing her uncle, she heard the first mate say-"d'ye think there's room for young dan, sir? he's no use to us." the captain hesitated for a moment. three was a full complement for the little boat, and even the boy's light extra weight might be a source of danger. mary, as she kissed her uncle, heard the boatswain growl-"you may as well drown the lot; the dinghy can't take more than three nohow." then tommy flung herself into her uncle's arms, and sobbed a good-bye. "now, my little lass," said he, "bear up. brave's the word. there's one above will look after you. good-bye? nonsense! i'll see you soon, never fear. now, steady--there you go--now, where's that boy?" but dan whiddon, hearing the pessimistic boatswain's words, had slipped away in the darkness. the captain called him, but he did not reappear. "well, perhaps it's as well," said the captain. "now, girls, don't tire yourselves out; lay by till daylight. god bless you!" elizabeth silently took the sculls, the other two crouched in the bottom of the boat, which drew slowly away from the ill-fated ship. after a little tommy sprang up. "stop rowing, bess," she cried. "it's no use going on in the dark. keep close to the ship, so that we can see uncle when he puts off on the raft." elizabeth rested on her oars. there was reason in what tommy had said. for a time the girls could see the trembling masts of the ship in the moonlight, and dark figures moving about the deck; but presently the moon was obscured; some minutes passed before it again emerged from the clouds; and then, when the girls looked for the _elizabeth_, there was not a trace of her to be seen. the two younger girls were now sitting up in the boat, facing their sister. they looked with wild eyes into the darkness. the same terrible thought oppressed them all: had the barque gone down already? had there been time for the construction of a raft? they dared not speak, lest their spoken fears should overwhelm them. elizabeth sculled now in this direction, now in that, in the hope that it was merely distance that had removed the ship from sight. now and again she rested on her oars and listened; but there was no sound in the breathless stillness, and she dipped her oars again; inaction was unbearable. so the three miserable girls waited for the dawn. it came at last with almost startling suddenness. at one moment all the sky was indigo with gleaming spots; the next, the myriad spangles had disappeared, and the blue was covered with a curtain of grey. but daybreak did not bring with it the expected relief from suspense--a light mist hung upon the surface of the sea--a tantalizing filmy screen which the eye could not penetrate. the boat floated idly; again the girls eagerly strained their ears for sounds of voices, or creaking tackle, or working oars; but they heard nothing except the slow rippling of the sea against the side of the dinghy. "pull, bess," cried tommy frantically. "we can't have come far. row about; we must find the ship." elizabeth, though hope was dead within her, rowed this way and that, but everywhere was the encircling mist; there was no sign of vessel, raft or land. "we had better wait until the sun is up," she said at last. "it will scatter the mist, and then we can at least see our way." the air was growing warmer, with a damp clammy heat; but the girls shivered as they sat silent in the gently rocking boat. the grey mist turned to a golden dust, and presently the sun burst through, putting the thinning vapour to flight. now the girls eagerly scanned the horizon as it widened, but neither hull nor sail stood out of the immense tract of blue. tommy rose in the boat, to see if she could then descry any dark patch upon the surface which might be a raft; but there was nothing. her lips quivered as the meaning of this vast blankness forced itself upon her mind. for a few moments she stood with her back to her sisters; then turning suddenly, she said, with a laugh that was not very different from a sob-"'there were three sailors of bristol city.' i say, how should i do for the part of little billee?" this sudden touch of comedy relieved the tension, as tommy intended. the other girls smiled feebly, and tommy, saying to herself, "i must talk, talk, or we shall all go mad," went on-"could i have a swim, do you think?" she flung off her macintosh. "it's getting hot." "oh, you mustn't think of it," said mary; "these waters are full of sharks." "well, then, let's have another breakfast. what have they given us?" while elizabeth was examining the provisions placed in the boat tommy leant over the side and dashed handfuls of water over her face. "there! now i feel better," she said. "what is there, bess?" there were tins of biscuits, sardines, and condensed milk, a bottle of coffee extract, three tin cups, a spirit lamp, a small tin kettle, a tea-caddy half full, a small box of sugar, a large plum cake, some boiled bacon, and two gallon jars containing water. "i am not hungry at present," said elizabeth. "neither am i, but one must do something," said tommy; "a cup of water and a slice of cake for me." they all took a draught of water, but only tommy made any pretence of eating. "now, bess," said tommy as she gulped down her crumbs of cake, "we'll take turns to row. uncle----" her voice broke; she cleared her throat and continued--"uncle said there must be land somewhere near, and he'll think us awful slackers if he gets there first." "we can't tell which way to go," said mary. "of course we can't, but we must choose a direction and stick to it, or we shall go round in a circle like a dog chasing its tail. 'o' a' the airts the wind can blaw i dearly lo'e the west.' let's make for the west, and take our chance." this suggestion was adopted. elizabeth admired her small sister's pluck in being so determinedly cheerful. they turned their faces to the sun, and for some time rowed steadily westward, each girl taking a spell at the oars. but as the day grew older the heat became intolerable and exertion painful, so they decided to rest until the evening. none of them any longer expected to see the raft, though none confessed it; all they hoped for was to find land. they were very much cramped in the little boat, but none grumbled about the discomforts. by and by it occurred to elizabeth to rig up their macintoshes as a sort of awning, supporting it on the oars and the boat-hook, and this sheltered them from the worst effects of the sun. they made another spare meal in the afternoon, and when the sun was between south and west they resumed their rowing. so far there had not been a sign of land; but uncle ben had certainly said that the ship had struck on a reef, and where there were reefs dry land could hardly be far away. this hope buoyed them up through the hot day. the sun went down below the horizon with the suddenness general in the southern ocean. once more darkness was upon them. with the return of night came a sense of forlornness and desolation of spirit. they fell silent, each brooding on the sad fate which had overtaken their uncle and them. the night was cold; enveloped in their wraps and macintoshes they huddled together for warmth, letting the boat drift at the mercy of the sea. their broken sleep on the previous night, and their exertions and anxieties during the day, had told upon them, and after some hours the two younger girls fell asleep. elizabeth dared not surrender herself to slumber. who could tell what might happen? as the eldest, she felt a motherly responsibility for the others, though she had to confess to herself how utterly helpless she was if danger came. she sat with her elbows on her knees, thinking, brooding. everything had happened so suddenly that she was only just beginning to realize the immensity of the disaster. a cockle-shell of a boat, that would capsize if the sea were the least bit rough; the wide ocean all around; three girls, healthy enough, but not inured to hardship; the possibility of drifting for days or weeks, never touching land or coming within the track of a ship; food dwindling day by day; the horrors of thirst: these dreadful images flashed in turn upon elizabeth's mental vision and made her shudder. "why didn't we stay with uncle?" she thought; and then the remembrance of the dear old man, and their happy days on board, and her conviction that the vessel had gone down before the raft could be made, smote elizabeth's heart with grief, and for the first time the tears rolled down her cheeks, unchecked. she wept till her head ached, and she felt dazed. at last, utterly worn out, she dozed into an uneasy and fitful sleep, still supporting her head on her hands. she woke every few minutes, blamed herself for not keeping a better watch, then slumbered again. she was startled into wakefulness by the rays of the early morning sun. lifting herself stiffly, and carefully, so as not to disturb the two girls at her feet, she looked around, and was alarmed as she caught sight of a ring of white within a few hundred yards of the starboard side of the boat. at the first glance she recognized the foam of breakers dashing over a reef. "girls!" she cried, "wake up! quick!" she released herself from them, seized the sculls, and pulled energetically away from the threatened danger. tommy threw off her macintosh and stood up in the boat. "land!" she cried. "look, mary, beyond the breakers there. woods! oh! i could scream for joy." "look out for a landing-place," said elizabeth, as she rowed slowly parallel with the reef. "what if there are savages?" murmured mary. "oh, we'll soothe their savage breasts," cried tommy confidently. "i don't care if there are so long as my feet are on dry land again. can you see the raft?" there was no sign of a raft; nothing was in sight but the foam-swept reef, the cliffs, and the dark background of woods behind. a pull of half-a-mile brought the dinghy clear of the breakers, and the girls saw the sea dashing up the face of the high weather-worn cliffs. there appeared to be no beach, no possible landing-place. mary, the bookworm of the family, began to fear that the land was only one of those precipitous crags of which she had read, inaccessible from the sea. but in a few minutes they discerned to their joy a gap in the cliffs, and a sandy cove that promised an easy landing-place. to this elizabeth turned the dinghy's head. a shark glided by as they neared the shore, but was almost unnoticed in their excitement. tommy gave a cheer as the boat grated on the sand. in a moment she was out; her sisters followed more deliberately; then the three together, exerting all their strength, dragged the boat toilsomely up the beach. [illustration: "the three together dragged the boat up the beach."] chapter vi the island beautiful hot and panting from their exertions, the girls threw themselves down on the sand, and for a time remembered nothing but their escape from what had seemed certain death. but presently tommy sprang up, and, shading her eyes against the sun's fierce glare, looked long and anxiously seaward. an irregular white line marked the reef, but beyond that the ocean stretched out into the distance, without a spot upon its glistening surface. her sisters joined her, and, with their arms clasped about each other, they searched the horizon for the raft and uncle ben. none of them spoke: each was afraid to utter her foreboding thought. then they turned and gazed at the green woodland that rose almost from the brink of the sea. it was a perfect day, and the land to which they had come might well be a paradise of the south seas such as they had read about. but they were too anxious to be aware of its beauties. mary caught elizabeth by the arm. "are there people?" she said in a whisper. "savages, perhaps cannibals?" said tommy, with a shiver. they stood holding each other, afraid to stir. elizabeth for a moment had a wild notion of dragging the boat down again, and putting to sea in the hope of meeting uncle ben; dread of the unknown had possession of her. but she recognized that so to act would be foolish, and crushing down her fears, she said quietly-"i think we had better look about a little; perhaps uncle has already landed." hope springs up easily in young minds. "of course," said tommy valiantly. "who's afraid! i--no, you go first, bess, as you're the biggest. i know; you take an oar, and mary another, and i'll take the boat-hook." thus armed, after making the boat secure, they took their way up the strand, through a gap in the wooded cliffs that seemed to have been carved out in some past time by a stream. they walked slowly and timidly, as if half expecting to find a savage lurking behind every bush or tree. but as they went on, and found no wild islanders to molest them, they began to be more aware of the beauty of their surroundings. on either hand there was a riot of splendid vegetation. strange plants and trees, some bearing brilliant flowers, others tempting fruits, grew in magnificent profusion, and birds gorgeous in colour flitted from tree to tree. here were feathery palms, there a cluster of small trees like hazels; all about, the ground was carpeted with masses of convolvulus and creeping plants innumerable, and the air was heavy with mingled scents. "what a lovely place!" said mary. "not to us," said tommy. "we might as well be in a desert. oh, what's that? i saw something move." she pointed to the right hand, and for a moment the girls held their breath. then they laughed, but very nervously; the something was nothing but a little animal, of what kind they knew not, that scuttled away into the woodland. they went on again, becoming less timid the farther they advanced, for there was no sight or sound to alarm them. they began to talk more freely, but always in low tones. "i suppose it _is_ an island," said tommy. "it must be," replied mary. "there is no other land until you get to australia, and that's thousands of miles away." "then what shall we do if we don't find uncle?" the question recalled to them all that had happened, and again they felt the bitterness of misery and despair. "we must keep up our spirits," said elizabeth, trying to speak cheerfully. "at any rate we shan't starve if these fruits are good to eat." "i don't see any breadfruit," said mary. "well, it looks as if we are to be crusoes," said tommy, "only crusoe was alone. goodness! i couldn't bear to be alone. i should go mad. do you think uncle will find us, bess?" "i hope and trust he will, dear. we are safe; why shouldn't he be? don't let's look on the black side of things. shall we go back to the boat and eat some of the food we brought? it won't keep like the fruits. then we had better rest; i'm sure you are worn out; we can look round again presently, when the sun isn't so hot." they returned to the boat, and made a meal of some biscuit and cold bacon, carving the bacon somewhat clumsily with their jackknives, remembering how their uncle had laughed at them for buying such manlike implements. "i'm terribly thirsty," said tommy. "i wonder if the water in the stream there is good to drink!" she pointed to a brook that meandered down to the shore from amid the woodland above, purling musically, and flashing like silver in the sunlight. "there's not much fear of that," said mary. "i'll get some while you cut me another slice of bacon." the water was delightfully fresh and cool, proving that there was a spring somewhere in the interior. having made a heartier meal than any of them expected to make, they lay down under the shade of a large tree, and talked until they fell asleep from sheer fatigue. the air was much cooler when they awoke. at mary's suggestion they climbed to the highest point of the cliffs, from which they could command a wide prospect over the sea. when they reached the summit, they scanned the surface, now as smooth as a lake, for signs of boat or raft; but nothing was in sight, except far away several dusky spots which mary at once declared must be other islands. "very likely we drifted past them in the night," said elizabeth. "look at that mass of floating seaweed just beyond the reef; you see there is quite a strong current." "if we went as fast as that in the dinghy, we must have come miles from where the wreck happened," said tommy. "and uncle won't know; he'll never find us." at this the shadow of their misfortune once more descended on them, and they turned away from each other to hide their distress. then tommy swung round and cried-"i won't be a baby! bess, if you see any sign of waterworks again, smack me. what's the good of crying? let's go exploring; that'll help to keep off the blues." but in spite of their brave attempts, they veered between hopefulness and despondency all the rest of the day. they roamed here and there, not really going very far, for they still felt safer within easy distance of their boat. more than once they returned to the cliff to search the horizon longingly for any sign of ship or boat, but always in vain. in the course of their wandering they came upon some trees bearing fruit about which they had no doubt. "bananas!" cried tommy, with excitement. "how jolly! and look at the clusters on the ground. we've only to pick them up." several clusters had fallen from the trees, and lay ripening where they fell. the girls ate some of the fruit, taking note of the position of the trees, so that they might come to them again. then they strolled on, keeping close to the shore, and stopping every few minutes to gaze yearningly over the sea for the raft they longed to behold. turning their backs on this disappointing horizon, they let their eyes range over the island, their minds confused between admiration and wondering awe. the ground rose in a succession of irregular terraces, covered with vegetation in every imaginable shade of green. in the distance the prospect terminated in a ridge, above which hovered a light mass of opalescent cloud. what forms of life were stirring amid that dark woodland? what lay beyond that curtain of rose pink and pearl? the girls were awed by the mystery of things, as if subject to an enchanter's spell. "what's the time?" asked tommy, presently, bringing them back to the commonplace. both mary and elizabeth had watches pinned upon their dresses, but on looking at them they found that each told a different hour, and both had stopped. "i forgot to wind mine up," said elizabeth. "so did i," said mary. "it must be getting late," said tommy. "look at the sun." it was clear from its position that night was at hand. and then tommy asked a question that brought back all their uneasiness. "where are we to sleep?" "i have thought of that all day," said elizabeth. "then it's clear you are the statesman of the family," said tommy. "i couldn't have thought about it all day without telling you, and you haven't said a word. it didn't occur to me until a moment ago." "there are no wild beasts in the south sea islands--at least, i've never heard of any," said mary. "that's one comfort," said tommy, "and we've seen no savages or anything else to alarm us. now if we were boys--scouts or something, used to campaigning in the open--we shouldn't care a pin, but i feel dreadfully shaky. what are we to do?" "we must face it," said elizabeth quietly. "i think myself we had better stay in the boat." "how awful! think of last night," said tommy dolefully. "perhaps there would be a storm and we should be upset, or blown out to sea," said mary. "oh, i didn't mean to launch the boat," said elizabeth. "that would be too risky. we'll leave it on the beach." "it's only a bit better than being in the open," said mary. "i know, why not make a fire to scare off intruders? i've read about that being done." "that's quite brilliant," said tommy. "and it will be a beacon too; perhaps uncle will see it. let's go back at once and get ready for supper and bed." elizabeth was glad of any activity that would keep them from thinking of their troubles. they returned to the beach. first they collected a number of stones, which they piled up to make a rough fire-place. then they gathered a large quantity of twigs and dry grass from the edge of the forest, and finding several small trees which had been uprooted by storms, they lugged these down to their fire-place. then the self-lighter which tommy had received from her uncle came in handy, and by the time it was dark they had a bright pleasant fire that was very cheering. they ate more of their biscuit and bacon, with plum cake for sweets and bananas as dessert; then, having heaped some fuel on the fire, they crept into the boat and arranged themselves as comfortably as possible. tommy was soon asleep, but the elder girls lay awake for a long time, clasping each other, and talking in murmurs so as not to disturb their sister. "mary dear," said elizabeth, "we must look at the worst side and face it for tommy's sake, you know." "yes, i know. she's not really very strong, is she? though she has such spirit." "no, she'll be all right so long as she doesn't get wretched, so we won't say a word to depress her. we ought to be thankful that we are safe so far. i'm afraid to think of what has happened to uncle; but supposing--supposing he is--lost, we shall have to do as well as we can until we are seen from a passing ship." "suppose we never are!" "we won't suppose that. think of the many castaways who have been picked up in time. by the look of it we shall find food here, and i rather fancy the island must be uninhabited, or we should have seen some signs of people." "we haven't been all over it yet." "no, of course we can't be sure. if we do come across people we must try and make friends with them. aren't there some islands called the friendly islands because the people were quite decent?" "yes. some of the islanders in these parts are gentle and peaceable. but i'm dreadfully afraid of savages." "so am i, but we won't think of them. what a lovely night it is! so still and peaceful! and we're just three insignificant dots in all this great beautiful universe." they mused in silence, and by and by fell asleep. dawn found them very cramped and stiff. the fire was out, and as they shivered in the cool morning air they felt something of the previous day's despondency. but elizabeth, with determined cheerfulness, called to her sisters that it was breakfast-time. they made themselves some coffee, using the extract sparingly to eke it out as long as possible, and after bathing their faces in the water at the brook, ate their simple breakfast and then made their way to the top of the cliff to search the ocean once more for a sign of help. the sea was even calmer than it had been yesterday, and as the mist rolled off its surface they were able to scan countless miles of space. there were the same dark distant shapes, purple in the early sunlight, and they felt a wondering curiosity about them; but there was no sail or funnel that betokened a ship. first one and then another discovered a speck on the skyline, and they debated whether it was or was not a boat; but after gazing until their eyes were tired they came to the conclusion that there was no immediate hope of rescue. "we ought to raise a flag of distress," said mary, "which might be seen if a ship comes near; but we haven't anything big enough." "oh, yes, we have!" said tommy. "if we tie our silk scarves together they will make a fine flag." "but we haven't a flagstaff," said elizabeth. "there's a lovely one," said mary, pointing to a tall slender tree that stood a little apart from the nearest clump of woodland, like a sentinel thrown out seaward. "can you climb that, tommy?" "rather! father didn't like my climbing, but if i hadn't where should we be now?" elizabeth knotted the three scarves together. then tommy ran to the tree and climbed nimbly almost to the top, the others watching her breathlessly. soon the flag of red and white was fluttering in the light morning breeze. "it'll be torn to shreds by the first storm," said tommy when she descended. "let's hope it will be seen before a storm comes." they spent the day much as they had spent the first one on the island; sitting on the beach, now and again visiting the cliff to take another look across the sea, gathering bananas from the little plantation and wandering for a short distance along the shore. "what shall we do when all the bananas are gone?" asked tommy, as they ate their dinner. "the food we have in the boat won't last a week." "we shall have to go exploring," said mary. "i can't believe that these bananas are the only eatable fruits, and no doubt there are more bananas somewhere." they looked up once more at the distant mysterious ridge. "i don't know how you feel," said tommy, "but i'm rather scared of going far from the beach. who knows what we should find among those trees?" "we might go a little farther than we did yesterday," suggested elizabeth. "come along, then," said tommy. "oh, gracious! what's that?" she pointed towards the ridge. the other girls looked, but saw nothing. "what is it?" asked mary. "i saw a large beast cross over that bare spot," replied tommy. "i think you must have fancied it," said mary. "rubbish! i tell you i saw it." "but there aren't any large beasts in these islands," said mary. "how do you know? you think you know everything," said tommy sharply, "just because you've read a few books. i tell you i _did_ see it." "it couldn't have been a large animal, all the same," persisted mary. "you're an idiot," cried tommy. elizabeth saw it was time to intervene. the girls' nerves were a little on edge. "i dare say you are both right," she said tranquilly. "tommy evidently saw something, and though there are no large native animals, mary, perhaps it's an imported one. we can't tell but that there are people over there, and they might have anything, you know." "of course they might," said tommy triumphantly. "it might be an elephant or anything." and so the little storm blew over, but it made elizabeth very thoughtful. as she lay awake that night, she resolved that something must be done to occupy their thoughts. "it will never do to idle away our time, as we've been doing," she said to herself, "or there'll be constant bickerings, and we shall all get slack and mopish. oh, dear!" and she did not sleep before she had made a plan. chapter vii a local habitation "now, my dears," said elizabeth as they sat at breakfast next morning, "i've got an idea." "hurray!" cried tommy. "what is it, bess?" "it's just this. we must act as if we were going to stay on this island for ever." tommy gasped, and a look of dismay came into her eyes. "don't you think we'll be rescued, then?" she asked. "oh, i don't give up hope. we may be seen from a ship any day, or uncle may come for us; but we can't depend on it. plenty of men and boys have been shipwrecked like us on a lonely island, and have managed to shift for themselves. why shouldn't we? we're used to outdoor work: at least, _i_ am, and it would be an odd thing if we couldn't manage to make ourselves comfortable on an island like this, with half our work already done for us." "what do you mean?" asked mary. "why, if you're right about there being plenty of fruit--and i don't see why you shouldn't be--we shan't have to grow our food, and that's the chief thing. so we shall have more time for other things. the first thing is to see just what we've got. here's mine." she turned out her pocket, and displayed two handkerchiefs, a thimble, a small whistle and her jack-knife. "that's not a great deal," she said, smiling. "now, mary." "there's my knife, and a hanky, and my little pen-knife, and hurray! my housewife." and as she suddenly remembered that on the night before the storm she had been mending her uncle's clothes, the recollection almost moved her to tears. "i've got the most," said tommy, with a laugh. "look here--scissors, hanky, some bits of string, my match-box, jack-knife, picture postcard of an aeroplane--wish we had an aeroplane!--and----" she had unfolded a much-worn scrap of paper; now she folded it again and replaced it in her pocket. "what is it?" asked elizabeth. "it's only that stupid old receipt for butterscotch: no good to us here." they all smiled. "well, we can't boast of much in the way of personal possessions," said elizabeth; "but we have the boat, two oars, a boat-hook, the painter, a few cups and things, my string bag, that's a lucky find--and our macintoshes. more than crusoe had." "not so much, bess," said mary. "you don't remember. i always think crusoe was jolly lucky." "i dare say you are right. well, we've taken stock. that's one good thing done. now what do you say to building a hut?" "what! with scissors and knives?" asked mary. "you'll see. we ought to try, i think. the weather is lovely now, but i shouldn't care about sleeping in the boat in a rainstorm, even under a macintosh. and you know how it rains in these tropical parts." "it'll be great fun," said tommy, "but i don't see how it's to be done." "we'll have to cut down some saplings with our jack-knives. i don't quite see myself what we shall do next, but that will be a start, anyway, and i dare say ideas will come as we go along." "that doesn't sound much like an architect," said tommy, "but let's try. it will give us something to do and keep us from getting catty." elizabeth smiled as she saw her intentions thus realized. "we must choose our site," she said. "surveying, don't they call it?" "all settlements are made near running water," said mary, "so it ought to be near the stream." they followed with their eyes the course of the bright little stream as it flowed out of the woodland down to the shore. there was no suitable spot for the hut near at hand, and to find one involved going farther than they had yet ventured to go. but having now a definite object in view they found themselves a little more courageous, and springing up they set off along the bank of the stream towards the higher ground. they walked cautiously and in silence, looking about them with wide-open eyes, ready to flee at the slightest alarming sight or sound. suddenly tommy said in a whisper-"here! this is the very place." she indicated a grassy knoll some ten or twelve feet above the bed of the stream. the girls stopped at its edge and looked at it. on the inland side it was fringed with a row of small trees; seaward the view was uninterrupted. "it looks nice," said mary. "let's measure it." elizabeth, being the tallest, stepped the grassy plot from end to end and from side to side. "i make it about twenty feet by sixteen," she said, "just about the size of our dining-room at home. i think it will do splendidly. there's water close at hand; there are plenty of saplings in the woods beyond; and the hillside will protect us from storms, unless they come from the sea." "and what a lovely outlook it has!" said mary, turning towards the sea. "we couldn't have a nicer place." "then we will fix on it," said elizabeth. "now who's to be architect?" "oh, you, bess!" said tommy; "we're no good at that." "i'm afraid i'm not either," said elizabeth, laughing. "but i suppose we ought to put up some posts for the walls, and weave rushes and things between them. anyway, the first thing is to cut down some stout saplings that will be strong enough." "well, there are plenty in the woods; quite close too," said tommy. "but how can we cut them down?" asked mary; "we haven't axes or saws." "we have our knives, though," said tommy. "come on, let's begin." they went into the wood, where the trees at the edge were not at all dense, and selected several saplings of about the same height and thickness. then each dropped on her knees before one of the saplings, scratched a circular line on the bark and began to hack away at this with the knife. for some time nothing was heard but the slight sounds made by the knives; each girl worked hard as though engaged in a competition. but presently tommy straightened her back, and uttered a sort of sighing grunt. "how are you getting on?" asked elizabeth, without desisting from her task. "all right," cried tommy, stooping and setting to work furiously. "they shan't beat me," she said to herself. but in a few minutes mary gave a plaintive little exclamation, dropped her knife, and rubbed her right hand with her left. "you're _soon_ tired," said tommy, working harder than ever. "i think my tree must be a specially tough one," said mary. "i don't seem to make much impression, and my wrist does ache so." "take a rest, dear," said elizabeth. "shouldn't we get on better if two worked at the same tree while the other rested? we could take it in turns. when we have cut down the first, we shall have something to show for our work." "a good idea!" said tommy, springing up and running to elizabeth's tree. "you take first spell off, mary." the two girls worked at the trunk from opposite sides. the air was growing hotter and hotter, the insects became very troublesome, and as time went on and the incisions they had made in the sappy wood were still very shallow, both felt very much discouraged. "we shall never get through the wretched thing," said tommy in disgust. "can't we snap it off, bess?" "i'm afraid that would only splinter it," said elizabeth. "it is a bother. what troubles me most is that our knives will be hopelessly blunted if it takes so long to cut one tree. still, we must peg away. you rest now, tommy, and let mary try again." tommy got up with relief, and strolled a few yards away while her sisters continued the work. in a few minutes she came running back. "what idiots we are!" she cried. "stop work, you two. we needn't break our backs or our wrists at all. come and look." she led them to the edge of the grassy knoll, and pointed to three small trees standing within a few feet of each other about the same distance apart, and forming the corners of a sort of triangle. "there!" she said. "don't you see? there's half our work done for us. those three trees can be the corner posts of our hut, and we can use the branches to make a roof." quite excited at her discovery, she pointed out that two of the trees had each thrown out a branch about seven feet from the ground, and the third had a branch a little higher. these overhanging branches protected one side of the triangle, and tommy suggested that they could be employed as a framework upon which they might spread mats woven from the grasses on the bank of the stream. "it would take a terrible time to weave the mats," said mary dubiously. "not so long as to cut down the trees," replied tommy, "and not nearly so hard work. what do you say, bess?" "it's a capital idea, but i can't weave." "oh, we'll soon teach you that," said tommy. "you didn't go to a kindergarten like mary and me; but it's not very different from the string work you did on board. come along; let's make a start." they went hopefully to the bank of the stream, but when they tried to cut down the rushes, they found that their knives were already blunt. as the day was now very hot, and they were hungry and tired, they resolved to have an early dinner, then rest for a while, and later on sharpen their knives on stones at the beach and try again. by the evening they had cut a large quantity of grasses, which they placed in a heap to be weaved next day. they decided again to sleep in the boat, and returned to it just before sunset by way of the clump of banana-trees, carrying their supper with them. "we have made a good start," said elizabeth cheerfully, as they sat munching bananas in the boat. "yes, but i tell you what," said tommy, "i'm getting tired of bananas." "already!" said mary, smiling. "don't you remember how you said once at home you'd love to live in a banana plantation, where you could pick as many as you liked?" "and you told me the story of a greedy boy who loved cake, and dreamt that he was in the middle of a big one, and had to eat his way out. i was a silly kid then. anyway, i'm sick of bananas now, and people say it's bad to have no change of diet." "but what can we do?" said elizabeth. "we haven't seen anything else." "except birds," said mary. "pigeon-pie is rather nice." "we might snare some," said tommy, "or fish--what about fish? they'd be easiest to catch, i expect. i've got some string, and we can easily find something that'll do for a rod." "and a bent pin for a hook," said mary. "now just listen to that!" said tommy. "anybody would think we were going fishing for sticklebacks. no fish worth cooking would ever let himself be hooked by a bent pin. we'll find something better than that." "we'll see what we can do to-morrow," said elizabeth. "we've never done any sea-fishing, and fishing in the river at home won't help us much, i fancy. still, we can try, and i'd like a little fish for a change. you both look awfully tired, so let's go to sleep now; we shall have plenty to do in the morning." and elizabeth, as she laid herself down that night, felt happy in the success of her plan. "if we can only keep busy," she said to herself, "all will be well. but i do hope it won't be for long." chapter viii the fishers up with the sun next morning, the girls began the day by bathing in a little secluded pool, where there was no danger of being interrupted by a shark. immediately after breakfast they set off to the site of their hut, looked cautiously around to make sure that no one had been there, and began to weave the grasses they had prepared the day before. elizabeth was at first rather slow, but the others worked quickly, and by dinner-time they had each finished a mat several feet square. "you two have quite outstripped me," said elizabeth as they returned to the boat. "i'll go on with my mat after dinner, while you see what you can do to make some fishing-tackle." "right!" cried tommy; "you shall have fish for supper, if you're good." they dined on bananas and coffee, ruefully noticing that the tin of condensed milk was nearly empty. then mary and tommy went up the stream to a place where they had seen a clump of canes, which would furnish any number of fishing-rods. they selected one about six feet long, and after a good deal of trouble, the wood being tough, cut it down. tommy brought out of her pocket two or three pieces of string of unequal length and thickness, and knotted them together. "there's our line," she said, "and it's lucky there's no one here to laugh at it." "how can we fasten it on to the rod?" asked mary. "tie it, of course." tommy proceeded to tie the string to the thinner end of the rod. "oh, bother!" she said, "the cane's so smooth the string slips down every time. this won't do." "let's make a hole in the rod, and put the string through it," suggested mary. "the cane is sure to split if we try to bore a hole with a knife," said tommy. "i know! there's a sort of spike in my knife. we'll make it red-hot, and then i dare say we can bore a clean hole." they ran back to their little camp on the beach, where elizabeth was still at work on her mat. "how are you getting on?" asked mary. "faster now," replied elizabeth. "i shall beat you both soon." they told her what they had done, and tommy thrust the spike into the fire, which they never allowed to go out. meanwhile, mary hunted for something that would serve as a hook. she gave a cry of delight when she discovered a strong safety-pin; and tommy having by this time bored a hole neatly through the cane, they very soon had their rough-and-ready fishing-tackle complete. it only remained to bait the hook. they found plenty of small shellfish clinging fast to the rocks on the shore, and they prised these up with their knives, and provided themselves with a number of the little molluscs. thus equipped, they went along the shore in search of a spot that promised success. they were both excited--and elizabeth was so much interested in the experiment that she laid down her mat and followed her sisters. after a little time they came to an irregular line of rocks running from the base of the cliffs towards the reef on which they had nearly struck on approaching the island. they had already observed that some of the rocks always stood above water, while others were sometimes submerged. these latter were easily distinguishable by the seaweed and the limpets with which they were covered. at the present moment the tide was going down, and the girls thought that they would have a good chance of catching some of the fish that had probably come up with the tide. accordingly, they made their way for some distance along the rocky barrier. the sea was pretty calm, owing to the protection of the reef; but every now and then there was a dash of spray over the rocks at the farthest end. choosing a rock that was lashed by broken water on the seaward side, and had a deep calm pool on the landward side, they determined to try their luck. "i can see hundreds of fish darting about," said mary, peering into the pool as tommy baited the hook. "the more the merrier," said tommy. "look out, bess, i don't want to hook you, dear." the other girls gave tommy a wide berth as she cast her hook, then came to her side and waited for the expected catch. she had not put on a float, declaring that any fish worth catching would soon make itself felt. but as she drew the line towards her she had no sense of weight or resistance; the hook came up with the bait untouched. "they don't fancy it, apparently," said tommy. "i'll have another try. look out!" again she cast the line, and again drew it in. "i declare, the little wretches are nibbling the bait off under our very noses," she cried, as the hook passed through the clear water of the pool. "how disgusting!" "poor little things! why shouldn't they enjoy themselves?" said mary. "oh! if you're going to talk like that, i've done," said tommy, flinging down the rod impatiently. elizabeth picked it up. "let me try," she said. she baited the hook again, but had no more success than her sister. "it is exasperating," she said. "i'm surprised the fish here are so clever." "you'd better have tried a bent pin as i suggested," said mary. "you'd have caught some of those little chaps swarming there. the safety-pin is too big for them." "who wants little skinny things?" said tommy. "i'd like a haddock or a cod. let me try again, bess." once more the hook was baited and let down. again it was surrounded by a swarm of eager nibblers, and tommy was on the point of drawing it back in disgust when suddenly the crowd of little fish parted and scattered in all directions, darting off like streaks of light. the girls held their breath as they saw a "whopper," as tommy called it, come slowly towards the bait. it seemed to smell at it, moving round with flicks of its tail. then it opened its mouth--and tommy felt a tug on the line. "got him!" she cried triumphantly. "a monster, too." the other girls watched her as she drew it in. she wasted no time in playing it, but simply hauled it up towards the rock. bess stooped, and while mary held her to prevent her from stumbling into the sea, she slipped her hands underneath the fish and jerked it out of the water. "he's not such a monster after all," said mary. "how deceptive the water is!" the fish, indeed, was no bigger than a good-sized haddock. "it is big enough to make us a good supper," said elizabeth, "and i don't think we should try to catch any more now. they won't keep in this climate. tommy can catch some every day if she likes." "all right," said tommy. "but, i say, i can't wait till supper-time. the look of the fish gives me an appetite. i vote we have it for tea. you're cook, bess. i'll finish your mat while you're getting the fish ready." this was agreed upon, and they returned to the camp. the two younger girls resumed the weaving, while elizabeth, using a flat stone as a kitchen table, set about cleaning the fish in a very housewifely manner. all at once mary dropped her hands and cried "oh!" "what's the matter?" asked tommy. "suppose the fish is poisonous! some are, you know." "goodness, yes! what can we do? we haven't a taster, like some old kings i've read about." "don't worry," said elizabeth tranquilly. "we must have a change of food, and there's bound to be a little risk in trying new things. we'll cook it, and i'll eat a little. we shall soon know if there's any harm in it." "oh, no, bess," said mary. "why should you take the risk?" "somebody must, and i'm the eldest--and the toughest, i expect, so that if it does make me ill i shall get over it sooner than you." "and i did so want a snack!" sighed tommy. "you won't eat much, will you, bess? we couldn't spare you, you know." "i'll be careful," said elizabeth, with a smile. "it looks very tempting, doesn't it?" "don't, bess; you make my mouth water," said tommy. "how are you going to fry it?" "i thought of boiling it in the kettle." "i wouldn't do that," said mary. "i don't care for fishy tea. it would take ages to get the taste out of the kettle." "but i don't see how we can fry it without a frying-pan." "bake it," said tommy. "let's make an oven. i'll show you." she ran to the beach and collected a number of stones, which she brought back and arranged in the shape of a small circle. outside this she placed a second circle, and filled the space between the two with dried grasses, brushwood and twigs. "now, bess," she said, "but a portion of the fish in the inner circle. then we'll set light to the fuel, and cover it all over with stones, and the fish will bake in no time." "but it will be smoky," protested mary. "not if we wrap it in leaves. let's try, at any rate; if it doesn't succeed we shan't have spoiled much." the fish was wrapped in leaves as tommy suggested, and placed on a stone in the midst of the small circle. then, having pressed the fuel firmly together so that it should not burn away too quickly, elizabeth kindled it from the fire, and covered it with stones, leaving a few spaces for the passage of air. they were so much interested in their experiment that they sat idly about the novel oven, waiting until the fish should be cooked. every now and again tommy would lift off one of the stones to see how the cooking was proceeding. "the leaves are turning brown," she would say delightedly. "and what a lovely smell!" after about a quarter of an hour they removed the stones and the wrappings, and elizabeth declared the fish was done. "it doesn't look so nice as if we'd had egg and bread-crumbs," she said, "but we must do without those luxuries." she tasted a small portion. "very nice," she said, "in spite of no salt or pepper." "don't eat too much," said mary anxiously. "i must give it a fair trial. make the tea, tommy, will you? a cup of tea will qualify the poison if there is any." "what a nerve you've got!" said tommy admiringly. soon all were drinking tea, and the younger girls munched bananas, while elizabeth ate a few small pieces of the baked fish. they watched her with anxiety mingled with envy. "really, you mustn't eat any more," said tommy at last. "now rest against the side of the boat." she placed a shawl behind her sister's head, and covered her feet with her macintosh. "any one would think i was an invalid," said elizabeth, laughing. "it's nothing to laugh at," said mary severely. "you may be very ill by and by." "meanwhile put the rest of the fish where the flies and insects can't get at it," said elizabeth. "there's a nice little hollow in that rock over there. cover it with leaves." this done, they sat one on each side of elizabeth, propping their chins on their hands, and gazing at her with mournful interest. "this is _too_ absurd," said elizabeth, after a few minutes. "let us get on with our hut. i can't stand being stared at like this. come along, girls. we must cut down some more canes to make walls; i'll show you what i mean." they went up-stream to the clump of canes, and, selecting some of the longest, proceeded to hack them down with their knives--no easy task, for the longest canes were also the thickest. but after a little trouble they got three or four that elizabeth thought would answer her purpose, and took them to the site chosen for the hut. here they laid the canes across the projecting branches of the three trees, binding them firmly in place with strong tendrils of a creeping plant. after an hour's work all the canes were in position, forming a kind of framework for the roof. "now all we have to do is to cover this with matting, and our roof is finished," said elizabeth. "we shall have to get some more canes to stretch matting on for the walls, and as we have used up nearly all the grasses we collected, we had better go at once to get some more ready for to-morrow." "to-morrow!" cried mary. "i'd forgotten! do you feel quite well, bess?" "as well as possible." "how long is it since you ate the fish?" asked tommy. "more than two hours--long enough for the poison to act, i'm sure. so we may make up our minds that the fish is perfectly wholesome, and there's baked fish for supper for all of us to-night." "hurray!" said tommy, beginning to dance. "let's go and get the grasses; by the time we have got enough to make our mats it will be supper-time. oh! i am so glad you are not ill, bess." they spent an hour or two in gathering grasses, and returned to their little camp shortly before sunset, in order to cook their supper before dark. tommy ran to the hole in the rock where the fish had been left. a cry of dismay startled her sisters. "what is it?" they cried, turning towards her. "it's gone, every bit of it; oh, who has stolen it?" she looked round with alarm in her eyes, and the other girls also glanced about them with consternation and anxiety. was it possible that some one had been spying on them? "i _did_ see somebody that day," said tommy in a whisper. "but who would want to steal a bit of fish?" said elizabeth, with practical common-sense. "if there are natives here, they could fish for themselves, i'm sure." "there aren't any cats in these parts, are there, mary?" asked tommy. "i never read of them. but--good gracious!" she cried suddenly, "there are the bones!" she had looked a little farther into the hole than tommy had done, and there lay the skeleton of the fish picked clean of every bit of flesh. "i know what it is," she said. "it's a land-crab's hole, and the wretch smelt the fish, i suppose, and came out for a feast while we were busy." "the mean thing!" cried tommy. "and we shan't have any fish for supper after all. i'll serve him out." she ran to the boat and brought back the boat-hook, with which she poked vigorously in the hole. in a few minutes a large crab came scuttling out, at the sight of which she picked up her skirt and ran away, not liking the look of his formidable nippers. they supped as usual on bananas and tea, resolving to choose a safer larder when next they kept fish for a future meal. chapter ix the little brown face "i say, my hair is in a terrible tangle," said mary next morning, after they had bathed. "i wish we had a comb." in the haste of their dressing, the last night on the _elizabeth_, they had done up their hair anyhow, forgetting all about their combs. "what do the south sea natives do, mary?" asked elizabeth. "i fancy i've read that they build up their hair into a sort of huge turban, with grease and things." "horrid!" said tommy. "i vote we cut our hair short like a boy's; you've got a pair of scissors in your housewife, mary. then it won't bother any of us." "i don't think that would be wise," said elizabeth; "we might get sunstroke. as it is we are protected a little. i'm going to let my hair down. perhaps we might make a comb out of a bit of wood." "a long fiddling job that will be," said tommy. "i'm going to catch a fish for breakfast, and if it's like the one i caught yesterday, take out the backbone and use that for a comb." "that's rather an original idea," said elizabeth. "won't our hair smell fishy, though?" "not if we wash the bone and then dry it in the sun, i should think. anyway, we can try." the girls went off together to the rocks from which they had fished on the previous day. the first fish they hooked was of a different kind from the one whose wholesomeness they had proved, and tommy threw it back into the sea, saying that she could not wait while another experiment was being tried. after a time she landed one of the right sort, and this, when baked, made a capital breakfast for them all. no biscuit remained, and tommy sighed for bread and butter; but they enjoyed the change of fare. they washed the skeleton as tommy had suggested, and set it to dry in the sun. then they resumed their weaving. elizabeth made some rough measurements, and found that a great deal more matting was required than they anticipated, so that several days must pass before they could begin the actual building of the hut. mary and elizabeth had both set their watches by the sun, and so were able to tell with reasonable accuracy the time of day. but they had not kept count of the days as they passed, and now elizabeth suggested that they should each morning cut a notch in one of the trees to serve as a calendar. that night they tested the comb of fishbone. mary's hair was the finest, and she managed to comb out its tangles fairly well; but when elizabeth tried to do the same with her thicker and stronger locks, several of the bones snapped off, and it was clear that a new comb of this sort would be needed every day. she reverted, therefore, to her idea of trying to make a wooden comb; and during the next few days, mary, who had had some practice in fretwork at home, worked with her knife at a thin fragment of wood. it was a difficult task. she found herself quite unable to make the teeth equal in size, or equal in distance from each other. but she persevered, and on the third evening after starting the work she showed the comb to her sisters. "well, it's half-way between a curry-comb and a garden rake," said tommy, with a laugh. "but i dare say it's better than fish-bones. let me have first go on my thatch." she began to operate upon her hair, a little yell every now and then proclaiming that the teeth had "caught." but all the girls voted that it was better than nothing, and they used it in turn every morning and night. when there were six notches on the tree, elizabeth said that she thought there was enough matting to complete the walls of the hut, so they carried their handiwork up to the knoll. tommy climbed into the trees, and fastened the upper edges of several mats to the overhanging boughs, while the other girls stuck a double row of canes into the ground, one inside and the other outside the matting, to keep it steady. the various strips of matting had to be sewn together, and at these places an extra long cane was introduced, to which the mats were fastened by means of thin flexible tendrils. a day's work sufficed to complete three walls; the fourth side, facing the sea, was left open. it now only remained to complete the roof. next day the girls added other canes to those which they had already laid across the branches, until they formed a close lattice-work. this they covered with matting, and then deliberated whether to finish it off with thatch. as children they had often helped the thatchers at the farm, so that they would not find any difficulty in the work; but they guessed that in so warm a climate thatch would harbour insect pests of all kinds, and they did not feel comfortable at the thought of having such house-mates. "still, i think we must chance it," said mary. "there's one thing to be said, and that is, that the whole contrivance is so slight and simple that we can make it all over again if necessary." "that's all very well," said tommy, "but we aren't spiders, and i shall be pretty mad if there's all this work to do again. i'd rather do something fresh." "we haven't found much else to occupy us so far," said elizabeth. "anyway, we won't ask you to do the repairs, tommy, if you don't like it." "oh, i didn't mean that," said tommy at once; "i'll do my fair share, but i know i shall get a bit ratty if a silly old storm knocks our nice hut to pieces." the thatching occupied two more days, and then the girls looked with a great deal of pleasure on their neat little hut. "but we haven't done yet," said elizabeth. "the thatch will protect us from any ordinary rain, but we're still liable to be swamped by water running down the hill behind. we had better scrape out a trench all round, to carry the water down to the shore." this proved the hardest part of the work. they had no tools except their knives and the boat-hook, and with these to cut a trench deep enough to be effective was very trying to their patience. such continuous plodding work did not suit tommy's restless, active temperament at all, and she would constantly jump up and run off to the beach, or to the edge of the wood. at such times mary was inclined to be impatient and reproachful, but elizabeth said that they mustn't expect too much from tommy. "she's very young, you know, and it's really wonderful how her spirits have kept up so well. she's more nervy than we are, mary, and i am always afraid she will break down." so neither she nor mary said anything to tommy about her fitfulness, and tommy herself always came back repentant after these little absences, and worked away hard until the next fit of restlessness overtook her. to give her a change from scraping away at the trench, elizabeth suggested that she should make a mat curtain for the open side of the hut. "we don't want a door," she said, "but a curtain will be useful at night. leave a little space between it and the roof for ventilation. we can fasten the two lower corners to the canes." tommy set about this task willingly, and had the curtain fixed by the time the trench was finished. the hut was now complete so far as its exterior was concerned; it had taken more than a fortnight altogether. what they had now to consider was the internal fittings. tommy laughed when this was mentioned. "we can't get a bedroom suite, even on the hire system," she said. "i suppose you'd call it a bed-sitting-room, wouldn't you?" "let's call it 'our flat,'" suggested mary. "the best flat that ever was," said tommy. "no botherations from unpleasant neighbours--at least, i hope not." "we certainly shan't have a tiresome piano going next door," said elizabeth. "i think 'our flat' is a very good name. what a pity we haven't a table and pen, ink and paper!--then mary could write a diary of our doings." "with moral reflections," added tommy. "'to-day our youngest sister refused to wash up; how sad to see such a selfish spirit in one so young!' that's the sort of thing, isn't it, mary?" "i shouldn't write anything of the sort," said mary indignantly. "you haven't refused to wash up, and if you did, do you think i should tell it?" "my dear, you are perfectly killing," said tommy. "do you think you'd get your old diary published? no one would read it if you did." "we're talking nonsense, aren't we?" said elizabeth. "there's no chance of any of us writing a diary. let's be practical. the only furniture we can supply ourselves with is--beds." "more weaving?" cried tommy. "oh, i am so sick of it, bess. can't we sleep on the ground?" "i don't think we'd better; we might get rheumatism, though to be sure the ground seems dry enough at present. but i own that weaving mats day after day is rather tiring, so shall we leave it for the present, and still sleep in the boat? what do you say to doing a little more exploration?" "yes, why not?" said tommy eagerly. "we haven't seen a soul--since i saw that figure move along the top of the ridge, at any rate; and i dare say that was an animal of some kind. i don't think there are any people here at all." "there may be some on the other side of the ridge," said mary. "well, if there are, they must be a very unenterprising lot," said tommy. "let's follow up the stream to its source. i've never seen the source of a river, and that'll be geography, won't it? besides, our bananas will soon be all gone, and we ought to look for some more; we can't live on nothing but fish." "very well; we will do as you say," said elizabeth. "it's very hot to-day, so we'll cover our heads with leaves; it's just as well to take precautions." shortly afterwards they set out, carrying the oars and the boat-hook as weapons of defence. although they had gained confidence from never having seen any human being, as soon as they had walked beyond the limit of their previous excursions they felt something of the old timidity, and spoke only in whispers. "our flag is still flying," said tommy, as they came to a spot whence they could see the tree she had climbed on their first day on the island. "evidently no one has seen it or thought it worth noticing." "that's a consolation in one way," said elizabeth. "these south sea islanders have canoes, haven't they, mary? we haven't seen any, which is a negative proof that our island isn't inhabited; but if any people from another island happened to have come this way, they would almost certainly have noticed our flag, and perhaps come to see what it meant." they were following the course of the stream. it zigzagged about a good deal, at first through a fairly thick belt of woodland, then through a comparatively clear space of a few hundred yards, then into woodland again, always narrowing. they were still some distance below the crest of the ridge when they came to a small swamp, beyond which there was no stream. "this must be the source," said mary. "how disappointing!" said tommy. "i wanted to see a nice little spring, with beautiful clear water bubbling up. this swamp is simply horrid." "there must be a spring somewhere in the swamp," said elizabeth, smiling. "but it isn't worth while to hunt for it, even if we could find it. the stream is certainly prettier lower down. let's go on; we are not very far from the top, and we might be able to get a good view from there--see the whole of the island and the sea beyond." "i feel quite like a discoverer," said mary. "can't you imagine how drake must have felt when he first caught sight of the pacific?" "you romantic old dear!" cried tommy. "i don't care a bit what drake felt; all i hope is we shan't wish we hadn't come." they went on quietly, feeling a little nervous. the ground here was bare except for a few shrubs, and they drew their breath more quickly as they mounted the slope. at last they reached the top. one and all gave a sigh of disappointment. directly in front of them, to the north, was a second ridge higher than the one on which they stood. but on every other side there was a fine view. to the south the land fell away rapidly towards the sea, of which they caught a glimpse over the tree-tops nearly a mile away. to the west, the direction from which they had come, the sea was much farther off. to the east there was a gradual slope downwards into a country for the most part densely wooded, but here and there showing traces of clearings natural or otherwise. the greatest extent of land seemed to be to the north-east, where the sea was much farther remote than it was on the west. none of the girls had any experience in judging distances, but they saw that the island was longer than it was broad, and that the greatest length was from north-west to south-east. "shall we go to the farther ridge?" asked elizabeth. "yes, let's," said tommy. "there isn't a sign of a living creature; the island is just ours." a thick belt of woodland separated the two ridges at the point where they stood, so they moved somewhat to the right to search for a more open way. all at once they came to a halt. a little in front of them was a pole, carrying what appeared to be the remains of a small flag. about fifty paces beyond it was another exactly similar; and then they saw that there were five or six altogether, extending along the crest of the ridge, all the same distance apart. "i think we had better go back," said mary, looking a trifle scared. "there are people after all." her sisters were equally disturbed at the sight of poles evidently erected by human agency. there was nobody to be seen, and from the appearance of the poles they were not attended to; the flags on them were the merest rags of coloured cloth. but the girls were not inclined to face any more discoveries. the bare possibility that there were savages on the island made them shiver. they paused for a few moments at the spot where they first caught sight of the poles, and then turned, intending to make their way in the direction of home. just then, however, tommy caught sight of some bananas clustering thick a little way down the slope on the eastern side. "i'm hungry," she said. "those look bigger than what we have had. couldn't we go and fetch a few?" the clump of trees lay on the slope below the line of poles, a good distance away from them. "it's rather silly to be scared so easily," said elizabeth. "there isn't a sign of anybody; i think we might venture. we must find a new supply." they moved quickly down towards the trees, listening, peering about them, ready to fly at the least alarm. but when they came to the trees they felt that they had the reward of courage, for there, within a short distance of them, was a sight that made them gasp with surprise and delight. beside the stumpy, long-leaved banana-trees, there were other trees glittering with green and yellow fruit and with white blossom. the laden boughs bent down invitingly, and beneath them the golden globes of fallen fruit glowed amid the grass. "oranges, i declare!" exclaimed mary. "how lovely!" cried tommy, forgetting all her fears, and running forward to pick an orange from the ground. her sisters followed more leisurely, but before they reached her tommy suddenly uttered a cry of terror. the orange she had taken fell from her hand. the other girls ran to her side and found her pale with fright. "there!" she said, pointing towards a clump of hibiscus. "what is it, dear?" asked elizabeth. "in the bushes--a little brown face!" whispered tommy, with trembling lips. chapter x anxious days for a moment, under the shock of the startling piece of news, elizabeth was tempted to seize her sisters by the hand and run. tommy was so practical and unimaginative a young person that she could hardly have been altogether mistaken, and a "little brown face," if face it was, must belong to a native. but elizabeth thought quickly, and even while her heart was galloping with nervous excitement, she made up her mind that to run away now was not the right course. a show of bravery was much more likely to serve them. if there really was a native in hiding, he would certainly have seen them, and to run or slink away now would merely provoke pursuit, in which the fugitives would be at a great disadvantage. summoning all her courage, therefore, elizabeth advanced towards the bush to which tommy had pointed. "don't go, bess," implored tommy in an agitated whisper, and mary, as pale as a sheet, put an arm about the younger girl. elizabeth went straight on, looking carefully around. "is this it?" she asked quietly, turning towards her sisters, now several yards distant. tommy merely nodded; mary murmured, "how _could_ she do it?" elizabeth peered into the bush. there was no little brown face now, nor, though she went to and fro amongst the trees beyond, could she see any one, brown or white, lurking. she listened as the thought struck her that it might have been a monkey, and she had heard monkeys screaming and chattering in the zoological gardens in london; but there was no sound, not even the twitter or squawk of a bird. brave as she was in outward mien, elizabeth, after a few minutes' search, returned with hasty step to her sisters. "my silly heart!" she said, with a faint smile, placing her hand to her side. "i couldn't see anything. tommy; don't you think you may have imagined it?" "just as you did before," added mary. "i didn't!" cried tommy. "why won't you believe me? i _did_ see a brown face; i am sure i did." "it is very strange," said elizabeth. "we were here only a few seconds after you cried out; there wasn't much time for any one to get away." "you are both horrible," said tommy, her lips quivering. "any one would think i was a fool. i'll prove that i was right, whatever happens." with the courage of indignation she pulled elizabeth towards the clump of bushes, and began to examine the soft mossy carpet. "there!" she cried triumphantly, yet fearfully, pointing presently to a mark on the ground. elizabeth stooped and made out two or three faint impressions of a foot smaller even than tommy's. and then tommy's fear returned in full force. with a little cry she dragged elizabeth from the spot, and since nothing is so catching as fear even elizabeth's courage gave way, and soon all three girls were running as hard as they could run towards the stream, and did not halt until they came to the boat. [illustration: "'there!' she cried triumphantly, yet fearfully."] "oh, dear, how ashamed i am!" panted elizabeth, as they threw themselves down on the sand to rest. "you were very brave," said mary. "i couldn't have gone into those bushes for anything." "perhaps they were marks of a monkey's feet," said elizabeth. "how silly i was not to examine them more closely." "they weren't," said tommy. "i saw them quite plainly. they were feet just like yours and mine, only tiny, wee things." "i wonder if the people here are dwarfs," said mary. "there must be people. that's certain now." "if they are dwarfs they must be more afraid of us than we are of them," said elizabeth. "impossible!" said tommy. "i was never in such a fright in my life. oh!" "what is it?" asked elizabeth, with an anxious look around. "the oranges! we haven't got any, and i shall be afraid to go there again." "that's a pity," said elizabeth; "they looked so nice. perhaps we can find some in another part of the island." "i won't look for any," said tommy. "i won't stir from this place--at least not farther than to the bananas, and they're nearly all gone. what if the savages come and attack us?" "some of them have poisoned arrows," said mary, quaking. "really, i think we are crying before we are hurt," said elizabeth. "we haven't been molested so far, and surely that proves that whatever people there are, they are not very terrible." "i know i shan't sleep a wink to-night," said tommy. "hadn't we better launch the boat and spend the night on the sea?" said mary. "they might attack us in the darkness." "we'll drag it down a little nearer the sea," replied elizabeth, "and we can take turns to keep watch, if you like; but i'm sure we oughtn't to show the white feather. the best thing we can do is to forget all about it." "it's easy to say, but i know i shan't forget it as long as i live," cried tommy. "and we were so jolly; it's all spoilt." "well, we _must_ eat," said elizabeth, afraid of a breakdown. "let us cook some fish, and be as comfortable as we can." they spent the rest of that day in a state of nervousness, and although elizabeth tried to get the others to begin weaving their mat beds for the hut, they had no heart for the work. when darkness fell, they drew the boat down to the very verge of high water, and lay in it, but not to sleep. they had arranged that each should take a turn at keeping watch, but the result was that all were wakeful, and except for a few minutes' uneasy dozing, none of them had any rest. "this will never do," thought elizabeth as it drew towards morning. "we shall all be worn out if we don't get our proper sleep. i do hope the natives will come to us to-morrow so that we can make friends with them." they all looked very weary and washed-out when daylight came. there was no fish left, and tommy seemed disinclined to try to catch any, or to go to the banana-trees for food. "come, girls, this really won't do," said elizabeth briskly. "make some tea, tommy, while mary and i go and get a fish." "there's only enough for about a cup each," said tommy, looking dolefully into the caddy. "we shan't get any more by wishing for it," said elizabeth, "so we'll use it all up and then try to make a sort of cider out of bananas. it will be a change." "there are hardly any bananas left, either," said tommy. "then we'll go prowling in search of more as soon as we really come to the last of them. come along, mary." "don't go out of sight, will you?" said tommy, as they moved away. "of course not, we shan't be long." "i wish we had a change of things, bess," said mary, as they hastened towards their fishing rock. "never in my life have i worn my underwear so long; it's horrid." "why shouldn't we have a washing-day?" said elizabeth. "it will be a novelty, and give us something to do and think about. rather fun too, with no soap. how can we manage?" "i've read somewhere that the women in the east wash their clothes by beating them in a running stream with stones," said mary. "the stream and the stones are handy; we might try that plan." "don't the stones knock holes in them?" "they use flat, round stones, without sharp edges, i think. it will be rather fun to try, anyway. i hope the savages won't come, bess." "do you know, i'm not at all sure that it wasn't the footprint of a monkey or some other animal. it was so very small. i'm not going to think about it. we'd better go on in our ordinary way without troubling; only for tommy's sake we won't go far from home, for some days at any rate." they returned with two excellent fish. elizabeth at once told tommy of their idea of a washing-day, and, as she hoped, the young girl was so much amused at the novelty of it, that she forgot her alarms for a time. after breakfast they took off their things and donned their dressing-gowns, as tommy called their macintoshes; and having gathered each a smooth, round stone, laid their linen in the stream at a place where it ran over level rock, and began merrily to pound away. when they had given the clothes a thorough good drubbing, as tommy worded it, they laid them on the grass in the sun, and within an hour they were quite dry. "my word! don't they look nice?" cried tommy in delight. "old jane--poor old thing--never got them white at home, did she? we must have a weekly wash, girls; it's great fun." "there's another thing we might try," said elizabeth. "i haven't got used to eating fish without salt, yet. couldn't we make some by evaporation?" "how would you do that?" asked tommy. "put some sea-water in our cups, and let it evaporate. it would soon do so in this heat, and leave the salt at the bottom." "h'm! it sounds all right," said tommy, "but i doubt whether we should get enough salt to put on a bird's tail. let's try." they half filled their three cups from the sea, and put them in the full glare of the sun. every now and then tommy ran to them to see hew they were getting on, every time becoming more sceptical of success. there was still a good deal of water in the cups at nightfall; but, as mary said, that didn't matter much, as they had used up all their tea, none of them liking coffee at night; so they left the cups as they were, to evaporate the rest of the water next day. when the cups were at last dry there was no appreciable sediment, and tommy with great scorn pronounced the experiment a failure. "the cups don't hold enough," said mary. "what we want is a large shallow pan, and as we haven't got one, i'm afraid you'll have to go without salt, bess." but a day or two after, elizabeth discovered a wide shallow depression in a rock a little distance above high-water mark. "this will do for a pan," she said. "we'll fill it with sea-water with our cups, and keep on filling it up as the water evaporates. then we'll see, my dears." they followed this plan for several days, and at last were able to collect a fair quantity of salt. "it isn't table salt, to be sure," said elizabeth, looking at the dirty-grey powder, "but it is certainly salt enough for anything, and this quantity will last for a week at least." "we are getting quite clever," said mary. "i dare say we shall be able to make quite a lot of things by and by." during these days they had seen no more signs of inhabitants, and their nervousness partially wore off. they were still careful, however, not to stray far beyond the immediate neighbourhood of their camp, and slept every night in the boat, which they left close to the brink of the sea. they devoted a good deal of time to weaving grass mats for the floor of their hut, but had not as yet plucked up courage to spend a night in it. with the boat as a refuge they felt a certain sense of security, though they admitted, when they talked about it, that it would not really be of any great service if they were attacked; for they could only escape by embarking, and then to drift on the sea out of reach of food was a terrible fate to look forward to. one day, when mary had been out to gather bananas, she came back with the news that she had gathered the very last one, so that they were faced with the immediate necessity of finding another food supply. "we must take our courage in both hands," said elizabeth, "and revisit the land of plenty beyond the ridge." "don't let's go near the orange-trees," said tommy anxiously. "couldn't we try a little to the left? there will surely be some fruit of some sort in other parts." "i don't see why not," said mary. "i don't want to go there again, either, in case you were right." "of course i was right," declared tommy. "you aren't going to make out again that i can't believe my own eyes!" "we'll try another direction," said elizabeth, anxious to keep the peace. "let us go northward along the shore. we have never really explored the coast of our island yet." accordingly, after breakfast, they set out. there was a long stretch of beach strewn with boulders which had apparently fallen from the cliffs. these rose higher as they proceeded, and jutted out to within twenty or thirty feet of high-water mark. by and by they reached a point where the huge rocky obstacles made further progress impossible. retracing their steps, they clambered with some difficulty up the face of the cliff, and at last gained the high land above. all this time they moved very cautiously, careful to make no more noise than they could help, and always on the look-out for danger. but the silence was broken only by the chatter of birds, the warbling of a blackbird now and then, and the harsh screaming of the parrots in the woods, that extended almost to the verge of the cliffs. "i should like to catch and tame one of those beauties," said tommy. "perhaps i might teach him to talk, and that would be a change, wouldn't it?" "i am sorry we bore you," said mary. "wouldn't it be better to find your savage and teach him how to keep up an amiable conversation?" "don't be sarcastic; it doesn't suit you," said tommy cuttingly, and again elizabeth had to intervene. "we came out to look for food," she said smoothly, "and i think we had better not think of anything else." mary and tommy separated, and went off at a little distance by themselves, looking among the trees and shrubs for fruits or berries that might seem edible. for a time none of the girls saw anything that appeared promising, but presently mary called out quite excitedly-"here, bess, i'm sure this is the breadfruit tree. come and look." then, frightened by the sound of her own voice, she suddenly became aware of her indiscretion, and ran fleetly to join elizabeth. "you idiot!" said tommy in a fierce whisper, as she came up with the others. they stood listening for a while, wondering whether mary's exclamation had attracted the attention of some inhabitant. but, reassured by the absence of any sign of danger, they hastened to inspect the trees upon which mary had lighted. elizabeth noticed that tommy, who would have died rather than apologize, had slipped her hand into mary's in token of regret for her sharp speech. they found themselves in the midst of a little grove of trees, about the size of small oaks, but with much sparser foliage. peeping out from among the long, indented leaves were several large round fruits with a crinkly rind. "i know they are breadfruit," said mary gleefully. "don't you remember the pictures in that book of captain cook's voyages?" "let's peel one and see how it tastes," said tommy. "you wouldn't like it better than raw dough," said mary. "it has to be cooked first." "bother! you know i don't like cooked fruit. it isn't a fruit at all if you can't eat it raw; it's a vegetable." elizabeth smiled at this ingenuous distinction. "let us take one each and go and try them," she suggested. "if they are really anything like bread we shall enjoy them, i know." laden with the fruits, they returned to their camp. "pity the place is so far from home," said mary. "we must have come more than a mile, i should think." "if we are satisfied with our bread we might come again and gather a good load that will last some time," said elizabeth. when they reached home they lost no time in stripping off the thin rind of one of the fruits, and found beneath it a white doughy substance something like new bread. tommy could not forbear tasting it, in spite of what mary had said. "what horrid, nasty stuff!" she exclaimed, making a wry face. "it's like--what is it like? taste it, bess." elizabeth pinched off a very small piece and ate it. "it seems to me like sweetened flour with a smack of artichokes," she said. "i hope it is better cooked; scrape it all out, mary, while i get the oven ready." when the pulp was scraped out, mary kneaded it into a flat cake and cut it into three equal portions. elizabeth put them into the stone oven, and in about twenty minutes took them out, slightly browned, and smelling somewhat of new bread. allowing them to cool, the girls each nibbled a little. "not half bad," said tommy. "i suppose we'll get used to it, and like it better. i never liked carrots when i was a child, and i do now. if we only had some butter! why aren't there any cocoanuts here, i wonder? they have milk, haven't they? if we had some we might make some butter out of the cream." at this the other girls laughed outright. "i'm afraid we shouldn't get much cream out of cocoanuts," said elizabeth. "the milk is a sickly kind of juice, isn't it, mary?" "yes; i had some once, long ago, when father took me to the fair at exeter. he knocked down the cocoanut at one of the shies. i didn't like the milk at all." "we must eat our bread without butter," said elizabeth. "i do hope, though, that we shall find more bananas, for i'm sure i shall soon get tired of the breadfruit. we must try another part of the island another day." chapter xi a tropical storm two or three days passed without incident. the elder girls in their heart of hearts were becoming convinced that the footprints must have been those of an animal; but tommy had shown herself so touchy on that point that they never told her what they thought. with the return of their confidence they began to think that they were punishing themselves by neglecting to use the hut, and one night they ventured to sleep in it for the first time, lying on their grass mats, with pillows of grass and dried leaves. they found their new quarters so much more easy and comfortable that they decided to use the boat no more as a bedchamber, and thought they had been silly in not deserting it before. the hut was delightfully cool both by day and night. in the daytime they always lifted the awning facing the sea; at night they let it down at first, getting ventilation by the space beneath the roof; but as they became accustomed to their bedroom they left the opening uncovered at night also. before turning in they would sit cross-legged just within the hut, gazing, most often in silence, over the wide expanse of sea, watching the stars as they came into the darkening sky, and thinking of their uncle and the friends at home. uncle ben was scarcely ever mentioned among them now. they could not bear to think that the dear old man was at the bottom of the sea, that could show such a smooth and smiling face, and yet behave like a treacherous, cruel monster. they scarcely ever dared to think of the future, for though they seldom missed a visit to the cliffs, from which they could look far over the sea, and though their flag was still flying from the tree, they had almost lost hope of being rescued, and could only live from day to day, killing thought by various little activities. one day, for instance, elizabeth suggested that as their hut was built and furnished, and they had little to do except fish and prepare their food, they might make themselves some new hats. the idea was eagerly taken up by the others. each girl worked in her own way, plaiting lengths of thin grass, and mary hit on a brilliant notion of making brims out of the large leaves from a kind of dwarf palm that grew plentifully in the neighbourhood. they fastened these together, and then to the grass crowns, by threading them in and out with the very fine tendrils of a creeper. when the hats were finished the girls had what tommy called a mutual admiration meeting, and felt very proud of their dolly vardens. a few days after the discovery of the breadfruit, they made a lengthy excursion along the southern shore. here the woods were a good deal denser than in other parts, which was one reason why they had hesitated to explore them. but the cliffs were much less lofty than those on the north, and the girls easily climbed them, and penetrated for a short distance into the fringing woods. they discovered several trees of kinds they had not seen before. there was one in particular that interested them by its fantastic shape; it was so odd-looking that tommy dubbed it the clown of the forest; the real name, of which they were ignorant, was the pandanus. but the special reward of this expedition was the discovery of a thick plantation of bananas and oranges, quite equal to those they had seen on the dreaded eastern side of the ridge. they rushed upon the oranges that bestrewed the ground, devoured several, and filled their pockets with them. what with fish--they were expert fishers by this time--the breadfruit, and this fresh storehouse, they felt no more anxiety about food, and if only they could have lost their fear of possible wild neighbours they would have had nothing to trouble the serenity of their healthy life. but none of them was as yet ready to tempt fate again by crossing the ridge, and elizabeth at any rate knew that while the greater part of the island was shut to them, they could never be quite easy in mind. she felt that the uncertainty was even harder to bear than knowledge would have been. one day their peaceful existence was rudely disturbed, not by man, but by nature. the island was visited by a storm of quite extraordinary violence. the air had been for some time very oppressive, and the girls, feeling incapable of any exertion, were resting in the hut, when there came a sudden hot blast of wind straight in from the sea. they looked out. vast lurid clouds were piling up; in a few seconds, it seemed, the sky became black, and huge waves broke over the reef, sending up mountains of spray. the wind tore through the woods, increasing every moment in fury. one terrible blast ripped the slight hut to fragments, and the girls had no sooner extricated themselves from the heap of tattered mats and broken canes that covered them, than a flood of rain poured upon them. they rushed away to the lee-side of a hillock, trying in vain to find shelter from the storm, and cowering in terror as they heard peals of thunder, and then a tremendous crash as the tempest uprooted some great tree and dashed it to the ground. mary was always terror-stricken in a thunderstorm, and she clung half-fainting to elizabeth, who clasped her close in a motherly embrace. tommy, on the other hand, was perfectly fearless. she gazed at the boiling sea, and watched the lightning with a sort of fascinated admiration. she was almost sorry when the storm blew itself out after two hours of fury, and the sky cleared as rapidly as it had darkened. "how lovely!" she said, dripping wet as she was. "poor old mary!" mary, indeed, was quite overcome, and it was some time before she was able to walk away. the tempest had left ruin in its track. "the boat!" cried elizabeth, suddenly remembering the little vessel, which, though it had been drawn up higher than when they slept in it, she feared might have been washed away. "we must leave you for a little, mary. walk about if you can, and let the sun dry your things." then she raced down to the shore with tommy, and was horrified to discover that the boat had disappeared. the girls scanned the sea, which was still rough, but there was not a sign of it. they ran along the beach northward, hoping that the boat might have been cast up, and were rejoiced to find it about a quarter of a mile away, bottom upwards on a spit of sand. it was some distance from the sea, which, though it had evidently come much higher than usual, had now receded to within a little of high-water mark. the girls managed to right the boat, only to find, of course, that the oars were missing. "how silly we were not to bring the oars into the hut along with the boat-hook!" cried elizabeth. "the boat is perfectly useless without the oars, and we can't make new ones." "perhaps the tide will wash them up," said tommy. "help me up this rock, bess; i'll see if they are in sight." mounted on the rock she scanned the surface, and after a time saw something bobbing up and down about a hundred yards out, and some way to the south of where she stood. "there it is, i believe," she cried. "the sea is getting calmer now; shall i swim out for it?" "you mustn't think of it," said elizabeth. "i dare say the sea is full of sharks. i saw a fin yesterday when we were fishing." "and you didn't tell me! i should love to see a real live shark." elizabeth smiled inwardly at this. "but we must get the oar somehow, bess. one would be better than nothing. and quickly, too. see, the tide is running out fast. and if the oar gets into the current that flows past the reef, it is good-bye for ever." "i don't see how we can. we haven't a paddle of any kind. the boat-hook's no good. wait, though; i wonder if we could get a branch of a tree. stay here and keep the oar in sight while i run and look." she ran up the cliff-side, which was covered with vegetation. the small trees had withstood the storm better than the large ones. some were cracked and broken, but others had merely bent to the blast, while the ground was strewn with the more massive trunks, and with innumerable small branches and twigs. in a little while she came to a tree that had two boughs forming a fork, in shape like a boy's catapult. catching hold of this, and straining upon it, elizabeth managed to break it off; it had occurred to her that the fork might form the skeleton of a paddle. but time was too precious for her to attempt to make it by herself alone, so she ran with it to mary. "quick, mary," she cried. "pull yourself together. we have found the boat, but the oars are gone, and one is floating out to sea. help me to make a paddle, so that we can go after it. get some creepers and some leaves as quickly as you can. i'll show you what i mean." there was no lack of material close at hand, and they were soon busily at work making a sort of criss-cross lattice-work upon the fork, which they notched at intervals with their knives, to give holding to the tendrils. having rapidly made their framework, they laid the leaves on it, and bound these on with more creepers. before they had finished it as elizabeth would have liked, they heard tommy's shrill voice calling-"quick, bess, the oar's going out fast." elizabeth jumped up, carrying the odd-looking paddle, which tommy said was like a lacrosse stick. the oar was now out of sight, though tommy could point to the spot where she saw it last. they launched the boat, and using the paddle as a stern-oar, tommy employed all the skill she had gained by paddling the dinghy to and from the shore at southampton. the paddle was a very poor thing; it bent a good deal, and some of the tendrils became loose, and hung about it like the string of an old cricket bat. but there was no time to stop and repair it, or the oar, which they now saw clearly, would drift past the reef and utterly beyond reach. elizabeth began to grow a little anxious in case they should find themselves adrift by and by with nothing better than the makeshift paddle, which would certainly not last more than a very short time. that would be a calamity indeed, for they might be carried far out to sea, and there was mary alone on the island. but tommy was working so energetically that the distance between the boat and the oar was fast lessening, and elizabeth, raising herself in her seat, suddenly caught sight of the second oar not far beyond the first. "let me take your place, tommy," she said. "you must be tired." "not a bit. besides, we'll lose time if we change, and perhaps upset. stay where you are, bess; i'll get that oar in a minute, and then we'll soon have the other one." a few more strokes brought the boat within reach of the oar, and elizabeth, bending over, drew it up. then tommy left the stern and both sat on the thwarts, pulling towards the second oar, which they overtook in a few seconds. "we'll keep the paddle as a memento," said elizabeth. "but look! what a terrible distance we are from the shore! mary will be half frantic." "it's lucky that we are inside the reef," said tommy. "already i can feel the current quite strong. we shall have to pull hard to get out of it!" by this time tommy was rather tired, but she would not give in. it was a long pull back, and at first it seemed impossible to draw the boat out of the current that was rapidly bearing it northward. but having now two good oars, they succeeded presently in getting back into calmer water. then, turning the boat's head southward, they rowed more gently along the shore, and at last reached their own little harbour, where mary was awaiting them. "i _am_ thankful you have got back safely," she cried. "when i saw you going so far i nearly went mad for fear you couldn't return." "we must take care it never happens again," said elizabeth. "we'll drag the boat up much higher this time, and if we tie the painter to a rock, or to a tree if there's one near enough, we needn't be anxious, and we'll certainly keep the oars in the hut." "my dears, we haven't a hut," said tommy. "we be three poor mariners--vagabonds, homeless, ragged and tanned. who was that old king who sat himself down in a lonely mood to think, and watched a spider spin its web over and over again, and thought he couldn't let a spider beat him and at last beat all his enemies? oh, dear, that's made me out of breath. robert bruce, wasn't it, mary?" "yes; mrs. hemans wrote the poem. 'bruce and the spider,' it's called." "i don't care who wrote it, only we've got to spin our web again. oh, 'will you walk into my parlour?' said the spider to the fly. 'please 'm, where's the parlour?' says the fly. there, i'm a lunatic, but i feel so jolly at having caught those runaway oars. i say, are you dry? i am. that's one advantage of living in a tropical climate; if you get soaked you don't have to shiver while your things are dried at the fire. 'homeless, ragged and tanned, who so contented as i?'" she sang, and elizabeth, noticing the high spirits of her wild young sister, hoped that there wouldn't be a reaction, and that tommy was not going to be ill. chapter xii alarms and discoveries contemplating the ruins of the hut they had built up with so much care, the girls felt a very natural chagrin. you have seen a child who has erected a fine house of bricks fly into a rage when the structure topples by its own weight, or at least look utterly woebegone, and leave the scattered bricks lying where they fell. elizabeth westmacott and her sisters felt very much the same disinclination to begin again. the site was a picture of disorder. portions of the matting had been blown right away; other portions in shreds and tatters had found resting-places among the foliage of the surrounding trees and shrubs. some of the canes of the roof dangled from the boughs, others littered the ground amid a tangle of creepers and leafage. no one could have supposed that only a few hours before the same place had been a model of neatness. "it will take an age to tidy up," grumbled tommy. "is it worth while to bother about a hut again?" "i don't like being without a roof over our heads," replied elizabeth; "but we won't start yet if you don't feel inclined. let us go and take a look round." "we shall want some breadfruit for dinner," said mary, "so we had better go that way. i dare say we shall find all we need on the ground." they set off towards the breadfruit-trees. everywhere there were signs of the violence of the storm, but they were surprised and interested to notice that the worst havoc had been wrought in almost a straight line across the island from south-west to north-east. it was as though some huge giant had gone steadily forward wielding a monstrous scythe. the tornado had cut a clean path through the forest, leaving scarcely a tree standing over a wide space. where there had been close, unbroken woodland was now a bare avenue, interrupted by the trunks of trees that had been thrown this way and that. impressed as the girls had been with the fury of the tornado during the time of their exposure to it, its devastating power was brought home to them now much more strongly. they looked with awe upon its ravages. "how thankful we ought to be that we were not in its direct path!" said elizabeth. "a little more to right or left and we should have had trees crashing down upon us; we might have all been killed." "it is a dreadful place," said tommy, subdued and thoughtful. "oh, bess, shall we never be found and taken away?" "we must hope on, dear. it will never do to get downhearted. while we are all well and strong we need not mind so very much, and a ship is sure to come this way some time or other." "but it might pass us," said mary. "i am sure our flag is blown away. shall we go and see?" "hadn't we better fetch our breadfruit first, now we are in this direction?" "of course. we shall have to light another fire, too; ours is sure to be out." they went on, and on arriving at the breadfruit plantation found, as they had expected, that the ground was littered with fruit, which was already being devoured by land-crabs, insects and birds. they picked up several that were in good condition, and retraced their steps towards the shore. as they were passing through the fringe of woodland, tommy stopped suddenly, and went down on her knees. "oh, do look!" she cried. "here's a nest on the ground, and the dearest little white parrot you ever saw. poor little thing! i think it has lost its mother." the girls stooped to look at it, and tommy put her hand into the nest. the tiny bird rustled in alarm, opening its beak to let out a plaintive cry; but it was too young to use its wings, and tommy took it up and held it gently. "its little heart is beating frantically," she said. "let us take it back with us and try to rear it. you know i wanted one." "do you think we can rear it?" said mary. "it will starve if we leave it," replied tommy. "i shall love to try." the others agreed that there was no harm in trying, so tommy carried it carefully back with her, now and then stroking the ruffled feathers. when they got to their camp she laid the bird on a bed of grass, peeled one of the breadfruits, and held a few crumbs of the pulp in the palm of her hand just below the parrot's beak. but it was too young, or perhaps too frightened, even to feed itself, and it would have fared ill had not its captor been a country girl and known how to deal with such an emergency. she had seen young birds fed by hand, and she at once cut a thin stick and sharpened its end, upon which she stuck a little bit of breadfruit. then holding the bird in her left hand, she waited until it opened its beak to cry, and quickly slipped the food in. the little bird swallowed it greedily, much to tommy's delight, and she went on feeding it until elizabeth suggested that she would kill it with excess. "the poor thing was hungry," said tommy. "it's not nearly so much alarmed now. i shall keep it for a pet." "you'll have to clip its wings, then," said mary, "or it is sure to fly away as soon as it is strong enough." "you do it, mary. be very gentle, won't you?" "there's no need yet, perhaps," suggested elizabeth. "do it in a day or two when it has got over its fright. it would be just as well to put it in the boat while we are busy. you must take care not to overfeed it, tommy." after dinner they went first to the flag-staff. not a shred of their scarves was left. as they had no material for making another flag, except their handkerchiefs, which they did not care to part with, and their wraps, which they could not spare, they had to give up for the moment any idea of erecting a signal. then they hastened in the opposite direction, southward, to fetch bananas and oranges for the other meals of the day. a grave disappointment awaited them. there was plenty of fruit on the ground, but the trees themselves, standing in the direct path of the storm, had all been uprooted or broken off, so that when they had used their present supply they could obtain no more at this spot. it would be necessary to go once more in search of food, for they found the breadfruit too insipid to form their only vegetable diet. they knew the district between their camp and the ruined plantation; nothing edible was to be had there. the only other place where they knew that fruit existed was to the east, beyond the ridge; and even now they could not make up their minds to revisit the scene of their scare. next day, however, when tommy had fed her bird and mary had clipped its wings, and they had spent an hour or so tidying up the site of the hut preparatory to rebuilding, they set off again in a southerly direction, having resolved to extend their exploration within easy distance of the shore. crossing the broad path of uprooted trees, flattened grass, and torn undergrowth, they found as they proceeded that the ridge hemmed them in, closer and closer to the sea. this was partly due to the curving of the shore, and partly to the diagonal lie of the rising ground. little foothills of the ridge extended downwards towards the coast, forming ridges in miniature, cut here and there by streamlets. on such expeditions tommy almost always led the way, for her restless and active temperament was impatient of the sedater going of her sisters. but she never went far ahead, and every few minutes, as if alarmed at her own daring, she would run back and keep with the others for a time. she was thus a few yards in advance when, as she mounted a hillock, she came in sight of a number of trees clustering almost at the edge of the sea, and uttered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure. "oh, do look here!" she cried. "i believe we have come to some cocoanut palms. you remember we saw some at valparaiso." the others ran to join her, and mary at once declared that she was right. there was no mistaking the tall, smooth stems with their feathery crowns. they all rushed forward eagerly. thanks to the storm, there were several huge nuts strewing the ground around each of the trees. tommy, who was first on the scene, picked up one of them and turned it over in her hands in a puzzled way. "is it a cocoanut after all?" she said. "it's not a bit like those i have seen in shops." "it's a cocoanut right enough," replied mary. "but you've got to strip off the outer husk before you come to the nut itself." tommy whipped out her knife and began to cut away the coarse, fibrous covering. it was very tough, and she soon declared that it would never come off unless the others helped her. so they all knelt on the ground with the nut in the middle, and employed their knives energetically, until at last the husk was removed. the shell inside was ivory-white, very different from the old brown nuts they had been used to see in england. being quite brittle, a small piece was easily cut off the top, and they saw the inside full of a pale, milky liquid. "you first, tommy," said elizabeth. "you saw the trees first." tommy took a sip of the liquid. "delicious!" she said. "i don't think i ever tasted anything so nice." she drank more, and, handing the nut to mary, continued-"it's sweet, bess, and sour too, something like lemonade, only not like it. it's like--oh, i don't know what it's like; just itself, i suppose. don't drink it all, mary." elizabeth, when her turn came, pronounced it a very refreshing drink, and they were all delighted at so welcome an addition to their larder. they collected as many nuts as they could carry, and, returning to their camp, stored them in the boat. in the course of the next few days they went several times to the same place, until they had brought back all the nuts that lay on the ground. it was fortunate that so many had been thrown down, for they did not see how they could have obtained them otherwise. even tommy, the climber of the family, confessed that she would have been beaten by the smooth, straight stem of the cocoanut palm. mary had a dim recollection of reading that the natives had a way of climbing the trees by means of a rope, but she could not remember the details of the method, and in any case, tommy could hardly have used it successfully without a good deal of practice. once more relieved from anxiety about food, the girls devoted themselves industriously to the reconstruction of their hut. their former practice made their task easier. in a few days the new house was finished, and they were especially glad of its shelter at night, instead of the cramping narrowness of the boat. days had lengthened into weeks. the notches on their calendar trunk told them how time was flying--a sad reminder in many ways. with so little to do they felt the hours hang heavily on their hands, though tommy's parrot gave them a little amusement and interest. the bird had become quite used to its mistress, and had learnt to take its food from her hand. its voice, not of very charming quality, as all confessed, grew stronger, and it became accustomed to give a quaint little scream whenever tommy approached. she would set it on her finger and talk to it, using the same word over and over again, in the hope that it would by and by pick up a phrase or two. but although it became perfectly tame, it could never be induced to substitute civilized words for its natural scream and squawk. "you little silly-billy!" cried tommy one day, after an hour's patient instruction. "what's the good of you for a pet? there! perch on my shoulder, and don't make such an idiotic noise, for goodness' sake." tommy at last gave up the attempt in despair; but she became very fond of the bird, and declared that when they were rescued she would certainly take it home with her. it was wonderful how the hope of rescue never died. when each day ended without the sight of the longed-for vessel, they would say, "never mind, perhaps it will come to-morrow." and when to-morrow had the same disappointment, there was still to-morrow. so they lived from day to day, veering from hope to despondency, and from despondency to hope again. they had almost forgotten tommy's fright. surely, they thought, they must have seen some one by this time if the island was inhabited. yet there was the same misgiving, the same disinclination to cross the ridge. elizabeth laughed at herself, and more than once said she really must break through her reluctance. but it ended there. her heart failed her when it came to the point. easy though their life was, it had its discomforts. the breadfruit gave out, and having found no more oranges or bananas, they grew very tired of a diet of fish and cocoanuts. they had seen other fruits, and shrubs bearing berries that looked very enticing, but the fear of poison deterred them from trying anything that they did not know. the want of a change of clothes, too, was a trouble to them, and their boots had become unwearable. they had often been soaked in sea-water, and then, drying in the sun, had cracked and become worse than useless. they got into the habit of going barefoot, except when they set out for a long walk. in the hut, and when walking on the grass, they were comfortable enough, but on rough ground they suffered a good deal at first. in course of time, however, helped by frequent soaking in sea-water, their feet became hardened, and they felt no inconvenience in going about unshod. they had more than once noticed some very small bees, hardly larger than houseflies, flitting among the flowers. one day elizabeth suggested that they should try to find out whether these polynesian bees made honey, and if so, where it was. tommy hailed the suggestion, and started at once to track the bees to their nests. for a long time she had no success. only after many days did she, almost by accident, light upon a bees'-nest in a hole in the trunk of a tree. informing her sisters of the discovery, she proposed that they should smoke the bees out. they kindled a small fire at the base of the tree, immediately beneath the hole. when they thought they had allowed plenty of time for the smoke to stupefy the bees, they put on their macintoshes, pulling the hoods well down over their heads, and prepared to rifle the hole. it was so small that a hand could scarcely pass through it, and mary suggested that they should enlarge it, so that they might see what they were doing. accordingly they stripped off the bark round the hole, until it was much more capacious. unluckily, the inrush of fresh air appeared to revive the little inhabitants, which darted out with fierce buzzings, putting the robbers to utter rout. they ran off with their heads down, waving their arms wildly to beat off the furious insects. tommy got off scot free, but elizabeth and mary were stung slightly, and but for the smoking, which had not been wholly ineffectual, the bees would probably have hurt them severely. "we won't be beaten by a parcel of silly bees," said tommy, as they went home. "you aren't much hurt, are you?" "i feel a burning spot in my cheek," said elizabeth. "and one of my fingers is swelling," added mary. "as we haven't any ointment, or anything, you'll just have to get well by yourselves," remarked tommy. "you'll have another try, won't you?" "oh, yes! we'll give them a larger dose next time," said elizabeth. "i think we ought to have some reward for our enterprise." a day or two afterwards they visited the hole again. by means of a larger fire, fed with leaves that gave off a very pungent smoke, they managed to stupefy the bees thoroughly. when they examined the hole they were surprised to find, not large combs, as in an english hive, but a collection of bags of brown wax, about the size of a walnut, united in a regular mass. "fancy bees having foreign ways!" said tommy. "i should have thought that bees were the same all the world over." "i don't see why bees shouldn't be different, like people," said mary. "they're very intelligent." the others laughed at this curious reason for differences of habit. the honey, they found, was more fluid than they were accustomed to in england, and in taste and smell it was slightly scented. they took a good quantity home with them, but it did not go very well with fish, and even with cocoanuts it was a doubtful joy. "if we only had some breadfruit, or even bananas, we should like it better," said mary. "we can only get those by going across the ridge again," said elizabeth. "shall we venture?" "i won't," said tommy decidedly. "i'm not going to be scared out of my wits for anybody." "i'll go with you, bess," said mary, after a little hesitation. "it really is silly to be afraid of nothing." but, as it turned out, the first of the three to brave the peril was, after all, tommy herself. chapter xiii lost that night, for the first time in their residence on the island, the girls were awakened by a patter of rain. only once before had rain fallen, and that was during the tornado. now the sound of it upon the thatch of the hut was very slight, but the girls slept so lightly that a whisper was almost enough to disturb them. "i hope we are not in for another smash up," said elizabeth, finding that her sisters were both awake. "there's no wind at present," returned mary. "rain alone won't hurt us. i expect it's the rainy season beginning, and we shall have weeks of it." "how disgusting!" exclaimed tommy. "i always hated having to stay indoors, and it will be worse than ever here, with no cosy fire and nice story-book. what's the time, bess?" she leant over towards elizabeth, who lay next to her, and showed a light with her match-lighter. elizabeth looked at her watch, which she never forgot to wind. "it's about four o'clock," she said. "time for another snooze before daylight," said tommy, snuggling down again into her wraps. in a minute or two she was fast asleep. the other girls remained wide awake, and talked quietly together. "i wish we knew our whereabouts better," said elizabeth. "if we only knew what those islands are that we have seen in the distance, we might perhaps row to one of them and find friends." "yes; of course there are missionaries," said mary. "don't you remember uncle ben told us of a friend of his who was returning to his station? what was his name, bess?" "i forget. we can't venture across the sea, can we?" "oh, no! there are thousands of islands, and i believe some have never been visited by white people at all. we might land among cannibals!" "we are certainly better off here. i can't believe there are any people on this island, in spite of tommy, or why haven't we seen something of them? we'll go to the ridge after breakfast, as we said, and settle the matter once for all." "supposing there _are_ people?" said mary. "as i said before, i think we ought to try and make friends with them, and if they seem inclined to be unfriendly, perhaps we could make them afraid of us. tommy's match-lighter would startle them, wouldn't it?" "it might, but i don't like to think of having to rely on that sort of thing for our safety. they would soon find out our real weakness, and then--- oh! i do hope we shall not see anybody. we should be so much more uncomfortable." "tommy's birthday is somewhere about now. we can't be quite sure of the date, because we didn't begin to cut notches at once; but we should be right within a day or two. the present she would like best would be some oranges from beyond the ridge, and certain news that the island is uninhabited." "how strange it seems to hope that there are no human beings near us! do you know, bess, i think the people of these islands must be very melancholy." "why should you think that? i have always supposed them to be a happy, light-hearted folk, with not a care in the world." "but they have nothing to do. their food grows for them without work, and they don't need many clothes. they've no books to read, no amusements----" "how do you know that?" "well, what amusements can they have? isn't it only civilized people who play games?" "i don't know. i seem to remember that even savages gamble, if that is amusement; it wouldn't be to me if i lost." "then you're no sport, bess," said tommy, who had awakened and caught the last few words. "it's the excitement they like, whether they win or lose. i should be a dreadful gambler, i know, if i had the chance." "then i hope you will never have it, dear," said elizabeth. "it is an unhealthy excitement, i am sure. we were talking about your birthday, tommy. it might be yesterday, to-day, or to-morrow, but you are fourteen. we'll wish you many happy returns now." "oh, i wish you hadn't reminded me," cried tommy. "think of being fifteen and sixteen, and twenty, and getting old on this island! i don't want to grow old at all, and it would be dreadful here. i'd be a scullery maid, or a beggar girl--anything in england, rather than stay here. shall we ever get away?" and tommy nestled to elizabeth's side, and as she lay encompassed by her elder sister's arms she prayed with all her heart that god would send help to them soon. when dawn broke and they got up, it was a dreary world upon which they looked. sea and earth were covered with a clinging mist. a drizzle was falling. everything was sodden and forlorn. the fire was out, and there were no dry sticks for re-lighting it. they had to content themselves with a breakfast of cocoanuts, and then they sat inside the hut, too much depressed in spirit to go out, or do anything but watch the rain. presently the drizzle became a downpour, which, went on for an hour or two, then suddenly ceased, the sun bursting through the leaden sky. they took advantage of this to gather a quantity of twigs, which they carried into the hut to dry there. elizabeth had just suggested that mary and she should start on their expedition to the ridge, when a sharp shower drove them again to shelter. so it went on all day--heavy showers that lasted for a few minutes alternating with brief, bright intervals. there was no doubt that the rainy season had begun. the girls were practically confined to the hut for many days in succession, only sallying forth to catch fish, which they cooked at a new stove built nearer the hut. the showers were sometimes light, sometimes very heavy, and at last the rain began to drip through the thatched roof, and the girls had to sit in their macintoshes. though the sun appeared every now and then, it did not shine long enough to dry the ground before another downpour soaked it. they all became very low-spirited, and could not find any occupation to pass away the time, for even weaving was impossible with the sodden grass. their troubles came to a climax one day when mary complained of a racking headache. feeling her hot brow, elizabeth feared she had taken a fever, no doubt owing to the exhalation from the damp earth working on a lowered system. she and tommy felt much concern, which became real alarm when they found mary rapidly becoming worse. she could not eat, and lay on her mat bed covered with the macintoshes and wraps of the other girls, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright and glassy. towards evening, when elizabeth had left the hut to fetch water for the night, and tommy sat by the invalid, she was startled to hear mary talking in a very strange way. "no milk to-day--there's something wrong with dapple--jane, uncle ben's coming to-morrow. don't forget the----" then her voice died away into an indistinguishable muttering. presently tommy caught more phrases: "oh, no, no! they'll eat us: don't let tommy go. bess! bess! they're coming after me!--dan will carry the luggage, uncle!" so she raved on, in her delirium babbling about the farm, the ship, her friends, a word every now and again showing how much the fear of cannibals had occupied the background of her mind. tommy was terrified. she had never seen any one delirious except her father just before he died, and she was smitten with an agonizing fear that mary would not recover. "oh, bess, she's out of her mind!" she cried piteously, as elizabeth returned. "what shall we do?" elizabeth went quickly to the bed, dipped a handkerchief in the water she had brought, and laid it on mary's fevered head. "we must sit up with her to-night," she said. "don't give way, tommy dear. she will soon be better. the fever came on so suddenly that i am sure it is one of those sharp attacks that don't last long. but it will leave her very weak, and we must be very careful of her. i do so wish we had some oranges; the juice is so cooling." but it was too late to think of looking for oranges, and they had to be satisfied with water and cocoanut milk, which they gave mary in sips. all night long they remained at her side, watching her with distress as her teeth chattered as if with cold, and then next moment she tossed about on her little mat bed, and flung the macintoshes off as if she could not bear the heat. elizabeth tried to induce tommy to lie down for a little, but the young girl refused, saying that she could not rest until she knew that mary was better. "i will get some oranges to-morrow," said elizabeth. "i am sure they will do her good." towards morning mary dropped off to sleep, and then tommy was persuaded to lie down. the sun had risen when she awoke to find elizabeth still watching over her sleeping sister. "i'll just run down to the stream and bathe my face," said elizabeth. "she is still asleep. give her a little water if she wakes; i shan't be long. luckily, it's a fine morning." she returned in a few minutes. "now you run down and wash, tommy," she said; "it'll freshen you. i've put in some fish to bake for breakfast." tommy rose and left the hut. during elizabeth's absence she had strung herself up to a great resolution. mary must have oranges, but the one to fetch them should not be elizabeth. she was so calm and steady and capable that she would do far better to stay and look after mary. "i can be best spared," thought tommy, "but i know bess won't let me go if i propose it. i shall just do it without telling her. it won't take long to scamper to the orange grove and back again." she had not forgotten her former fright; but she told herself that perhaps she might get to the oranges without being observed, and she was ready to do anything for mary, of whom she was very fond, though they sparred sometimes. so, after bathing her face in the stream, she went to the stove and scratched on the sand in front of it with her knife the words, "gone to the orange grove." then, without waiting, for fear her courage failed, she ran swiftly along the bank of the stream, munching a piece of cocoanut as she went. in the hut mary had awakened perfectly sensible, and wondering why she felt so weak. elizabeth bathed her face and hands, smoothed her hair, and having tried to make her a little more comfortable, gave her a drink of cocoanut milk. "what's the matter with me, bess?" she asked. "you've had a touch of fever. you'll soon be all right again. i'm going to get you some oranges presently. you will enjoy them." "yes, i shall. have i been ill long? i feel as weak as anything." "only one night, dear. we shall have to feed you up. you ought to have beef tea or chicken broth, of course; but we shall have to do the best we can. i think we must try to snare a bird of some sort." "where's tommy?" "just run down to wash. i dare say she'll bring back the fish with her. i put some to bake. you could eat a little, couldn't you?" "i'll try, but i don't feel much like eating. i want to go to sleep again." and, indeed, in a few minutes she was sleeping. "the very best thing she could do," said elizabeth to herself. a quarter of an hour passed and tommy had not returned. "i wonder why she is lagging," thought elizabeth. she went to the entrance of the hut and looked down towards the shore. the trees hid the stove from her, and she did not call out for fear of waking mary. she went back into the hut and sat down; but after five minutes, when there was still no tommy, her vague wonder grew into a slight feeling of alarm. seeing that mary was still asleep, she went out again, and ran swiftly down towards the stove, glancing to the left with a half expectation of discovering tommy fishing on the rocks. but tommy was not in sight, and elizabeth soon learnt why, as her eye caught the scribble on the sand. "how plucky!" she thought. "but the child will be terrified before she gets there; i had better fetch her back." but with a moment's reflection she saw that she could not expect to catch tommy before she reached the top of the ridge. if there was any danger tommy would have run into it by the time she could be overtaken. mary was so weak that elizabeth did not care to leave her for long; but she ran some distance up the stream, as far as the broad, bare avenue made by the storm, and then was on the point of giving a shrill call when she checked herself. the sound might cause the very harm she wished to avoid. perturbed, and somewhat vexed as well, she hastened back, feeling that at present mary must be her chief care. she reflected that, after all, though they had been now more than two months on the island, they had never met any other person, and had no real reason to think it was inhabited. surely if the object tommy had seen was actually a human being, they would by this time have had other evidence of his existence. thus reassuring herself, she hurried back, took out of the oven the fish that was already over-baked, and regained the hut. to her great relief mary was still fast asleep. elizabeth dreaded the effect upon her if she suspected that anything had happened to tommy. as she ate her breakfast, reserving some of the fish for tommy, she felt decidedly annoyed at the young girl's escapade. tommy ought to have mentioned what she intended, thought elizabeth. but tommy had been from her earliest years impulsive and heedless, so that her present disobedience--for so elizabeth had come to regard it, forgetting that no instructions had been given--was quite apiece with former instances. then elizabeth made amends to tommy in her heart. "she has been very good all this time," she thought. "i do wish she would come back." but the hours dragged by, and still tommy had not appeared. mary awoke, and looking round the hut, inquired again for tommy. "she has run up to get some oranges," said elizabeth, as calmly as she could, though she felt very troubled. "tommy has?" said mary, in surprise. "gone alone to where she saw the face? oh, you shouldn't have let her, bess." "i wouldn't have, only i did not know. she scrawled on the sand to say that she had gone. i suppose she thought i would make a better nurse than she." "she's a dear, brave girl," said mary, "and i shall like the oranges all the better." elizabeth got her to eat a little fish, cold as it now was, and presently she dropped off to sleep again. it was past dinner-time; the sun was very hot, and elizabeth, thoroughly alarmed at tommy's protracted absence, wondered if, after her trying night, she had been overcome by the heat, and was, perhaps, lying helpless somewhere. she felt that she must try to find her; so, slipping out of the hut, she ran as fast as her feet would carry her up through the woods, never pausing until she had crossed the ridge and come to the orange grove. she had looked about her as she ran, and, now regardless of consequences, had called tommy several times, but she saw neither her nor any living person, and there was no answer to her calls. at the grove there were oranges and bananas scattered here and there on the ground, so that tommy's absence could not be due to any difficulty in obtaining what she came for. and then elizabeth's heart stood still as she noticed at one spot, a strange collection of objects. there were four or five oranges on the ground close together, and with them tommy's knife, the little stick she had fed her parrot with, a piece of hair-ribbon, and a wedge of cocoanut. what had happened? these objects were obviously the contents of tommy's pocket; why had she placed them there, and where was she? had she been startled? had some natives come stealthily upon her, and seized her? would they not at least have taken the knife at the same time? elizabeth felt a shiver of fear, along with utter bewilderment. but she crushed down her uneasy imaginings and, placing tommy's belongings in her pocket, began to search among the trees, shouting from time to time, no matter who might hear her. suddenly her eye was caught by the flutter of a small coloured object at some distance among the bushes. with a thrill of hope she hastened towards it, but long before she reached it, she realized that her hope was vain; the object was only a bit of tattered cloth attached to one of the line of poles they had seen on their former visit. retracing her steps to the orange grove, she went in and out among the trees, shouting tommy's name again and again. her distress at tommy's disappearance was coupled with anxiety about mary. it was now a considerable time since she had left the hut, and she felt that, with mary so weak and helpless, she could not stay to search any longer. thrusting a few oranges into her pocket for the invalid, she hastened back, conscious that she herself was weak and shaky. the long, anxious search in the fierce sunlight, following a sleepless night, had been almost too much for her strength. she tried to enter the hut unconcernedly, with a dim hope that tommy might have returned before her. mary was awake. "why did you leave me?" she said, in the querulous tone of an invalid, her eyes filling with tears. "i've called and called for you and tommy, but you wouldn't come. i am so miserable." "here are some oranges, dear," said elizabeth gently. "i will squeeze the juice into a cup for you. it will do you good." "thank you so much. i'm a wretched bad patient, bess dear, but i got it into my silly head that you had deserted me. ridiculous, wasn't it? this is delicious. it was kind of tommy to get them for me. where is she?" elizabeth was in a quandary. mary seemed a little better; her querulousness was a good sign; but it would not further her recovery to tell her that tommy was missing. on the other hand, elizabeth herself was so much distressed that she would have liked to pour out her troubles to a sympathetic ear. but she thought it best to keep the bad news to herself for the present, and said--"she must have quite recovered her courage, and gone roaming. you are getting on, aren't you, dear?" "yes, only rather weak still. but these oranges are delicious. i feel much refreshed. don't sit up with me to-night, bess; i am sure i shall be all right, and you mustn't wear yourself out. put some oranges near me, so that i can get one in the night without disturbing you." she soon fell asleep again, and did not awaken until it was quite dark. she was careful not to disturb her sister, and so did not become aware until the morning that tommy had not returned. elizabeth had spent a sleepless night, and felt quite worn out when day broke. mary was quick to notice her distress, of which she knew she could not be the cause, since she was so much better. "you are hiding something, bess. tell me; has something happened to tommy?" elizabeth, on the verge of a breakdown, was glad to pour out the whole story. "oh, why didn't you tell me before!" cried mary. "you must go at once and look for her again. there is really nothing the matter with me now. do, please, go, bess. it is awful to think of what may have happened." hastily getting mary a little food, elizabeth set out for the orange grove, and searched it and the neighbourhood through and through, calling tommy's name until she was hoarse. once in response to her shouts, she thought she heard a faint cry, and hurried in the direction from which she supposed it to have come. at that moment she felt that she would have welcomed the appearance of a native; the sight of any human face would have been a comfort. but her search was still fruitless; neither tommy nor any one else appeared; and elizabeth thought she must have been mistaken. the birds were trilling and chattering in the woods, and among so many sounds it was easy to deceive oneself. at length, when she had been several hours absent, she felt that she must return in case mary should be wondering whether she too had disappeared. she could hardly drag herself home. at the entrance of the hut she found mary looking anxiously towards the ridge. "you shouldn't have got up," she said. "oh, mary, i can't find her, and i am so tired." for a moment it looked as if she would break down utterly, but she controlled herself, and in response to mary's entreaty, lay down to rest. fatigue even overcame her distress of mind, and for an hour or two she slept heavily. then she awoke with a start, and declared that she must go and search again. swallowing a little food, she set off, and thoroughly hunted over a wider area than before, not returning until the evening. "it's no good," she said, despairing. "poor tommy's gone." "don't say so," said mary. "you haven't seen any one, have you?" "nobody." "then she may only be lost. you know how venturesome she is, and having found no one to be afraid of perhaps she has gone right over the island, and sprained her ankle or something. have a good sleep, bess. to-morrow we'll both go. i'm sure i shall be strong enough." next morning, after a breakfast of bananas and oranges--for there was, of course, no fish--the girls set off together. mary, although a little "tottery," as she said, was able to walk slowly, and she declared it was much better for her to go too, than to remain at home wondering what was happening. elizabeth had to support her, and she stopped for frequent rests; but they came at length to the orange grove. "now, i'll stay here," she said, "in the shade of the trees, while you go round and round; and if you don't find her here, go right over the ridge and cooee every few seconds. i won't stir until you come back." chapter xiv in the pit when tommy left the hut she ran with all the fleetness of her young legs up towards the ridge. all the way she said to herself, "i won't be afraid, i won't, i won't," keeping up her courage also with the thought of the surprise she would give her sisters when she returned laden with fruit. the morning was somewhat misty, but the mist was not so thick as to hide the general features of the country. as before, she followed the course of the stream, and when she came to the swamp she turned to the right, and continued as nearly as possible in a straight line with the crest. arriving at the top, she stopped for a few moments rather puzzled. the appearance of the country was unfamiliar; the spot she had reached was certainly not the place to which she, with her sisters, had come on the former excursion. it was clear that she had wandered somewhat from the proper route. she went on, the very difficulty in which she found herself helping to strengthen her determination. there were trees on all sides, but for some time she discovered none that were bearing oranges. at length, however, as the mist lifted, she perceived some golden spots among the foliage, and ran towards them. she hoped that this was not the orange grove in which she had been so much frightened, and a return of her nervousness made her quicken her pace and gather, in a kind of frantic haste, a number of oranges that bespattered the ground. in order to turn her journey to the utmost advantage she meant to fill her pocket with oranges and take as many as possible in her hands as well. but remembering that her pocket was usually full of all sorts of odds and ends, she knelt down to empty it and throw away what was useless, so as to have more room for the oranges. she had just laid on the ground her knife and a few oddments when, throwing in spite of herself a nervous glance around, she noticed a slight movement in the bushes on her right--the direction in which she had come. she could not help looking again, and then she sprang to her feet transfixed with terror. there was the same little brown face peering out from among the background of foliage. for a few seconds the two pairs of eyes remained staring at each other; then, scarcely knowing what she did, but in an instinctive movement of defence, tommy waved her arms towards the bush. the face instantly disappeared, but tommy in her agitation forgot her errand, forgot the things she had placed beside her, and took to her heels, flying in a blind panic from the spot. she did not even stay to make sure she was going in the right direction; she had quite lost command of herself, and regardless of thorns and creepers that tore her skirts and tripped her steps, she plunged through the undergrowth. every sound seemed to her excited imagination to be made by pursuers following upon her track. suddenly the earth gave way beneath her, she felt herself sinking, sinking. "bess! bess!" she screamed, and then she knew no more. when she regained consciousness she found herself in semi-darkness. for a moment she was simply bewildered; she was half smothered with twigs, leaves and earth; then she remembered all that had happened and sprang to her feet. but an excruciating pain in her left ankle caused her to fall back, and the agony was so intense that she remained for some time in a half-fainting condition. presently she recovered. a second attempt to rise gave her such a twinge that she knew her ankle was seriously sprained; to move without help was impossible. her fear of the little brown face was overcome by a still greater anxiety. where was she? she looked about her. some distance above her head, considerably higher than the rooms at the farm, was a wide opening. she must have fallen into a pit. but it seemed to her a strange pit, for, her eyes becoming accustomed to the dimness, she saw that the floor upon which she lay was much broader than the opening at the top. an insect touching her hand made her jump: and with a feeling of horror she wondered if the pit was infested with noxious creatures that would sting her to death. she shouted, frantically, again and again, but her voice only seemed to be thrown back at her; and when she remembered how far off her sisters were, she realized that her cries, if they were heard above, could bring only the savages from whom she had fled. for a time she cowered among the trash, overwhelmed with despair. then, when she was calm enough to think, it was only to recognize more fully the seriousness of her plight. her sisters could never guess what had become of her. if they took alarm at her absence, and elizabeth came in search of her, it was quite likely that she would never discover the spot. perhaps even she might be captured by the natives, for the sight of the little brown face had convinced tommy that beyond the ridge the island was overrun with cannibals. it was nothing to her that they had never appeared on her side of the island; she told herself that they had simply waited until they could catch one girl alone. nor did it seem to her ridiculous that a tribe of bloodthirsty savages should be so timorous as to refrain from openly attacking three defenceless girls. the dreadful thought occurred to her, "am i to die in this prison?" the prospect of such a fate made her shiver. she felt that even to fall into the hands of cannibals was preferable to a lingering death in this pit, and again she raised her voice in wild cries for help, repeating them until she was exhausted. for some time she remained in a state of stupor: but when she was able to collect herself she wondered whether, in spite of her injured foot, she could, by any exertion of her own, escape. she crept on hands and knees to the side of the pit; but even if she had been able to use her foot she saw that she could never climb up those sloping walls. glancing round, however, she saw that in the wall to her right there was an opening yawning black. she crawled to it, and peered in. it was so dark that she could see nothing beyond a yard. but she felt a faint hope that it might be a passage leading somehow to the level ground. recollecting her automatic match-box, which, fortunately, she kept attached to her belt, she threw its small flickering light on the scene. she saw now that she was indeed at the entrance of a tunnel. it could not be a short one if it led to the outer air, for there was no glimmer of light from its black depths. but it was worth trying; so, the light, small as it was, giving her a sense of security, she began to creep slowly along the dark passage, every now and again wincing as a pang shot through her injured foot. it was a strange tunnel; not rounded and of regular shape like the railway tunnels at home, but varying in width and height. in some places the roof was beyond the range of tommy's feeble light; at others it came so low that she could not have stood upright. the floor was uneven, the walls were rugged, a recess here, a protuberance there. clearly it had not been cut by the hands of men, but must be attributed to a freak of nature. to tommy, crawling inch by inch along the ground, it seemed that the tunnel would never end. how long it was, how many minutes or hours this painful progress continued, she was quite unable to guess. at last, with a cry of gladness, she saw a faint gleam of light beyond, and tried to advance more quickly, so as to gain liberty and fresh air. the light came through an aperture in the wall that appeared to be the end of the passage. it was high above the ground, and tommy, standing on one foot, was just able to look through it. she thought that if she could only manage to heave herself up to it, the aperture was just wide enough to let her body through. but first of all she must make sure that it led to safety. it was not full daylight outside; beyond the wall there appeared to be, not open space, but another confined chamber. supposing she climbed up and got through, how far would she have to drop to reach the ground on the other side? and what if she should find herself only in another place from which escape would be no easier than from the pit? to stand on one foot was fatiguing, and tommy had to sit down and rest for a little. she had now recovered from her panic, and was ready to bend all her young wits upon the problem of escape. presently a means occurred to her of discovering at least whether it would be safe for her to make an attempt to clamber through the aperture. she felt along the floor for a piece of rock, and standing up again, dropped it over the ledge. in an instant there came a faint thud, and immediately afterwards a great whirring and screaming. she was quick to infer that the ground was at some depth below the opening, and that the falling rock had disturbed a colony of birds of some kind. "can i be at the top of a cliff?" she thought. plainly it was impossible to escape in this direction. the dashing of her hope almost made tommy weep. she had done no good; indeed had only wasted time. there was nothing for it but to crawl back to the pit; and as she wearily crept through the passage despair seized upon her heart; she felt the choking sensation of helpless misery. her terror was even deepened when, on getting back to the pit, she found that it was now quite dark. through the opening she could see the stars overhead, but there was no pleasure in watching them as she had many times watched them from the hut. she crouched upon the leaves, scarcely able to bear the throbbing pain in her foot; and when presently she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, it was with a prayer on her lips: "god help me, and let me see my sisters again." pain and thirst awakened her several times before dawn. a slight shower fell during the night, and by catching the raindrops in her outspread palm she was able to moisten her parched lips. she also wetted her handkerchief and bound it about her inflamed ankle, thus easing the pain a little. when it was quite light overhead she began to shout again, her voice sounding very cracked and hoarse. soon she had to give up even this; her tongue and the roof of her mouth were so dry that she could not utter a word. then she lost all hope, and lying down sobbed herself to sleep. when she awoke it was again dark. her foot was much less painful, but she felt more hungry and thirsty than ever before in her life. if only she had filled her pocket with oranges before she saw that little brown face! again the idea came to her of attempting to climb the side of the pit by cutting steps in the earth; but on feeling in her pocket she remembered that she had dropped her knife on the ground. hobbling across the pit she felt along the walls, only to find, as before, that their slope made it quite impossible to clamber up. then feeling that starvation must be her doom, she sank back and lay in a state of dreamy somnolence. all at once she was startled into wakefulness by a faint sound somewhere above her. she sprang up. sunlight was streaming through the opening; the sound came again. it was some one calling. tommy tried to shout in answer, but the feeble croak that was all she could utter dismayed her. with help at hand, she might not be heard! the call above was now quite clear. it was coming nearer. she heard her own name. but the more she tried to call the less she seemed able to make a sound. the voice above began to recede. then with a last desperate effort she did manage to produce a hoarse cry that she could scarcely believe came from her own throat, so strange it was. it seemed to have used up all the little strength she had left, and she fell exhausted to the ground, believing that the last chance of rescue had now utterly vanished. chapter xv the eleventh hour some little time after elizabeth had left her, mary fancied that she caught a faint cry. she shouted to her sister, who was out of sight, but whose voice she heard calling at intervals. the feeble sound seemed to have come from a patch of woodland not a great distance from the track which elizabeth had taken. but as the wind was blowing from that quarter, mary realized that although she could hear elizabeth it was probably impossible for elizabeth to hear her. she felt very tired after her long walk, and doubted whether she could go far without her sister's sustaining arm; but the thought that elizabeth might wander out of reach while tommy was in danger near at hand gave her an artificial strength. she rose from the ground and tottered in the direction from which the cry had appeared to come. every now and then she stopped, listening for a repetition of the sound; but she heard nothing except the rustle of the wind and elizabeth's shouts, growing fainter and fainter in the distance. in a few moments she had passed beyond the orange grove, and felt that she was in danger of losing her way. even elizabeth's voice soon ceased to guide her. she stumbled along, shouting every few steps, with no other result than to disturb the birds in the trees. becoming alarmed at the possibility of being lost and her strength failing, she was on the point of trying to find her way back, and gave one last call, when she was electrified by hearing a strange hoarse sound apparently coming from some distance to the left. it was little like a human voice; yet it was not the cry of a bird, and mary hurried with uneven steps towards it. the ground rose steeply, leading up to the ridge far to the left. but with the new strength lent by excitement mary was not conscious of the slope. she came to a number of straggling bushes edged by an irregular circle of small trees. here she looked eagerly around her, peering through the bushes and between the trunks of the trees, listening for that strange cry to be repeated. there was no sound, but as her eyes travelled over the circuit she noticed what seemed to be a small landslip in the bank. following this downward, her glance discovered a hole in the ground several feet wide. moved by a sudden impulse, and the instinctive feeling that here was the explanation of tommy's disappearance, she stumbled forward, hardly conscious of her trembling limbs. throwing herself flat on the ground at the edge of the hole, she gazed into the pit beneath. it was some moments before her eyes became used to the half-light; but then she saw something white; she distinguished it as part of an object huddled on the ground immediately beneath the opening; and she knew that tommy was found. but an agonizing fear seized her. was tommy dead? she called down in a low voice. there was no answer. she called again and still again, her tones growing louder as she became more alarmed. at length, after what seemed an age of suspense, her strained gaze noticed a slight movement in the figure below, and a faint whisper came up to her. "thank god!" her heart cried out, and she eagerly called to tommy, saying that she would soon be safe. but tommy made no reply; she had relapsed into unconsciousness. mary was at her wits' end what to do. it was clear that tommy was helpless. a pang shot through mary's heart as she remembered that the girl had been without food for two days and two nights. the hole was so deep that even if tommy had been conscious mary could not have helped her, at the utmost stretch of her arms, to get out. elizabeth was beyond hearing: she might return to the orange grove: what would she do if she found mary missing? mary dared not leave the neighbourhood of the pit now that tommy was found: but she wanted to run after elizabeth and bring her to the spot. while she was still undecided she heard elizabeth's voice in the far distance. she shouted in reply, though she still felt that against the wind her voice could not be heard. but in a few moments she was gladdened to know from the growing loudness of the shouts that elizabeth was returning. there was a chance that as she drew nearer she would hear a shrill call, so mary every few moments formed a trumpet with her hands, and let forth a prolonged "cooee!" presently she knew by the tone of elizabeth's call that her voice had been heard; but, so confusing are sounds amid woods and thickets, it was a long time before elizabeth discovered where she was, and came hurrying through the trees. "have you found her?" she asked eagerly. "she is down there," replied mary, pointing to the mouth of the pit. "oh, bess, i'm afraid she is very much hurt, perhaps dying!" elizabeth, with an exclamation of dismay, threw herself down and peered into the hole. "tommy! tommy dear!" she called. but there was no answer. elizabeth measured with her eye the depth of the pit; she felt tempted to spring down and see if tommy were alive or dead. "will you stay here while i run back and get the painter?" she asked. at that moment neither of the girls thought of savages: fear for tommy had banished every other fear. "it will take so long," murmured mary. "you would be gone an hour at least, and----" "i know a way," elizabeth interrupted; "we'll make a rope of creepers. it won't take us long." she darted off into the forest. in building the hut she had become expert in selecting strong tendrils for binding their lattice-work, and in a few moments she had cut, among the dense undergrowth, a considerable quantity of tough material with which she hurried back to the pit. the two girls at once set to work with nimble fingers plaiting the tendrils together. "she must be famished, and dead with thirst," said mary. "if we could only give her some water." "there's a little brook not far away," said elizabeth. "when we have done the rope we'll make a cup of leaves, and i'll fetch some water. then you must let me down into the pit." "i could never do it," said mary, "i am not strong enough." "not by yourself, but i'll fasten one end of the rope to that tree you see there; then we'll pass it round that little one near us, and you will be strong enough to pay it out. that's the only way." they worked very quickly, and finished a long, stout rope in little more time than the journey home would have taken. while mary made several cups from the large spreading leaves of a plant like rhubarb, elizabeth wound one end of the rope tightly about the tree trunk she had pointed out. in the other end she made a loop to cling to. "the rope is not long enough," said mary. "not to reach the bottom, but that doesn't matter. i can drop a few feet. when you have let me down, run down that slope, mary, and you'll find the brook a little way to the right. bring two of the leaves filled with water, and let them down by the rope. pierce a hole in each side of the cups near the top, and pass the rope through: you'll see how to do it. now take the rope firmly. i'll slip over the edge, and when i give the word let it run out gently around the tree." pale with anxiety and weakness, mary took up her position at the tree. she made a determined effort to obey elizabeth's instructions. inch by inch the rope slipped through her hands, at last so fast that she held her breath in terror lest elizabeth should be dashed to the ground. the rope was stretched to its extreme tension; then it suddenly relaxed; and next moment she heard the welcome cry from the pit: "i'm safe. now for the water." gathering herself together, mary sped off to the brook, carrying the two leaf cups. eagerness to help lent her strength. she returned with them brimming, drew up the rope, and unfastened the loop at the end. then passing two of the strands through the holes made in the cup, she let it down slowly into the pit. some of the water was spilled in the descent; but elizabeth said that enough was left for the moment. "how is she?" asked mary, dreading to hear that tommy was past help. "she is unconscious, but breathing," said elizabeth. "i'll give her some water." for some little time mary heard no more. elizabeth bathed tommy's head and moistened her lips. at length the young girl gave a long sigh and moan. "i'm here, dear," said elizabeth gently. "mary is above. you are safe now." "the face!" moaned tommy, her mind leaping back over all that had happened since she had seen those eyes staring at her. "hush!" said elizabeth, stroking her head. "there is nothing to harm you. drink a little water; we must see about getting you out of this pit, you know." tommy drank eagerly, holding elizabeth's hands in a tight clasp. "we are getting on famously," elizabeth called to reassure mary. tommy lay still, taking a sip of water every now and again, too weak to move or to speak. meanwhile elizabeth was beating her brain for some means of getting her to the surface. it was clear that tommy for some time would be unable to do anything for herself. lightly built though she was, her dead weight was far more than elizabeth could hope to sustain, hanging on to the rope, and with no one but mary to assist from above. the rope was too short by several feet; the first necessity was to lengthen it. presently, therefore, when tommy was more recovered, elizabeth asked mary to cut some more creepers and throw them down. now her practice in splicing on board her uncle's ship was very useful. she quickly added three or four feet to the rope's length. "tommy dear, i'm going to leave you for a little," she said. "you are quite safe now. i'm going to arrange about lifting you out of this horrid place. you must be hungry, poor thing. i'll get a few oranges; you can reach them if we throw them down, can't you? and bananas too; they're more substantial. by the time i am ready to lift you out you'll be heaps stronger." "mary won't go?" said tommy quiveringly. "no, she'll stay with you. you can hear her when she speaks to you: but don't try to talk yourself; just eat the fruit i shall give you and get strong." she then told mary to come to the edge of the pit and be ready to help her. "but take care you don't overbalance," she said. "it mustn't be a case of three girls in a pit." tired as elizabeth had been, the joy of discovering tommy alive had braced her, and she felt equal to any exertion. but she had not had tommy's practice in tree-climbing, nor in clambering up the rigging on the barque; and when she clasped the rope and tried to draw herself up she slipped down again and again. for a time she felt baffled, but a means of overcoming the difficulty occurred to her. "pull up the rope, mary," she said, "and make knots in it about two feet apart. i shall be able to manage it then, i think." when the knots were made she tried again. it was a terrible strain on her wrists, and she got no assistance for her feet from the shelving sides of the pit. but the knots gave a firm hold, and she managed to climb hand over hand to the edge, where, with mary's help, she heaved herself on to the level ground. "do rest," said mary, noticing the signs of strain on her sister's face. "i am not a bit tired. look, mary, i want you to plait another rope. i'll get the stuff for you." she hastened into the undergrowth, and returned with her arms full of creepers. "now i'm going to get tommy some food, and then run back to the hut. i'll be as quick as i can. talk to her while i am away to keep her spirits up." soon she was flinging an armful of bananas and oranges, one by one, into the pit. "there's a feast for you," she said cheerfully. "now in about an hour you'll be released. eat slowly, that's the rule after fasting, isn't it?" "you are a dear," said mary, hugging her. "what should we have done without you?" "my dear girl, without me you wouldn't have been here at all, we all came together. good-bye for an hour." she flitted off as lightly as a bird, overflowing with happiness. reaching the hut she took up the longest of the mat beds, her own, and without waiting for a moment to rest, hurried back to her sister, announcing herself from a distance by a cheerful cooee. "all well?" she said. "tommy has been telling me all about it," said mary. "she saw the little brown face again." "bother the little brown face!" said elizabeth. "really, i should like to smack it. tommy's well enough to talk, is she?" "yes, but she has sprained her ankle." "poor girl! it will be hoppety-hop when we get her up, then. now see how we'll manage it. you've finished that rope? we'll make a cradle of my bed." she made two holes at each end of the mat large enough for the ropes to pass through. in this way she formed a rough cradle upon which tommy could be drawn up, for the girl's weight would keep it steady if the ropes were placed far enough apart. the cradle was soon ready for lowering. "can you manage to get on to it yourself, tommy?" asked elizabeth, "or shall i come down again and help you?" "i can manage," answered tommy. "i am ever so much better. are you sure it's strong enough?" "certain, i'd trust myself on it. all you will have to do will be to clutch a rope at each end and hold tight. call out when you are ready." she and mary then each took the end of a rope and passed it round a tree, the two trees being not quite so far apart as the length of the mat. tommy gave the word. they began to haul. the trees relieved them of all strain, and making a succession of short pulls, with rests in between, they drew the cradle inch by inch to the surface. elizabeth was afraid that mary's strength might give way, or that tommy would lose her grip of the ropes; but neither of these mishaps occurred, and with a final pull they hauled tommy and cradle over the brink of the pit. [illustration: "with a final pull they hauled tommy over the brink."] and then overwrought nerves gave way. elizabeth ran to tommy, clasped her in her arms, and burst into tears. a little later, when all three girls were sitting together weeping in sympathy, elizabeth exclaimed-"well, we are a lot of babies. we ought to be shouting for joy. i'm quite ashamed of myself." "i'm not," said mary stoutly. "i think it's a blessing we can cry a little. it eases the nerves. boys never cry, and what's the result? they get as crabby as two sticks." "how am i to get you two poor invalids home?" said elizabeth. "you have done wonders, mary, but you would be utterly done up if you tried to walk back. and tommy certainly can't walk. we shall have to stay here for the night; fortunately, it is fine." "oh, no, we _must_ get home, bess," said tommy earnestly. "i could not bear to stay here after seeing that face." "but there can't be anything to harm us," persisted elizabeth. "i have walked round and round, miles altogether, and haven't seen a single sign of people. you are quite sure it was a human face? mayn't it have been a monkey or an owl?" "no, i am sure of it. you never saw such eyes, they seemed to burn like fire." "but didn't you see a body, too?" "no, just a face. that was what frightened me so; just a face that seemed all eyes." elizabeth saw that tommy had been too much scared to take real notice of anything, and decided that for the sake of her peace of mind it would be better to make an attempt to reach home. "very well, then, it's a case of pick-a-back. i'll carry you. mary must get along as well as she can. it will take us an age, but we can rest on the way." they started, mary carrying elizabeth's mat, and elizabeth carrying tommy. slowly and with many halts they made their way down, reaching the hut about their usual tea-time. the two elder girls had taken precautions to fill their pockets with fruit as they skirted the orange grove. they had no other fruit in the hut except cocoanuts, and elizabeth was too worn out to think of catching fish. they satisfied themselves with a meal of fruit. tommy was delighted with the behaviour of her parrot, billy. overjoyed at the return of its mistress, it hopped upon her shoulder, cocking its head and uttering cries loud but by no means sweet. "a welcome home, tommy," said elizabeth, smiling. "we can't gush, mary and i, but we are more glad than we can say, dear, and billy says it for us as well as he can." then, after tommy's ankle had been bathed and bound up, they threw themselves on their simple couches, and, all their present anxieties set at rest, slept heavily until the sun woke them to another day. chapter xvi new terrors a few days' rest, and a steady improvement in the weather, restored the invalids to their former health. the daily round went on as before--fishing, gathering fruit, ascending the cliff to take their customary look over the sea. they often talked of the face tommy had seen. it was more mysterious than ever. elizabeth, while her sisters were still confined to the hut, made a visit by herself to the orange grove, and determined if she saw the face to discover once for all to whom it belonged. but though she looked in every tree and bush and scoured the neighbourhood thoroughly, she never once caught sight of the face with the two burning eyes. once she heard a rustling amongst the bushes and dashed towards the sound, but there was nothing to be seen, and she returned thoroughly baffled. one morning when elizabeth was preparing breakfast she heard mary, who had gone to the look-out, shouting in great excitement. the two other girls rushed to join her, and saw far away in the offing a three-masted ship under full sail. the breeze was light, and the vessel appeared to be moving very slowly. mary had already waved her handkerchief: the others did the same, but they soon realized that the ship was too far away for their signals to be noticed. "let's go after her in the boat," suggested tommy. "they might see that moving on the water." as there seemed just a possibility of thus attracting attention, they ran down to the beach and launched the boat. elizabeth, being the strongest, took the sculls and pulled as hard as she could towards the opening in the reef; while tommy steered, and mary from time to time rose in her place and waved her handkerchief. by the time they came into the open sea the ship was almost opposite to them, sailing due west. there was no sign that they had been observed; she held steadily to her course. they shouted; tommy put her fingers to her lips and gave a shrill whistle, an accomplishment which some of her friends at home had condemned as unladylike. but the ship stood on her way. the girls' hearts sank as they saw the distance between it and them gradually widen; and elizabeth, who had been pulling gallantly for half-an-hour or more, at last collapsed on her oars. they were all too much upset to speak. to have seen a vessel at last, after so many weeks of waiting, and then to be passed by, was a terrible disappointment to them. they were distressed not merely at the loss of the chance of immediate rescue, but at the staggering thought that the same thing might happen again. it was evident that the island lay out of the usual track; no vessel could ever have a reason for visiting it; and lacking the power of making effective signals they might remain there for years and years without any one ever being aware of their existence. the light boat rocked to the long pacific swell, and the girls battled with their tears. they strained their eyes after the dwindling vessel, hoping against hope that even yet she might change her course and come back to them. but when there was nothing but a speck on the horizon, elizabeth, her face full of despair, took up the sculls again and began to pull slowly in silence towards home. as the boat's head turned they were aghast to find how far distant they were from the island. the high cliffs seemed little more than a low bank: clearly they were miles away. elizabeth, knowing that her sculling powers could not wholly account for the great distance, suddenly remembered the current. from the time the boat passed the reef it had been subject to the full strength of the ocean stream that swept the shore. they would have to row back against it, and with the sun mounting higher, and no food or water on board, they realized that they must look forward to hours of discomfort, if not actual danger. the boat made little headway against the current, and elizabeth had worked so hard that now she was scarcely able to move the sculls. "tommy, can you take my place for a little while?" she said. "i will row again after a rest." they exchanged places, stooping low and moving very carefully. the boat lost many yards while the exchange was being made. tommy had quite recovered her strength, and was able to take a long spell at the sculls. but progress was very slow. elizabeth steered with the idea of getting under the shelter of the island. she noticed by and by that tommy was tiring, and proposed to take the sculls again; but mary pleaded to be allowed to share in the work. thus relieving one another, they crept gradually towards the island, not daring to cease sculling altogether, and yet finding it more and more exhausting as the day grew hotter. by almost imperceptible degrees the cliffs heightened and objects upon them became more distinct. the girl who was steering at the time encouraged the sculler by mentioning each new landmark as it became distinguishable. recognizing that it would be hours before they could attain their own little harbour, elizabeth decided to make for the nearest point of the shore in the hope of finding another landing-place. at last they began to benefit by the shelter of the island, and their progress became more rapid. but when, after exertions that had tried them all severely, they came out of the current into comparatively still water near the shore, they had to row for some distance before, in a cutting between the cliffs, they discovered a broad, sandy beach on which it was possible to land. here they pulled the boat a few yards up the sand, and then hurried along the chine in search of fresh water to assuage their burning thirst. within a short distance of the beach the chine was covered with vegetation, among which they saw several cocoa-nut palms. to these they hastened in the hope of finding some nuts upon the ground. but there were none. tommy looked longingly up into the trees, but it was impossible to climb them, and the girls hurried on again, expecting to find somewhere a rill trickling from the high ground to the sea. when they had gone some distance the trees thinned, and they saw, some hundreds of yards in front of them, a sheer wall of rock, rising to a considerable height and dotted here and there with scrub. "do you know, i believe that's the end of the ridge," said elizabeth, who had a shrewder eye than the others for country, and had a better notion as to the part of the island to which they had come. "i don't care," cried tommy; "_that's_ what i want." she pointed to a sparkling waterfall that plunged over a ledge a good way to their left. they ran eagerly towards it, scrambling over impediments, and soon came to the stream which the waterfall fed. then they threw themselves down, and gulped large draughts of the cold water. after resting for a while on the grassy bank, elizabeth looked at her watch. "it is past two," she said; "what a time we have been!" "without breakfast or dinner," said tommy dolefully, "and no chance of supper either, as far as i can see, if we have to row back." "perhaps we had better walk it," suggested elizabeth; "i've had enough rowing for one day." "can we find the way?" asked mary. "if we are near the end of the ridge, as i think we are," replied elizabeth, "we can't go far wrong. it takes us half-an-hour or more from the ridge home, and i shouldn't think it would take us long to reach a place that we recognize." "you mean the orange grove," said tommy; "i won't go past it, i absolutely won't." "well, dear, i dare say we can go round about," said elizabeth placably, "though i'm so tired and hungry, and i am sure you are too, that the shorter our walk the better. let us rest a little longer until it's not quite so hot. but we mustn't stay too long, in case i am mistaken and we find ourselves lost in the dark." about half-an-hour later they rose to make their way homeward. elizabeth had resolved to follow up the stream until they reached the waterfall, then to strike to the left, skirting the precipice. she expected to come to the thick belt of woodland of which the orange grove was a part. tommy did not go ahead as her custom was. since her fright she had been a more sedate and sober tommy. they had gone but a short distance upstream though a fringe of trees, when all at once they halted and started back. the trees suddenly came to an end, and a few yards in front of them stood a tiny structure, which, ignorant as they were, they knew for a native hut. it was conical in shape, made apparently of grass and thatch, with a small opening only high enough to crawl through. it was placed at the foot of a slope, and the space before it had evidently been cleared by hand, for there were stumps of trees here and there. the three girls, struck with consternation, slipped back within the shelter of the trees. tommy clung to elizabeth's hand. here was confirmation of her story. it said much for her restraint, or perhaps for the renewal of her fears, that she did not turn upon mary with a whispered "i told you so." elizabeth had determined if she should see a native to show a bold front and try to make friends with him. now, though tommy on one side and mary on the other were pulling her back, she stood her ground, whispering, "wait: perhaps it is deserted." but she had scarcely uttered the words when, from among the trees on the other side of the stream, about two hundred yards away, they caught sight of a native approaching. they were only aware that it was the figure of a man: all elizabeth's bold resolutions evaporated. without waiting to take in any details of the stranger's appearance they fled noiselessly among the trees, swerving to the left of the course they had intended to follow. they ran until they were out of breath, glancing round fearfully every now and again. had they been seen? would the savage pursue them? there was no sign of pursuit, and when breathlessness forced them to walk, they stepped out quickly, not daring to speak. they were in a part of the island utterly unfamiliar to them. elizabeth had quite lost her bearings. the vegetation was very thick; even where it was not actual forest there were bushes in clumps, large tangled masses of creepers, and briers which, as they forced their way through, tore their clothes and scratched their hands and faces. they stumbled over obstacles at almost every step. here and there the ground rose steeply, and the haste of their ascent made them pant for breath. after a time elizabeth, always quickest to recover her self-possession, began to reproach herself for giving way so easily to panic. "what an idiot i was!" she said in a whisper. "the idea of running from a solitary creature!" "but he was a cannibal!" said mary. "how do we know that? was he the owner of your little brown face, tommy?" "yes--no--i don't know," murmured tommy. "i don't think so." "i ought to have waited," continued elizabeth. "we might at least have seen whether he was young or old. why, for all we know he is a white man, cast away like ourselves." "he had no coat on, i saw that," said mary. "he may be a native hermit, then. there are such people among the savages, i suppose." "but there may be hundreds," said tommy. "living in one little hut? nonsense!" "there may be other huts, we can't tell," said mary. "the savage may have been coming from one of the others." "that's true! it is more likely that the man has companions, i admit. well, if i can't pluck up courage to go among them, we must simply take care to keep on our side of the island, and that means starvation in time. but where are we? the sun is getting low: it will be dark soon. let us run again." they found themselves soon entering another patch of forest, and began to be seriously alarmed at the prospect of being overtaken by night before they reached home. elizabeth thought it best to keep straight on, for by so doing they must come in time to the shore. but it is difficult to judge direction in the forest, and when darkness descended upon them while they were still among the trees, elizabeth was forced to the conclusion that they had been wandering round and round all the time. "it's of no use, girls," she said; "we can never find our way in the dark. we shall have to stay here for the night." they had been without food all day. utterly worn out by hunger, exertion and alarm, they huddled together at the foot of a tree and fell into an uneasy sleep. several times during the night they were disturbed by slight noises in the brushwood around them, or in the trees overhead. but nothing happened to alarm them, and when dawn glimmered through the trees they rose, a haggard and sorry trio, and set off once more to find a way home. only a few minutes' walk uphill brought them to the ridge, from which they could see the orange grove. they were so desperately hungry and thirsty that they were ready to face all hazards for the sake of some fruit. they hurried to the grove, snatched up a few oranges and bananas, and devoured them as they continued on their homeward way. when they reached their hut, their feeling of security was alloyed by the distressing thought that they had lost their boat. the savages, whose settlement was near the cove at which they had landed, and who probably appropriated the fruits of the cocoa-nut palms there, would certainly discover the boat drawn up on the beach. the girls had always regarded it as a last refuge; they could always use it to row out to any ship that came reasonably near, if they failed to attract the attention of those on board in any other way. they felt that its disappearance very likely doomed them to a lifelong imprisonment on the island, and their hearts were heavy as lead. not being without imagination, they had often in their secret thoughts looked into the future, and seen themselves growing older, falling ill, one or the other of them dying; and the possibility of being the last survivor, shut up in this ocean prison-house without human companionship, filled each of them with terror. with the morning common-sense asserted itself. "we shall be perfect ninnies if we don't try to get back our boat," said elizabeth. "i've been thinking a good deal in the night, and the more i think the more convinced i am that there can't be many natives on the island. why should they keep to themselves so? why don't they ever come to this part? if only i could cease being a coward for five minutes i'd brave them. anyhow we ought to walk back to the place we landed at yesterday and bring our boat away. it mayn't have been discovered yet." "but suppose it has been discovered?" said mary. "they'd probably leave it on the shore. if we walk over there this evening and get there about dark, we might steal it away. it's our own property." "i don't want to go near the place," said tommy. "besides, we might lose our way." "not if we walk over the cliffs," replied elizabeth. "we have never tried that. the woods are thick, but we might find the walk easier than we think. at any rate, it would be shorter than going all round by the ridge. you see, tommy, we need not go near the hut at all. don't come if you feel nervous. mary and i can row the boat back." "no, i won't be left. if you go i go too. if we don't see the boat where we left it, you won't go any farther, will you?" "i won't if it is not in sight," said elizabeth, "but if it is anywhere within reach it would be silly not to try to get it. we want some fish badly. let's go fishing this morning, and rest all the afternoon, so as to be fresh for our walk." so it was arranged, but the plan had to be modified. while tommy and mary were fishing from the rocks, it occurred to elizabeth to climb to the cliff top and see if the way she suggested was practicable. she was disappointed. not only was the forest dense, and the undergrowth an almost impenetrable mass of thorny thicket, but the ground was much broken by fissures and small crevasses, so that, instead of being easier than the route across the island, this way promised to be longer and much more troublesome. when she returned to her sisters she found them cheerful over a finer catch than usual. taking advantage of their high spirits she told them the result of her expedition, and employed all her persuasiveness to induce them to attempt the route by the ridge. she overcame tommy's reluctance, and then tactfully dropped the subject, hoping that the young girl's courage would not ooze away before it was time to start. about four o'clock, after making a good meal, they set off, tommy exacting a promise that elizabeth would turn back at the least sign of danger. they walked quickly until they had crossed the ridge; then, avoiding the orange grove, they struck off more directly to the east, moving more slowly, and with many a cautious glance around. "we ought to come above the waterfall by and by," said elizabeth in a whisper. her sense of locality had not deceived her. in a few minutes they heard the musical plashing of the water. keeping this sound on their right, they went on, guessing that the native hut must be at some distance below them, nearer the sea. as they went on, in silence, they came suddenly to what appeared to be the opening of a large cave in the face of the cliff. they shrank back, wondering if this was a dwelling of some of the inhabitants; but taking courage from the perfect stillness they ventured to pass the opening and continued their descent towards the sea. presently, round a bend of the cliff, they saw the native hut, nestling at the foot of the rocky precipice, two or three hundred yards away. the sun was very near its setting, and its last rays being intercepted by the high ground in the centre of the island, the light was already dim at the point at which they had arrived. to gain the cove they would have to descend a little lower and then cross through a clump of trees. as they approached this, tommy, whose keen eyes were restlessly searching the neighbourhood, declared that she had caught sight of a small figure flitting among the trees beyond the hut. they all halted and gazed anxiously towards the spot she pointed out; but no form, human or otherwise, was now to be seen. there was the hut just as they had seen it before, but no person was visible, nor even the smoke of a fire. fearing that it would be quite dark before they reached the cove they hurried on. the remaining distance was greater than elizabeth had supposed, and the clump of trees more extensive. as they passed through this, the hut now being hidden from sight, they were more circumspect than ever. at last they reached the end of it, and halting for another look round, they hastened on towards the sandy beach where they had left the boat. it was not many minutes before they saw, with a pang of disappointment, that the boat was certainly not where it had been. "let's go back," whispered tommy; "you know you promised." "but there is no danger yet, child," replied elizabeth somewhat impatiently. "we might at least see if it is anywhere about." she went on in advance of the others, and almost shouted for joy when she caught sight of the boat drawn up in a snug little recess. she beckoned the girls to join her, and as they came up, pointed with some excitement to a small native canoe that lay a few feet beyond their own boat. tommy gave a startled gasp. "there are savages," she whispered; "oh, do let us go. i know we shall be caught." "we won't go without the boat," said elizabeth fiercely. "quick! it's bound to make a scraping sound as we drag it down; but it's very near the water, and before any one can reach us from the hut we shall be afloat." with nervous energy they drew the boat down to the water, sprang into it, and, in a state of fearful joy, elizabeth began to pull from the shore. "steer close in, tommy," she said, "or we shall be in the current. there's only half-an-hour of daylight left, but if i pull hard we shall be home almost as soon as it is dark. mind the rocks." mary, the only unoccupied member of the party, kept her eyes fixed on the shore. "i see some one," she called suddenly; "there, just by those cocoa-nuts." tommy turned quickly. in the gathering dusk she was unable at first to see the object to which mary pointed; but presently she distinguished, peeping round the stem of a palm not fifty yards away, a little brown face surmounted by a mop of very black hair. "there it is," she cried, "the same that i saw before. pull hard, bess; they'll be after us in their canoe." elizabeth suspected that the native craft would be much speedier than their own little tub, and, fearful of pursuit, plied her sculls lustily. as the boat drew away, the head moved; a shoulder appeared; then a complete body, which came slowly down to the edge of the shore. "i believe it's a girl!" exclaimed mary. but in the fading light it was impossible to see distinctly, and they had no temptation to delay, even though mary's exclamation had aroused their curiosity. the figure was soon completely out of sight. tommy had to keep all her attention fixed on the task of steering, for they had never rowed along this part of the shore, which was much broken by projecting rocks. "are you sure it was not the man we saw before?" asked elizabeth. "i don't think it was," said mary. "it seemed smaller. i wonder if it was a girl?" "we are making surprising discoveries," said elizabeth. "no one is chasing us, at any rate. can we have been scared all this time by a girl?" tommy said nothing. the figure had appeared to be about her own height. was it possible that the little brown face which had so much frightened her, and which she had seen with horror in her dreams, belonged to a young girl like herself? she felt a strange longing to know. chapter xvii the foundling the improvement in the weather was only temporary, and for several days the girls were kept at home by the heavy rains. they talked a good deal about their discovery. there appeared to be at least two natives on the island; how many more they were unable to guess. having themselves been seen, they felt that they could no longer owe their safety to the ignorance of the inhabitants; but the bad weather might discourage any attempt to seek them out. whether they would escape attack when the rain ceased was a problem that caused much anxiety. early one morning a hurricane swept over the island, not so devastating as its predecessor, but violent enough to make them fear for the safety of their hut. this time, however, the wind blew from a different quarter, and the girls' frail dwelling, being sheltered by the high ground behind, escaped damage. the storm lasted a few hours, and was then succeeded by a day of brilliant sunshine. the girls took advantage of this to replenish their larder. while tommy and elizabeth were fishing, mary posted herself as sentry to give the alarm if the natives appeared. they feared that the precaution would avail them little if they were really attacked, for they had no means of defence; but it might at least give them time to escape for the moment by launching the boat. they were undisturbed, however: and when the day closed they rejoiced in one more respite. next morning tommy, on going down to the beach, was surprised to see a canoe, apparently empty, drifting past the reef. it flashed upon her that this might be the canoe they had seen up the coast, and that it had been washed away, like their own boat, by the recent storm. she ran up to the hut to tell her sisters what she had seen, and all three hurried down to the shore. "let's row out and catch it," cried tommy excitedly. "i should love to learn to paddle a native canoe, and i dare say in time we could make it go along faster than our own dinghy." "you want to capture an enemy's ship," said elizabeth, with a smile. "i don't see any reason why we shouldn't. but we'll take some food and water this time. after our last adventure i don't care about voyaging without provisions." tommy ran back to the hut for some fruit and cold fish, while mary filled their water-pots at the stream. having placed them in the boat they rowed out towards the reef. by the time they were afloat the canoe had drifted out into the main current, and was being carried rapidly away. the sea was calm, and elizabeth's vigorous strokes brought the boat in twenty minutes or so within a few yards of the canoe. suddenly mary, who had been keeping a look-out in the boat, uttered a startled exclamation. "bess, i believe there's some one lying in it." elizabeth at once lay on her oars. "row back!" whispered tommy. "it's one of the savages. he's hiding to decoy us, or something." elizabeth's common-sense asserted itself. "that's not likely," she said. "how would he suppose that we should row out? and we couldn't get away now if we tried if he has a paddle. if he hasn't he can't do us much harm. now's the best chance we have of making friends." "don't, bess!" whispered tommy anxiously, as elizabeth dipped the oars again. but elizabeth was firm, and with a few strokes brought the boat alongside the canoe. not a sound had come from it. "it's a girl!" exclaimed mary, now that she could see more clearly the bottom of the canoe. tommy gave a gasp. was she to behold the owner of the little brown face at last? elizabeth no longer hesitated. she drew close to the canoe, shipped oars, and laid a hand on the side. the girls looked down with a sort of awed curiosity. in the bottom of the boat lay a native girl--a brown-skinned pretty little creature, with a string of what looked like teeth around her neck, and a yellow kerchief about her waist. she was perfectly still; her eyes were closed. "she's dead!" whispered tommy, whose eyes were dilated with excitement. elizabeth leant over and placed her hand under the child's breast. "no, she is alive," she said, "but her heart is beating very faintly. some water, mary--quick!" it was impossible, placed as she was, to pour any water into the girl's mouth; but elizabeth sprinkled a little on her head. after a time the girl stirred, opened her eyes and moved her lips, but no sound came from them, and in a moment her eyelids again drooped. "she's absolutely done," said elizabeth. "we'll tow the canoe home. tommy, fasten the painter. the poor child's very bad." the boat's head was turned, and elizabeth rowed as hard as she could against the current. fortunately, they had not come very far beyond the gap in the reef. when the boat reached the still water it travelled much faster, and within an hour of leaving they regained the shore. during this time tommy had thrown an occasional glance over her shoulder at the prostrate girl. once she caught the child's eyes fixed upon her, and felt a thrill as she recognized them; they were the same as she had seen peering at her out of the bush. she felt no fear now, but a longing to help the little stranger and know more about her. when they had landed and drawn the boat up, they lifted the girl and carried her among them to the hut. her eyes opened during the journey, and she shivered; but she did not speak or struggle, and indeed hung so limply in their arms that they feared she was past help. "on my bed, please," said tommy, when they reached the hut. they laid her gently down, and elizabeth poured a little cocoa-nut milk between her lips. she now gave signs of animation, swallowed the juice greedily, and looked with the eyes of a timid fawn from one to another of the three girls. presently she murmured a few words; her voice was plaintive and pleading. "don't be frightened," said elizabeth soothingly. the words seemed to startle the child. she tried to rise, but was too weak to move. "she must have been adrift a long time to be in this terrible state," said elizabeth. "i wonder how it happened?" "poor thing," murmured tommy. "what a sweet little face she has!" "hush!" said elizabeth, "our voices frighten her. of course she doesn't understand what we say. i think you had better leave her to me for a little while. i'll feed her, and she'll see by and by that we mean her no harm." tommy's face wore for an instant a look of defiance, but she got the better of her inclination to rebel, and with mary left the hut. elizabeth remained with the little stranger, feeding her at frequent intervals, bathing her head, occasionally murmuring a word of encouragement. her gentleness was effective. presently the look of fright vanished from the brown girl's eyes--large, liquid eyes that elizabeth found wonderfully attractive. once she timidly stroked elizabeth's strong firm hand, and at last, with a faint smile, she dropped off to sleep. "she's asleep," said elizabeth, quietly going forth to join her sisters. "what an extraordinary thing to happen!" "look here, bess," said tommy fiercely, "if you think you're going to keep her to yourself you are jolly well mistaken. i saw her first; you wouldn't believe me; and now i'm going to look after her, so there!" "instead of the parrot?" mary could not help saying. elizabeth frowned at her. "very well, dear," she said pleasantly. "she's a little younger than you, i should think, but i dare say she will like you to mother her. but what will happen? won't her friends come and look for her?" "and if they do, and find we have treated her kindly, they'll just love us," said tommy. the other girls were amazed at tommy's complete change of attitude. her fearfulness seemed to have been quite swallowed up in another emotion. the discovery that the native of whom she had been so needlessly frightened was a girl more helpless than herself filled her with a kind of rapture. she stepped softly into the hut, and seeing that the child was still asleep, placed a peeled orange beside her mat, where it must be seen as soon as she awoke. "i wonder if we ought to go to the native hut and try to explain to her people that the girl is safe," said elizabeth, as they sat on the grass eating their dinner. "certainly not," said tommy decisively. "i dare say they were cruel to her, and the poor thing was glad to get away." "what an imagination you have!" said elizabeth, smiling. "for all you know, her mother may be broken-hearted." "i don't believe it. anyhow, she's too weak to go home, and we shall soon see if she wants to. i'll talk to her by and by, and i know she'll be quite pleased to stay with us." remembering tommy's ill-success with the parrot, the elder girls were amused at her confident belief that she would make the child talk, and understand what she said. indeed, when, later in the day, the girl awoke, and tommy went to attend to her, the first attempt at opening communications was a complete failure. by way of putting the little patient at her ease, tommy grinned at her, patted her head, nodded, pointed to herself and said "me tommy," with the result that the child shrank away from her as if scared. when she realized that she had nothing to fear, she gazed upon the white girl with wide-open eyes and the same wondering look as may be seen on the face of a child watching a conjurer. the ravenous way in which she ate the food given to her confirmed the girls' belief that she was half-starved. she rapidly gained strength, and it became clear that her weakness was due to hunger and not to illness. she began to talk, pouring out her words in liquid tones that fell pleasantly on the english ears. when she saw how puzzled the girls were she laughed; then, with a sober look of reflection, pointed to herself and said "me tommee" so drolly that the girls screamed with laughter. just before sunset, when the girls came into the hut for the night, they sat eating their supper and talking about their dusky guest. she knew by instinct that she was the subject of their conversation, and looked timidly from one to another, watching their lips, her features reflecting every expression on their faces. tommy gave her some baked fish for supper, and then prepared to "tuck her up," as she said, with her own wraps; but the girl rejected the covering and coiled herself up like a dog. next morning she got up and followed them when they went down to the shore for their usual bath. she seemed to be astonished at the whiteness of their skin, and amused them very much by scrubbing herself with sand, to see if she could make her brown body resemble theirs. she watched every detail of their toilet with intense interest, and when she saw them comb their hair she held out her hand for the comb. "don't give it to her, tommy," said mary, looking with distaste at the girl's greasy mop. "rubbish!" said tommy. "we can wash it afterwards." but even tommy regretted her generosity when, after being vigorously tugged through the thick matted hair, the comb was restored to her with several of its teeth missing. "my word!" she exclaimed. "fancy breaking wooden teeth! my poor old pony's mane was nothing to her thatch." after breakfast the girl followed them about like a dog. they noticed that she looked about her eagerly, as though searching for some recognizable landmark. but she evinced no desire to leave them, and indeed soon became tired; her strength was not yet equal to much exertion. the girls all sat on the grass with the child in the midst. "let's try to find out her name," suggested mary. "let me try," said tommy. pointing to elizabeth, she said "bess," repeating the name several times. then she touched mary, pronouncing her name, and lastly herself. "me tommee," said the girl, laughing delightedly. "tommy," said her instructor, "not 'me,' just tommy." "me tommee," repeated the girl; then after a moment pointed to mary, saying "mailee," and to elizabeth, calling her "bess," with a long sibilant. "now you," said tommy, pointing to the girl herself. she at once recognized what was required and said, "fangati." "what a pretty name!" said elizabeth. "i wonder how she spells it," remarked mary. at this tommy shrieked. "she doesn't spell at all, you goose!" she said; "of course she never learnt her letters." and then the laugh was on mary's side, for fangati, as if thoroughly enjoying the fun, touched tommy's hand, saying "me tommee," over and over again. "you'll be 'me tommee' always now," said elizabeth. "you should have used correct english, my dear." "i don't care," said tommy philosophically. "anyhow, she can't say mary. try again, fangati," she added, pointing to her sister. "mailee," cried the child, showing her teeth in a pretty smile. "bess, mailee, me tommee." to make quite sure that they had her name correctly, tommy walked to a little distance until she was out of sight among the trees, and then called "fangati!" in her shrill treble. the girl instantly jumped to her feet, and ran after her. "well done," said tommy, patting her. "you are a perfect dear, and i'm going to be very fond of you." chapter xviii another brown face the girls were much surprised that fangati seemed perfectly content to remain with them, and showed no disposition to return to her friends. at first they put this down to lack of strength, thinking that the child had the prudence not to attempt to cross the island until there was no risk of breaking down. but in a few days, when fangati was as vigorous and lively as a healthy young animal, this explanation was no longer tenable. they were almost equally surprised that, so far as they could tell, no search had been made for her. for some days they kept pretty close to the neighbourhood of the hut, in some fear that their possession of fangati might turn to their disadvantage if the natives discovered her. to be suspected of kidnapping her might bring down upon them the wrath of her friends. but when everything went on as before, they lost their timidity, and made longer and longer excursions from the hut. fangati accompanied them everywhere. they had taught her a few words, and could make her understand by signs or otherwise what they wanted her to do. their life was so simple that there were few ways in which she could help them. she laughed when she saw their manner of fishing, but did not offer to show them the native method. she was content with things as they were. one day when she had gone with them into the woodland to fetch food, she gathered a number of large yellowish-green fruits which they girls had often looked at longingly but which they had never ventured to eat for fear of poison. she handed the fruit to them, and made signs to them to eat. seeing their hesitation, she dug her strong teeth into the hard rind, quickly pulled it off, and showing the juicy pulp, bright yellow in colour, began to suck it with enjoyment. at this the girls followed her example. "it is delicious," cried tommy, the juice dripping from her lips. "what donkeys we were not to try it before! the bother is, there isn't enough of it; there's a monstrous big stone in the middle. i wonder what it is?" the fruit was the mango, which they had known hitherto only in the bottles of chutney which their uncle had brought from india. their pleasure at the discovery of a new fruit impelled fangati to make further additions to their menu. as they passed through the woodland on their way home, she stopped among some creepers trailing along the ground, seized a stick, and began to dig with it. the girls watched her curiously. after a little she turned up some tubers that looked something like potatoes, and lifted them, chattering incomprehensibly, and pointing to her mouth. "i believe they are yams," said mary; "they are very good to eat." "then we'll boil some for dinner," said elizabeth. "what a useful little thing fangati is turning out!" they took home a few of the roots, and came back in the afternoon with the boat-hook, with which, however, they dug up the roots no faster than fangati with the stick. another day, when they went for cocoanuts and failed to find any on the ground, fangati pointed to some nuts clustering among the foliage fifty feet above the ground, and made signs to them to climb up for them. they shook their heads, whereupon she laughed, ran to one of the trees, clasped her hands about the slender stem, and began, as it seemed to the girls, to walk up it. they held their breath as she nimbly mounted, and were not easy in mind until, after throwing down several nuts, she slid to the ground again, laughing with glee. "her backbone must be made of india-rubber," declared tommy. "i must try that way." "no, i won't allow it," said elizabeth firmly. "it's not worth while to risk a broken back. fangati can get us all we want." fangati introduced them to several other edible plants, of which they never learnt the english names. the greater variety of food was very acceptable, and though their health had been good, except for mary's touch of fever, they all declared that they felt better than ever since fangati came. no doubt they owed as much to their new interest in life as to their change of food. they had not of late walked to the ridge. but one day when the oranges near them had given out, they decided to make an excursion to the orange grove where tommy had first seen fangati. when they came near the crest a sudden change in fangati's demeanour astonished them. hitherto she had been as merry as possible, finding cause for laughter in everything. but all at once she stopped dead, gave a cry, uttered the word "tapu," and fled away with every sign of terror. the girls were amazed at her alarm, and looked about for some explanation of it, half expecting to see some hideous savage approaching with uplifted club. but all that was in sight were the unvarying features of the landscape, and the row of posts with their rags of pennants. they hurried after fangati, and tried with the little stock of native words she had taught them, and the few english words she had learnt, to elicit the explanation of her terror. she explained fluently enough, but the only word they caught, because of its constant repetition, was "tapu." "that's the same as taboo, i think," said mary. "it means something sacred, but i can't make out what could be sacred there. it's so strange, too, because we were quite near the orange grove, and she was not frightened then--unless she was frightened of you, tommy." "i dare say she was," said tommy; "we were both frightened, but we are good friends now, aren't we, fangati?" "me tommee plend," said the girl. "are we going back without any oranges?" asked elizabeth. "why should we?" exclaimed tommy. "come along, fangati." she led the way towards the ridge again, but fangati stood and waved her arms, crying "tapu" again and again. "evidently she won't cross the ridge," said elizabeth; "but we can get to the orange grove by going round. perhaps she will come with us then." striking off at an angle with the ridge, they found that fangati accompanied them willingly. she soon recovered her wonted high spirits. they made their way through the undergrowth, and presently came to an open glade, beyond which lay the orange grove. here they were again surprised to see signs of great excitement in fangati's face. the girl stood still for a few moments, looking about her eagerly; then, uttering a little cry, she darted away, and in a second or two was lost to view. "now what's that mean?" cried mary. "there's only one explanation," said elizabeth. "she recognizes the place as being near her home, and she has run away to her friends." "oh! what idiots we are!" cried tommy. "this was the last place we should have brought her to. now we've lost her!" "well, dear," said elizabeth, "i have often wondered whether we were right in keeping her. she belongs to her own people, you know, and not to us." "but she didn't want to leave us. and they don't care a dump about her, or they'd have come for her long before this. i'm sure she was much happier with us than with nasty savages." "yet she has left us now," remarked mary. "they can't be dreadfully horrid to her." "couldn't you fetch her back, bess?" asked tommy. "i shouldn't much care about it," replied elizabeth. "after all, we don't know what trouble we might be running into. perhaps she will come back to us herself." after taking some oranges they returned to their own side of the island by way of the ridge. tommy was disconsolate. all the sisters had become fond of fangati, but there was a special tie between her and tommy, and she was more often with tommy than with the others. for the next two days they talked about little else than fangati's defection. they walked up to the orange grove, in the hope that she would reappear, but returned without a sight of the little brown face they had learned to love. her departure had left a strange blank; they felt that something had gone out of their life. until then they had not realized how much she had added to their happiness. on the third morning after breakfast they were "washing-up" outside the hut--so they called the clearing away of banana skins, fish bones, and pieces of shell--when they suddenly caught sight of two figures moving among the trees some little distance away. they sprang to their feet in alarm. a second glance told them that the figures were those of natives; and, struck with the idea, that the savages were stealthily approaching to attack them, they began to run up-stream toward a patch of thick undergrowth where they could hide. but they had only taken a few paces when there was a shrill cry of "me tommee!" they halted hesitatingly, to see fangati flying towards them, and her companion standing still at the edge of the woodland. when fangati was within a few yards, tommy, able to restrain herself no longer, rushed forward and clasped the brown girl in her arms, kissing her again and again. fangati laughed; she laughed at everything; then, hand in hand with tommy, ran to the other girls, chattering excitedly. she pointed to the solitary native, who had not moved, smiled, patted her own head, threw herself down and clasped elizabeth's feet, ran a little way, and then came back looking behind her. "i think she wants to know if she may bring this other one," said mary. "and she wants to make us understand that we shan't be harmed," said tommy. "let her go, bess." "we gain nothing by refusing, so she may as well," said elizabeth. she waved her hands toward the second native, and fangati, who had been watching her wistfully, bounded off with a gay laugh. the girls awaited her return with mixed feelings. they were glad to see fangati again, but they did not much desire the acquaintance of a strange native. they did not yet know whether it was a man or woman. this doubt, however, was resolved in a few minutes. scanning the approaching couple anxiously, they saw that fangati's companion was a grey, shrunken old man, apparently feeble, for he moved slowly and leant on the girl for support. "i believe it's the man we saw at the native hut," said mary. "not much to be afraid of, after all," said tommy. "he looks hardly strong enough to kill a fly." "how shall we speak to him?" said elizabeth. "it will be rather a pantomime," rejoined tommy. "be very grave and dignified, bess. impress him with your importance, queen bess, monarch of all she surveys." "don't be ridiculous, tommy," said elizabeth, feeling it was no time for jesting. the old man certainly looked harmless enough, but she was by no means easy in mind. after what seemed a long time, fangati led the man up to the girls. "bess, mailee, me tommee," she said, pointing to each in turn. the old man made a salutation, and the girls looked at him with interest. his face and every visible part of his body was hideously tattooed, his thin bare legs looking as if they were covered with indigo-blue stockings. a stick was thrust cross-wise through his mop of grizzled hair. certainly he was not a prepossessing object. the girls were wondering what they ought to do, when they were surprised to hear the man address them. "i speak inglis," he said; "i maku. good-day all-same velly much." tommy turned aside so that her smile should not irritate or offend. elizabeth, with admirable composure, said-"how do you do, mr. maku! fangati is your granddaughter, i suppose?" it was at once clear that maku's english was not very abundant. the word grand-daughter puzzled him. he looked at fangati dully; then his eyes suddenly brightened. "fangati, he my son chile," he said. "he velly good chile. he get plenty piecee me eat. to-mollow he go; i velly solly, eh! eh! i cly." elizabeth in her turn was puzzled, and it was mary who first saw the old man's meaning. "he says that fangati got him plenty to eat, but disappeared one day, and he was very sorry, and cried." "no wonder, poor old man!" cried tommy. "he looks half-starved. there's no one else living in their hut, then?" "have you wife, children, friends?" asked elizabeth. the old man shook his head. "wife he dead long-timey. chil'en big long way." he waved his arm to indicate distance. "plen: ah! mikinaly he plen; he all-same gone away; eh! eh! all-same dead." from this mary made out that he had a missionary friend who had gone away and might now be dead. a few more questions satisfied the girls that, as far as he knew, there were no more natives on the island except himself and his granddaughter. intensely relieved on this score, they were ready to be hospitable, and to fangati's delight, invited the man to come towards their hut and talk to them. seated on the ground in front of the hut with the girls in the entrance, the old man related a story of which they understood little at the time. it was some few days before mary, thinking over what he had said, and puzzling about it, arrived at something like a coherent narrative. even then she was only partially successful. what he had tried to explain in his scanty english was as follows. he had been chief of a small island a day's paddling to the eastward. it was remote from the usual trade-tracks, and for this reason had remained longer in heathendom and cannibalism than most of the pacific islands. but a white missionary had at last come and taken up his abode on the island, by whose skill in medicine, earnest teaching, and noble character, maku and some of his sons had been won over. there were certain soothsayers among the people, who hated the new teacher when they found their influence with the chief gone. working on the superstitions of the islanders, they secretly stirred up a revolt. but for the quickness of fangati he would have been attacked and killed. she discovered what was going on, informed her grandfather, and persuaded him to put to sea by night in a canoe, with the intention of paddling to an island to the southward, where maku would find friends. forced out of their course by wind and current, they were nearly exhausted when by good fortune they found themselves on the shore of this island. they landed, erected a hut, and had since lived there, not caring to risk another voyage, and finding abundance of food. maku could not say how long he had been on the island, nor were the girls able to discover whether his arrival had preceded or succeeded theirs. he told them that one day fangati, who had been to gather fruit, reported that she had seen white people. though he thought she must be mistaken, he bade her run away at once if she saw any one again, white or brown. he did not like white people. since they came to the pacific the brown people had not been happy. they had been forced to work; some had been taken from their own islands and carried away to toil on distant plantations; new diseases had been brought among them. he had one friend among the white people--the "mikinaly"; he was a good man and did good things. he had taught maku english. true, fangati had said that the strangers she had seen were women; but maku could not believe that white women could have come to this island without white men. and he was desperately afraid of being betrayed to the ill-disposed mystery men among his own people; for before he had been long on the island he discovered that it was the scene of certain ceremonies conducted by these mystery men. at long intervals, before he became a christian, he had himself accompanied his people in solemn expeditions to the island. the accession of a new chief was celebrated with special rites; years and years before, in his heathen days, his own accession had been marked by a great cannibal feast. he was much afraid that white people might sell him to his revolted tribesmen, who would make him a victim. when fangati disappeared he was convinced that she had been captured by the white people, and he would never see her again. he missed her very much, for, being old and infirm, he depended almost entirely on her for his food. but when she suddenly returned and told him how she had been carried out to sea while fishing, and how the white women had rescued her and treated her kindly, he felt that he must make his presence known to them, and especially warn them of their danger. at this elizabeth asked anxiously what danger was likely to assail them. the man hesitated. now that it had come to the point he seemed to be unwilling to say more. but at length he explained that the spot at which they had landed was the usual landing-place of his people when they came to visit the island, and all the ground between it and the ridge was tapu. he struggled with his imperfect english in trying to make clear to the girls what that meant. they understood at last that their side of the island was sacred; its grounds were only to be trodden when the people came to hold their ceremonies, and anybody trespassing upon it would incur the wrath of the mystery men, and bring down upon themselves a terrible punishment. the forbidden ground was marked off from the rest of the island by a line of poles set upon the ridge. maku confessed that he himself felt very uneasy at having violated the tapu; and elizabeth, questioning him, found that beneath his recently assumed christianity there lay a deep stratum of superstition. when the "mikinaly" was with him tapu had no horrors for him; but the missionary had left his island some time before the rising took place, and with the removal of his influence the chief had relapsed to some extent into the superstitions of his early manhood. the girls were not at first much alarmed at what he told them. but when he added that his people would certainly choose another chief in his place, and come to the island for the usual inaugural ceremonies, the thought of being discovered by the savages at such a time filled them with dread. their hut lay in the direct path of the procession to the ridge; it could not escape detection, and they trembled at the idea of falling into the hands of people who might be worked up to religious frenzy by their mystery men. to violate the tapu would be bad enough for a brown man; it would be worse for white people. maku made a suggestion. let them dismantle the hut, he said, destroy all traces of their occupation, and remove to the other side of the island, where at least they would not have to reckon with the anger of the mystery men at finding them on forbidden ground. the girls discussed the suggestion earnestly, and decided to follow his advice. it gave them a pang to pull down the little home to which they had become accustomed: but they lost no time in setting about it, carrying the material down to the boat. meanwhile, the old man and fangati scattered the stones of their oven, and tried to obliterate the signs of habitation. maku shook his head when he saw the bleached grass on what had been the floor of the hut. even in this land of quick growth it must take some time before so tell-tale an evidence was done away. it was decided that elizabeth and mary should row the boat round to maku's landing-place with the canoe in tow, while tommy walked with the old man across the island. the chief did not follow the long route up the stream by which the girls had reached the ridge, but took a more slanting course through a wild and rugged region which they had never explored. as they were crossing the ridge he pointed out to tommy in the distance the entrance to the great cave in which the ceremonies of his tribe were conducted. tommy shivered; the thought of wild men engaged in mysterious rites terrified her imagination. choosing a steep path that wound down the eastern side of the ridge, maku led the two young girls to the open space near the waterfall, and in a few minutes reached his hut. he and fangati at once began to rig up near by a temporary shelter for the english girls, and it was almost finished by the time elizabeth and mary arrived. the girls were provided by their new friends with an excellent meal of fish, breadfruit and other fruits, some of which were strange to them. immediately afterwards, maku and his granddaughter set to work to build them a hut in the native fashion. elizabeth doubted whether they would like a house which must be inevitably close and stuffy with a doorway only high enough to crawl through. their own hut had been fresh and breezy. but it seemed better to let the natives have their way. they would build much faster than the english girls; and if strange natives should make their appearance in this part of the island, they would not be rendered suspicious as they might be if they saw a hut so different from what they were accustomed to. the girls slept in their temporary shelter that night. they had lost their fear of savage neighbours, but this had been replaced by a new fear of possible visitors from beyond. tommy had asked maku during their walk whether there was any chance of a ship coming to the island. "no ship," he answered. "no come this side. melican ship come one time, my place; mikinaly come in melican ship; all-same, no mo'e." chapter xix the shark the change of circumstances pleased every one except billy the parrot. he had never taken kindly to fangati, but had always ruffled his feathers and squawked angrily when he saw her with tommy. the girls laughed at these manifestations of jealousy. but when billy was removed from his home, and found that his mistress's attentions were shared by still another person, he became sulky. he would sit on a rock, or the bough of a tree, blinking his bead-like eyes and maintaining a sullen and reproachful silence. tommy was so much taken up with fangati that it is to be feared she somewhat neglected her old favourite, as was perfectly natural under the circumstances. when fangati and her grandfather had finished the new hut, which occupied them only two days, the young girls were constantly together. tommy, now that her fear of cannibal neighbours was removed, became again the active, light-hearted, adventurous girl she had ever been. she roamed all over the island with fangati, not even excepting the region of the tapu, for she found that the native girl was ready to go in any direction, provided she did not catch sight of the posts on the ridge. they discovered in company other plantations of wholesome fruits, of kinds which tommy already knew, and of others which were strange to her. fangati showed her how to fish in the native way with a spear of sharpened wood. at first tommy was sceptical about this, declaring that with the line and hook she would catch more fish than fangati with the spear. but she soon found that she was quite wrong. leaning over the edge of a rock, with her keen eyes fixed on the water, fangati would plunge her spear rapidly, and scarcely ever failed to bring up a fish as large as tommy caught, and much more quickly. tommy tried to imitate her, and was exceedingly proud when, after dozens of fruitless attempts, she succeeded in spearing her first fish. in the course of one of their early rambles the girls came to the pit into which tommy had fallen. fangati was much interested in this, having never seen it before, and she ran to fetch her grandfather to the spot. the girls asked him what was the purpose of the pit, and he thought at first that it had been dug as a storehouse for breadfruit. but when tommy told him about the tunnel through which she had crawled, and of the hole in the wall at the farther end, he looked puzzled and declared that he would go down and see for himself. it did not take long to construct a serviceable ladder with stout canes bound together with creepers, and the whole party descended into the pit and followed tommy through the tunnel. arriving at the end, maku looked curiously over the ledge. he explained to the girls that the dim-lit space beyond was the cave in which the mystic ceremonies of his people were conducted. the reason of the existence of the pit was now plain to him. there was a tradition among his tribe that one of his predecessor chiefs had shown an extraordinary knowledge of some of the secret performances of the mystery men at which he had not been present. "i unastan," said maku. "he find hole; he look; oh! he say, dis fine place fo' me. all-same he makee way dis side; makee pit; come 'long, listen, look see; eh, eh; he know all-same too much." his explanation was not very clear, but after a time the girls understood that the former chief, having accidentally discovered the tunnel opening to the cave, had dug the pit so that he could approach it from the inland direction, and had thus provided himself with a means of eavesdropping. apparently he had covered the pit with a light lattice-work--as the breadfruit pit was usually covered--and this in the course of years had become overgrown with vegetation, so that nobody could have suspected the hole beneath. on returning to the surface they pulled up the ladder and laid it among the trees near by. more than once during the succeeding days tommy and fangati amused themselves by descending into the pit and chasing each other in the darkness of the tunnel. they invented other amusements. tommy ran races with fangati, played at hide-and-seek in the woods, practised shying at cocoa-nuts. all the girls had swimming competitions in the cove at low tide, and though the english girls became very expert, they were no match for fangati, who dived and gambolled in the water as though in her native element. in constant companionship with fangati, they learnt in course of time many native words, and she on her side picked up a smattering of english. they were thus able to communicate with her freely. she amused them by her mispronunciations. the letter r was a stumbling-block. "run" was always "lun"; "bekfas leady," she would say; and she adopted from her grandfather the expression "all-same," which she used frequently and in odd connections. "i lun all-same kick, me tommee," she would say, when tommy had beaten her in a race; or if, in a game of hide-and-seek, it was mary's turn to hide, "mailee all-same hidee-sik," was her way of putting it. one day, having had no success at their usual fishing-place at the mouth of the cove, fangati proposed that she and tommy should go to a spot about half-a-mile up the coast, where she had sometimes caught fish before the girls came. elizabeth had laid no restrictions on tommy as regards her fishing excursions, except that she had asked her not to go out of sight of their little harbour. remembering how fangati had been carried out to sea, she wished to guard against any repetition of that mishap. the spot to which fangati pointed was beyond the usual limit. it was not, however, far distant from the shore, and fangati had been much farther out when her canoe was caught by the current. elizabeth had gone with mary into the interior to gather breadfruit, so that it was impossible to consult her; and tommy, anxious to have some fish for dinner by the time her sisters returned, agreed to try the new place. they reached it in the canoe, tommy paddling. it was a large flat rock a few hundred yards from the shore, with a deep pool on its inner side. there they had great success, in the course of half-an-hour spearing enough fish for several meals. thoroughly satisfied, they had just turned their canoe towards home when tommy caught sight of a large shape moving rapidly beneath the surface of the water. "oh! what's that?" she cried. almost before the words were out of her mouth the canoe quivered under a terrific shock. then it was rocked violently to and fro, so violently that the sea came over the gunwale and the girls had to throw themselves on to the opposite side to prevent the slight craft from overturning. as they did this there was a sudden sharp sound as of something snapping. instantly the canoe turned over, and the girls found themselves in the sea. fangati laughed. "all-same jolly fun," she said. tommy was not so much amused. being able to swim she did not mind the sudden bath; but all the fish were gone; the morning's work was thrown away. fangati quickly righted the canoe, and having clambered into it, helped tommy to regain her place. there was, of course, a quantity of water at the bottom of the little vessel. "what was it?" exclaimed tommy, shaking the water from her head. "was it a shark?" fangati looked about her. in a moment she pointed to a strange object, something like the end of a saw, projecting from the bottom of the canoe. tommy had never seen such a thing before. stooping down, she pulled at it. it was loosely fixed, and came away in her hand. instantly there was an inrush of water. "no, no, silly billy," cried fangati, using an expression she had heard tommy apply to the parrot. she snatched the broken sword of the sword-fish from tommy's hand, and tried to replace it. but though she succeeded in wedging it into the wood, it failed to stop the hole entirely. without loss of time she seized her paddle and started for the shore, about a quarter of a mile distant. but the canoe had shipped a considerable quantity of water, and this was being continually increased by the inflow through the leak. it sunk lower and lower, and every minute answered less readily to fangati's paddle. it soon became clear to the girls that the canoe must sink long before they reached the shore. they could easily gain the land by swimming, but the canoe could not be recovered if it sank. between them and the shore a rock stood just above the surface. it was only about a hundred yards away, and fangati, exerting all her strength, drove the canoe towards it, and reached it in the nick of time. in another few seconds the canoe must have foundered. there was not much room on the rock. tommy scrambled on to it, while fangati, slipping over into the sea, prepared to help tommy drag the canoe up, so that they might tilt the water out of it, and try to stop the leak with a handkerchief, or a part of tommy's skirt. they had just begun to tilt the canoe when tommy caught sight of a small dark object on the surface of the sea about thirty or forty yards away. it was the fin of a shark. "fangati, quick!" she called, holding out her hands to help the girl clamber on to the rock. fangati's back was towards the shark and she did not understand what the peril was. but the note of terror in tommy's voice alarmed her. she let go her hold of the canoe, gained the edge of the rock in two strokes, and with tommy's help scrambled up just as the shark glided past into the deep water beyond. "eh! eh!" exclaimed fangati, when she saw the reason of tommy's fright. "i no aflaid, what fo' aflaid of he? you see, all-same." she was about to dive into the sea and swim after the canoe, which was already drifting away, but tommy caught her and held her fast. "no, no, you mustn't," she cried anxiously. "boat lun kick," cried fangati in excitement. the canoe, relieved of the girls' weight, would no doubt float longer than if they had still been in it, but tommy realized that it must soon sink. "never mind," she cried. "better lose the canoe than lose you." fangati stood beside her for some time, but tommy soon became aware of a double danger. the tide was rising. every moment the ripples washed a little farther over the rock: by and by this would be completely submerged and they would have to swim to the shore. the thought of this necessity filled tommy with terror. the shark had disappeared only for a moment. she could now see it again, circling about the rock, as if it knew that it had only to bide its time and the girls would fall an easy prey. as soon as there was sufficient depth of water on the rock they would be absolutely defenceless against the monster's hungry jaws. clinging to fangati, tommy called aloud for help; then, glancing shorewards, recognized that there was little chance of her voice being heard through the belt of woodland that separated her from the camp. the sea now thinly covered the rock. the canoe was rocking on the tide several yards away; the fin of the shark could still be seen as it wheeled around. fangati, as well aware of the danger as tommy, could remain inactive no longer. "knife!" she cried eagerly, pointing to tommy's pocket. "what are you going to do?" asked tommy. "you see. kick! kick!" said the girl. "don't leave me," pleaded tommy, handing her the knife. fangati looked around as if in search of something. suddenly she snatched tommy's handkerchief, which was tucked into her belt, and dived off the rock. when she disappeared tommy saw the handkerchief floating. in a moment the shark rushed silently through the water, attracted by the splash. as it came beneath the handkerchief, which fangati had dropped as a decoy, she came up beneath it and plunged the knife deep into its side. then she dived again and disappeared. the shark, thrashing the water into foam, dashed about in zigzag fashion. tommy watched it fascinated, fearing that it might have struck fangati. but in a moment she heard the girl's merry laugh behind her. fangati came up on the farther side of the rock, on to which she clambered, splashing through the water to tommy's side. the girls watched the gradually weakening movements of the monster, until at length with a final heave it sank to the bottom. "s'im! s'im!" cried fangati, pointing to the shore. "oh, i couldn't," said tommy, clinging to the girl. the possibility of there being other sharks between her and the shore unnerved her. yet if she remained on this rock she must be washed off presently by the fast-rising tide. she was in a terrible state of anxiety, aware that she could not keep her footing long, yet unable to face the risk of being caught by a shark. fangati seemed to guess at her state of mind. disengaging herself from tommy's grasp, without waiting for objections, she slipped off the rock and swam rapidly after the canoe, which was drifting farther and farther down the coast. tommy watched her anxiously. would she reach the canoe safely? could she return with it in time? the water was now up to tommy's waist; she could hardly keep her footing as the tide surged over the rock. the gap between the little black head and the canoe was steadily diminishing. tommy gave a gasp of relief as she saw that fangati had overtaken the little craft. but what was she doing? she had swum beyond it. in a moment tommy saw the explanation: the paddle had drifted beyond the canoe, and the swimmer had to recover it first. fangati caught the paddle, turned about, and swimming back to the canoe, climbed over its side. tommy was seized with a sickening fear that help would come too late. the waves were tumbling over the rock with increasing force: her feet were lifted: she had the presence of mind to tread water, but was all the time in a state of nervous terror, expecting a shark to come up and snatch her in its horrid jaws. she felt that fangati in the water-logged canoe could not reach her in time. again she screamed for help. [illustration: "she felt that fangati could not reach her in time."] there came an answer from behind her. turning her head, scarcely able to keep afloat, she saw elizabeth in the dinghy sculling towards her. she swam frantically to meet her: to regain a foothold on the rock was now impossible. elizabeth, glancing over her shoulder, called a cheery word, and pulled so as to meet her sister. a few more strokes brought them together. elizabeth shipped oars, but found that she could not lift tommy into the dinghy without assistance. luckily fangati was close at hand in the canoe, now so full of water as to be on the point of sinking. when she arrived tommy was got into the boat, and lay down exhausted. elizabeth pulled her rapidly to land, while fangati, disdaining sharks, leapt into the sea, and swam, pushing the canoe in front of her. tommy was very contrite when elizabeth lifted her on to dry land. "i won't do it again, bess," she murmured, clinging to her sister. "i oughtn't to have gone so far. i was nearly drowned." "never mind, dear," said elizabeth. "it's all right now. i was a little anxious when i got back and found you still away, and i'm so glad i came to look for you. do you know, when i caught sight of fangati and couldn't see you i had a most horrible fear. what happened? why didn't you swim ashore?" tommy told her the whole story. elizabeth forbore to reproach her. she saw that the young girl had suffered a terrible fright, and it would not be necessary to enforce the lesson. she gave fangati warm praise for what she had done, and tommy's fondness for the native girl was deepened by this adventure they had shared. chapter xx the prisoner in the cave since their change of residence the girls had used a fresh look-out station. the precipice which they had noticed when they first caught sight of maku's hut was very lofty, and from its summit a more extensive outlook could be obtained than any they had yet enjoyed. its face was unscalable; but fangati had discovered a means of reaching its top from the rear. the way was steep and arduous, but the girls made light of it. every day one of them climbed to the summit, and cast a searching glance over the sea; but for weeks in succession they saw no vessel, large or small. one afternoon, however, mary was startled on reaching the summit to see in the distance a small fleet of native canoes approaching the island. she ran down the hillside at full speed with the news. maku instantly sent fangati up to examine the vessels, and when by and by she declared that they were canoes from her own island the old man shook with fright. the visit was what he had long expected and dreaded. his people were coming with their new chief to perform the usual ceremonies in the cave. he knew that if he were discovered he could expect no mercy; the mystery men would seize upon him, and their followers, inflamed with religious frenzy and palm wine, would tear him to pieces. the younger girls were beside themselves with terror. but elizabeth rose to the occasion. she saw that maku, with a kind of fatalism, was disposed to await his destiny without stirring a hand to avert it; but a possible means of escape at once occurred to her. the canoes were still some distance out at sea. the usual landing-place was near the girls' old settlement on the other side of the island. it would probably be dark before the savages landed, so that twelve or more hours might elapse before the danger became pressing. in that time it would be possible to demolish the huts, obliterate the most tell-tale traces of habitation, and convey enough food to the pit to last them until the unwelcome visitors had completed their rites and taken their departure. the existence of the pit was unknown to them, and though it was impossible to cover it, there was a chance that, if the savages should light upon it, they would imagine it to be an old breadfruit pit, as maku had done, and never suspect that it communicated with the cave. she explained her plan rapidly to the others. maku was inclined to do nothing, but the girls were feverishly ready to attempt any means of escape. elizabeth sent fangati to the top of the cliff to watch the canoes, bidding her be careful to keep out of sight. then with her sisters she set to work to tear down their light hut and cast its materials into the stream. this would carry them to the sea, and as the current flowed away from the landing-place they would soon drift beyond observation. before long the energy of the girls galvanized maku into activity. he demolished his hut in the same way. they then destroyed their fire-places, covered up the blackened earth with sand, and threw into the stream all the litter that betokened occupation. it was impossible to remove all traces; the vegetation around the little settlement was trampled, and nothing but time could undo that. "what about the boat and canoe?" said tommy. "we must drag them up among the trees and hope that they will not be discovered," replied elizabeth. "luckily, there are no fruit-trees in that clump by the shore, so there's nothing to take the savages there." the boats were soon hidden among the undergrowth. then they collected their little belongings, kettle, cups, fishing-line and spears, and all the food they had at hand. they made their mat-beds into hammocks by stringing them at the corners with creepers, and filled these with all they wished to carry away. by this time it was nearly dark. fangati, flying down the hillside, reported that the canoes had entered the lagoon by the gap in the reef and had now passed from sight. it was clear that they were making for the usual landing-place. maku said that the people would camp for the night on the shore, next day roam the island in search of food, and in the evening hold a great feast in the cave. having made all their preparations, they set off towards the pit laden with the hammocks. "oh, we can't take billy," said elizabeth, noticing that the parrot was perched on tommy's shoulder. "his screaming would ruin us." tommy was distressed at the thought of leaving her old pet behind, but there was clearly no help for it. the bird's wings being clipped it could not fend for itself very well, and tommy decided to carry it down to the boat and leave it there with enough food for several days. she kissed it on parting, fearing that she might never see it again. they found their ladder where they had left it among the trees. after letting down the hammocks they descended one by one, removed the ladder, and retreated towards the entrance of the tunnel. their passage had left traces on the ground above, which must betray them if the keen-eyed savages came that way; but there was nothing to bring them in that direction; and the girls hoped that the pit would be a secure hiding-place during the three days the savages might be expected to spend on the island. the fruits they had brought with them would supply them with food and drink for several days. the lack of water, which might have otherwise distressed them, was partially made up by the juice of oranges and cocoa-nuts. they found the atmosphere of the pit close and unpleasant, but elizabeth reflected that if nothing happened to alarm them they might climb up at dead of night and get a little fresh air while the savages were sleeping. the girls had little sleep during the first night. every few minutes they would wake and listen, wondering if by some unlucky chance their hiding-place had been discovered. they were still more uneasy when day broke. what were the savages doing? fangati offered to climb up and spy upon them, but elizabeth would not permit this. while they all remained in the pit they were safe; if the savages should catch sight of any one, they would, almost certainly, never rest until they had discovered the whereabouts of the inhabitants. the hours of daylight dragged slowly away. the girls scarcely dared to speak. several times fangati stole along to the end of the tunnel to see if the savages had yet entered the cave; but there was no sign of them until the afternoon was far advanced. then the girl ran back to report that there was a great noise below. she had been much too frightened to stay any longer; but maku now said that he would go and learn who the people were. he was absent so long that the girls began to be alarmed, and were thinking of going in search of him, when they heard the light rustle of his footsteps. on rejoining them he groaned heavily. "what is the matter?" asked elizabeth anxiously. the old chief groaned again. he did not reply to elizabeth, but spoke in a low tone rapidly to fangati. the girls had picked up a good many native words, but their knowledge of the language was not sufficient for them to understand this conversation. from maku's groans and fangati's exclamations of distress they gathered that the chief had made some disagreeable discovery, and elizabeth at length insisted on his telling her what troubled him. the girls were horrified when they heard what he had to say. the cave was full of his own people. among them he had seen, by the light of their torches of cocoa-nut husks, the new chief, a young man who was high in favour with the mystery men and had led the revolt against himself. but what had distressed him was the sight of a prisoner lying bound against the wall of the cave. it was a white man, and maku was almost sure it was the "mikinaly." the mystery men could only have one object in bringing a white missionary to the scene of their dreadful orgies: he was to be offered up as a sacrifice to their heathen deities. at this terrible news the girls' blood ran cold. dreadful as the horrors of cannibalism had been to their imagination, the knowledge that the reality would soon be enacted so near at hand was overpowering. the thought of any human creature being tortured and killed in cold blood was agony to them; and that the victim should be a white man, a fellow-countryman, within reach of them, and yet beyond their help, caused them to shrink and quiver as with actual physical pain. for some time they sat in silence, clasping their arms about each other. every now and again the old man uttered a groan. they could not see one another in the darkness, and tommy's match-lighter was exhausted, so that they could not obtain a light; but the girls were conscious by a sort of electric sympathy that maku and even gay-hearted little fangati were scarcely less affected than themselves. "will it be to-night?" asked elizabeth presently, in a whisper. "no, no," replied maku; "two days, flee days, den all gone." this answer only increased the horror of the situation. the victim was to linger through three days anticipating his cruel death. the savages knew not so much mercy as to send him early to his doom. "he no 'flaid; he all-same good man," murmured maku. "i can't stand it," cried elizabeth, springing up; "i must see for myself. perhaps something can be done for him." "don't, bess!" exclaimed tommy, clinging to her. "what can you do? they may see you." "no, they can't do that. i must go. perhaps if i screamed at them they would take me for an evil spirit and run away." "but what then?" said mary. "you could not go round and release the poor man; you would be seen." "yes; it was a foolish idea. but something may suggest itself. oh, i can't bear to think about the poor man." "if you go, i go too," said tommy. "i won't leave you." the two set off, and felt their way stumblingly through the passage. presently they were aware of a pungent aromatic smell, that increased as they went on. this was explained when they reached the opening in the wall; looking over stealthily, they saw, sixteen or twenty feet below them, on the floor of the cave, a strange bewildering sight. a ring of dusky men held aloft great flaring torches which gave out a heavy smoke that penetrated into the tunnel. without the circle there stood a row of drummers beating a rhythmic music on their instruments; within, a crowd of men were leaping in wild gyrations, uttering frenzied yells. in the haze nothing could be seen distinctly; all was a confused whirl. the prisoner was quite invisible. the dance continued for a long time, the movements becoming ever more violent and fantastic, the cries more frantic, the drumming more swift and vigorous. at last, when the din was at its highest, the drummers gave one tremendous crash and dropped their sticks. the whirling and the yells ceased as by magic; the performers flung themselves fainting on the ground; and there was a great silence. but only for a few minutes. then the men leapt to their feet again, rushed to the side of the cave, and returned, bringing the food laid there in readiness, and many gourds filled with the fermented sap of palm-trees. the torch-bearers stuck their torches in crannies on the walls, and the whole company gave themselves up to feasting. the girls turned sick as they watched the ravening gluttony of the men, and withdrew their eyes. "let us go back," whispered tommy. "no, no, wait," said elizabeth; "i want to know what will happen." crouching below the opening, they waited for what seemed hours. the barbarous noise continued, voices were raised in excitement; but presently the uproar diminished, and finally ceased. glancing down again, they saw the natives lying in all sorts of attitudes. exhausted by the orgy, drunken with wine, they had fallen into a heavy sleep. some of the torches had gone out. though the illumination was dimmer, the smoke was so much less that objects could more easily be distinguished. against the wall at the right hand the girls saw what appeared at first to be a large bundle. but in a few moments they recognized the form of a man--an old man with a long white beard. "it is the missionary!" whispered elizabeth, clenching her hands in an agony of despair. chapter xxi a desperate adventure heroism is a plant of strange growth. it springs up suddenly, mysteriously, in unexpected places. a simple peasant girl, tending her flocks, hears a voice; and she becomes a warrior, a leader of men, the saviour of her country. a maidservant, after a day of scrubbing floors and washing dishes, is darning stockings in the kitchen when she smells fire, rushes into the bedroom where the children are asleep, and carries them one by one through the flames into safety, at the cost of her own life. such opportunities fall to few. the most of us trudge a very unheroic journey through life. the road may be dusty, with ups and downs, dangerous corners and wearisome hills; but we plod along, keeping pretty closely to the highway, and taking great care at the crossings. it is only the odd one here and there who, by what we call the accident of circumstance, or by some compelling adventurousness of spirit, strays into the golden fields of romance, and is transformed into the shining semblance of a hero. yet the capacity for heroism may be latent under many a sober coat or homely apron. the town girl who shudders at a cow, the country girl who trembles at the looming of a motor omnibus, may show under the stress of some high emotion, at the call of some great emergency, qualities that match her with joan of arc or alice ayres. elizabeth westmacott's life had been very simple and uneventful. she had had nothing more difficult to cope with than the ordinary crosses and perplexities of the daily round at the farm. she had never come face to face with mortal peril, or felt any stern demand upon her courage and endurance. but as she returned along the tunnel with her sister a great resolution shaped itself within her mind. a white man was in danger of his life; she would at least try to save him. she was very quiet when she rejoined the little party in the pit. it was tommy who, quivering with excitement, related to mary what she had seen. the younger girls deplored the hapless condition of the old missionary; they wished he could be saved, but they felt the vanity of wishing. elizabeth sat in silence, thinking hard. "i must go up and get a breath of air," she said at last. "i'll come too," said tommy. "no, dear, not yet; i want to be alone." there was something in her tone that set her sister wondering. "you'll be careful, bess?" said mary. "yes, i must be careful," was the reply. elizabeth climbed up the ladder. she was gone some time; her return was announced by a slight rustling thud upon the ground; something had been thrown into the pit. "what is that?" asked tommy. "are you all right, bess?" "quite right," said elizabeth as she descended. "it is only a lot of creepers. we are going to make another ladder." "another! we don't want another." "the first isn't long enough or the right sort. i am going to release the poor missionary." the girls were for the moment speechless with amazement. then tommy said-"you are mad, bess; it is impossible. don't talk such absolute rubbish." "it isn't rubbish, dear. the savages are asleep. we can let down a rope ladder. i will climb down and cut his bonds. he will be safe if we get him into the tunnel." "oh, how insane you are! we shan't let you do any such thing." "you are bound to wake them, bess," said mary; "you know how lightly savages sleep. they are just like dogs, and wake at a whisper." "not when they have fuddled themselves. i _must_ do it, girls. i can't bear to leave the poor old man to his fate without trying to help him. it is possible, and you must help me." protest, entreaty, expostulation, were alike vain. even when tommy, with an air of triumph, exclaimed, "the hole isn't big enough for you to squeeze through," elizabeth simply replied, "then we must make it bigger." tommy knew from old experience that her elder sister was rather slow to make up her mind about anything; but when it was made up nothing would turn her. some people called it firmness, i dare say there was a touch of obstinacy as well. it was evident that elizabeth was thoroughly determined now, and the younger girls at length desisted from their attempts to dissuade her, and agreed to help. leaving mary to assist maku and fangati in constructing a light ladder from the creepers she had gathered, elizabeth set off with tommy to return to the cave end of the tunnel. they had their knives with them. on arriving at the hole, they saw that the natives were still asleep, and several of the torches were almost burnt out. the dimmer light favoured their work of enlarging the hole, which, as tommy had said, was too narrow by several inches for elizabeth to pass through, still less the rescued prisoner. when elizabeth said that the hole must be made bigger, she had no definite knowledge whether it was possible. it was characteristic of her to form a resolution and then bend everything towards its accomplishment. if she had had a favourite motto it would have been "where there's a will there's a way." nevertheless, it was with some anxiety that she examined the hole. one side of it was solid rock; it would be a week's work to make any impression on it with their knives. but the other side was of a more friable character. it appeared to be formed of fragments that had settled down, and become compacted by the weight above. a tentative chipping at this with her knife showed elizabeth that it would not be a difficult matter to scrape away enough to enlarge the hole by more than a foot. there was danger in the task. work as carefully as they might, it would be impossible to prevent some of the chips and dust from dropping into the cave. luckily, none of the sleepers was immediately beneath the hole; and elizabeth thought that by working carefully, collecting the larger chips and placing them on the floor of the tunnel, they might obviate the risk of awakening the men by the noise of falling stones. they set to work very quietly, not daring even to whisper to each other. by making boring movements with the points of their knives they brought away a good deal of fine dust, which they took in their hands as far as possible and cast at their feet. whenever they found that a piece of rock of any considerable size was becoming loosened they ceased work altogether with their knives and worried it out with their fingers. at such times the fall of a certain quantity of dust into the cave could not be avoided, and more than once they stopped, holding their breath as they listened for some signs of disturbance below. but all went well. all that troubled them was the terrible slowness of the work. they were certainly enlarging the hole, but every inch seemed to take an hour. elizabeth wondered anxiously whether they would have finished before daylight, when it would be too late to go further with her plan. thinking of this, her attention strayed for a moment from her work; and before she could do anything to prevent it, a large fragment of rock became detached, and fell with a crash upon the floor of the cave. the girls started back, a cold shiver running through them. they heard voices, but not so loud or excited as they expected. they dared not look out at the hole, in case they were spied from below; but they guessed that only a few of the sleepers had been awakened, and when, after some minutes, the sounds diminished and ceased altogether, they drew breath again. apparently the natives had not been alarmed; such falls of rock from the roof of the cave were probably not uncommon. after an interval they resumed their work with renewed courage, not, however, presuming on their immunity, but taking even more care than before. a second fall might not pass so easily. they continued at the task for hours. the torches in the cave went out one by one. when only one was left alight elizabeth looked at her watch. it was past four o'clock. the hole seemed to her now wide enough to admit any ordinary man: but clearly it was too late to attempt the more difficult part of her plan. she was tired out. it would take some time to fetch the rope ladder from the pit, and before the prisoner could be released and brought up into the tunnel, daylight might be upon them. besides, the feasters would have slept off the effect of their orgy, and there would be a perilous risk of their awakening. she thought it best to return to the pit and sleep. if maku was right, there was still more than thirty hours' respite, and she would need all her strength and composure of mind for the final effort. the two girls dragged themselves wearily through the tunnel. half-way they heard footsteps approaching them. "who's that?" cried tommy. "i'm so glad you are safe," replied mary. "we have finished the ladder, though it wasn't easy to make it in the dark, and i was getting anxious about you." "we shall have to put it off until to-night," said elizabeth. "the hole is large enough now, but it is too late to do any more. we are dead-beat and so terribly thirsty." they returned to the pit and refreshed themselves with cocoa-nut juice. but this was a poor substitute for water, and when fangati heard them say how they longed for water to drink, and to bathe their hands and faces, she volunteered to climb up and bring full cups from the stream that ran hard by. there was still an hour of darkness left, so elizabeth agreed, and the young girl clambered up the ladder, carrying two of their tin cups. she returned very quickly, and made the journey a second time: the girls, after bathing their heads with wet handkerchiefs, lay down and slept the sleep of exhaustion. it was high noon when they awoke, ravenously hungry. elizabeth carried the new ladder out into the pit, where there was sufficient light to examine it. considering that it had been made in darkness it proved a wonderfully successful piece of work, and only needed strengthening here and there. "how will you fix it at the hole, bess?" asked tommy. "there is nothing to fasten it to." "i had thought of that. the only way is to bind the top end of it to a long cane or stem--too long to pass through the hole. that will do it, i think. i wish we had our boat-hook." "suppose it should break?" "i am sure that the ladder won't break: those creepers are extraordinarily tough, as you know. and half the strain will be borne by the wall, so that the pole ought not to snap. with god's help we shall succeed, dear." "i am dreadfully afraid, bess." "the only thing i'm afraid of is the savages finding this pit. if they should come to it they would certainly notice the newly-trampled ground, and i don't think anything could save us then. but we must hope for the best." the day passed all too slowly. how they longed for night to come! they could not feel easy in mind until they were sure that their hiding-place was not discovered. yet the younger girls dreaded the night equally, for though the first part of elizabeth's plan was safely accomplished, they could not think without horror of their sister descending among the savages. elizabeth's quiet confidence amazed them. all that disturbed her was the fear that the prisoner might not be spared until nightfall. several times during the day she went to the end of the tunnel and looked over into the cave. on one of these occasions the place was empty except for the prisoner, who lay where she had seen him before, motionless. was he still alive? had his captors given him food and drink? she felt an intense compassion for the poor man. would there be time, she wondered, to set him free now, before the savages returned? she blamed herself for not bringing the ladder with her; but reflected that she could not have known that the cave would be deserted. probably by the time she had fetched the ladder and come back with maku and some of the others to assist her, the opportunity would have passed. but she might speak to the prisoner and let him know that an attempt would be made to save him. she looked anxiously towards the mouth of the cave. nobody was in sight. no sound came from the exterior. she might at least venture to make a sound that would attract the attention of the prisoner and yet not arouse suspicion if it were heard by the natives. leaning slightly over the ledge, she gave a low whistle. the prisoner did not stir. there was no sign that the sound had been heard, either by him or by another. she whistled again rather more loudly. still no sign. taking courage she bent still lower, and called in a low, clear tone-"white man!" she could think of no other form of address. maku had not told her the missionary's name: she had not thought to ask it. "white man!" she repeated. the light was dim, but it seemed to her that the prostrate form moved. "white man, do you hear me?" she said, panting, watching the entrance of the cave intently, stretching her ears for the slightest sound. there came a murmur from below. "do you hear me?" she called again. "yes," was the answer, in a tone so faint that she could scarcely catch it. "who speaks?" "listen!" said elizabeth. "friends are here--english friends. to-night you will be set free. you will have to climb a ladder; do you understand?" "i hear," said the voice. "god bless you!" "hush!" said elizabeth in a quick whisper: she had seen a shadow pass across the entrance. she withdrew her head. a man entered, followed by others, their arms full of food for the night's feast. she hurried back to the pit, thrilling with excitement. "he is alive!" she cried. "i have spoken to him, i told him we would save him to-night." "oh, why did you!" said mary tremulously. "suppose you can't do it! the poor man will be restless all day. the savages may notice it and be on their guard." "i am sure i did right," said elizabeth. "it will be best for him to be prepared. if he were released without warning he might be too much overcome to collect himself, and our chance would be lost. as it is he will know what to expect and be ready to help. oh, i wish it were dark!" knowing how much depended on her calmness and self-possession, elizabeth tried to sleep, but her nervous excitement made this impossible. she employed herself during the remaining hours of daylight in testing and strengthening the ladder, and especially in ensuring that the loops through which the supporting pole was to pass were strong enough to bear the strain. the pole could not be obtained until the fall of night rendered it safe to issue from the pit. she explained carefully to maku and tommy, who were to help her, how they should hold the pole in position across the lower part of the hole, and how, if they found that she had been discovered, they were to draw up the ladder immediately and remain perfectly quiet. at this tommy's lips trembled: the idea of losing elizabeth was dreadful. but she determined not to increase the difficulty of her sister's task by any show of agitation, and accepted her instructions without a word. as for maku, he had all along said nothing either for or against the scheme. he seemed to have lost all individuality and to move like an automaton at elizabeth's bidding. "what is your missionary's name?" she asked him. he gave a native name which he was unable to translate; the english name he had either forgotten or never heard. as soon as the first shades of evening descended, elizabeth and fangati climbed out of the pit, and after a little search returned with a stout sapling, which, when a few inches had been snapped off, gave a rod not so long as the breadth of the tunnel at the farther end, but longer than the width of the hole. having fastened the rope ladder firmly to this, elizabeth gave it to maku to carry, and led the way along the tunnel. she had wished mary to remain with fangati at the pit, but mary declared that she could not bear to be left behind wondering in the agony of suspense, so the whole party set off, elizabeth impressing on them all the need of perfect silence. they came to the end. the glare, the acrid smoke, the strident voices, proclaimed that the ceremonies had already begun. elizabeth gave one glance into the cave, and having seen that the prisoner was still in the same position she withdrew her eyes; the bestial conduct of the savages sickened her. hour after hour passed. the din was hideous. it seemed that the ceremonies on this second night were being prolonged. but presently they came to the same sudden end as before. the drumming and the frenzied chant ceased; instead were heard the sounds of men engaged in riotous feasting. maku was restless; his faded eyes lit up. elizabeth remembered that he must have taken part in similar orgies, and felt a nervous dread lest the excitement should communicate itself to him, and he should by some sudden outcry betray his presence. she laid her hand on his shoulder and whispered-"remember your friend there." the old man gave a sigh, and shrank away from the hole, murmuring incomprehensibly in his own tongue. as on the previous night, the intoxicating liquor drunk by the rioters produced its effect in somnolence. one by one they threw themselves back and fell into swinish slumber. at last there was silence. several of the torches had gone out and not been replaced. elizabeth thought her chance of success would be greatest if she waited until only one or two remained alight. she could not wait for absolute darkness, for some light was necessary for her task, and she must act while the sleep of the natives was heaviest. now that the critical moment had come she was strangely calm. all nervousness and excitement had vanished; her whole being was possessed by one dominating idea--the rescue of the prisoner. noiselessly she let down the flexible ladder, which lay close against the wall. then seeing that tommy and maku had grasped the ends of the small pole as she had instructed them, she prepared to clamber through the aperture. at the last moment mary flung her arms round her neck and kissed her passionately; then she was gone. she slipped down the ladder very quickly on her bare feet, carrying her open knife. she stood on the floor. the men were for the most part stretched towards the middle of the cave, but one or two lay near the prisoner. pausing just one moment to look around, she moved quickly along the wall, holding her skirts close about her as she passed the sleepers. she came to the prisoner and stooped. his eyes were open. she dared not cut his bonds with rapid strokes, for fear the snapping should be heard. gently she sawed the tendrils that were wound round about his whole body, all her senses alert. it seemed ages before the bonds were all loosened and removed. the prisoner did not stir. elizabeth beckoned to him, but with his eyes he seemed to try to explain that he was helpless. one of the natives moved uneasily, and for one intolerable moment elizabeth lost her head. then she understood: the prisoner's bonds had been so tightly drawn, and he had so long remained in the one position, that his limbs were numbed. slipping to her knees, she began to chafe his legs. a man at the far end of the cave gave a cough, and a hot wave surged through the girl. at that moment she could have wished the earth to open and swallow her. but once again there was silence, and the terror passed. in a few minutes the prisoner was able to move his legs. alternately bending and straightening them, he felt them tingling with the coursing blood. elizabeth rose, glanced timorously round, and held out her hands to him. he got up, staggered, and would have fallen but for her sustaining arms. there was not enough space for both to pass abreast between the wall and the prostrate natives. walking backwards, elizabeth led him slowly towards the waiting ladder. every step was painful to him, and as he crept feebly on, elizabeth's heart misgave her; would he have the strength to climb? they came to the foot of the ladder. all the torches were now extinguished save one. complete darkness would have been welcome if only elizabeth could have had confidence in the old man's strength. she pointed to the ladder, then upwards towards the gap. the missionary understood. for an instant elizabeth hesitated. should she go first, leaving the prisoner to follow, or see him in safety before she mounted herself? a moment's consideration showed her that she must be the first to climb. maku and tommy would need all their strength to keep the pole in position; the missionary was tall and no light weight; he could not scramble through the hole unaided; therefore she must be there to help him. she dared not speak to him, but in dumb show she indicated what he must do. he nodded. then she gave a slight tug upon the ladder as a sign to those above, and nimbly mounted. she reached the top, slid through the hole, and looked back. the old man was beginning to climb. with fast-beating heart she watched him, dreading that now, even at the last moment, he might miss his footing and fall back among his mortal enemies. they slept on. slowly, carefully, the climber drew himself up. to elizabeth, fixing her eyes on him, it seemed that he would never reach her. the ladder creaked; would the sleepers waken? she looked anxiously towards them; they did not move. inch by inch he came nearer; he had almost gained the top, when he swayed and for one terrible moment she thought he was lost. but with a great effort he recovered himself; he mounted again; his head was level with the hole. elizabeth thrust out her arms, gripped his wrists, and drew him into the tunnel, holding him firmly with her strong, supple hands. he was through. but his shoulders had pressed heavily upon the sides of the hole, and his feet had not touched the floor of the tunnel when several fragments of loosened rock fell and struck the ground with a resounding clatter. there was commotion below. quick as thought elizabeth drew up the ladder, leaving mary to support the old man, whose efforts had exhausted him. as the ladder came through the hole it caught a fragment of rock that lay on the ledge. elizabeth dashed forward to prevent this from falling. but it escaped her and fell crashing to the ground at the feet of one of the natives, who was looking up in wonderment at the strange thing crawling as it were into the wall. a yell proclaimed his discovery. all hope of secrecy was at an end. instantly the cave was filled with uproar. the sleeping men had leapt to their feet. at first their cries were of amazement and alarm, but one blew the flickering torch into flame, others kindled fresh torches at it, and in the illumination they saw that their prisoner was gone. in his place were the severed bonds, and beside them elizabeth's open knife, which in her anxious help of the old missionary she had forgotten. with yells of rage the natives dashed hither and thither, pointing at the gap in the wall, in too great a frenzy of excitement to hit on a means of pursuing the prisoner. one picked up a trade gun and fired, but the uselessness of this must have been apparent to them all. suddenly, at a word from their chief, six of them darted from the cave into the open. in a few minutes they returned, bringing two straight, young trees which they had uprooted from the loose soil outside. these they set against the wall, and with hideous shouts of anticipated triumph they began to swarm up towards the hole. chapter xxii friends in need meanwhile at the moment of discovery the little company in the tunnel was overcome with horror and despair. the strain of the last few minutes had told upon elizabeth's strength. she trembled in every limb. the others were as though paralysed; and the missionary, bewildered and unstrung, stood helpless, his arms clasped by mary in a convulsive grip. the glare of the rekindled torches threw a sudden light upon the end of the tunnel. the report of the shot seemed to shock elizabeth into renewed energy. "back to the pit!" she cried. "mary, go first with the missionary." he had now recognized maku, and was lost in amazement. the whole party set off along the tunnel. elizabeth guessed that the ascent of the wall would offer no difficulties to men practised in climbing cocoa-nut palms, and though she was urging her friends towards the pit she had no hope of ultimate escape. the light soon failed. they had perforce to move slowly, and mary warned the missionary that presently when the roof became lower he would have to crawl on hands and knees. she stretched her arms above her head so that she might know when the time for stooping came. the rest followed close behind, elizabeth bringing up the rear. the lowest part of the tunnel was about one-third of its length from the gap. as she crawled through this with tommy immediately in front of her, elizabeth had a sudden thought which turned despair into hope. the roof was no more than three feet above the floor. if only the narrow space could be blocked, an effective obstacle to pursuit would be set up. was it possible? this portion of the tunnel was but a few yards in length. as soon as she was able to stand again she called to the rest to halt. "have you your knives?" she asked her sisters when they came to her. "yes," they both answered. "come with me, mary," she said, taking tommy's knife from her. "go on with the others; we will follow soon." mary and she returned to the point where the roof sloped, and elizabeth, slipping to her knees, began to prod at it with the knife. to her great joy a shower of loose shale fell. "help me, mary; work as hard as you can." they plied their knives energetically. the missionary, anxious to learn what they were about, joined them, and, having no other implement, lifted a piece of hard rock and prodded at the roof with that. soon a considerable heap of earth and shale was piled up on the floor. but their tools were poor substitutes for pickaxes, and elizabeth feared that there would not be time to block the tunnel effectively before the savages arrived. all at once there was a tremendous crash, and the girls started back in alarm, not quickly enough to escape some clods of earth that struck them heavily. the loosening of the under layer of the roof had disturbed the mass above, and there had now fallen upon the floor an immense quantity of debris which completely blocked the tunnel, and could only be removed with long labour. elizabeth gave a cry of joy. "we are saved for the present," she said. "come!" they hurried after the others, whom they overtook just as they reached the opening into the pit. "we can't stay here," said elizabeth; "they'll know there must be another entrance, and will discover it as soon as it is light. we must get up into the woods and hide." "the precipice!" said mary instantly. "we could hardly get there in the dark," replied elizabeth; "it's too dangerous. but we must go as near it as possible, and climb to the top when we can see our way." they wasted no time, but set up the ladder at once and clambered out of the pit. their haste was such that none thought of taking with them any of their belongings until elizabeth, at the last moment, remembered that there were no fruit-trees where they were going. she collected all the food that remained and handed it up to her sisters, together with their kettle and tin cups. to fangati was given the task of leading the party through the woods. their destination was a little hollow some distance away on the reverse side of the precipice. it was thickly covered with trees, and would afford shelter for the rest of the night. as soon as they dared they would climb to the summit, a feat which in the darkness would be hazardous in the extreme. fangati was an unerring guide, and a quarter of an hour's uphill walk brought them to the wooded hollow. elizabeth and mary each took an arm of the missionary to assist him; indeed, elizabeth felt the need of support herself; her strength was nearly exhausted. not a word was spoken during the journey. all ears were strained to catch sounds from below. for a time they heard nothing, but presently the cries of the islanders came faintly on the air from afar. these ceased before they reached their shelter, and it seemed that the pursuit was taking another direction. they sank upon the ground beneath the trees. "let us thank god for all his mercies," said the missionary, and in tones little above a whisper, he uttered a few simple words of gratitude and of entreaty for protection during the night. "i am filled with amazement at my marvellous deliverance," he said to elizabeth. "i know maku and fangati, but who are you, my dear young ladies, and how came you upon this island? have you nobody else with you? but i am inconsiderate; you must be very weary: doubtless you will tell me all in the morning." "i am tired," elizabeth confessed; "but i could not sleep, and the joy of hearing an english voice is greater than i can tell." there was a sob in her voice. mary clasped her hand. "i will tell our story, bess dear," she said; "lay your head in my lap and rest." so mary quietly began to relate the story of their voyage. as she casually mentioned the name of the vessel the missionary interrupted with an exclamation. "the _elizabeth_! was her skipper captain barton?" "yes," said mary in surprise. "did you know uncle ben?" "know him! he was one of my oldest friends. i met him in london a few days before he sailed; indeed, he offered to bring me back in his own vessel. he mentioned that his nieces were accompanying him. what has happened?" mary went on to tell of the wreck, the landing on the island, and the simple outline of their life since. "marvellous," said the old man; "and my poor old friend!--you saw nothing of the raft?" "nothing. do you think that there is any chance at all that uncle ben was saved?" "i cannot tell. strange things happen in the providence of god. i see the hand of god in your presence here; but for that i should not have lived another day. we can but trust that my old friend is safe. he may be on one of these many islands. i hope so." in answer to a question from mary he related how he had gone from london to san francisco, and sailed thence in an american ship for the south pacific. having made a tour of the mission-stations, he had only reached his own island a few days ago. he had been met on the shore by the natives with every mark of welcome; the absence of the chief was plausibly explained; but the vessel had no sooner departed than he was seized and tied up. he expected instant death, but had been reserved for sacrifice at the ceremonies in connection with the inauguration of the new chief. "did they give you food?" asked tommy. "yes, my dear, or i should never have had the strength to profit by your sister's brave deed. do you know, when i heard her voice, i thought it had been the voice of an angel, speaking to me as the angel spoke to st. peter in prison. the remembrance of how the apostle was set free was very cheering as i lay waiting for night. your sister has indeed been an angel of deliverance. i thank god, who put courage into her heart." they talked until the light of dawn stole through the trees. elizabeth had fallen asleep. without disturbing her the others rose and went to the edge of the clump of woodland, whence a considerable portion of the island was visible. no savages were in sight or hearing. they made a breakfast of fruit, and when elizabeth awoke, and had eaten, they took their way with many precautions up the steep ascent to the summit of the precipice. there grew upon it a few palm-trees, which did not afford as good a screen as the clump they had just left. on the other hand it commanded a wider outlook over the sea. they hoped that the savages, failing to discover them, would eventually return to their island. only when they saw the canoes departing would it be safe to venture down again. their situation gave them much anxiety. their stock of food was small, and they had now another mouth to feed. already they felt the lack of water. the stream that flowed near the pit and plunged down over the waterfall was too far distant for them to attempt to visit it; and while the savages were on the island the still longer journey to the stream near the site of their original hut was out of the question. they hoped with all their heart that the intruders would soon depart. but this hope died as the day wore on. from time to time they heard shouts, now distant, now nearer at hand. clearly the men were searching for them. once they were greatly alarmed when they caught sight of dusky figures crossing the open ground below their recent settlement, and knew by their shouts and gestures that they had discovered traces of habitation. the natives had indeed already come upon the pit and searched it. by good fortune they had followed the tracks down to the shore instead of up into the higher ground. they scoured the copse in which the boat and canoe had been placed, and on discovering them hastened along the shore in both directions. no doubt it was only the apparent inaccessibility of the precipice that prevented them from suspecting that as the fugitives' place of refuge. the day passed. the little party lay in the shade of the trees, and kept as still as possible; but they were much distressed by heat and thirst, and at the fall of night the girls felt thoroughly worn out. mr. corke, the missionary, arranged that they should sleep through the night, while he and the two natives kept watch. elizabeth was very unwilling that this task should be undergone by the old man; but he assured her that he was very tough, and had quite recovered from the effects of confinement, owing to the fortunate circumstance that the islanders had not deprived him of food. when the next morning broke, and the girls, feeling weak and ill, rose from their hard couches, they were amazed to discover that mr. corke was no longer with them. "where is he?" asked elizabeth anxiously. "he go fetch water," said maku. "he say mus' have water, so he go down all-same fetch some." "why did you let him? why didn't you wake us?" cried elizabeth in great distress. "he say mus' go," persisted the old chief. "he say you do lot fo' he, he do little t'ing fo' you." tommy ran to the edge of the plantation to look for the missionary. her sisters heard her give a low cry, and next moment she came running back to them, her eyes ablaze with excitement. "a ship! a ship!" she cried. the startling news was almost overwhelming. for a moment the girls stood as though rooted to the ground, then they rushed forward, following tommy, who had already darted back towards the edge. their hearts leapt within them as they saw, far out at sea, a line of black smoke, and beneath it the low hull of a steamer. "is she coming this way?" said mary anxiously. "oh, i do hope so," said elizabeth. "we must make a signal. let us tie our handkerchiefs together; fangati can climb one of the trees with it." in a few moments fangati had climbed a tall stem, and tied the three knotted handkerchiefs to a branch projecting towards the sea. then the girls remembered mr. corke, whom in their momentary excitement they had forgotten. there was no sound from below; the natives had certainly not yet seen him, or shouts would have announced their delight. but his continued absence made the girls ache with dread. they watched the steamer eagerly; the hull was enlarging; it was approaching rapidly; it was heading straight for the island. the signal had apparently been seen. but there was still no sign of the missionary. when the vessel was about half-a-mile from the shore its motion ceased. "they are afraid to come closer because of the rocks," said mary. "look, they're lowering a boat." but at this moment their attention was withdrawn from the steamer by startling sounds from below--loud, fierce shouts mingled with the report of fire-arms. "oh! i'm afraid they've caught him," exclaimed elizabeth, clasping her hands in distress. they ran along the edge of the precipice to a spot where they had a better view of the open ground from the cove to the site of their huts. the din was increasing in volume and fury, but as yet nothing could be seen. suddenly, from beyond the jutting edge of a crag, they saw the missionary running with all his might, not towards them, but towards the sea. the girls wondered at this, for he could not have caught sight of the steamer, owing to the trees. it dawned on them afterwards that the chivalrous old man, in his care for them, was leading the pursuers away from their hiding-place. quivering with apprehension they watched the runner. presently, less than a hundred yards behind him, a horde of savages burst into view, uttering frantic yells, as they leapt after their expected victim. for some moments he disappeared from the view of the anxious spectators on the precipice, hidden by the intervening trees. then he emerged again; he was still running at a speed amazing in a man of his years. what would be the end of the race? the pursuers were gaining on him; they were hard at his heels: it seemed impossible that he should not be overtaken. he was now upon the beach. a few yards of sand separated him from the sea. he stumbled, recovered himself, dashed on again, and to the girls' horror plunged into the water. the terrifying image of hungry sharks rose in their minds. several of the pursuers halted and levelled their guns at the swimmer, others plunged in after him, evidently determined not to be baulked of their prey. all this time the attention of the girls had been divided between this scene on the shore and the steamer's boat, which was rapidly approaching. they could not tell whether it had been seen either by the pursuers or the fugitive. they watched in breathless excitement. the boat was drawing nearer to the swimmer, but the foremost of the savages was nearer still. suddenly there was a flash and a puff of smoke from the boat, followed by a report. the brown men stopped: there was a moment's hesitation, then they were seen striking out vigorously for the shore. "saved! saved!" cried tommy, dancing for joy. "oh, let's go and meet them, bess." "better wait, dear," said elizabeth, whose lips were quivering. "let them drive the savages away first." in tense excitement they watched the missionary lifted into the boat. it was too far distant as yet for them to distinguish its occupants. as soon as the missionary was aboard the sailors dipped their oars again and pulled lustily for the shore. the girls strained their eyes. the newcomers might be dutch, french, english, or american; they were white men; the long captivity was ended. the boat had almost reached the beach. suddenly tommy gave a scream, and clutched at mary's arm. "it's uncle ben! it's uncle ben!" she cried. chapter xxiii the home-coming who can describe the happiness of friends long parted when they meet again! as there is a grief too deep for tears, so there is a joy too intense for words to express. let the reader picture to herself the meeting of uncle and nieces, the sober satisfaction of mr. purvis, the ecstasy of little dan whiddon, the jolly faces of long jimmy, sunny pat and the rest. uncle ben's story was a simple and natural one. he had no sooner launched the raft with all his crew on board, than the _elizabeth_ went down with a gurgle and was seen no more. the raft drifted about for days at the mercy of every current, until it was sighted by a merchant brig. the castaways were picked up, but in spite of captain barton's entreaties the skipper would not alter his course to search for the girls. he was bound for san francisco with a perishable cargo, and declared that he could not waste time and money scouring the south pacific for any females, even were they princesses or queens. at san francisco captain barton chartered a steamer. he never spoke of the pang this must have cost him. those who knew the old man guessed how bitterly he felt the necessity, at the close of his career, of thus tacitly admitting the superiority of steam over sails. the steamer had made for maku's island, captain barton hoping to enlist the services of mr. corke and the people in the search for his nieces. learning on his arrival that maku had disappeared, and that the missionary had been carried away to the sacred island, he at once started to rescue his friend. he was distressed at the interruption of his primary quest, but when mr. corke's whereabouts was a certainty, while his nieces' very existence was doubtful, he felt that the nearer duty must be accomplished first. his delight at being able to rescue the girls, his friend, and the old chief at the same time may be imagined. his action on the island was summary. on learning the state of affairs, he sent the steamer along the shore to the spot where the native canoes were beached, drove off the infuriated natives with a warning shot from his brass gun, and had the canoes towed out to sea. he said he did not hold with revolutions, and meant to reinstate maku in his old chiefdom. since those of his disaffected subjects who had come to the island were the mystery men and their principal supporters, he decided to leave them there with their new chief, having learnt that they would have no difficulty in finding sustenance. he would carry back maku and fangati with the missionary to their island, and to ensure that they should not be molested by the revolutionaries he determined to take the canoes in tow, and so leave them without the means of crossing the sea. the girls left the scene of their adventures without regret. looking back upon their life there, they acknowledged that it had been on the whole happy, and their terrors seemed trifling now that they were free from them. tommy did not fail to seek for her parrot, which she found disconsolate in the boat, and which, she declared, spoke to her for the first and last time in its life when she took it up and perched it on her shoulder. she was very reluctant to part with fangati, and tried to persuade her uncle to take her back to england with them; but the old man assured her that the girl was happier in her own land, and put an end to the subsequent discussion with one of his crusted aphorisms. there is a little town in surrey which, though not far from london, preserves a good deal of the charm of the country. its roads are shaded with unlopped trees; its houses lie amid pleasant gardens; and being away from the main routes it is not devastated by motor cars. in the front garden of one of the houses rises a tall white mast, complete with yards and halyards. over the entrance stands the model of a full-rigged barque. in the hall a white parrot spends a placid but noisy existence. these emblems of the nautical life are confined to the front of the house; at the back there is a tennis lawn, a well-kept flower garden, with glass-houses, and an orchard. captain barton was advised to take this house by his lawyer, who wished to let it for a client. a tramp through deptford and rotherhithe soon convinced him that, however well suited those riverside suburbs may have been to seafaring men in the days of queen bess, they did not offer much attraction nowadays to a retired mariner with three nieces. and having assured himself that the country town in question had an excellent high school for girls, with a practising school attached, he followed his lawyer's advice--for once in a way, as he said. elizabeth keeps house for him, spending a good deal of time in the garden. she is assisted there by dan whiddon, who does not grow very fast, although the captain makes him climb the mast once a day for the sake of stretching his limbs. mary is learning how to teach, and tommy is in the fifth form at school, champion in tennis, and a dashing forward in the hockey team. her first reports made her uncle screw up his mouth, and rub his bald pate, and ask elizabeth what on earth was to be done with a minx like that. "has good abilities, but lacks application," he quoted. "much too talkative. has lost too many conduct marks this term." elizabeth begged him to be patient, assuring him that tommy would turn out quite well in time. and as the same mistresses who penned the above remarks are all wonderfully fond of tommy, and she is the most popular girl in the school, it is evident that she has at least one most enviable quality, the power of winning friends. a visitor often comes to the house, at whose appearance captain barton retires to his den and grumps and growls over his beloved pipe. the young electrical engineer whom the girls had met in valparaiso will certainly get on in the world, if dogged persistence has its reward. though they had then been unable to give him any address, and had held no communication with him since, they had not been settled more than a week before he called. "the impudence of the fellow!" said captain barton inwardly, when elizabeth introduced the visitor. through the wreaths of smoke from his pipe the worthy captain sees visions of elizabeth keeping house for some one else, and the poor man, i fear it must be confessed, is jealous. tommy looks on with a humorous twinkle in her eye. "poor old nunky!" she thinks. "he's wondering what in the world he'll do when bess is married, and mary's away teaching, and he's left to the tender mercies of _me_!" but i have watched many girls in my time, and i shouldn't be at all surprised if tommy--she will have her hair up and be miss katherine westmacott then--develops into a very capable housekeeper. she will certainly be what an old lady friend of mine calls "a bit of sunshine in the home." _richard clay & sons, ltd., london and bungay._ books for girls published by henry frowde and hodder & stoughton the red book for girls edited by mrs. herbert strang a miscellany for girls, containing a large number of complete original stories by popular writers; extracts from great authors; articles and poems. illustrated with 12 plates in colour by hugh thomson, w. r. s. stott, n. m. price, charles pears, and other artists, and numerous black and white drawings. 288 pages. crown 4to, cloth, 3/6; picture boards, cloth back, 2/6; also in full gilt, 5/-. some of the contents paulina's adventure. by mary cowden clarke. abou cassem's old slippers. an iowa heroine. by amy barnard. anne elizabeth. by alice massie. catherine douglas. by charlotte m. yonge. the last straw. by esmee rhoades. maggie runs away. by george eliot. the dog and maisie. by mrs. herbert strang. enid's adventure. by bessie marchant. the young toy-makers. by mabel quiller-couch. my monkey jacko. by frank buckland. stories by popular authors christina gowans whyte uncle hilary's nieces illustrated in colour by james durden. crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges. 6/-. until the death of their father, the course of life of uncle hilary's nieces had run smooth; but then the current of misfortune came upon them, carried them, with their mother and brothers, to london, and established them in a fiat. here, under the guardianship of uncle hilary, they enter into the spirit of their new situation; and when it comes to a question of ways and means, prove that they have both courage and resource. thus bertha secretly takes a position as stock-keeper to a fashionable dressmaker; milly tries to write, and has the satisfaction of seeing her name in print; edward takes up architecture and becomes engrossed in the study of "cupboards and kitchen sinks"; while all the rest contribute as well to the maintenance of the household as to the interest of the story. "we have seldom read a prettier story than ... 'uncle hilary's nieces.' ... it is a daintily woven plot clothed in a style that has already commended itself to many readers, and is bound to make more friends."--_daily news_. the five macleods illustrated in colour by james durden. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, gilt edges. 6/-. the modern louisa alcott! that is the title that critics in england and america have bestowed on miss christina gowans whyte, whose "story-book girls" they declare to be the best girls' story since "little women." like the leightons and the howards, the macleods are another of those delightful families whose doings, as described by miss whyte, make such entertaining reading. each of the five macleods possesses an individuality of her own. elspeth is the eldest--sixteen, with her hair "very nearly up"--and her lovable nature makes her a favourite with every one; she is followed, in point of age, by the would-be masterful winifred (otherwise winks) and the independent lil; while little babs and dorothy bring up the rear. "altogether a most charming story for girls,"--_schoolmaster_. nina's career illustrated in colour by james durden. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, gilt edges. 6/-. "nina's career" tells delightfully of a large family of girls and boys, children of sir christopher howard. friends of the howards are nina wentworth, who lives with three aunts, and gertrude mannering. gertrude is conscious of always missing in her life that which makes the lives of the howards so joyous and full. they may have "careers"; she must go to court and through the wearying treadmill of the rich girls. the howards get engaged, marry, go into hospitals, study in art schools; and in the end gertrude also achieves happiness. "we have been so badly in need of writers for girls who shall be in sympathy with the modern standard of intelligence, that we are grateful for the advent of miss whyte, who has not inaptly been described as the new miss alcott."--_outlook_. the story-book girls illustrated in colour by james durden. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges. 6/-. this story won the â£100 prize in the bookman competition. the leightons are a charming family. there is mabel, the beauty, her nature strength and sweetness mingled; and jean, the downright, blunt, uncompromising; and elma, the sympathetic, who champions everybody, and has a weakness for long words. and there is cuthbert, too, the clever brother. cuthbert is responsible for a good deal, for he saves adelaide maud from an accident, and brings the story-book girls into the story. every girl who reads this book will become acquainted with some of the realest, truest, best people in recent fiction. "it is not too much to say that miss whyte has opened a new era in the history of girls' literature.... the writing, distinguished in itself, is enlivened by an all-pervading sense of humour."--_manchester courier_. a new album for girls my schooldays in four forms: velvet calf, boxed, 8/6 net; padded leather, 6/net; leather (or parchment tied with ribbon), 5/net; cloth, olivine edges, 2/6 net. an album in which girls can keep a record of their schooldays. in order that the entries may be neat and methodical, certain pages have been allotted to various different subjects, such as addresses, friends, books, matches, birthdays, concerts, holidays, theatricals, presents, prizes and certificates, and so on. the album is beautifully decorated throughout. j. m. whitfeld tom who was rachel a story of australian life. illustrated in colour by n. tenison. large crown 8vo, cloth, olivine edges. 5/-. this is a story of colonial life by an author who is new to english readers. in writing about australia miss whitfeld is, in a very literal sense, at home; and no one can read her book without coming to the conclusion that she is equally so in drawing pen portraits of children. her work possesses all the vigour and freshness that one usually associates with the colonies, and at the same time preserves the best traditions of louisa alcott. in "tom who was rachel" the author has described a large family of children living on an up-country station; and the story presents a faithful picture of the everyday life of the bush. rachel (otherwise miss thompson, abbreviated to "miss tom," afterwards to "tom,") is the children's step-sister; and it is her influence for good over the wilder elements in their nature that provides the real motive of a story for which all english boys and girls will feel grateful. elsie j. oxenham mistress nanciebel illustrated in colour by james durden. crown 8vo, cloth, olivine edges. 5/-. this is a story of the restoration. nanciebel's father, sir john seymour, had so incurred the displeasure of king charles by his persistent opposition to the threatened war against the dutch, that he was sent out of the country. nothing would dissuade nanciebel from accompanying him, so they sailed away together and were duly landed on a desolate shore, which they afterwards discovered to be a part of wales. here, by perseverance and much hard toil, john o' peace made a new home for his family, in which enterprise he owed not a little to the presence and constant help of nanciebel, who is the embodiment of youthful optimism and womanly tenderness. "a charming book for girls."--_evening standard_. winifred m. letts the quest of the blue rose illustrated in colour by james durden. crown 8vo, cloth, olivine edges. 5/-. after the death of her mother, sylvia sherwood has to make her own way in the world as a telegraph clerk. the world she finds herself in is a girls' hostel in a big northern city. for a while she can only see the uncongenial side of her surroundings; but when she has made a friend and found herself a niche, she begins to realize that though the blue rose may not be for her finding, there are still wild roses in every hedge. in the end, however, sylvia, contented at last with her hard-working, humdrum life, finds herself the successful writer of a book of children's poems. "miss letts has written a most entertaining work, which should become very popular. the humour is never forced, and the pathetic scenes are written with true feeling."--_school guardian_. bridget of all work illustrated in colour by james durden. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges. 5/-. the scene of the greater part of this story is laid in lancashire, and the author has chosen her heroine from among those who know what it is to feel the pinch of want and strive loyally to combat it. there is a charm about bridget joy, moving about her kitchen, keeping a light heart under the most depressing surroundings. girl though she is, it is her arm that encircles and protects those who should in other circumstances have been her guardians, and her brave heart that enables the word home to retain its sweetness for those who are dependent on her. "miss letts has written a story for which elder girls will be grateful, so simple and winning is it; and we recognize in the author's work a sense of character and ease of style which ought to ensure its popularity."--_globe_. mabel quiller-couch the carroll girls illustrated, 5/-. the father of the carroll girls fell into misfortune, and had to go to canada to make a new start. but he could not take his girls with him, and they were left in charge of their cousin charlotte, in whose country home they grew up, learning to be patient, industrious, and sympathetic. the author has a dainty and pleasant touch, and describes her characters so lovingly that no girl can read this book without keen interest in esther's housekeeping and penelope's music, angela's poultry-farming, and poppy's dreams of market-gardening. anna chapin ray teddy: her daughter illustrated in colour by n. tenison. crown 8vo, cloth, olivine edges. 3/6. many young readers have already made the acquaintance of teddy in miss anna chapin ray's previous story, "teddy: her book." the heroine of the present story is teddy's daughter betty--a young lady with a strong will and decided opinions of her own. when she is first introduced to us she is staying on a holiday at quantuck, a secluded seaside retreat; and miss ray describes the various members of this small summer community with considerable humour. among others is mrs. van hicks, a lady of great possessions, but little culture, who seeks to put people under a lasting obligation to her by making friends with them. on hearing that a nephew of this estimable lady is about to arrive at quantuck, betty makes up her mind beforehand to dislike him. at first she almost succeeds, for, like herself, percival has a temper, and can be "thorny" at times. as they come lo know each other better, however, a less tempestuous state of things ensues, and eventually they cement a friendship that is destined to carry them far. nathalie's sister illustrated in colour by n. tenison. crown 8vo, cloth, olivine edges. 3/6. nobody knows--or cares--much about nathalie's sister at the opening of this story. she is, indeed, merely nathalie's sister, without a name of her own, shining with a borrowed light. before the end is reached, however, her many good qualities have received the recognition they deserve, and she is margaret arterburn, enjoying the respect and admiration of all her friends. her temper is none of the best: she has a way of going direct to the point in conversation, and her words have sometimes an unpleasant sting; yet when the time comes, she reveals that she is not lacking in the qualities of gentleness and affection, not to say heroism, which many young readers have already learned to associate with her sister nathalie. nathalie's chum illustrated in colour by dudley tennant. crown 8vo, cloth extra, olivine edges. 3/6. this story deals with a chapter in the career of the arterburn family, and particularly of nathalie, a vivacious, strong-willed girl of fifteen. after the death of their parents the children were scattered among different relatives, and the story describes the efforts of the eldest son, harry, to bring them together again. at first there is a good deal of aloofness, owing to the fact that, having been kept apart for so long, the children are practically strangers to each other; but at length harry takes his sister nathalie into his confidence and makes her his ally in the management of their small household, while she finds in him the chum of whom she has long felt the need. "another of those pleasant stories of american life which miss anna chapin ray knows so well how to write."--_birmingham post_. teddy: her book a story of sweet sixteen. illustrated in colour, by robert hope. crown 8vo, decorated cloth cover, olivine edges. 3/6. "teddy is a delightful personage; and the story of her friendships, her ambitions, and her successes is thoroughly engrossing."--_world_. "to read of teddy is to love her."--_yorkshire daily post_. janet: her winter in quebec illustrated in colour by gordon browne. crown 8vo, decorated cloth cover, olivine edges. 3/6. "the whole tone of the story is as bright and healthy as the atmosphere in which these happy months were spent."--_outlook_. "the sparkle of a canadian winter ripples across anna chapin ray's 'janet.'"--_lady's pictorial_. l. b. walford a sage of sixteen new edition. illustrated in colour by james durden. crown 8vo, cloth, olivine edges. 3/6. elma, the heroine of this story, is called a sage by her wealthy and sophisticated relations in park lane, with whom she spends a half-holiday every week, and who regard her as a very wise young person. the rest of her time is passed at a small boarding school, where, as might be supposed, elma's friends look upon her rather as an ordinary healthy girl than as one possessing unusual wisdom. the story tells of elma's humble life at school, her occasional excursions into fashionable society; the difficulties she experiences in her endeavour to reconcile the two; and the way in which she eventually wins the hearts of those around her in both walks of life. l. t. meade the beauforts new edition. illustrated in colour by james durden. crown 8vo, cloth. 2/6. this is one of mrs. meade's pleasant stories of girl life. it deals with the fortunes of a family in straitened circumstances, the father of which has a gift for poetry that publishers refuse to recognize. in spite of his many failures, his daughter patty does not lose faith in her father's genius; she supports him in his trials; and eventually reaps the reward that her constancy has merited. annie matheson a day book for girls containing a quotation for each day of the year, arranged by annie matheson, with colour illustrations by c. e. brock. leather, with special emblematic design in gold, 3/6 net; cloth, 2/6 net. miss annie matheson is herself well known to many as a writer of hymns and poetry of a high order. in "a day book for girls" she has brought together a large number of extracts both in poetry and prose, and so arranged them that they furnish an inspiring and ennobling watchword for each day of the year. miss matheson has spared no pains to secure variety and comprehensiveness in her selection of quotations; her list of authors ranges from marcus aurelius to mr. swinburne, and includes many who are very little known to the general public. some books for boys and girls published by henry frowde and hodder & stoughton books for boys by herbert strang "_boys who read mr. strang's works have not merely the advantage of perusing enthralling and wholesome tales, but they are also absorbing sound and trustworthy information of the men and times about which they are reading._"--daily telegraph. humphrey bold chances and mischances by land and sea. illustrated in colour by w. h. margetson. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. in this story are recounted the many adventures that befell mr. humphrey bold of shrewsbury, from the time when, a puny slip of a boy, he was befriended by joe punchard, the cooper's apprentice (who nearly shook the life out of his tormentor, cyrus vetch, by rolling him down the wyle cop in a barrel), to the day when, grown into a sturdy young giant, he sailed into plymouth sound as first lieutenant of the bristol frigate. the intervening chapters teem with exciting incidents, telling of sea-fights with that redoubtable privateer duguay trouin; of humphrey's escape from a french prison; of his voyage to the west indies and all the perils he encountered there; together with an account of the active service he saw under that grim old english seaman, admiral benbow. _glasgow herald_.--"so felicitous is he in imparting local colour to his narrative that whilst reading it we have found ourselves thinking of thackeray. this suggests a standard by which very few writers of boys' books will bear being judged. the majority of them are content to provide their young friends with mere reading. herbert strang offers them literature." rob the ranger a story of the fight for canada. illustrated in colour by w. h. margetson, and three maps. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. rob somers, son of an english settler in new york state, sets out with lone pete, a trapper, in pursuit of an indian raiding party which has destroyed his home and carried off his younger brother. he is captured and taken to quebec, where he finds his brother in strange circumstances, and escapes with him in the dead of the winter, in company with a little band of stout-hearted new englanders. they are pursued over snow and ice, and in a log hut beside lake champlain maintain a desperate struggle against a larger force of french, indians, and half-breeds, ultimately reaching fort edward in safety. _glasgow herald_.--"if there had ever been the least doubt as to mr. herbert strang's pre-eminence as a writer of boys' books, it would be very effectually banished by this latest work of his." one of clive's heroes: a story of the fight for india. with illustrations by w. rainey, r.i., and maps. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. desmond burke goes out to india to seek his fortune, and is sold by a false friend of his, one marmaduke diggle, to the famous pirate of gheria. but he escapes, runs away with one of the pirate's own vessels, and meets colonel clive, whom he assists to capture the pirate's stronghold. his subsequent adventures on the other side of india--how he saves a valuable cargo of his friend, mr. merriman, assists clive in his fights against sirajuddaula, and rescues mr. merriman's wife and daughter from the clutches of diggle--are told with great spirit and humour. mr. strang lived for several years in india, and tells a great deal about the country, the natives, and their ways of life which he saw with his own eyes. _athenaeum_.--"an absorbing story.... the narrative not only thrills, but also weaves skilfully out of fact and fiction a clear impression of our fierce struggle for india." samba a story of the congo. illustrated by w. rainey, r.i. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. the first work of fiction in which the cause of the hapless congo native is championed. _standard_.--"it was an excellent idea on the part of mr. herbert strang to write a story about the treatment of the natives in the congo free state.... mr. strang has a big following among english boys, and anything he chooses to write is sure to receive their appreciative attention." _journal of education_.--"we are glad that a writer who has already won for himself a reputation for good and vigorous work should have taken up the cause of the rubber slaves of the congo." _scotsman_.--"mr. herbert strang has written not a few admirable books for boys, but none likely to make a more profound impression than his new story of this year." the red book for boys. edited by herbert strang. a miscellany for boys, containing a large variety of complete stories and articles by well-known writers; episodes and narratives of adventure; poems, etc. 288 pages, with 12 plates in colour, and many illustrations in black and white. picture boards, cloth back, 2s. 6d. _some of the contents._ trapped. by g. a. henty. the punishment of khipil. by george meredith. a modern odysseus. by l. quiller-couch. forest adventures. by herbert strang. his father's honour. by captain gilson. the highwayman. by alfred noyes. ocean liners, past and present. by frank h. mason. barclay of the guides: a story of the indian mutiny. illustrated in colour by h. w. koekkoek. with maps. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. of all our native indian regiments the guides have probably the most glorious traditions. they were among the few who remained true to their salt during the trying days of the great mutiny, vying in gallantry and devotion with our best british regiments. the story tells how james barclay, after a strange career in afghanistan, becomes associated with this famous regiment, and though young in years, bears a man's part in the great march to delhi, the capture of the royal city, and the suppression of the mutiny. with drake on the spanish main illustrated in colour by archibald webb. with maps. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. a rousing story of adventure by sea and land. the hero, dennis hazelrig, is cast ashore on an island in the spanish main, the sole survivor of a band of adventurers from plymouth. he lives for some time with no companion but a spider monkey, but by a series of remarkable incidents he gathers about him a numerous band of escaped slaves and prisoners, english, french and native; captures a spanish fort; fights a spanish galleon; meets francis drake, and accompanies him in his famous adventures on the isthmus of panama; and finally reaches england the possessor of much treasure. the author has, as usual, devoted much pains to characterisation, and every boy will delight in amos turnpenny, tom copstone, and other bold men of devon, and in mirandola, the monkey. _school guardian_.--"another of mr. herbert strang's masterful stories of adventure and romance." swift and sure the story of a hydroplane. illustrated in colour crown 8vo, cloth. 2s. 6d. what the aeroplane is to the air the hydroplane promises to be to the sea. this story is a companion volume to "king of the air" and "lord of the seas," a forecast of what may be expected from the progress of mechanical invention in the near future. lord of the seas a story of a submarine. illustrated in colour crown 8vo, cloth extra. 2s. 6d. the present day is witnessing a simultaneous attack by scientific investigation on the problems of aerial and submarine locomotion. in his book "king of the air" mr. strang gave us a romance of modern aeronautics. in "lord of the seas" we have a companion volume dealing with the marvels of submarine navigation. king of the air or, to morocco on an airship. illustrated in colour by w. e. webster. crown 8vo, cloth extra, 2s. 6d. in this story (mr. herbert strang's second half-crown book) the young hero, having a strong turn for mechanical invention, contrives a machine that represents a great advance on what has previously been accomplished in the direction of aerial navigation. he has nearly perfected his invention when a british diplomatist is captured by tribesmen in morocco, and his assistance is invoked in order to rescue the captive without negotiations that may involve international difficulties. the story tells of the exciting and amusing adventures that befell him and his companions in their perilous mission. _morning leader_.--"one of the best boys' stories we have ever read." jack hardy: or, a hundred years ago. illustrated by w. rainey, r.i. crown 8vo, cloth extra, 2s. 6d. the old smuggling days! what visions are called up by the name--of stratagems, and caves, and secret passages, and ding-dong fights between sturdy seamen and dashing king's officers! it is in these brave days of old that mr. herbert strang has laid the scenes of his story "jack hardy." jack is a bold young middy who, in the course of his duty to the king, falls into all manner of difficulties and dangers: has unpleasant experiences in a french prison, escapes by sheer daring and ingenuity, and turns the tables on his captors in a way that will make every british boy's heart glow. _athenaeum_.--"herbert strang is second to-none in graphic power and veracity.... here is the best of characterisation in bold outline." _herbert strang's historical series_ this new series is quite unique. its aim is to encourage a taste for history in boys and girls up to fourteen years of age by giving all the important events and movements of a reign or period intermingled with a rousing story of adventure. while the stories are worth reading for their own sakes, they are also worth reading--especially on the eve of an examination--by a boy or girl who in class or in school text-book has worked up the "dry history" of the period. each volume contains, besides the story, a general summary, a chronological list of important events, and a map. much care has been devoted to the "get-up" of these books. they contain about 160 pages each, with four beautiful illustrations in full colour. cloth, 1s. 6d. each. in the new forest: a story of the reign of william the conqueror. lion heart: a story of the reign of richard i. claud the archer: a story of the reign of henry v. one of rupert's horse: a story of the reign of charles i. with the black prince: a story of the reign of edward iii. a mariner of england: a story of the reign of queen elizabeth. with marlborough to malplaquet: a story of the reign of queen anne. _practical teacher_.--"these stories, which are bright and stirring, are sufficiently simple to be within the grasp of the children, the descriptions of life and manners are accurate, and the history of the period is interwoven in a skilful manner." by captain charles gilson the lost empire a tale of many lands. illustrated in colour by cyrus cuneo. with map. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. to found a great empire in the east was one of the designs of napoleon bonaparte, and he might possibly have carried it out, had not certain events happened, which are related in this story. amongst these were the battle of the nile, and the discovery of napoleon's plans of campaign, in each of which incidents the hero, mr. thomas nunn, midshipman, was concerned. he was captured and taken to paris, and it was here that the plans of campaign fell into his hands; what he did with them forms the material of an exciting story. _daily news_.--"it is a magnificent story, with not an error of phrase or thought in it.... this book is not only relatively good, but absolutely so." the lost column a story of the boxer rebellion. illustrated in colour by cyrus cuneo. with map. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. at the outbreak of the great boxer rebellion in china, gerald wood, the hero of this story, was living with his mother and brother at milton towers, just outside tientsin. when the storm broke and tientsin was cut off from the rest of the world, the occupants of milton towers made a gallant defence, but were compelled by force of numbers to retire into the town. then gerald determined to go in quest of the relief column under admiral seymour. he carried his life in his hands, and on more than one occasion came within an ace of losing it; but he managed to reach his goal in safety, and was warmly commended by the admiral on his achievement. the author has found opportunity in this record of stirring events for some excellent characterisation, and, among others, the matter-of-fact james, mr. wang, and mr. midshipman tite will be found diverting in the extreme. _outlook_.--"an excellent piece of craftsmanship." _ladies' field_.--"all the sketches of chinese character are excellent, and we read the book with delight from the first page to the last." by william j. marx for the admiral. illustrated. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 6s. the brave huguenot admiral coligny is one of the heroes of french history. edmond le blanc, the son of a huguenot gentleman, undertakes to convey a secret letter of warning to coligny, and the adventures he meets with on the way lead to his accepting service in the huguenot army. he shares in the hard fighting that took place in the neighbourhood of la rochelle, does excellent work in scouting for the admiral, and is everywhere that danger calls. the story won the â£100 prize offered by the bookman for the best story for boys. _academy_.--"it is much the best book of its kind sent in for review this season, and stands head and shoulders above its rivals." by desmond coke the school across the road illustrated in colour by h. m. brock. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. the incidents of this story arise out of the uniting of two schools--"warner's" and "corunna"--under the name of "winton," a name which the head master fondly hopes will become known far and wide as a great seat of learning. unfortunately for the head master's ambition, however, the two sets of boys--hitherto rivals and enemies, now schoolfellows--do not take kindly to one another. warner's men of might are discredited in the new school; henderson, lately head boy, finds himself a mere nobody; while the inoffensive dove is exalted and made prefect. the feud drags on until the rival factions have an opportunity of uniting against a common enemy. then, in the enthusiasm aroused by the overthrow of a neighbouring agricultural college, the bitterness between themselves dies away, and the future of winton is assured. _sheffield daily telegraph_.--"its literary style is above the average and the various characters are thoroughly well drawn." the bending of a twig illustrated in colour by h. m. brock. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. when "the bending of a twig" was first published it was hailed by competent critics as the finest school story that had appeared since "tom brown." then, however, it was purely a story about boys; now mr. coke has enlarged and partly rewritten it, and made it more attractive to schoolboy readers. it is a vivid picture of life in a modern public school. the hero, lycidas marsh, enters shrewsbury without having previously been to a preparatory school, drawing his ideas of school life from his fertile imagination and a number of school stories he has read. needless to say, he experiences a rude awakening on commencing his new career, for the life differs vastly from what he had been led to expect. how lycidas finds his true level in this new world and worthily maintains the salopian tradition is the theme of this entrancing book. _outlook_.--"mr. desmond coke has given us one of the best accounts of public school life that we possess.... among books of its kind 'the bending of a twig' deserves to become a classic." the house prefect by desmond coke, author of "the bending of a twig," etc. illustrated in colour by h. m. brock. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. this story of the life at sefton, a great english public school, mainly revolves around the trouble in which bob manders, new-made house prefect, finds himself, owing to a former alliance with the two wild spirits whom, in the interests of the house, it is now his chief task to suppress. in particular does the spirited exploit with which it opens--the whitewashing by night of a town statue and the smashing of certain school property--raise itself against him, next term, when he has been set in authority. his two former friends persist in still regarding him as an ally, bound to them by their common secret; and, in a sense, he is attracted to their enterprises, for in becoming prefect he does not cease to be a boy. it is a great duel this, fought in the studies, the dormitories and upon the field. _world_.--"quite one of the books of the season. mr. desmond coke has proved himself a master." by a. c. curtis the voyage of the "sesame" a story of the arctic. illustrated in colour by w. herbert holloway. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. the three trevelyan brothers receive from a dying sailor a rough chart indicating the whereabouts of a rich gold-bearing region in the arctic. they forthwith build a craft, specially adapted to work in the polar seas, and set out in quest of the gold. they do not have things all their own way, however, for a rival party of treasure seekers have got wind of the old sailor's el dorado, and are also on the trail. in the race and fighting that ensue, the brothers come off victorious; and after a voyage fraught with many dangers, the sesame returns home with the gold on board. _educational news_.--"the building of the stout ship sesame at dundee is one of the best things of the kind we have read for many a day." the good sword belgarde or, how de burgh held dover coloured illustrations by w. h. c. groome. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. this is the story of arnold gyffard and john wottos, pages to sir philip daubeney, in the days when prince lewis the lion invaded england and strove to win it from king john. it tells of their journey to dover through a country swarming with foreign troops, and of many desperate fights by the way. in one of these arnold wins from a french knight the good sword belgarde, which he uses to such good purpose as to make his name feared. then follows the great siege of dover, full of exciting incident, when by his gallant defence hubert de burgh keeps the key to england out of the frenchman's grasp. _birmingham post_.--"evidently mr. curtis is a force to be reckoned with. he writes blithely of gallant deeds; he does not make his heroes preposterously wise or formidable; he has a sense of humour; in fine, he has produced a book of sterling quality." by george surrey a northumbrian in arms a story of the time of hereward the wake. illustrated in colour by j. finnemore. crown 8vo, cloth, olivine edges, 5s. garald ulfsson, companion of hereward the wake and conqueror of the wessex champion in a great wrestling bout, is outlawed by the influence of a norman knight, whose enmity he has aroused, and gees north to serve under earl siward of northumbria in the war against macbeth, the scottish usurper. he assists in defeating an attack by a band of coast-raiders, takes their ship, and discovering that his father has been slain and his land seized by his enemy, follows him into wales. he fights with griffith the welsh king, kills his enemy in a desperate conflict amidst the hills, and, gaining the friendship of harold, earl of wessex, his outlawry is removed and his lands restored to him. _school guardian_.--"with this story the author has placed himself in the front rank of writers of boys' books." by frank h. mason the book of british ships written and illustrated by frank h. mason, r.b.a. crown 8vo, cloth, olivine edges, 5s. the aim of this book is to present, in a form that will readily appeal to boys, a comprehensive account of british shipping, both naval and mercantile, and to trace its development from the earliest times down to the dreadnoughts and high-speed ocean liners of to-day. all kinds of british ships, from the battleship to the trawler, are dealt with, and the characteristic points of each type of vessel are explained. _british weekly_.--"mr. mason has given us one of the best histories of english ships that exist. it is admirably written and full of information." by rev. j. r. howden locomotives of the world containing 16 plates in color, 5s. net. many of the most up-to-date types of locomotives used on railways throughout the world are illustrated and described in this volume. the coloured plates have been made from actual photographs, and show the peculiar features of some truly remarkable engines. these peculiarities are fully explained in the text, written by the rev. j. r. howden, author of "the boy's book of locomotives," etc. _daily graphic_.--"an absolutely safe investment for every boy who loves an engine." _nation_.--"the large coloured pictures of the world's engines are just the things in which the young enthusiast delights." the romance series crown 8vo, illustrated, 5s. each. by edward fraser the romance of the king's navy "the romance of the king's navy" is intended to give boys of to-day an idea of some of the notable events that have happened under the white ensign within the past few years. there is no other book of the kind in existence. it begins with incidents afloat during the crimean war, when their grandfathers were boys themselves, and brings the story down to a year ago, with the startling adventure at spithead of submarine 84. one chapter tells the exciting story of "how the navy's v.c.'s have been won," the deeds of the various heroes being brought all together here in one connected narrative for the first time. _westminster gazette_.--"mr. fraser knows his facts well, and has set them out in an extremely interesting and attractive way." by a. b. tucker the romance of the king's army a companion volume to "the romance of the king's navy," telling again in glowing language the most inspiring incidents in the glorious history of our land forces. the charge of the 21st lancers at omdurman, the capture of the dargai heights, the saving of the guns at maiwand, are a few of the great stories of heroism and devotion that appear in this stirring volume. by lilian quiller-couch the romance of every day here is a bookful of romance and heroism; true stories of men, women, and children in early centuries and modern times who took the opportunities which came into their everyday lives and found themselves heroes; civilians who, without beat of drum or smoke of battle, without special training or words of encouragement, performed deeds worthy to be written in letters of gold. _bristol daily mercury_.--"these stories are bound to encourage and inspire young readers to perform heroic actions." by e. e. speight and r. morton nance the romance of the merchant venturers britain's sea story. these two books are full of true tales as exciting as any to be found in the story books, and at every few pages there is a fine illustration, in colour or black and white, of one of the stirring incidents described in the text. books for girls by christina gowans whyte the five macleods illustrated in colour by james durden. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, gilt edges, 6s. nina's career illustrated in colour by james durden. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, gilt edges, 6s. the modern louisa alcott! that is the title that critics in england and america have bestowed on miss christina gowans whyte, whose "story-book girls" they declare to be the best girls' story since "little women." mrs. e. nesbit, author of "the would-be goods," in likening miss whyte to louisa alcott, wrote: "this is high praise--but not too high." "nina's career" tells delightfully of a large family of girls and boys, children of sir christopher howard, the famous surgeon. friends of the howards are nina wentworth, who lives with three aunts, and gertrude mannering. gertrude, because she is the daughter of the mrs. mannering and grand-daughter of a peer, is conscious of always missing in her life that which makes the lives of the howards so joyous and full. they may have "careers"; she must go to court and through the wearying treadmill of the rich girls. the howards get engaged, marry, go into hospitals, study in art schools; and in the end gertrude also achieves happiness. _outlook_.--"we have been so badly in need of writers for girls who shall be in sympathy with the modern standard of intelligence, that we are grateful for the advent of miss whyte, who has not inaptly been described as the new miss alcott." the story-book girls by christina gowans whyte. illustrated in colour by james durden. cloth elegant, 6s. this story won the â£100 prize in the bookman competition. the leightons are a charming family. there is mabel, the beauty, her nature strength and sweetness mingled; and jean, the downright, blunt, uncompromising; and elma, the sympathetic, who champions everybody, and has a weakness for long words. and there is cuthbert, too, the clever brother. cuthbert is responsible for a good deal, for he saves adelaide maud from an accident, and brings the story-book girls into the story. every girl who reads this book will become acquainted with some of the realest, truest, best people in recent fiction. by winifred m. letts the quest of the blue rose illustrated in colour by james durden. crown 8vo, cloth, olivine edges, 5s. after the death of her mother, sylvia sherwood has to make her own way in the world as a telegraph clerk. the world she finds herself in is a girls' hostel in a big northern city. for a while she can only see the uncongenial side of her surroundings; but when she has made a friend and found herself a niche, she begins to realise that though the blue rose may not be for her finding, there are still wild roses in every hedge. in the end, however, sylvia, contented at last with her hard-working, humdrum life, finds herself the successful writer of a book of children's poems. _daily news_.--"it is a successful effort in realism, a book of live human beings that beyond its momentary interest, which is undoubted, will leave a lasting and valuable impression." by elsie j. oxenham mistress nanciebel illustrated in colour by james durden. crown 8vo, cloth, olivine edges, 5s. this is a story of the restoration. nanciebel's father, sir john seymour, had so incurred the displeasure of king charles by his persistent opposition to the threatened war against the dutch, that he was sent out of the country. nothing would dissuade nanciebel from accompanying him, so they sailed away together and were duly landed on a desolate shore, which they afterwards discovered to be a part of wales. here, by perseverance and much hard toil, john o' peace made a new home for his family, in which enterprise he owed not a little to the presence and constant help of nanciebel, who is the embodiment of youthful optimism and womanly tenderness. by e. everett-green our great undertaking illustrated. 5s. miss evelyn everett-green is one of the first favourites with girls and boys. this is how she tells about the beginning of "our great undertaking." the children have been asking granny for a story:--"well, my dears, i will see what i can do. you shall come to me at this time to-morrow night, and i will tell you the story of how, when i was a little girl, we children undertook what seemed to many people at the outset a labour of hercules, and how we learned from it a number of lessons, which have lasted us through life." the grandmother smiles as the happy children troop off to bed, and in these pages miss everett-green tells us the delightful story that grandmother told next day. by m. quiller-couch the carroll girls illustrated. 5s. the father of the carroll girls fell into misfortune, and had to go to canada to make a new start. but he could not take his girls with him, and they were left in charge of their cousin charlotte, in whose country home they grew up, learning to be patient, industrious, and sympathetic. the author has a dainty and pleasant touch, and describes her characters so lovingly that no girl can read this book without keen interest in esther's housekeeping and penelope's music, angela's poultry-farming, and poppy's dreams of market gardening. by e. l. haverfield audrey's awakening illustrated in colour by james durden. crown 8vo, cloth, olivine edges, 3s. 6d. as a result of a luxurious and conventional upbringing, audrey is a girl without ambitions, unsympathetic, and with a reputation for exclusiveness. therefore, when paul forbes becomes her stepbrother, and brings his free-and-easy notions into the davidsons' old home, there begins to be trouble. audrey discovers that she has feelings, and the results are not altogether pleasant. she takes a dislike to paul at the outset; and the young people have to get through deep waters and some exciting times before things come right. audrey's awakening is thorough, if painful. _glasgow herald_.--"very pleasantly written and thoroughly healthy." the conquest of claudia. illustrated in colour by james durden. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 3s. 6d. meta and claudia austin are two motherless girls with a much-occupied father. their upbringing has therefore been left to a kindly governess, whose departure to be married makes the first change in the girls' lives. having set their hearts upon going to school, they receive a new governess resentfully. claudia is a person of instincts, and it does not take her long to discover that there is something mysterious about miss strongitharm. a clue upon which the children stumble leads to the notion that miss strongitharm is a nihilist in hiding. that in spite of various strange happenings they are quite wrong is to be expected, but there is a genuine mystery about miss strongitharm which leads to some unforeseen adventures. _school guardian_.--"a fascinating story of girl life." dauntless patty illustrated in colour by dudley tennant. crown 8vo, cloth extra, olivine edges, 3s. 6d. the joys and sorrows, friendships and disappointments--all the trifles, in fact, which make the sum of schoolgirl life--are faithfully delineated in this story. patricia garnett, an australian girl, comes over to england to complete her education. she is unconventional and quite unused to english ways, and it is not long before she finds herself the most unpopular girl in the school. several times she reveals her courage and high spirit, particularly in saving the life of kathleen lane, a girl with whom she is on very bad terms. all overtures of peace fail, however, for patty feels that the other girls have no real liking for her and she refuses to be patronised. thus, chiefly owing to misunderstanding and careless gossip, the feud is continued to the end of the term; and the climax of the story is reached when, in a cave in the face of a cliff, in imminent danger of being drowned, patty and kathleen for the first time understand each other, and lay the foundations of a lifelong friendship. _schoolmaster_.--"a thoroughly faithful and stimulating story of schoolgirl life." _glasgow herald_.--"the story is well told. some of the incidents are dramatic, without being unnatural; the interest is well sustained, and altogether the book is one of the best we have read." by anna chapin ray nathalie's sister. illustrated in colour by n. tenison. crown 8vo, cloth, olivine edges, 3s. 6d. nobody knows--or cares--much about nathalie's sister at the opening of this story. she is, indeed, merely nathalie's sister, without a name of her own, shining with a borrowed light. before the end is reached, however, her many good qualities have received the recognition they deserve, and she is margaret arterburn, enjoying the respect and admiration of all her friends. her temper is none of the best: she has a way of going direct to the point in conversation, and her words have sometimes an unpleasant sting; yet when the time comes, she reveals that she is not lacking in the qualities of gentleness and affection, not to say heroism, which many young readers have already learned to associate with her sister nathalie. _record_.--"'nathalie's sister' is written in miss ray's best style and has all those bright breezy touches which characterise her work." nathalie's chum. illustrated in colour by dudley tennant. crown 8vo; cloth extra, olivine edges, 3s. 6d. by her stories, "teddy" and "janet," miss anna chapin ray has already made english readers familiar with many of the distinctive features of boy and girl life in america. the present story, which is cast in the same mould, deals with a chapter in the career of the arterburn family, and particularly of nathalie, a vivacious, strong-willed girl of fifteen. after the death of their parents the children were scattered among different relatives, and the story describes the efforts of the eldest son, harry, to bring them together again. at first there is a good deal of aloofness owing to the fact that, having been kept apart for so long, the children are practically strangers to each other; but at length harry takes his sister nathalie into his confidence and makes her his ally in the management of their small household, while she finds in him the chum of whom she has long felt the need. teddy: her book a story of sweet sixteen. illustrated in colour by robert hope. crown 8vo, decorated cloth cover, olivine edges, 3s. 6d. _world_.--"teddy is a delightful personage; and the story of her friendships, her ambitions, and her successes is thoroughly engrossing." _yorkshire daily post_.--"to read of teddy is to love her." janet: her ... winter in quebec illustrated in colour by gordon browne. crown 8vo, decorated cloth cover, olivine edges, 3s. 6d. _outlook_.--"the whole tone of the story is as bright and healthy as the atmosphere in which these happy months were spent." _lady's pictorial_.--"the sparkle of a canadian winter ripples across anna chapin ray's 'janet.'" books for children by lucas malet little peter a christmas morality for children of any age. new edition. illustrated in colour by charles e. brock. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, gilt edges, 6s. this delightful little story introduces to us a family dwelling upon the outskirts of a vast and mysterious pine forest in france. these are master lepage, who, as head of the household and a veteran of the wars, lays down the law upon all sorts of questions, domestic and political; his meek, sweet-faced wife susan; their two sons anthony and paul; and cincinnatus the cat--who holds as many opinions and expresses them as freely as master lepage himself; and--little peter. little peter makes friends with john paqualin, a queer, tall, crook-backed old charcoal-burner, whom the boys of the village call "the grasshopper man," and whom every one else treats with contempt; but this is not surprising, since little peter makes friends with every one he meets, and all who read about him will certainly make friends with him. by christina gowans whyte the adventures of merrywink illustrated by m. v. wheelhouse. crown 4to, cloth elegant, 6s. this story won the â£100 prize for the best children's story in the bookman competition. it tells of a pretty little child who was born into fairyland with a gleaming star in his forehead. when his parents beheld this star they were filled with gladness and fear, and in the night they carried their little fairy baby, merrywink, far away and hid him. why was it necessary to carry merrywink away so secretly? because of two old prophecies: the first, that a daughter should be born to the king and queen of fairyland; the second that the king should rule over fairyland until a child appeared with a gleaming star in his forehead. now, on the very day that merrywink was born, the long-promised little princess arrived at the royal palace; and the king, who was determined to keep his throne to himself, sent round messages to make sure that the child with the gleaming star had not yet been seen in fairyland. the story tells us how merrywink grew up to be brave and strong, and fearless and truthful; how he set out on his travels and met the princess at court; and all that happened afterwards. by e. m. jameson the pendleton twins crown 8vo, olivine edges, coloured illustrations, 5s. a great number of little readers now look forward eagerly to the appearance of further volumes telling of the adventures and misadventures of the pendletons. this year the family's christmas holidays furnish material for another bright and amusing story. their adventures begin the very day they leave home. the train is snowed up and they are many hours delayed. they have a merry christmas with plenty of fun and presents, and in the middle of the night bob gives chase to a burglar. nora, who is very sure-footed, goes off by herself one day and climbs the cliffs, thinking that no one will be any the wiser until her return. but the twins and dan follow her unseen and are lost in a cave, where they find hidden treasure left by smugglers buried in the ground. len sprains his ankle and they cannot return. search parties set out from cliffe, and spend many hours before the twins are found by nora, cold and tired and frightened. but the holidays end very happily after all. peggy pendleton's plan illustrated. 5s. the pendletons illustrated. 5s. two further stories dealing with the fortunes of the entertaining pendleton family. _schoolmaster_.--"young people will revel in this most interesting and original story. the five young pendletons are much as other children in a large family, varied in their ideas, quaint in their tastes, and wont to get into mischief at every turn. they are withal devoted to one another and to their home, and although often 'naughty,' are not by any means 'bad.' the interest in the doings of these youngsters is remarkably well sustained, and each chapter seems better than the last. with not a single dull page from start to finish and with twelve charming illustrations, the book makes an ideal reward for either boys or girls." by amy le feuvre robin's heritage illustrated by gordon browne. 2s. robin, the little hero of miss amy le feuvre's latest book, is a charming creation. he is certainly one of the most lovable of the boy and girl characters in her books, whose adventures have given delight to so many thousands of little readers. christina and the boys illustrated. 2s. this is a splendid story for boys and girls. all who have read miss le feuvre's other books will want to read this. it is a story of three children; one from england, another from scotland, the third from wales. they are all so jolly that it is difficult to say which of the three will be the favourite with young readers. roses illustrated. 2s. this story introduces us to mrs. fitzherbert, a dear little old lady with snow-white hair, as she moves among the sweet scents and sounds of her rose garden. she lives in a quaint old-fashioned house with casement windows and deep window seats, old oak staircase and panelled rooms. and into the midst of this secluded scene comes dimple--her real name is isabella, but she will not allow anybody to call her by that name on any account--whose father, owing to ill-fortune, has had to go abroad. how dimple wins the hearts of all in her new home is told by miss le feuvre in this little book. his big opportunity illustrated. 2s. the two principal characters in this book are roy and dudley--two cousins. both are anxious to become heroes, and they are constantly on the look-out for an opportunity to do some good. this leads them, one day, to pay a friendly visit to a sick man. they cannot get in by the door, so they clamber in by the window, greatly to the alarm of the invalid, who takes them for house-breakers. the story tells how, when their big opportunity does arrive, they are able to seize it and turn it to account. brownie illustrated. 2s. a cherry tree illustrated. 2s. two tramps illustrated. 2s. the buried ring illustrated. 2s. the new line upon line. revised edition of "line upon line" (containing parts i and ii of the original work), edited by j. e. hodder williams, with a preface by the bishop of durham. illustrated in colour. leather, 2s. 6d. net; cloth, 1s. 6d. net; picture boards, 1s. net. the new peep of day revised edition of "the peep of day," edited by j. e. hodder williams, with a preface by the bishop of durham. illustrated in colour. leather, 2s. 6d. net; cloth, 1s. 6d. net; picture boards, 1s. net. these new editions of two well-known children's books retain all the features that made the previous issues so popular, but they have been thoroughly revised with a view to making them more easily understood by the children of to-day. the children's bookcase edited by e. nesbit "the children's bookcase" is a new series of dainty illustrated books for little folks which is intended ultimately to include all that is best in children's literature, whether old or new. the series is edited by mrs. e. nesbit, author of "the would-be goods" and many other well-known books for children; and particular care is given to binding, get-up, and illustrations. the pictures are in full colour. the little duke. by charlotte m. yonge. sonny sahib. by sara jeannette duncan (mrs. everard cotes). the water babies. by charles kingsley. the old nursery stories, by e. nesbitt. cap-o'-yellow. by agnes grozier herbertson. granny's wonderful chair. by frances browne. the volumes in "the children's bookcase" are issued in three styles of binding: in paper boards, at 1s. 6d. net; cloth, 2s. 6d. net; and art cloth with photogravure panel, 3s. 6d. net. _scotsman_.--"in point of artistic beauty and general excellence, these volumes, costing only 1s. 6d. each, are a marvellous production." proofreading team [illustration: frontispiece] romance island by zona gale with illustrations by hermann c. wall indianapolis the bobbs-merrill company 1906 "who that remembers the first kind glance of her whom he loves can fail to believe in magic?" --novalis contents chapter i dinner time ii a scrap of paper iii st. george and the lady iv the prince of far-away v olivia proposes vi two little men vii dusk, and so on viii the porch of the morning ix the lady of kingdoms x tyrian purple xi the end of the evening xii between-worlds xiii the lines lead up xiv the isle of hearts xv a vigil xvi glamourie xvii beneath the surface xviii a morning visit xix in the hall of kings xx out of the hall of kings xxi open secrets romance island chapter i dinner time as _the aloha_ rode gently to her buoy among the crafts in the harbour, st. george longed to proclaim in the megaphone's monstrous parody upon capital letters: "cat-boats and house-boats and yawls, look here. you're bound to observe that this is my steam yacht. i own her--do you see? she belongs to me, st. george, who never before owned so much as a piece of rope." instead--mindful, perhaps, that "a man should not communicate his own glorie"--he stepped sedately down to the trim green skiff and was rowed ashore by a boy who, for aught that either knew, might three months before have jostled him at some ill-favoured lunch counter. for in america, dreams of gold--not, alas, golden dreams--do prevalently come true; and of all the butterfly happenings in this pleasant land of larvæ, few are so spectacular as the process by which, without warning, a man is converted from a toiler and bearer of loads to a taker of his _bien_. however, to none, one must believe, is the changeling such gazing-stock as to himself. although countless times, waking and sleeping, st. george had humoured himself in the outworn pastime of dreaming what he would do if he were to inherit a million dollars, his imagination had never marveled its way to the situation's less poignant advantages. chief among his satisfactions had been that with which he had lately seen his mother--an exquisite woman, looking like the old lace and roman mosaic pins which she had saved from the wreck of her fortune--set off for europe in the exceptional company of her brother, bishop arthur touchett, gentlest of dignitaries. the bishop, only to look upon whose portrait was a benediction, had at sacrifice of certain of his charities seen st. george through college; and it made the million worth while to his nephew merely to send him to tübingen to set his soul at rest concerning the date of one of the canonical gospels. next to the rich delight of planning that voyage, st. george placed the buying of his yacht. in the dusty, inky office of the _new york evening sentinel_ he had been wont three months before to sit at a long green table fitting words about the yachts of others to the dreary music of his typewriter, the while vaguely conscious of a blur of eight telephone bells, and the sound of voices used merely to communicate thought and not to please the ear. in the last three months he had sometimes remembered that black day when from his high window he had looked toward the harbour and glimpsed a trim craft of white and brass slipping to the river's mouth; whereupon he had been seized by such a passion to work hard and earn a white-and-brass craft of his own that the story which he was hurrying for the first edition was quite ruined. "good heavens, st. george," chillingworth, the city editor, had gnarled, "we don't carry wooden type. and nothing else would set up this wooden stuff of yours. where's some snap? your first paragraph reads like a recipe. now put your soul into it, and you've got less than fifteen minutes to do it in." st. george recalled that his friend amory, as "one hackneyed in the ways of life," had gravely lifted an eyebrow at him, and the new men had turned different colours at the thought of being addressed like that before the staff; and st. george had recast the story and had received for his diligence a new jersey assignment which had kept him until midnight. haunting the homes of the club-women and the common council of that little jersey town, the trim white-and-brass craft slipping down to the river's mouth had not ceased to lure him. he had found himself estimating the value--in money--of the bric-à-brac of every house, and the self-importance of every alderman, and reflecting that these people, if they liked, might own yachts of white and brass; yet they preferred to crouch among the bric-à-brac and to discourse to him of one another's violations and interferences. by the time that he had reached home that dripping night and had put captions upon the backs of the unexpectant-looking photographs which were his trophies, he was in that state of comparative anarchy to be effected only by imaginative youth and a disagreeable task. next day, suddenly as its sun, had come the news which had transformed him from a discontented grappler with social problems to the owner of stocks and bonds and shares in a busy mine and other things soothing to enumerate. the first thing which he had added unto these, after the departure of his mother and the bishop, had been _the aloha_, which only that day had slipped to the river's mouth in the view from his old window at the _sentinel_ office. st. george had the grace to be ashamed to remember how smoothly the social ills had adjusted themselves. now they were past, those days of feverish work and unexpected triumph and unaccountable failure; and in the dreariest of them st. george, dreaming wildly, had not dreamed all the unobvious joys which his fortune had brought to him. for although he had accurately painted, for example, the delight of a cruise in a sea-going yacht of his own, yet to step into his dory in the sunset, to watch _the aloha's_ sides shine in the late light as he was rowed ashore past the lesser crafts in the harbour; to see the man touch his cap and put back to make the yacht trim for the night, and then to turn his own face to his apartment where virtually the entire day-staff of the _evening sentinel_ was that night to dine--these were among the pastimes of the lesser angels which his fancy had never compassed. a glow of firelight greeted st. george as he entered his apartment, and the rooms wore a pleasant air of festivity. a table, with covers for twelve, was spread in the living-room, a fire of cones was tossing on the hearth, the curtains were drawn, and the sideboard was a thing of intimation. rollo, his man--st. george had easily fallen in all the habits which he had longed to assume--was just closing the little ice-box sunk behind a panel of the wall, and he came forward with dignified deference. "everything is ready, rollo?" st. george asked. "no one has telephoned to beg off?" "yes, sir," answered rollo, "and no, sir." st. george had sometimes told himself that the man looked like an oval grey stone with a face cut upon it. "is the claret warmed?" st. george demanded, handing his hat. "did the big glasses come for the liqueur--and the little ones will set inside without tipping? then take the cigars to the den--you'll have to get some cigarettes for mr. provin. keep up the fire. light the candles in ten minutes. i say, how jolly the table looks." "yes, sir," returned rollo, "an' the candles 'll make a great difference, sir. candles do give out an air, sir." one month of service had accustomed st. george to his valet's gift of the articulate simplicity. rollo's thoughts were doubtless contrived in the cuticle and knew no deeper operance; but he always uttered his impressions with, under his mask, an air of keen and seasoned personal observation. in his first interview with st. george, rollo had said: "i always enjoy being kep' busy, sir. _to me_, the busy man is a grand sight," and st. george had at once appreciated his possibilities. rollo was like the fine print in an almanac. when the candles were burning and the lights had been turned on in the little ochre den where the billiard-table stood, st. george emerged--a well-made figure, his buoyant, clear-cut face accurately bespeaking both health and cleverness. of a family represented by the gentle old bishop and his own exquisite mother, himself university-bred and fresh from two years' hard, hand-to-hand fighting to earn an honourable livelihood, st. george, of sound body and fine intelligence, had that temper of stability within vast range which goes pleasantly into the mind that meets it. a symbol of this was his prodigious popularity with those who had been his fellow-workers--a test beside which old-world traditions of the urban touchstones are of secondary advantage. it was deeply significant that in spite of the gulf which chance had digged the day-staff of the _sentinel_, all save two or three of which were not of his estate, had with flattering alacrity obeyed his summons to dine. but, as he heard in the hall the voice of chillingworth, the difficulty of his task for the first time swept over him. it was chillingworth who had advocated to him the need of wooden type to suit his literary style and who had long ordered and bullied him about; and how was he to play the host to chillingworth, not to speak of the others, with the news between them of that million? when the bell rang, st. george somewhat gruffly superseded rollo. "i'll go," he said briefly, "and keep out of sight for a few minutes. get in the bath-room or somewhere, will you?" he added nervously, and opened the door. at one stroke chillingworth settled his own position by dominating the situation as he dominated the city room. he chose the best chair and told a good story and found fault with the way the fire burned, all with immediate ease and abandon. chillingworth's men loved to remember that he had once carried copy. they also understood all the legitimate devices by which he persuaded from them their best effort, yet these devices never failed, and the city room agreed that chillingworth's fashion of giving an assignment to a new man would force him to write a readable account of his own entertainment in the dark meadows. largely by personal magnetism he had fought his way upward, and this quality was not less a social gift. mr. toby amory, who had been on the eleven with st. george at harvard, looked along his pipe at his host and smiled, with flattering content, his slow smile. amory's father had lately had a conspicuous quarter of an hour in wall street, as a result of which amory, instead of taking st. george to the cemetery at clusium as he had talked, himself drifted to park row; and although he now knew considerably less than he had hoped about certain inscriptions, he was supporting himself and two sisters by really brilliant work, so that the balance of his power was creditably maintained. surely the inscriptions did not suffer, and what then was amory that he should object? presently holt, the middle-aged marine man, and harding who, since he had lost a lightweight sparring championship, was sporting editor, solemnly entered together and sat down with the social caution of their class. so did provin, the "elder giant," who gathered news as he breathed and could not intelligibly put six words together. horace, who would listen to four lines over the telephone and therefrom make a half-column of american newspaper humour or american newspaper tears, came in roaring pacifically and marshaling little bud, that day in the seventh heaven of his first "beat." then followed crass, the feature man, whose interviews were known to the new men as literature, although he was not above publicly admitting that he was not a reporter, but a special writer. mr. crass read nothing in the paper that he had not written, and st. george had once prophesied that in old age he would use his scrap-book for a manual of devotions, as klopstock used his _messiah_. with him arrived carbury, the telegraph editor, and later benfy, who had a carpet in his office and wrote editorials and who came in evening clothes, thus moving harding and holt to instant private conversation. the last to appear was little cawthorne who wrote the fiction page and made enchanting limericks about every one on the staff and went about singing one song and behaving, the dramatic man flattered him, like a motif. little cawthorne entered backward, wrestling with some wiry matter which, when he had executed a manoeuvre and banged the door, was thrust through the passage in the form of bennie todd, the head office boy, affectionately known as bennietod. bennietod was in every one's secret, clipped every one's space and knew every one's salary, and he had lately covered a baseball game when the man whose copy he was to carry had, outside the fence, become implicated in allurements. he was greeted with noise, and st. george told him heartily that he was glad he had come. "he made me," defensively claimed bennietod; frowning deferentially at little cawthorne. "hello, st. george," said the latter, "come on back to the office. crass sits in your place and he wears cravats the colour of goblin's blood. come back." "not he," said chillingworth, smoking; "the dead-and-done-with editor is too keen for that; i won't give him a job. he's ruined. egg sandwiches will never stimulate him now." st. george joined in the relieved laugh that followed. they were remembering his young sing sing convict who had completed his sentence in time to step in a cab and follow his mother to the grave, where his stepfather refused to have her coffin opened. and st. george, fresh from his alma mater, had weighted the winged words of his story with allusions to the tears celestial of thetis, shed for achilles, and creon's grief for haemon, and the unnatural combat of massinger's father and son; so that chillingworth had said things in languages that are not dead (albeit a bit elizabethan) and the composing room had shaken mailed fists. "hi, you!" said little cawthorne, who was born in the south, "this is a mellow minute. i could wish they came often. this shall be a weekly occurrence--not so, st. george?" "cawthorne," chillingworth warned, "mind your manners, or they'll make you city editor." a momentary shadow was cast by the appearance of rollo, who was manifestly a symbol of the world philistine about which these guests knew more and in which they played a smaller part than any other class of men. but the tray which rollo bore was his passport. thereafter, they all trooped to the table, and chillingworth sat at the head, and from the foot st. george watched the city editor break bread with the familiar nervous gesture with which he was wont to strip off yards of copy-paper and eat it. there was a tacit assumption that he be the conversational sun of the hour, and in fostering this understanding the host took grateful refuge. "this is shameful," chillingworth began contentedly. "every one of you ought to be out on the boris story." "what is the boris story?" asked st. george with interest. but in all talk st. george had a restful, host-like way of playing the rôle of opposite to every one who preferred being heard. "i'll wager the boy hasn't been reading the papers these three months," amory opined in his pleasant drawl. "no," st. george confessed; "no, i haven't. they make me homesick." "don't maunder," said chillingworth in polite criticism. "this is amory's story, and only about a quarter of the facts yet," he added in a resentful growl. "it's up at the boris, in west fifty-ninth street--you know the apartment house? a miss holland, an heiress, living there with her aunt, was attacked and nearly murdered by a mulatto woman. the woman followed her to the elevator and came uncomfortably near stabbing her from the back. the elevator boy was too quick for her. and at the station they couldn't get the woman to say a word; she pretends not to understand or to speak anything they've tried. she's got amory hypnotized too--he thinks she can't. and when they searched her," went on chillingworth with enjoyment, "they found her dressed in silk and cloth of gold, and loaded down with all sorts of barbarous ornaments, with almost priceless jewels. miss holland claims that she never saw or heard of the woman before. now, what do you make of it?" he demanded, unconcernedly draining his glass. "splendid," cried st. george in unfeigned interest. "i say, splendid. did you see the woman?" he asked amory. amory nodded. "yes," he said, "andy fixed that for me. but she never said a word. i _parlez-voused_ her, and _verstehen-sied_ her, and she sighed and turned her head." "did you see the heiress?" st. george asked. "not i," mourned amory, "not to talk with, that is. i happened to be hanging up in the hall there the afternoon it occurred;" he modestly explained. "what luck," st. george commented with genuine envy. "it's a stunning story. who is miss holland?" "she's lived there for a year or more with her aunt," said chillingworth. "she is a new yorker and an heiress and a great beauty--oh, all the properties are there, but they're all we've got. what do you make of it?" he repeated. st. george did not answer, and every one else did. "mistaken identity," said little cawthorne. "do you remember provin's story of the woman whose maid shot a masseuse whom she took to be her mistress; and the woman forgave the shooting and seemed to have her arrested chiefly because she had mistaken her for a masseuse?" "too easy, cawthorne," said chillingworth. "the woman is probably an italian," said the telegraph editor, "doing one of her mafia stunts. it's time they left the politicians alone and threw bombs at the bonds that back them." "hey, carbury. stop writing heads," said chillingworth. "has miss holland lived abroad?" asked crass, the feature man. "maybe this woman was her nurse or ayah or something who got fond of her charge, and when they took it away years ago, she devoted her life to trying to find it in america. and when she got here she wasn't able to make herself known to her, and rather than let any one else--" "no more space-grabbing, crass," warned chillingworth. "maybe," ventured horace, "the young lady did settlement work and read to the woman's kid, and the kid died, and the woman thought she'd said a charm over it." chillingworth grinned affectionately. "hold up," he commanded, "or you'll recall the very words of the charm." bennietod gasped and stared. "now, bennietod?" amory encouraged him. "i t'ink," said the lad, "if she's a heiress, dis yere dagger-plunger is her mudder dat's been shut up in a mad-house to a fare-you-well." chillingworth nodded approvingly. "your imagination is toning down wonderfully," he flattered him. "a month ago you would have guessed that the mulatto lady was an egyptian princess' messenger sent over here to get the heart from an american heiress as an ingredient for a complexion lotion. you're coming on famously, todd." "the german poet wieland," began benfy, clearing his throat, "has, in his epic of the _oberon_ made admirable use of much the same idea, mr. chillingworth--" yells interrupted him. mr. benfy was too "well-read" to be wholly popular with the staff. "oh, well, the woman was crazy. that's about all," suggested harding, and blushed to the line of his hair. "yes, i guess so," assented holt, who lifted and lowered one shoulder as he talked, "or doped." chillingworth sighed and looked at them both with pursed lips. "you two," he commented, "would get out a paper that everybody would know to be full of reliable facts, and that nobody would buy. to be born with a riotous imagination and then hardly ever to let it riot is to be a born newspaper man. provin?" the elder giant leaned back, his eyes partly closed. "is she engaged to be married?" he asked. "is miss holland engaged?" chillingworth shook his head. "no," he said, "not engaged. we knew that by tea-time the same day, provin. well, st. george?" st. george drew a long breath. "by jove, i don't know," he said, "it's a stunning story. it's the best story i ever remember, excepting those two or three that have hung fire for so long. next to knowing just why old ennis disinherited his son at his marriage, i would like to ferret out this." "now, tut, st. george," amory put in tolerantly, "next to doing exactly what you will be doing all this week you'd rather ferret out this." "on my honour, no," st. george protested eagerly, "i mean quite what i say. i might go on fearfully about it. lord knows i'm going to see the day when i'll do it, too, and cut my troubles for the luck of chasing down a bully thing like this." if there was anything to forgive, every one forgave him. "but give up ten minutes on _the aloha_," amory skeptically put it, adjusting his pince-nez, "for anything less than ten minutes on _the aloha_?" "i'll do it now--now!" cried st. george. "if mr. chillingworth will put me on this story in your place and will give you a week off on _the aloha_, you may have her and welcome." little cawthorne pounded on the table. "where do i come in?" he wailed. "but no, all i get is another wad o' woe." "what do you say, mr. chillingworth?" st. george asked eagerly. "i don't know," said chillingworth, meditatively turning his glass. "st. george is rested and fresh, and he feels the story. and amory--here, touch glasses with me." amory obeyed. his chief's hand was steady, but the two glasses jingled together until, with a smile, amory dropped his arm. "i _am_ about all in, i fancy," he admitted apologetically. "a week's rest on the water," said chillingworth, "would set you on your feet for the convention. all right, st. george," he nodded. st. george leaped to his feet. "hooray!" he shouted like a boy. "jove, won't it be good to get back?" he smiled as he set down his glass, remembering the day at his desk when he had seen the white-and-brass craft slip to the river's mouth. rollo, discreet and without wonder, footed softly about the table, keeping the glasses filled and betraying no other sign of life. for more than four hours he was in attendance, until, last of the guests, little cawthorne and bennietod departed together, trying to remember the dates of the english kings. finally chillingworth and amory, having turned outdoors the dramatic critic who had arrived at midnight and was disposed to stay, stood for a moment by the fire and talked it over. "remember, st. george," chillingworth said, "i'll have no monkey-work. you'll report to me at the old hour, you won't be late; and you'll take orders--" "as usual, sir," st. george rejoined quietly. "i beg your pardon," chillingworth said quickly, "but you see this is such a deuced unnatural arrangement." "i understand," st. george assented, "and i'll do my best not to get thrown down. amory has told me all he knows about it--by the way, where is the mulatto woman now?" "why," said chillingworth, "some physician got interested in the case, and he's managed to hurry her up to the bitley reformatory in westchester for the present. she's there; and that means, we need not disguise, that nobody can see her. those bitley people are like a rabble of wild eagles." "right," said st. george. "i'll report at eight o'clock. amory can board _the aloha_ when he gets ready and take down whom he likes." "on my life, old chap, it's a private view of kedar's tents to me," said amory, his eyes shining behind his pince-nez. "i'll probably win wide disrespect by my inability to tell a mainsail from a cockpit, but i'm a grateful dog, in spite of that." when they were gone st. george sat by the fire. he read amory's story of the boris affair in the paper, which somewhere in the apartment rollo had unearthed, and the man took off his master's shoes and brought his slippers and made ready his bath. st. george glanced over his shoulder at the attractively-dismantled table, with its dying candles and slanted shades. "gad!" he said in sheer enjoyment as he clipped the story and saw rollo pass with the towels. it was so absurdly like a city room's dream of arcady. chapter ii a scrap of paper to be awakened by rollo, to be served in bed with an appetizing breakfast and to catch a hansom to the nearest elevated station were novel preparations for work in the _sentinel_ office. the impossibility of it all delighted st. george rather more than the reality, for there is no pastime, as all the world knows, quite like that of practising the impossible. the days when, "like a man unfree," he had fared forth from his unlovely lodgings clandestinely to partake of an evil omelette, seemed enchantingly far away. it was, st. george reflected, the experience of having been released from prison, minus the disgrace. yet when he opened the door of the city room the odour of the printers' ink somehow fused his elation in his liberty with the elation of the return. this was like wearing fetters for bracelets. when he had been obliged to breathe this air he had scoffed at its fascination, but now he understood. "a newspaper office," so a revered american of letters who had begun his life there had once imparted to st. george, "is a place where a man with the temperament of a savant and a recluse may bring his american vice of commercialism and worship of the uncommon, and let them have it out. newspapers have no other use--except the one i began on." when st. george entered the city room, crass, of the goblin's blood cravats, had vacated his old place, and provin was just uncovering his typewriter and banging the tin cover upon everything within reach, and bennietod was writhing over a rewrite, and chillingworth was discharging an office boy in a fashion that warmed st. george's heart. but chillingworth, the city editor, was an italicized form of chillingworth, the guest. he waved both arms at the foreman who ventured to tell him of a head that had one letter too many, and he frowned a greeting at st. george. "get right out on the boris story," he said. "i depend on you. the chief is interested in this too--telephoned to know whom i had on it." st. george knew perfectly that "the chief" was playing golf at lenox and no doubt had read no more than the head-lines of the holland story, for he was a close friend of the bishop's, and st. george knew his ways; but chillingworth's methods always told, and st. george turned away with all the old glow of his first assignment. st. george, calling up the bitley reformatory, knew that the chances and the fates were all allied against his seeing the mulatto woman; but he had learned that it is the one unexpected fate and the one apostate chance who open great good luck of any sort. so, though the journey to westchester county was almost certain to result in refusal, he meant to be confronted by that certainty before he assumed it. to the warden on the wire st. george put his inquiry. "what are your visitors' days up there, mr. jeffrey?" "thursdays," came the reply, and the warden's voice suggested handcuffs by way of hospitality. "this is st. george of the _sentinel_. i want very much to see one of your people--a mulatto woman. can you fix it for me?" "certainly not," returned the warden promptly. "the _sentinel_ knows perfectly that newspaper men can not be admitted here." "ah, well now, of course," st. george conceded, "but if you have a mysterious boarder who talks patagonian or something, and we think that perhaps we can talk with her, why then--" "it doesn't matter whether you can talk every language in south america," said the warden bruskly. "i'm very busy now, and--" "see here, mr. jeffrey," said st. george, "is no one allowed there but relatives of the guests?" "nobody,"--crisply. "i beg your pardon, that is literal?" "relatives, with a permit," divulged the warden, who, if he had had a sceptre would have used it at table, he was so fond of his little power, "and the readers' guild." "ah--the readers' guild," said st. george. "what days, mr. jeffrey?" "to-day and saturdays, ten o'clock. i'm sorry, mr. st. george, but i'm a very busy man and now--" "good-by," st. george cried triumphantly. in half an hour he was at the grand central station, boarding a train for the reformatory town. it was a little after ten o'clock when he rang the bell at the house presided over by chillingworth's "rabble of wild eagles." the reformatory, a boastful, brick building set in grounds that seemed freshly starched and ironed, had a discoloured door that would have frowned and threatened of its own accord, even without the printed warnings pasted to its panels stating that no application for admission, with or without permits, would be honoured upon any day save thursday. this was tuesday. presently, the chains having fallen within after a feudal rattling, an old man who looked born to the business of snapping up a drawbridge in lieu of a taste for any other exclusiveness peered at st. george through absurd smoked glasses, cracked quite across so that his eyes resembled buckles. "good morning," said st. george; "has the readers' guild arrived yet?" the old man grated out an assent and swung open the door, which creaked in the pitch of his voice. the bare hall was cut by a wall of steel bars whose gate was padlocked, and outside this wall the door to the warden's office stood open. st. george saw that a meeting was in progress there, and the sight disturbed him. then the click of a key caught his attention, and he turned to find the old man quietly and surprisingly swinging open the door of steel bars. "this way, sir," he said hoarsely, fixing st. george with his buckle eyes, and shambled through the door after him locking it behind them. if st. george had found awaiting him a gold throne encircled by kneeling elephants he could have been no more amazed. not a word had been said about the purpose of his visit, and not a word to the warden; there was simply this miraculous opening of the barred door. st. george breathlessly footed across the rotunda and down the dim opposite hall. there was a mistake, that was evident; but for the moment st. george was going to propose no reform. their steps echoed in the empty corridor that extended the entire length of the great building in an odour of unspeakable soap and superior disinfectants; and it was not until they reached a stair at the far end that the old man halted. "top o' the steps," he hoarsely volunteered, blinking his little buckle eyes, "first door to the left. my back's bad. i won't go up." st. george, inhumanely blessing the circumstance, slipped something in the old man's hand and sprang up the stairs. the first door at the left stood ajar. st. george looked in and saw a circle of bonnets and white curls clouded around the edge of the room, like witnesses. the readers' guild was about leaving; almost in the same instant, with that soft lift and touch which makes a woman's gown seem sewed with vowels and sibilants, they all arose and came tapping across the bare floor. at their head marched a woman with such a bright bonnet, and such a tinkle of ornaments on her gown that at first sight she quite looked like a lamp. it was she whom st. george approached. "i beg your pardon, madame," he said, "is this the readers' guild?" there was nothing in st. george's grave face and deferential stooping of shoulders to betray how his heart was beating or what a bound it gave at her amazing reply. "ah," she said, "how do you do?"--and her manner had that violent absent-mindedness which almost always proves that its possessor has trained a large family of children--"i am so glad that you can be with us to-day. i am mrs. manners--forgive me," she besought with perfectly self-possessed distractedness, "i'm afraid that i've forgotten your name." "my name is st. george," he answered as well as he could for virtual speechlessness. the other members of the guild were issuing from the room, and mrs. manners turned. she had a fashion of smiling enchantingly, as if to compensate her total lack of attention. "ladies," she said, "this is mr. st. george, at last." then she went through their names to him, and st. george bowed and caught at the flying end of the name of the woman nearest him, and muttered to them all. the one nearest was a miss bella bliss utter, a little brown nut of a woman with bead eyes. "ah, mr. st. george," said miss utter rapidly, "it has been a wonderful meeting. i wish you might have been with us. fortunately for us you are just in time for our third floor council." it had been said of st. george that when he was writing on space and was in need, buildings fell down before him to give him two columns on the first page; but any architectural manoeuvre could not have amazed him as did this. and too, though there had been occasions when silence or an evasion would have meant bread to him, the temptation to both was never so strong as at that moment. it cost st. george an effort, which he was afterward glad to remember having made, to turn to mrs. manners, who had that air of appointing committees and announcing the programme by which we always recognize a leader, and try to explain. "i am afraid," st. george said as they reached the stairs, "that you have mistaken me, mrs. manners. i am not--" "pray, pray do not mention it," cried mrs. manners, shaking her little lamp-shade of a hat at him, "we make every allowance, and i am sure that none will be necessary." "but i am with the _evening sentinel_," st. george persisted, "i am afraid that--" "as if one's profession made any difference!" cried mrs. manners warmly. "no, indeed, i perfectly understand. we all understand," she assured him, going over some papers in one hand and preparing to mount the stairs. "indeed, we appreciate it," she murmured, "do we not, miss utter?" the little brown nut seemed to crack in a capacious smile. "indeed, indeed!" she said fervently, accenting her emphasis by briefly-closed eyes. "hymn books. now, have we hymn books enough?" plaintively broke in mrs. manners. "i declare, those new hymn books don't seem to have the spirit of the old ones, no matter what _any one_ says," she informed st. george earnestly as they reached an open door. in the next moment he stood aside and the readers' guild filed past him. he followed them. this was pleasantly like magic. they entered a large chamber carpeted and walled in the garish flowers which many boards of directors suppose will joy the cheerless breast. there were present a dozen women inmates,--sullen, weary-looking beings who seemed to have made abject resignation their latest vice. they turned their lustreless eyes upon the visitors, and a portly woman in a red waist with a little american flag in a buttonhole issued to them a nasal command to rise. they got to their feet with a starched noise, like dead leaves blowing, and st. george eagerly scanned their faces. there were women of several nationalities, though they all looked raceless in the ugly uniforms which those same boards of directors consider _de rigueur_ for the soul that is to be won back to the normal. a little negress, with a spirit that soared free of boards of directors, had tried to tie her closely-clipped wool with bits of coloured string; an italian woman had a geranium over her ear; and at the end of the last row of chairs, towering above the others, was a creature of a kind of challenging, unforgetable beauty whom, with a thrill of certainty, st. george realized to be her whom he had come to see. so strong was his conviction that, as he afterward recalled, he even asked no question concerning her. she looked as manifestly not one of the canaille of incorrigibles as, in her place, lucrezia borgia would have looked. the woman was powerfully built with astonishing breadth of shoulder and length of limb, but perfectly proportioned. she was young, hardly more than twenty, st. george fancied, and of the peculiar litheness which needs no motion to be manifest. her clear skin was of wonderful brown; and her eyes, large and dark, with something of the oriental watchfulness, were like opaque gems and not more penetrable. her look was immovably fixed upon st. george as if she divined that in some way his coming affected her. "we will have our hymn first." mrs. manners' words were buzzing and pecking in the air. "what can i have done with that list of numbers? we have to select our pieces most carefully," she confided to st. george, "so to be sure that _soul's prison_ or _hands red as crimson_, or, _do you see the hebrew captive kneeling?_ or anything personal like that doesn't occur. now what can i have done with that list?" her words reached st. george but vaguely. he was in a fever of anticipation and enthusiasm. he turned quickly to mrs. manners. "during the hymn," he said simply, "i would like to speak with one of the women. have i your permission?" mrs. manners looked momentarily perplexed; but her eyes at that instant chancing upon her lost list of hymns, she let fall an abstracted assent and hurried to the waiting organist. immediately st. george stepped quietly down among the women already fluttering the leaves of their hymn books, and sat beside the mulatto woman. her eyes met his in eager questioning, but she had that temper of unsurprise of many of the eastern peoples and of some animals. yet she was under some strong excitement, for her hands, large but faultlessly modeled, were pressed tensely together. and st. george saw that she was by no means a mulatto, or of any race that he was able to name. her features were classic and of exceeding fineness, and her face was sensitive and highly-bred and filled with repose, like the surprising repose of breathing arrested in marble. there was that about her, however, which would have made one, constituted to perceive only the arbitrary balance of things, feel almost afraid; while one of high organization would inevitably have been smitten by some sense of the incalculably higher organization of her nature, a nature which breathed forth an influence, laid a spell--did something indefinable. sometimes one stands too closely to a statue and is frightened by the nearness, as by the nearness of one of an alien region. st. george felt this directly he spoke to her. he shook off the impression and set himself practically to the matter in hand. he had never had greater need of his faculty for directness. his low tone was quite matter-of-fact, his manner deferentially reassuring. "i think," he said softly and without preface, "that i can help you. will you let me help you? will you tell me quickly your name?" the woman's beautiful eyes were filled with distress, but she shook her head. "your name--name--name?" st. george repeated earnestly, but she had only the same answer. "can you not tell me where you live?" st. george persisted, and she made no other sign. "new york?" went on st. george patiently. "new york? do you live in new york?" there was a sudden gleam in the woman's eyes. she extended her hands quickly in unmistakable appeal. then swiftly she caught up a hymn book, tore at its fly-leaf, and made the movement of writing. in an instant st. george had thrust a pencil in her hand and she was tracing something. he waited feverishly. the organ had droned through the hymn and the women broke into song, with loose lips and without restraint, as street boys sing. he saw them casting curious, sullen glances, and the readers' guild whispering among themselves. miss bella bliss utter, looking as distressed as a nut can look, nodded, and mrs. manners shook her head and they meant the same thing. then st. george saw the attendant in the red waist descend from the platform and make her way toward him, the little american flag rising and falling on her breast. he unhesitatingly stepped in the aisle to meet her, determined to prevent, if possible, her suspicion of the message. "is it the barbarism of a gentleman," amory had once propounded, "or is it the gentleman-like manners of a barbarian which makes both enjoy over-stepping a prohibition?" "i compliment you," st. george said gravely, with his deferential stooping of the shoulders. "the women are perfectly trained. this, of course, is due to you." the hard face of the woman softened, but st. george thought that one might call her very facial expression nasal; she smiled with evident pleasure, though her purpose remained unshaken. "they do pretty good," she admitted, "but visitors ain't best for 'em. i'll have to request you"--st. george vaguely wished that she would say "ask"--"not to talk to any of 'em." st. george bowed. "it is a great privilege," he said warmly if a bit incoherently, and held her in talk about an institution of the sort in canada where the women inmates wore white, the managers claiming that the effect upon their conduct was perceptible, that they were far more self-respecting, and so on in a labyrinth of defensive detail. "what do you think of the idea?" he concluded anxiously, manfully holding his ground in the aisle. "i think it's mostly nonsense," returned the woman tartly, "a big expense and a sight of work for nothing. and now permit me to say--" st. george vaguely wished that she would say "let." "i agree with you," he said earnestly, "nothing could be simpler and neater than these calico gowns." the attendant looked curiously at him. "they are gingham," she rejoined, "and you'll excuse me, i hope, but visitors ain't supposed to converse with the inmates." st. george was vanquished by "converse." "i beg your pardon," he said, "pray forgive me. i will say good-by to my friend." he turned swiftly and extended his hand to the strange woman behind him. with the cunning upon which he had counted she gave her own hand, slipping in his the folded paper. her eyes, with their haunting watchfulness, held his for a moment as she mutely bent forward when he left her. the hymn was done and the women were seating themselves, as st. george with beating heart took his way up the aisle. what the paper contained he could not even conjecture; but there _was_ a paper and it _did_ contain something which he had a pleasant premonition would be invaluable to him. yet he was still utterly at loss to account for his own presence there, and this he coolly meant to do. he was spared the necessity. on the platform mrs. manners had risen to make an announcement; and st. george fancied that she must preside at her tea-urn and try on her bonnets with just that same formal little "announcement" air. "my friends," she said, "i have now an unexpected pleasure for you and for us all. we have with us to-day mr. st. george, of new york. mr. st. george is going to sing for us." st. george stood still for a moment, looking into the expectant faces of mrs. manners and the other women of the readers' guild, a spark of understanding kindling the mirth in his eyes. this then accounted both for his admittance to the home and for his welcome by the women upon their errand of mercy. he had simply been very naturally mistaken for a stranger from new york who had not arrived. but since he had accomplished something, though he did not know what, inasmuch as the slip of paper lay crushed in his hand unread, he must, he decided, pay for it. without ado he stepped to the platform. "i have explained to mrs. manners and to these ladies," he said gravely, "that i am not the gentleman who was to sing for you. however, since he is detained, i will do what i can." this, mistaken for a merely perfunctory speech of self-depreciation, was received in polite, contradicting silence by the guild. st. george, who had a rich, true barytone, quickly ran over his little list of possible songs, none of which he had ever sung to an audience that a canoe would not hold, or to other accompaniment than that of a mandolin. partly in memory of those old canoe-evenings st. george broke into a low, crooning plantation melody. the song, like much of the southern music, had in it a semi-barbaric chord that the college men had loved, something--or so one might have said who took the canoe-music seriously--of the wildness and fierceness of old tribal loves and plaints and unremembered wooings with a desert background: a gallop of hoof-beats, a quiver of noon light above saffron sand--these had been, more or less, in the music when st. george had been wont to lie in a boat and pick at the strings while amory paddled; and these he must have reëchoed before the crowd of curious and sullen and commonplace, lighted by that one wild, strange face. when he had finished the dark woman sat with bowed head, and st. george himself was more moved by his own effort than was strictly professional. "dear mr. st. george," said mrs. manners, going distractedly through her hand-bag for something unknown, "our secretary will thank you formally. it was she who sent you our request, was it not? she _will_ so regret being absent to-day." "she did not send me a request, mrs. manners," persisted st. george pleasantly, "but i've been uncommonly glad to do what i could. i am here simply on a mission for the _evening sentinel_." mrs. manners drew something indefinite from her bag and put it back again, and looked vaguely at st. george. "your voice reminds me so much of my brother, younger," she observed, her eyes already straying to the literature for distribution. with soft exclamatory twitters the readers' guild thanked st. george, and miss bella bliss utter, who was of womankind who clasp their hands when they praise, stood thus beside him until he took his leave. the woman in the red waist summoned an attendant to show him back down the long corridor. at the grated door within the entrance st. george found the warden in stormy conference with a pale blond youth in spectacles. "impossible," the warden was saying bluntly, "i know you. i know your voice. you called me up this morning from the _new york sentinel_ office, and i told you then--" "but, my dear sir," expostulated the pale blond youth, waving a music roll, "i do assure you--" "what he says is quite true, warden," st. george interposed courteously, "i will vouch for him. i have just been singing for the readers' guild myself." the warden dropped back with a grudging apology and brows of tardy suspicion, and the old man blinked his buckle eyes. "gentlemen," said st. george, "good morning." outside the door, with its panels decorated in positive prohibitions, he eagerly unfolded the precious paper. it bore a single name and address: tabnit, 19 mcdougle street, new york. chapter iii st. george and the lady st. george lunched leisurely at his hotel. upon his return from westchester he had gone directly to mcdougle street to be assured that there was a house numbered 19. without difficulty he had found the place; it was in the row of old iron-balconied apartment houses a few blocks south of washington square, and no. 19 differed in no way from its neighbours even to the noisy children, without toys, tumbling about the sunken steps and dark basement door. st. george contented himself with walking past the house, for the mere assurance that the place existed dictated his next step. this was to write a note to mrs. medora hastings, miss holland's aunt. the note set forth that for reasons which he would, if he might, explain later, he was interested in the woman who had recently made an attempt upon her niece's life; that he had seen the woman and had obtained an address which he was confident would lead to further information about her. this address, he added, he preferred not to disclose to the police, but to mrs. hastings or miss holland herself, and he begged leave to call upon them if possible that day. he despatched the note by rollo, whom he instructed to deliver it, not at the desk, but at the door of mrs. hastings' apartment, and to wait for an answer. he watched with pleasure rollo's soft departure, recalling the days when he had sent a messenger boy to some inaccessible threshold, himself stamping up and down in the cold a block or so away to await the boy's return. rollo was back almost immediately. mrs. hastings and miss holland were not at home. st. george eyed his servant severely. "rollo," he said, "did you go to the door of their apartment?" "no, sir," said rollo stiffly, "the elevator boy told me they was out, sir." "showing," thought st. george, "that a valet and a gentleman is a very poor newspaper man." "now go back," he said pleasantly, "go up in the elevator to their door. if they are not in, wait in the lower hallway until they return. do you get that? until they return." "you'll want me back by tea-time, sir?" ventured rollo. "wait," st. george repeated, "until they return. at three. or six. or nine o'clock. or midnight." "very good, sir," said rollo impassively, "it ain't always wise, sir, for a man to trust to his own judgment, sir, asking your pardon. his judgment," he added, "may be a bit of the ape left in him, sir." st. george smiled at this evolutionary pearl and settled himself comfortably by the open fire to await rollo's return. it was after three o'clock when he reappeared. he brought a note and st. george feverishly tore it open. "whom did you see? were they civil to you?" he demanded. "i saw a old lady, sir," said rollo irreverently. "she didn't say a word to me, sir, but what she didn't say was civiler than many people's language. there's a great deal in manner, sir," declaimed rollo, brushing his hat with his sleeve, and his sleeve with his handkerchief, and shaking the handkerchief meditatively over the coals. st. george read the note at a glance and with unspeakable relief. they would see him. a refusal would have delayed and annoyed him just then, in the flood-tide of his hope. "my dear mr. st. george," the note ran. "my niece is not at home, and i can not tell how your suggestion will be received by her, though it is most kind. i may, however, answer for myself that i shall be glad to see you at four o'clock this afternoon. "very truly yours, "medora hastings." grateful for her evident intention to waste no time, st. george dressed and drove to the boris, punctually sending up his card at four o'clock. at once he was ushered to mrs. hastings' apartment. st. george entered her drawing-room incuriously. three years of entering drawing-rooms which he never thereafter was to see had robbed him of that sensation of indefinable charm which for many a strange room never ceases to yield. he had found far too many tables upholding nothing which one could remember, far too many pictures that returned his look, and rugs that seemed to have been selected arbitrarily and because there was none in stock that the owner really liked. he was therefore pleasantly surprised and puzzled by the room which welcomed him. the floor was tiled in curious blocks, strangely hieroglyphed, as if they had been taken from old tombs. over the fireplace was set a panel of the same stone, which, by the thickness of the tiles, formed a low shelf. on this shelf and on tables and in a high window was the strangest array of objects that st. george had ever seen. there were small busts of soft rose stone, like blocks of coral. there was a statue or two of some indefinable white material, glistening like marble and yet so soft that it had been indented in several places by accidental pressure. there were fans of strangely-woven silk, with sticks of carven rock-crystal, and hand mirrors of polished copper set in frames of gems that he did not recognize. upon the wall were mended bits of purple tapestry, embroidered or painted or woven in singular patterns of flora and birds that st. george could not name. there were rolls of parchment, and vases of rock-crystal, and a little apparatus, most delicately poised, for weighing unknown, delicate things; and jars and cups without handles, all baked of a soft pottery having a nap like the down of a peach. over the windows hung curtains of lace, woven by hands which st. george could not guess, in patterns of such freedom and beauty as western looms never may know. on the floor and on the divans were spread strange skins, some marked like peacocks, some patterned like feathers and like seaweed, all in a soft fur that was like silk. mingled with these curios were the ordinary articles of a cultivated household. there were many books, good pictures, furniture with simple lines, a tea-table that almost ministered of itself, a work-basket filled with "violet-weaving" needle-work, and a gossipy clock with well-bred chimes. st. george was enormously attracted by the room which could harbour so many pagan delights without itself falling their victim. the air was fresh and cool and smelled of the window primroses. [illustration] in a few moments mrs. hastings entered, and if st. george had been bewildered by the room he was still more amazed by the appearance of his hostess. she was utterly unlike the atmosphere of her drawing-room. she was a bustling, commonplace little creature, with an expressionless face, indented rather than molded in features. her plump hands were covered with jewels, but for all the richness of her gown she gave the impression of being very badly dressed; things of jet and metal bobbed and ticked upon her, and her side-combs were continually falling about. she sat on the sofa and looked at the seat which st. george was to have and began to talk--all without taking the slightest heed of him or permitting him to mention the _evening sentinel_ or his errand. if st. george had been painted purple he felt sure that she would have acted quite the same. personality meant nothing to her. "now this distressing matter, mr. st. george," began mrs. hastings, "of this frightful mulatto woman. i didn't see her myself--no, i had stopped in on the first floor to visit my lawyer's wife who was ill with neuralgia, and i didn't see the creature. if i had been with my niece i dare say it wouldn't have occurred. that's what i always say to my niece. i always say, 'olivia, nothing _need_ occur to vex one. it always happens because of pure heedlessness.' not that i accuse my own niece of heedlessness in this particular. it was the elevator boy who was heedless. that is the trouble with life in a great city. every breath you draw is always dependent on somebody else's doing his duty, and when you consider how many people habitually neglect their duty it is a wonder--i always say that to olivia--it is a wonder that anybody is alive to _do_ a duty when it presents itself. 'olivia,' i always say, 'nobody needs to die.' and i really believe that they nearly all do die out of pure heedlessness. well, and so this frightful mulatto creature: you know her, i understand?" mrs. hastings leaned back and consulted st. george through her tortoise-shell glasses, tilting her head high to keep them on her nose and perpetually putting their gold chain over her ear, which perpetually pulled out her side-combs. "i saw her this morning," st. george said. "i went up to the reformatory in westchester, and i spoke with her." "mercy!" ejaculated mrs. hastings, "i wonder she didn't tear your eyes out. did they have her in a cage or in a cell? what was the creature about?" "she was in a missionary meeting at the moment," st. george explained, smiling. "mercy!" said mrs. hastings in exactly the same tone. "some trick, i expect. that's what i warn olivia: 'so few things nowadays are done through necessity or design.' nearly everything is a trick. every invention is a trick--a cultured trick, one might say. murder is a trick, i suppose, to a murderer. that's why civilization is bad for morals, don't you think? well, and so she talked with you?" "no, mrs. hastings," said st. george, "she did not say one word. but she wrote something, and that is what i have come to bring you." "what was it--some charm?" cried mrs. hastings. "oh, nobody knows what that kind of people may do. i'll meet any one face to face, but these juggling, incantation individuals appal me. i have a brother who travels in the orient, and he tells me about hideous things they do--raising wheat and things," she vaguely concluded. "ah!" said st. george quickly, "you have a brother--in the orient?" "oh, yes. my brother otho has traveled abroad i don't know how many years. we have a great many stamps. i can't begin to pronounce all the names," the lady assured him. "and this brother--is he your niece, miss holland's father?" st. george asked eagerly. "certainly," said mrs. hastings severely; "i have only one brother, and it has been three years since i have seen him." "pardon me, mrs. hastings," said st. george, "this may be most important. will you tell me when you last heard from him and where he was?" "i should have to look up the place," she answered, "i couldn't begin to pronounce the name, i dare say. it was somewhere in the south atlantic, ten months or more ago." "ah," st. george quietly commented. "well, and now this frightful creature," resumed mrs. hastings, "do, pray, tell me what it was she wrote." st. george produced the paper. "that is it," he said. "i fancy you will not know the street. it is 19 mcdougle street, and the name is simply tabnit." "yes. and is it a letter?" his hostess demanded, "and whatever does it say?" "it is not a letter," st. george explained patiently, "and this is all that it says. the name is, i suppose, the name of a person. i have made sure that there is such a number in the street. i have seen the house. but i have waited to consult you before going there." "why, what is it you think?" mrs. hastings besought him. "do you think this person, whoever it is, can do something? and whatever can he do? oh dear," she ended, "i do want to act the way poor dear mr. hastings would have acted. only i know that he would have gone straight to bitley, or wherever she is, and held a revolver at that mulatto creature's head, and _commanded_ her to talk english. mr. hastings was a very determined character. if you could have seen the poor dear man's chin! but of course i can't do that, can i? and that's what i say to olivia. 'olivia, one doesn't _need_ a man's judgment if one will only use judgment oneself.' what is it you think, mr. st. george?" before st. george could reply there entered the room, behind a low announcement of his name, a man of sixty-odd years, nervous, slightly stooped, his smooth pale face unlighted by little deep-set eyes. "ah, mr. frothingham!" said mrs. hastings in evident relief, "you are just in time. mr. st. john was just telling me horrible things about this frightful mulatto creature. this is mr. st. john. mr. frothingham is my lawyer and my brother otho's lawyer. and so i telephoned him to come in and hear all about this. and now do go on, mr. st. john, about this hideous woman. what is it you think?" "how do you do, mr. st. john?" said the lawyer portentously. his greeting was almost a warning, and reminded st. george of the way in which certain brakemen call out stations. st. george responded as blithely to this name as to his own and did not correct it. "and what," went on the lawyer, sitting down with long unclosed hands laid trimly along his knees, "have you to contribute to this most remarkable occurrence, mr. st. john?" st. george briefly narrated the events of the morning and placed the slip of paper in the lawyer's hands. "ah! we have here a communication in the nature of a confession," the lawyer observed, adjusting his gold pince-nez, head thrown back, eyebrows lifted. "only the address, sir," said st. george, "and i was just saying to mrs. hastings that some one ought to go to this address at once and find out whatever is to be got there. whoever goes i will very gladly accompany." mr. frothingham had a fashion of making ready to speak and soliciting attention by the act, and then collapsing suddenly with no explosion, like a bad roman candle. he did this now, and whatever he meant to say was lost to the race; but he looked very wise the while. it was rather as if he discarded you as a fit listener, than that he discarded his own comment. "i don't know but i ought to go myself," rambled mrs. hastings, "perhaps mr. hastings would think i ought. suppose, mr. frothingham, that we both go. dear, dear! olivia always sees to my shopping and flowers and everything executive, but i can't let her go into these frightful places, can i?" there was a rustling at the far end of the room, and some one entered. st. george did not turn, but as her soft skirts touched and lifted along the floor he was tinglingly aware of her presence. even before mrs. hastings heard her light footfall, even before the clear voice spoke, st. george knew that he was at last in the presence of the arbiter of his enterprise, and of how much else he did not know. he was silent, breathlessly waiting for her to speak. "may i come in, aunt dora?" she said. "i want to know to what place it is impossible for me to go?" she came from the long room's boundary shadow. there was about her a sense of white and gray with a knot of pale colour in her hat and an orchid on her white coat. mrs. hastings, taking no more account of her presence than she had of st. george's, tilted back her head and looked at the primroses in the window as closely as at anything, and absently presented him. "olivia," she said, "this is mr. st. john, who knows about that frightful mulatto creature. mr. st. george," she went on, correcting the name entirely unintentionally, "my niece, miss holland. and i'm sure i wish i knew what the necessary thing to be done _is_. that is what i always tell you, you know, olivia. 'find out the necessary thing and do it, and let the rest go.'" "it reminds me very much," said the lawyer, clearing his throat, "of a case that i had on the april calendar--" miss holland had turned swiftly to st. george: "you know the mulatto woman?" she asked, and the lawyer passed by the april calendar and listened. "i went to the bitley reformatory this morning to see her," st. george replied. "she gave me this name and address. we have been saying that some one ought to go there to learn what is to be learned." mr. frothingham in a silence of pursed lips offered the paper. miss holland glanced at it and returned it. "will you tell us what your interest is in this woman?" she asked evenly. "why you went to see her?" "yes, miss holland," st. george replied, "you know of course that the police have done their best to run this matter down. you know it because you have courteously given them every assistance in your power. but the police have also been very ably assisted by every newspaper in town. i am fortunate to be acting in the interests of one of these--the _sentinel_. this clue was put in my hands. i came to you confident of your coöperation." mrs. hastings threw up her hands with a gesture that caught away the chain of her eye-glass and sent it dangling in her lap, and her side-combs tinkling to the tiled floor. "mercy!" she said, "a reporter!" st. george bowed. "but i never receive reporters!" she cried, "olivia--don't you know? a newspaper reporter like that fearful man at palm beach, who put me in the courtney's ball list in a blue silk when i never wear colours." "now really, really, this intrusion--" began mr. frothingham, his long, unclosed hands working forward on his knees in undulations, as a worm travels. miss holland turned to st. george, the colour dyeing her face and throat, her manner a bewildering mingling of graciousness and hauteur. "my aunt is right," she said tranquilly, "we never have received any newspaper representative. therefore, we are unfortunate never to have met one. you were saying that we should send some one to mcdougle street?" st. george was aware of his heart-beats. it was all so unexpected and so dangerous, and she was so perfectly equal to the circumstance. "i was asking to be allowed to go myself, miss holland," he said simply, "with whoever makes the investigation." mrs. hastings was looking mutely from one to another, her forehead in horizons of wrinkles. "i'm sure, olivia, i think you ought to be careful what you say," she plaintively began. "mr. hastings never allowed his name to go in any printed lists even, he was so particular. our telephone had a private number, and all the papers had instructions never to mention him, even if he was murdered, unless he took down the notice himself. then if anything important did happen, he often did take it down, nicely typewritten, and sometimes even then they didn't use it, because they knew how very particular he was. and of course we don't know how--" st. george's eyes blazed, but he did not lift them. the affront was unstudied and, indeed, unconscious. but miss holland understood how grave it was, for there are women whose intuition would tell them the etiquette due upon meeting the first syndic of andorra or a noble from gambodia. "we want the truth about this as much as mr. st. george does," she said quickly, smiling for the first time. st. george liked her smile. it was as if she were amused, not absent-minded nor yet a prey to the feminine immorality of ingratiation. "besides," she continued, "i wish to know a great many things. how did the mulatto woman impress you, mr. st. george?" miss holland loosened her coat, revealing a little flowery waist, and leaned forward with parted lips. she was very beautiful, with the beauty of perfect, blooming, colourful youth, without line or shadow. she was in the very noon of youth, but her eyes did not wander after the habit of youth; they were direct and steady and a bit critical, and she spoke slowly and with graceful sanity in a voice that was without nationality. she might have been the cultivated english-speaking daughter of almost any land of high civilization, or she might have been its princess. her face showed her imaginative; her serene manner reassured one that she had not, in consequence, to pay the usury of lack of judgment; she seemed reflective, tender, and of a fine independence, tempered, however, by tradition and unerring taste. above all, she seemed alive, receptive, like a woman with ten senses. and--above all again--she had charm. finally, st. george could talk with her; he did not analyze why; he only knew that this woman understood what he said in precisely the way that he said it, which is, perhaps, the fifth essence in nature. "may i tell you?" asked st. george eagerly. "she seemed to me a very wonderful woman, miss holland; almost a woman of another world. she is not mulatto--her features are quite classic; and she is not a fanatic or a mad-woman. she is, of her race, a strangely superior creature, and i fancy, of high cultivation; and i am convinced that at the foundation of her attempt to take your life there is some tremendous secret. i think we must find out what that is, first, for your own sake; next, because this is the sort of thing that is worth while." "ah," cried miss holland, "delightful. i begin to be glad that it happened. the police said that she was a great brutal negress, and i thought she must be insane. the cloth-of-gold and the jewels did make me wonder, but i hardly believed that." "the newspapers," mr. frothingham said acidly, "became very much involved in their statements concerning this matter." "this 'tabnit,'" said miss holland, and flashed a smile of pretty deference at the lawyer to console him for her total neglect of his comment, "in mcdougle street. who can he be?--he _is_ a man, i suppose. and where is mcdougle street?" st. george explained the location, and mrs. hastings fretfully commented. "i'm sure, olivia," she said, "i think it is frightfully unwomanly in you--" "to take so much interest in my own murder?" miss holland asked in amusement. "aunt dora, i'm going to do more: i suggest that you and mr. frothingham and i go with mr. st. george to this address in mcdougle street--" "my dear olivia!" shrilled mrs. hastings, "it's in the very heart of the bowery--isn't it, mr. st. john? and only think--" it was as if mrs. hastings' frustrate words emerged in the fantastic guise of her facial changes. "no, it isn't quite the bowery, mrs. hastings," st. george explained, "though it won't look unlike." "i wish i knew what mr. hastings would have done," his widow mourned, "he always said to me: 'medora, do only the necessary thing.' do you think this _is_ the necessary thing--with all the frightful smells?" "it is perfectly safe," ventured st. george, "is it not, mr. frothingham?" mr. frothingham bowed and tried to make non-partisanship seem a tasteful resignation of his own will. "i am at mrs. hastings' command," he said, waving both hands, once, from the wrist. "you know the place is really only a few blocks from washington square," st. george submitted. mrs. hastings brightened. "well, i have some friends in washington square," she said, "people whom i think a great deal of, and always have. if you really feel, olivia--" "i do," said miss holland simply, "and let us go now, aunt dora. the brougham has been at the door since i came in. we may as well drive there as anywhere, if mr. st. george is willing." "i shall be happy," said st. george sedately, longing to cry: "willing! willing! oh, mrs. hastings and miss holland--_willing_!" miss holland and st. george and the lawyer were alone for a few minutes while mrs. hastings rustled away for her bonnet. miss holland sat where the afternoon light, falling through the corner window, smote her hair to a glory of pale colour, and st. george's eyes wandered to the glass through which the sun fell. it was a thin pane of irregular pieces set in a design of quaint, meaningless characters, in the centre of which was the figure of a sphinx, crucified upon an upright cross and surrounded by a border of coiled asps with winged heads. the window glittered like a sheet of gems. "what wonderful glass," involuntarily said st. george. "is it not?" miss holland said enthusiastically. "my father sent it. he sent nearly all these things from abroad." "i wonder where such glass is made," observed st. george; "it is like lace and precious stones--hardly more painted than carved." she bent upon him such a sudden, searching look that st. george felt his eyes held by her own. "do you know anything of my father?" she demanded suddenly. "only that mrs. hastings has just told me that he is abroad--in the south atlantic," st. george wonderingly replied. "why, i am very foolish," said miss holland quickly, "we have not heard from him in ten months now, and i am frightfully worried. ah yes, the glass is beautiful. it was made in one of the south atlantic islands, i believe--so were all these things," she added; "the same figure of the crucified sphinx is on many of them." "do you know what it means?" he asked. "it is the symbol used by the people in one of the islands, my father said," she answered. "these symbols usually, i believe," volunteered mr. frothingham, frowning at the glass, "have little significance, standing merely for the loose barbaric ideas of a loose barbaric nation." st. george thought of the ladies of doctor johnson's amicable society who walked from the town hall to the cathedral in lichfield, "in linen gowns, and each has a stick with an acorn; but for the acorn they could give no reason." he looked long at the glass. "she," he said finally, "our false mulatto, ought to stand before just such glass." miss holland laughed. she nodded her head a little, once, every time she laughed, and st. george was learning to watch for that. "the glass would suit any style of beauty better than steel bars," she said lightly as mrs. hastings came fluttering back. mrs. hastings fluttered ponderously, as humblebees fly. indeed, when one considered, there was really a "blunt-faced bee" look about the woman. the brougham had on the box two men in smart livery; the footman, closing the door, received st. george's reply to mrs. hastings' appeal to "tell the man the number of this frightful place." "i dare say i haven't been careful," mrs. hastings kept anxiously observing, "i have been heedless, i dare say. and i always think that what one must avoid is heedlessness, don't you think? didn't napoleon say that if only cæsar had been first in killing the men who wanted to kill him--something about pompey's statue being kept clean. what was it--why should they blame cæsar for the condition of the public statues?" "my dear mrs. hastings," mr. frothingham reminded her, his long gloved hands laid trimly along his knees as before, "you are in my care." the statue problem faded from the lady's eyes. "poor, dear mr. hastings always said you were so admirable at cross-questioning," she recalled, partly reassured. "ah," cried miss holland protestingly, "aunt dora, this is an adventure. we are going to see 'tabnit.'" st. george was silent, ecstatically reviewing the events of the last six hours and thinking unenviously of amory, rocking somewhere with _the aloha_ on a mere stretch of green water: "if chillingworth could see me now," he thought victoriously, as the carriage turned smartly into mcdougle street. chapter iv the prince of far-away no. 19 mcdougle street had been chosen as a likely market by a "hokey-pokey" man, who had wheeled his cart to the curb before the entrance. there, despite mrs. hastings' coach-man's peremptory appeal, he continued to dispense stained ice-cream to the little denizens of no. 19 and the other houses in the row. the brougham, however, at once proved a counter-attraction and immediately an opposition group formed about the carriage step and exchanged penetrating comments upon the livery. "mrs. hastings, you and miss holland would better sit here, perhaps," suggested st. george, alighting hurriedly, "until i see if this man is to be found." "please," said miss holland, "i've always been longing to go into one of these houses, and now i'm going. aren't we, aunt dora?" "if you think--" ventured mr. frothingham in perplexity; but mr. frothingham's perplexity always impressed one as duty-born rather than judicious, and miss holland had already risen. "olivia!" protested mrs. hastings faintly, accepting st. george's hand, "do look at those children's aprons. i'm afraid we'll all contract fever after fever, just coming this far." unkempt women were occupying the doorstep of no. 19. st. george accosted them and asked the way to the rooms of a mr. tabnit. they smiled, displaying their wonderful teeth, consulted together, and finally with many labials and uncouth pointings of shapely hands they indicated the door of the "first floor front," whose wooden shutters were closely barred. st. george led the way and entered the bare, unclean passage where discordant voices and the odours of cooking wrought together to poison the air. he tapped smartly at the door. immediately it was opened by a graceful boy, dressed in a long, belted coat of dun-colour. he had straight black hair, and eyes which one saw before one saw his face, and he gravely bowed to each of the party in turn before answering st. george's question. "assuredly," said the youth in perfect english, "enter." they found themselves in an ample room extending the full depth of the house; and partly because the light was dim and partly in sheer amazement they involuntarily paused as the door clicked behind them. the room's contrast to the squalid neighbourhood was complete. the apartment was carpeted in soft rugs laid one upon another so that footfalls were silenced. the walls and ceiling were smoothly covered with a neutral-tinted silk, patterned in dim figures; and from a fluted pillar of exceeding lightness an enormous candelabrum shed clear radiance upon the objects in the room. the couches and divans were woven of some light reed, made with high fantastic backs, in perfect purity of line however, and laid with white mattresses. a little reed table showed slender pipes above its surface and these, at a touch from the boy, sent to a great height tiny columns of water that tinkled back to the square of metal upon which the table was set. a huge fan of blanched grasses automatically swayed from above. on a side-table were decanters and cups and platters of a material frail and transparent. before the shuttered window stood an observable plant with coloured leaves. on a great table in the room's centre were scattered objects which confused the eye. a light curtain stirring in the fan's faint breeze hung at the far end of the room. in a career which had held many surprises, some of which st. george would never be at liberty to reveal to the paper in whose service he had come upon them, this was one of the most alluring. the mere existence of this strange and luxurious habitation in the heart of such a neighbourhood would, past expression, delight mr. crass, the feature man, and no doubt move even chillingworth to approval. chillingworth and crass! already they seemed strangers. st. george glanced at miss holland; she was looking from side to side, like a bird alighted among strange flowers; she met his eyes and dimpled in frank delight. mrs. hastings sat erectly beside her, her tortoise-rimmed glasses expressing bland approval. the improbability of her surroundings had quite escaped her in her satisfied discovery that the place was habitable. the lawyer, his thin lips parted, his head thrown back so that his hair rested upon his coat collar, remained standing, one long hand upon a coat lapel. "ah," said miss holland softly, "it _is_ an adventure, aunt dora." st. george liked that. it irritated him, he had once admitted, to see a woman live as if living were a matter of life and death. he wished her to be alive to everything, but without suspiciously scrutinizing details, like a census-taker. to appreciate did not seem to him properly to mean to assess. miss holland, he would have said, seemed to live by the beats of her heart and not by the waves of her hair--but another proof, perhaps, of "if thou likest her opinions thou wilt praise her virtues." it was but a moment before the curtain was lifted, and there approached a youth, apparently in the twenties, slender and delicately formed as a woman, his dark face surmounted by a great deal of snow-white hair. he was wearing garments of grey, cut in unusual and graceful lines, and his throat was closely wound in folds of soft white, fastened by a rectangular green jewel of notable size and brilliance. his eyes, large and of exceeding beauty and gentleness, were fixed upon st. george. "sir," said st. george, "we have been given this address as one where we may be assisted in some inquiries of the utmost importance. the name which we have is simply 'tabnit.' have i the honour--" their host bowed. "i am prince tabnit," he said quietly. st. george, filled with fresh amazement, gravely named himself and, making presentation of the others, purposely omitted the name of miss holland. however, hardly had he finished before their host bowed before miss holland herself. "and you," he said, "you to whom i owe an expiation which i can never make,--do you know it is my servant who would have taken your life?" in the brief interval following this naïve assertion, his guests were not unnaturally speechless. miss holland, bending slightly forward, looked at the prince breathlessly. "i have suffered," he went on, "i have suffered indescribably since that terrible morning when i missed her and understood her mission. i followed quickly--i was without when you entered, but i came too late. since then i have waited, unwilling to go to you, certain that the gods would permit the possible. and now--what shall i say?" he hesitated, his eyes meeting miss holland's. and in that moment mrs. hastings found her voice. she curved the chain of her eye-glasses over her ear, threw back her head until the tortoise-rims included her host, and spoke her mind. "well, prince tabnit," she said sharply--quite as if, st. george thought, she had been nursery governess to princes all her life--"i must say that i think your regret comes somewhat late in the day. it's all very well to suffer as you say over what your servant has tried to do. but what kind of man must you be to have such a servant, in the first place? didn't you know that she was dangerous and blood-thirsty, and very likely a maniac-born?" her voice, never modulated in her excitements, was so full that no one heard at that instant a quick, indrawn breath from st. george, having something of triumph and something of terror. even as he listened he had been running swiftly over the objects in the room to fasten every one in his memory, and his eyes had rested upon the table at his side. a disc of bronze, supported upon a carven tripod, caught the light and challenged attention to its delicate traceries; and within its border of asps and goat's horns he saw cut in the dull metal a sphinx crucified upon an upright cross--an exact facsimile of the device upon that strange opalized glass from some far-away island which he had lately noted in the window in mrs. hastings' drawing-room. instantly his mind was besieged by a volley of suppositions and imaginings, but even in his intense excitement as to what this simple discovery might bode, he heard the prince's soft reply to mrs. hastings: "madame," said the prince, "she is a loyal creature. whatever she does, she believes herself to be doing in my service. i trusted her. i believed that such error was impossible to her." "error!" shrilled mrs. hastings, looking about her for support and finding little in the aspect of mr. augustus frothingham, who appeared to be regarding the whole proceeding as one from which he was to extract data to be thought out at some future infinitely removed. as for st. george, he had never had great traffic with a future infinitely removed; he had a youthful and somewhat imaginative fashion of striking before the iron was well in the fire. "your servant believed, then, your highness," he said clearly, "that in taking miss holland's life she was serving you?" "i must regretfully conclude so." st. george rose, holding the little brazen disc which he had taken from the table, and confronted his host, compelling his eyes. "perhaps you will tell us, prince tabnit," he said coolly, "what it is that the people who use this device find against miss holland's father?" st. george heard olivia's little broken cry. "it is the same!" she exclaimed. "aunt dora--mr. frothingham--it is the crucified sphinx that was on so many of the things that father sent. oh," she cried to the prince, "can it be possible that you know him--that you know anything of my father?" to st. george's amazement the face of the prince softened and glowed as if with peculiar delight, and he looked at st. george with admiration. "is it possible," he murmured, half to himself, "that your race has already developed intuition? are you indeed so near to the unknown?" he took quick steps away and back, and turned again to st. george, a strange joy dawning in his face. "if there be some who are ready to know!" he said. "ah," he recalled himself penitently to miss holland, "your father--otho holland, i have seen him many times." "_seen otho_!" shrilled mrs. hastings, as pink and trembling and expressionless as a disturbed mold of jelly. "oh, poor, dear otho! did he live where there are people like your frightful servant? olivia, think! maybe he is lying at the bottom of a gorge, all wounded and bloody, with a dagger in his back! oh, my poor, dear otho, who used to wheel me about!" mrs. hastings collapsed softly on the divan, her glasses fallen in her lap, her side-combs slipping silently to the rug. olivia had risen and was standing before prince tabnit. "tell me," she said trembling, "when have you seen him? is he well?" prince tabnit swept the faces of the others and his eyes returned to miss holland and dropped to the floor. "the last time that i saw him, miss holland," he answered, "was three months ago. he was then alive and well." something in his tone chilled st. george and sent a sudden thrill of fear to his heart. "he was then alive and well?" st. george repeated slowly. "will you tell us more, your highness? will you tell us why the death of his daughter should be considered a service to the prince of a country which he had visited?" "you are very wonderful," observed the prince, smiling meditatively at st. george, "and your penetration gives me good news--news that i had not hoped for, yet. i can not tell you all that you ask, but i can tell you much. will you sit down?" he turned and glanced at the curtain at the far end of the room. instantly the boy servant appeared, bearing a tray on which were placed, in dishes of delicate-coloured filigree, strange dainties not to be classified even by a cosmopolitan, with his flemish and finnish and all but icelandic cafés in every block. "pray do me the honour," the prince besought, taking the dishes from the hands of the boy. "it gives me pleasure, miss holland, to tell you that your father has no doubt had these very plates set before him." upon a little table he deftly arranged the dishes with all the smiling ease of one to whom afternoon tea is the only business toward, and to whom an attempted murder is wholly alien. he impressed st. george vaguely as one who seemed to have risen from the dead of the crudities of mere events and to be living in a rarer atmosphere. the lawyer's face was a study. mr. augustus frothingham never went to the theatre because he did not believe that a man of affairs should unduly stimulate the imagination. there was set before them honey made by bees fed only upon a tropical flower of rare fragrance; cakes flavoured with wine that had been long buried; a paste of cream, thick with rich nuts and with the preserved buds of certain flowers; and little white berries, such as the japanese call "pinedews"; there was a tea distilled from the roots of rare exotics, and other things savoury and fantastic. so potent was the spell of the prince's hospitality, and so gracious the insistence with which he set before them the strange and odourous dishes, that even olivia, eager almost to tears for news of her father, and mrs. hastings, as critical and suspicious as some beetle with long antennæ, might not refuse them. as for mr. augustus frothingham, although this might be cagliostro's spagiric food, or "extract of saturn," for aught that his previous experience equipped him to deny, yet he nibbled, and gazed, and was constrained to nibble again. when they had been served, prince tabnit abruptly began speaking, the while turning the fine stem of his glass in his delicate fingers. "you do not know," he said simply, "where the island of yaque lies?" mrs. hastings sat erect. "yaque!" she exclaimed. "that was the name of the place where your father was, olivia. i know i remembered it because it wasn't like the man what's-his-name in _as you like it_, and because it didn't begin with a j." "the island is my home," prince tabnit continued, "and now, for the first time, i find myself absent from it. i have come a long journey. it is many miles to that little land in the eastern seas, that exquisite bit of the world, as yet unknown to any save the island-men. we have guarded its existence, but i have no fear to tell you, for no mariner, unaided by an islander, could steer a course to its coasts. and i can tell you little about the island for reasons which, if you will forgive me, you would hardly understand. i must tell you something of it, however, that you may know the remarkable conditions which led to the introduction of mr. holland to yaque. "the island of yaque," continued the prince, "or arqua, as the name was written by the ancient phoenicians, has been ruled by hereditary monarchs since 1050 b.c., when it was settled." "what date did i understand you to say, sir?" demanded mr. augustus frothingham. the prince smiled faintly. "i am well aware," he said, "that to the western mind--indeed, to any modern mind save our own--i shall seem to be speaking in mockery. none the less, what i am saying is exact. it is believed that the enterprises of the phoenicians in the early ages took them but a short distance, if at all, beyond the confines of the mediterranean. it is merely known that, in the period of which i speak, a more adventurous spirit began to be manifested, and the straits of gibraltar were passed and settlements were made in iberia. but how far these adventurers actually penetrated has been recorded only in those documents that are in the hands of my people--descendants of the boldest of these mariners who pushed their galleys out into the atlantic. at this time the king of tyre was abibaal, soon to be succeeded by his son hiram, the friend, you will remember, of king david,--" mr. frothingham, who did not go to the theatre for fear of exciting his imagination, uttered the soft non-explosion which should have been speech. "king abibaal," continued the prince, "who maintained his court in great pomp, had a younger and favourite son who bore his own name. he was a wild youth of great daring, and upon the accession of hiram to the throne he left tyre and took command of a galley of adventuresome spirits, who were among the first to pass the straits and gain the open sea. the story of their wild voyage i need not detail; it is enough to say that their trireme was wrecked upon the coast of yaque; and abibaal and those who joined him--among them many members of the court circle and even of the royal family--settled and developed the island. and there the race has remained without taint of admixture, down to the present day. of what was wrought on the island i can tell you little, though the time will come when the eyes of the whole world will be turned upon yaque as the forerunner of mighty things. ruled over by the descendants of abibaal, the islanders have dwelt in peace and plenty for nearly three thousand years--until, in fact, less than a year ago. then the line thus traceable to king hiram himself abruptly terminated with the death of king chelbes, without issue." again mr. frothingham attempted to speak, and again he collapsed softly, without expression, according to his custom. as for st. george, he was remembering how, when he first went to the paper, he had invariably been sent to the anteroom to listen to the daily tales of invention, oppression and projects for which a continual procession of the more or less mentally deficient wished the _sentinel_ to stand sponsor. st. george remembered in particular one young student who soberly claimed to have invented wireless telegraphy and who molested the staff for months. was this olive prince, he wondered, going to prove himself worth only a half-column on a back page, after all? "i understand you to say," said st. george, with the weary self-restraint of one who deals with lunatics, "that the line of king hiram, the friend of king david of israel, became extinct less than a year ago?" the prince smiled. "do not conceal your incredulity," he said liberally, "for i forgive it. you see, then," he went on serenely, "how in yaque the question of the succession became engrossing. the matter was not merely one of ascendancy, for the yaquians are singularly free from ambition. but their pride in their island is boundless. they see in her the advance guard of civilization, the peculiar people to whom have come to be intrusted many of the secrets of being. for i should tell you that my people live a life that is utterly beyond the ken of all, save a few rare minds in each generation. my people live what others dream about, what scientists struggle to fathom, what the keenest philosophers and economists among you can not formulate. we are," said prince tabnit serenely, "what the world will be a thousand years from now." "well, i'm sure," mrs. hastings broke in plaintively, "that i hope your servant, for instance, is not a sample of what the world is coming to!" the prince smiled indulgently, as if a child had laid a little, detaining hand upon his sleeve. "be that as it may," he said evenly, "the throne of yaque was still empty. many stood near to the crown, but there seemed no reason for choosing one more than another. one party wished to name the head of the house of the litany, in med, the king's city, who was the chief administrator of justice. another, more democratic than these, wished to elevate to the throne a man from whose family we had won knowledge of both perpetual motion and the fourth dimension--" st. george smiled angelically, as one who resignedly sees the last fragments of a shining hope float away. this quite settled it. the olive prince was crazy. did not st. george remember the old man in the frayed neckerchief and bagging pockets who had brought to the office of the _sentinel_ chart after chart about perpetual motion, until st. george and amory had one day told him gravely that they had a machine inside the office then that could make more things go for ever than he had ever dreamed of, though they had _not_ said that the machine was named chillingworth. "you have knowledge of both these things?" asked st. george indulgently. "yaque understood both those laws," said the prince quietly, "when william the conqueror came to england." he hesitated for a moment and then, regardless of another soft explosion from mr. frothingham's lips, he added: "do you not see? will you not understand? it is our knowledge of the fourth dimension which has enabled us to keep our island a secret." st. george suddenly thrilled from head to foot. what if he were speaking the truth? what if this man were speaking the truth? "moreover," resumed the prince, "there were those among us who had long believed that new strength would come to my people by the introduction of an inhabitant of one of the continents. his coming would, however, necessitate his sovereignty among us, in fulfilment of an ancient phoenician law, providing that the state, and every satrapy therein, shall receive no service, either of blood or of bond, nor enter into the marriage contract with an alien; from which law only the royal house is exempt. thus were the two needs of our land to be served by the means to which we had recourse. for there being no way to settle the difficulty, we vowed to leave the matter to chance, that great patient arbiter of destinies of which your civilization takes no account, save to reduce it to slavery. accordingly each inhabitant of the island took a solemn oath to await, with an open mind free from choice or prejudice, the settlement of the event, certain that the gods would permit the possible. five days after this decision our watchers upon the hills sighted a south african transport bound for the azores to coal. a hundred miles from our coast she was wrecked, and it was thought that all on board had been lost. a submarine was ordered to the spot--" "do you mean," interrupted st. george, "that you were able to see the wreck at that distance?" "certainly," said the prince. "pray forgive me," he added winningly, "if i seem to boast. it is difficult for me to believe that your appliances are so immature. we were using steamship navigation and limiting our vision at the time of pericles, but the futility of these was among our first discoveries." involuntarily st. george turned to miss holland. what would she think, he found himself wondering. her eyes were luminous and her breath was coming quickly; he was relieved to find that she had not the infectious vulgarity to doubt the possibility of what seemed impossible. this was one of the qualities of mr. augustus frothingham, who had assumed an air of polite interest and an accurately cynical smile, and the manner of generously lending his professional attention to any of the vagaries of the client. mrs. hastings stirred uneasily. "i'm sure," she said fretfully, "that i must be very stupid, but i simply can _not_ follow you. why, you talk about things that don't exist! my husband, who was a very practical and advanced man, would have shown you at once that what you say is impossible." here was the attitude of the commonplace the world over, thought st. george: to believe in wireless telegraphy simply because it has been found out, and to disbelieve in the fourth dimension because it has not been. "i can not explain these things," admitted the prince gravely, "and i dare say that you could prove that they do not exist, just as a man from another planet could show us to his own satisfaction that there are no such things as music or colour." "go on, please," said olivia eagerly. "olivia, i'm sure," protested mrs. hastings, "i think it's very unwomanly of you to show such an interest in these things." "will you bear with me for one moment, mrs. hastings?" begged the prince, "and perhaps i shall be able to interest you. the submarine returned, bringing the sole survivor of the wreck of the african transport." "ah, now," mrs. hastings assured him blandly, "you are dealing with things that can happen. my brother otho, my niece's father, was just this last year the sole survivor of the wreck of a very important vessel." "i have the honour, mrs. hastings, to be narrating to you the circumstances attending the discovery of your brother and miss holland's father, after the wreck of that vessel." "my father?" cried olivia. the prince bowed. "after this manner, chance had rewarded us. we crowned your father king of yaque." chapter v olivia proposes prince tabnit's announcement was received by his guests in the silence of amazement. if they had been told that miss holland's father was secretly acting as king of england they could have been no more profoundly startled than to hear stated soberly that he had been for nearly a year the king of a cannibal island. for the cannibal phase of his experience seemed a foregone conclusion. to st. george, profoundly startled and most incredulous, the possible humour of the situation made first appeal. the picture of an american gentleman seated upon a gold throne in a leopard-skin coat, ordering "oysters and foes" for breakfast, was irresistible. "but he shaved with a shell when he chose, 'twas the manner of primitive man" floated through his mind, and he brought himself up sharply. clearly, somebody was out of his head, but it must not be he. "what?" cried mrs. hastings in two inelegant syllables, on the second of which her uncontrollable voice rose. "my brother otho, a vestry-man at st. mark's--" "aunt dora!" pleaded olivia. "tell us," she besought the prince. "king otho i of yaque," the prince was begining, but the title was not to be calmly received by mrs. hastings. "_king_ otho!" she articulated. "then--am i royalty?" "all who may possibly succeed to the throne blackstone holds to be royalty," said the lawyer in an edictal voice, and st. george looked away from olivia. _the princess olivia_! "king otho," continued the prince, "ruled wisely and well for seven months, and it was at the beginning of that time that the imperial submarine was sent to the azores with letters and a packet to you. the enterprise, however, was attended by so great danger of discovery that it was never repeated. this is why, for so long, you have had no word from the king. and now i come," said the prince with hesitation, "to the difficult part of my narrative." he paused and mr. frothingham rushed to his assistance. "as the family solicitor," said the lawyer, pursing his lips, and waving his hands, once, from the wrists, "would you not better divulge to my ear alone, the--a--" "no--no!" flashed olivia. "no, mr. frothingham--please." the prince inclined his head. "will it surprise you, miss holland," he said, "to learn that i made my voyage to this country expressly to seek you out?" "to seek me?" exclaimed olivia. "but--has anything happened to my father?" "we hope not," replied the prince, "but what i have to tell will none the less occasion you anxiety. briefly, miss holland, it is more than three months since your father suddenly and mysteriously disappeared from yaque, leaving absolutely no clue to his whereabouts." a little cry broke from olivia's lips that went to st. george's heart. mrs. hastings, with a gesture that was quite wild and sent her bonnet hopelessly to one side, burst into a volley of exclamations and demands. "who did it?" she wailed. "who did it? otho is a gentleman. he would never have the bad taste to disappear, like all those dreadful people's wives, if somebody hadn't--" "my dear madame," interposed mr. frothingham, "calm--calm yourself. there are families of undisputed position which record disappearances in several generations." "please," pleaded olivia. "ah, tell us," she begged the prince again. "there is, unfortunately, but little to tell, miss holland," said the prince with sympathetic regret. "i had the honour, three months ago, to entertain the king, your father, at dinner. we parted at midnight. his majesty seemed--" "his majesty!" repeated mrs. hastings, smiling up at the opposite wall as if her thought saw glories. "--in the best of health and spirits," continued the prince. "a meeting of the high council was to be held at noon on the following day. the king did not appear. from that moment no eye in yaque has fallen upon him." "one moment, your highness," said st. george quickly; "in the absence of the king, who presides over the high council?" "as the head of the house of the litany, the chief administrator of justice, it is i," said the prince with humility. "ah, yes," st. george said evenly. "but what have you done?" cried olivia. "have you had search made? have you--" "everything," the prince assured her. "the island is not large. not a corner of it remains unvisited. the people, who were devoted to the king, your father, have sought night and day. there is, it is hardly right to conceal from you," the prince hesitated, "a circumstance which makes the disappearance the more alarming." "tell us. keep nothing from us, i beg, prince tabnit," besought olivia. "for centuries," said the prince slowly, "there has been in the keeping of the high council of the island a casket, containing what is known as the hereditary treasure. this casket, with some of the finest of its jewels, was left by king abibaal himself. since his time every king of the island has upon his death bequeathed to the casket the finest jewel in his possession; and its contents are now therefore of inestimable value. the circumstance to which i refer is that two days after the disappearance of the king, your father, which spread grief and alarm through all yaque, it was discovered that the hereditary treasure was gone." "gone!" burst from the lips of the prince's auditors. "as utterly as if the fifth dimension had received it," the prince gravely assured them. "the loss, as you may imagine, is a grievous one. the high council immediately issued a proclamation that if the treasure be not restored by a certain date--now barely two weeks away--a heavy tax will be levied upon the people to make good, in the coin of the realm, this incalculable loss. against this the people, though they are a people of peace, are murmurous." "indeed!" cried mrs. hastings. "great loyalty it is that sets up the loss of their trumpery treasure over and above the loss of their king, my brother otho! if," she shrilled indignantly, "we are not unwise to listen to this at all. what is it you think? what is it your people think?" she raised her head until she had framed the prince in tortoise-shell. mrs. hastings never held her head quite still. it continually waved about a little, so that usually, even in peace, it intimated indignation; and when actual indignation set in, the jet on her bonnet tinkled and ticked like so many angry sparrows. "madame," said the prince, "there are those among his majesty's subjects who would willingly lay down their lives for him. but he is a stranger to us--come of an alien race; and the double disappearance is a most tragic occurrence, which the burden of the tax has emphasized. to be frank, were his majesty to reappear in yaque without the treasure having been found--" "oh!" breathed mrs. hastings, "they would kill him!" the prince shuddered and set his white teeth in his nether lip. "the gods forbid," he said. "such primeval punishment is as unknown among us as is war itself. how little you know my people; how pitifully your instincts have become--forgive me--corrupted by living in this barbarous age of yours, fumbling as you do at civilization. with us death is a sacred rite, the highest tribute and the last sacrifice to the absolute. our dying are carried to the temple of the worshipers of distance, and are there consecrated. the limit of our punishment would be aerial exposure--" "you mean?" cried st. george. "i mean that in extreme cases we have, with due rite and ceremonial, given a victim to an airship, without ballast or rudder, and abundantly provisioned. then with solemn ritual we have set him adrift--an offering to the great spirits of space--so that he may come to know. this," the prince paused in emotion, "this is the worst that could befall your father." "how horrible!" cried olivia. "oh, how horrible." "oh," mrs. hastings moaned, "he was born to it. he was born to it. when he was six he tied kites to his arms and jumped out the window of the cupola and broke his collar bone--oh, otho,--oh heaven,--and i made him eat oatmeal gruel three times a day when he was getting well." "prince tabnit," said st. george, "i beg you not to jest with us. have consideration for the two to whom this man is dear." "i am speaking truth to you," said the prince earnestly. "i do not wish to alarm these ladies, but i am bound in honour to tell you what i know." "ah then," said st. george, his narrowed eyes meeting those of the prince, "since the taking of life is unknown to you in yaque, will you explain how it was that your servant adopted such unerring means to take the life of miss holland? and why?" "my servant," said the prince readily, "belongs to the lahnas or former serfs of the island. upon her people, now the owners of rich lands, the tax will fall heavily. crazed by what she considers her people's wrongs following upon the coming of the stranger sovereign, the poor creature must have developed the primitive instincts of your race. before coming to this country my servant had never heard of murder save as a superseded custom of antiquity, like the crucifying of lions. her discovery of your daily practice of murder, and of murder practised as a cure for crime--" "sir," began the lawyer imposingly. "--wakened in her the primitive instincts of humanity, and her instinct took the deplorable and fanatic form of your own courts," finished the prince. "her bitterness toward his majesty she sought to visit upon his daughter." olivia sprang to her feet. "i must go to my father. i must go to yaque," she cried ringingly. "prince tabnit, will you take me to him?" into the prince's face leaped a fire of admiration for her beauty and her daring. he bowed before her, his lowered lashes making thick shadows on his dark cheeks. "i insist upon this," cried little olivia firmly, "and if you do not permit it, prince tabnit, we must publish what you have told us from one end of the city to the other." "yes, by jove," thought st. george, "and one's country will have a yaque exhibit in its own department at the next world's fair." "olivia! my child! miss holland--," began the lawyer. the prince spoke tranquilly. "it is precisely this errand," he said, "that has brought me to america. do you not see that, in the event of your father's failure to return to his people, you will eventually be queen of yaque?" st. george found himself looking fixedly at mrs. hastings' false front as the only reality in the room. if in a minute rollo was going to waken him by bringing in his coffee, he was going to throttle rollo--that was all. olivia holland, an american heiress, the hereditary princess of a cannibal island! st. george still insisted upon the cannibal; it somehow gave him a foothold among the actualities. "i!" cried olivia. mrs. hastings, brows lifted, lips parted, winked with lightning rapidity in an effort to understand. st. george pulled himself together. "your highness," he said sternly, "there are several things upon which i must ask you to enlighten us. and the first, which i hope you will forgive, is whether you have any direct proof that what you tell us of miss holland's father is true." "that's it! that's it!" mr. frothingham joined him with all the importance of having made the suggestion. "we can hardly proceed in due order without proofs, sir." the prince turned toward the curtain at the room's end and the youth appeared once more, this time bearing a light oval casket of delicate workmanship. it was of a substance resembling both glass and metal of changing, rainbow tints, and it passed through st. george's mind as he observed it that there must be, to give such a dazzling and unreal effect, more than seven colours in the spectrum. "a spectrum of seven colours," said the prince at the same moment, "could not, of course, produce this surface. i confess that until i came to this country i did not know that you had so few colours. our spectrum already consists of twelve colours visible to the naked eye, and at least five more are distinguishable through our powerful magnifying glasses." st. george was silent. it was as if he had suddenly been permitted to look past the door that bars and threatens all knowledge. the prince unlocked the casket. he drew out first a quantity of paper of extreme thinness and lightness on which, embossed and emblazoned, was the coat of arms of the hollands--a sheaf of wheat and an unicorn's head--and this was surmounted by a crown. "this," said the prince, "is now the device upon the signet ring of the king of yaque, the arms of your own family. and here chances to be a letter from your father containing some instructions to me. it is true that writing has with us been superseded by wireless communication, excepting where there is need of great secrecy. then we employ the alphabet of any language we choose, these being almost disused, as are the cuneiform and coptic to you." "and how is it," st. george could not resist asking, "that you know and speak the english?" the prince smiled swiftly. "to you," he said, "who delve for knowledge and who do not know that it is absolute and to be possessed at will, this can not now be made clear. perhaps some day..." olivia had taken the paper from the prince and pressed it to her lips, her eyes filling with tears. there was no mistaking that evidence, for this was her father's familiar hand. "otho always did write a fearful scrawl," mrs. hastings commented, "his l's and his t's and his vowels were all the same height. i used to tell him that i didn't know whatever people would think." "i may, moreover," continued the prince, "call to mind several articles which were included in the packet sent from the azores by his majesty. you have, for example, a tapestry representing an ibis hunt; you have an image in pink sutro, or soft marble, of an ancient phoenician god--melkarth. and you have a length of stained glass bearing the figure of the tyrian sphinx, crucified, and surrounded by coiled asps." "yes, it is true," said olivia, "we have all these things." "why, the trash must be quite expensive," observed mrs. hastings. "i don't care much for so many colours myself, perhaps because i always wear black; though i did wear light colours a good deal when i was a girl." "what else, mr. st. george?" inquired the prince pleasantly. "nothing else," cried olivia passionately. "i am satisfied. my father is in danger, and i believe that he is in yaque, for he would never of his own will desert a place of trust. i must go to him. and, aunt dora, you and mr. frothingham must go with me." "oh, olivia!" wailed mrs. hastings, a different key for every syllable, "think--consider! is it the necessary thing to do? and what would your poor dear uncle have done? and is there a better way than his way? for i always say that it is not really necessary to do as my poor dear husband would have done, providing only that we can find a better way. oh," she mourned, lifting her hands, "that this frightful thing should come to me at my age. otho may be married to a cannibal princess, with his sons catching wild goats by the hair like tennyson and the whistling parrots--" "madame," said the prince coldly, "forgets what i have been saying of my country." "i do not forget," declared mrs. hastings sharply, "but being behind civilization and being ahead of civilization comes to the same thing more than once. in morals it does." st. george was silent. olivia's splendid daring in her passionate decision to go to her father stirred him powerfully; moreover, her words outlined a possible course of his own whose magnitude startled him, and at the same time filled him with a sudden, dazzling hope. "but where is your island, prince tabnit?" he asked. "you've naturally no consul there and no cable, since you are not even on the map." "yaque," said the prince readily, "lies almost due southwest from the azores." mr. frothingham stirred skeptically. "but such an island," he said pompously, "so rich in material for the archaeologist, the anthropologist, the explorer in all fields of antiquity--ah, it is out of the question, out of the question!" "it is difficult," said the prince patiently, "most difficult for me to make myself intelligible to you--as difficult, if you will forgive me, as if you were to try to explain calculus to one of the street boys outside. but directly your phase of civilization has opened to you the secrets of the fourth dimension, much will be discovered to you which you do not now discern or dream, and among these, yaque. i do not jest," he added wearily, "neither do i expect you to believe me. but i have told you the truth. and it would be impossible for you to reach yaque save in the company of one of the islanders to whom the secret is known. i can not explain to you, any more than i can explain harmony or colour." "well, i'm sure," cried mrs. hastings fretfully, "i don't know why you all keep wandering from the subject so. now, my brother otho--" "prince tabnit,"--olivia's voice never seemed to interrupt, but rather to "divide evidence finely" at the proper moment--"how long will it take us to reach yaque?" st. george thrilled at that "us." "my submarine," replied the prince, "is plying about outside the harbour. i arrived in four days." "by the way," st. george submitted, "since your wireless system is perfected, why can not we have news of your island from here?" "the curve of the earth," explained the prince readily, "prevents. we have conquered only those problems with which we have had to deal. the curve of the earth has of course never entered our calculation. we have approached the problem from another standpoint." "we have much to do, prince tabnit," said olivia; "when may we leave?" "command me," said prince tabnit, bowing. "to-morrow!" cried olivia, "to-morrow, at noon." "olivia!" mrs. hastings' voice broke over the name like ice upon a warm promontory. mrs. hastings' voice was suited to say "keziah" or "katinka," not olivia. "can you go, mr. frothingham?" demanded olivia. mr. frothingham's long hands hung down and he looked as if she had proposed a jaunt to mars. "my physician has ordered a sea-change," he mumbled doubtfully, "my daughter antoinette--i--really--there is nothing in all my experience--" "olivia!" mrs. hastings in tears was superintending the search for both side-combs. "aunt dora," said olivia, "you're not going to fail me now. prince tabnit--at noon to-morrow. where shall we meet?" st. george listened, glowing. "may i have the honour," suggested the prince, "of waiting upon you at noon to conduct you? and i need hardly say that we undertake the journey under oath of secrecy?" "anything--anything!" cried olivia. "oh, my dear olivia," breathed mrs. hastings weakly, "taking me, at my age, into this awful place of four dimentias--or whatever it was you said." "we will be ready to go with you at noon," said olivia steadily. st. george held his peace as they made their adieux. a great many things remained to be thought out, but one was clear enough. the boy servant ran before them to the door. they made their way to the street in the early dusk. a hurdy-gurdy on the curb was bubbling over with merry discords, and was flanked by garrulous italians with push-carts, lighted by flaring torches. men were returning from work, children were quarreling, women were in doorways, and a policeman was gossiping with the footman in a knot of watching idlers. with a sigh that was like a groan, mrs. hastings sank back on the cushions of the brougham. "i feel," she said, eyes closed, "as if i had been in a pagan temple where they worship oracles and what's-his-names. what time is it? i haven't an idea. dear, dear, i want to get home and feel as if my feet were on land and water again. i want some strong sleep and a good sound cup of coffee, and then i shall know what's actually what." to st. george the slow drive up town was no less unreal than their visit. his head was whirling, a hundred plans and speculations filled his mind, and through these mrs hastings' chatter of forebodings and the lawyer's patterned utterance hardly found their way. at his own street he was set down, with mrs. hastings' permission to call next day. miss holland gave him her hand. "i can not thank you," she said, "i can not thank you. but try to know, won't you, what this has been to me. until to-morrow." until to-morrow. st. george stood in the brightness of the street looking after the vanishing carriage, his hand tingling from her touch. then he went up to his apartment and met rollo--sleek, deferential, the acme of the polite barbarism in which the prince had made st. george feel that he and his world were living. ah, he thought, as rollo took his hat, this was no way to live, with the whole world singing to be discovered anew. he sat down before the trim little white table with its pretty china and silver and its one rose-shaded candle, but the doubtful content of comfort was suddenly not enough. the spirit of the road and of the chase was in his veins, and he was aglow with "the taste for pilgriming." he looked about on the simple luxury with which he had surrounded himself, and he welcomed his farewell to it. and when rollo had gone up stairs to complain in person of the shad-roe, st. george spoke aloud: "if miss holland sails for yaque to-morrow on the prince's submarine," he said, "_the aloha_ and i will follow her." chapter vi two little men next morning st. george was early astir. he had slept little and his dreams had been grotesques. he threw up his blind and looked across buildings to the grey park. the sky was marked with rose, the still reservoir gave back colour upon its breast, and the tower upon its margin might have been some guttural-christened castle on the rhine. st. george drew a deep breath of good, new air and smiled for the sake of the things that the day was to bring him. he was in the golden age when the youthful expectation of enjoyment is just beginning to be savoured by the inevitable longing for more light, and he seemed to himself to be alluringly near the verge of both. his first care the evening before had been to hunt out chillingworth. he had found him in a theatre and had got him out to the foyer and kept him through the third act, pouring in his ears as much as he felt that it was well for him to know. chillingworth had drawn his square, brown hands through his hair and, in lieu of copy-paper, had nibbled away his programme and paced the corner by the cloak-room. "it looks like a great big thing," said the city editor; "don't you think it looks like a great big thing?" "extraordinarily so," assented st. george, watching him. "can you handle it alone, do you think?" chillingworth demanded. "ah, well now, that depends," replied st. george. "i'll see it through, if it takes me to yaque. but i'd like you to promise, mr. chillingworth, that you won't turn crass loose at it while i'm gone, with his feverish head-lines. mrs. hastings and her niece must be spared that, at all events." "don't you be a sentimental idiot," snapped chillingworth, "and spoil the biggest city story the paper ever had. why, this may draw the whole united states into a row, and mean war and a new possession and maybe consulates and governorships and one thing or another for the whole staff. st. george, don't spoil the sport. remember, i'm dropsical and nobody can tell what may happen. by the way, where did you say this prince man is?" "ah, i didn't say," st. george had answered quietly. "if you'll forgive me, i don't think i shall say." "oh, you don't," ejaculated chillingworth. "well, you please be around at eight o'clock in the morning." st. george watched him walking sidewise down the aisle as he always walked when he was excited. chillingworth was a good sort at heart, too; but given, as the bishop had once said of some one else, to spending right royally a deal of sagacity under the obvious impression that this is the only wisdom. at his desk next morning chillingworth gave to st. george a note from amory, who had been at long branch with _the aloha_ when the letter was posted and was coming up that noon to put ashore bennietod. "may cawthorne have his day off to-morrow and go with me?" the letter ended. "i'll call up at noon to find out." "yah!" growled chillingworth, "it's breaking up the whole staff, that's what it's doin'. you'll all want cut-glass typewriters next." "if i should sail to-day," observed st. george, quite as if he were boarding a sound steamer, "i'd like to take on at least two men. and i'd like amory and cawthorne. you could hardly go yourself, could you, mr. chillingworth?" "no, i couldn't," growled chillingworth, "i've got to keep my tastes down. and i've got to save up to buy kid gloves for the staff. look here--" he added, and hesitated. "yes?" st. george complied in some surprise. "bennietod's half sick anyway," said chillingworth, "he's thin as water, and if you would care--" "by all means then," st. george assented heartily, "i would care immensely. bennietod sick is like somebody else healthy. will you mind getting amory on the wire when he calls up, and tell him to show up without fail at my place at noon to-day? and to wait there for me." little cawthorne, with a pair of shears quite a yard long, was sitting at his desk clipping jokes for the fiction page. he was humming a weary little tune to the effect that "billy enny took a penny but now he hadn't many--lookie they!" with which he whiled away the hours of his gravest toil, coming out strongly on the "lookie they!" until benfy on the floor above pounded for quiet which he never got. "cawthorne," said st. george, "it may be that i'm leaving to-night on the yacht for an island out in the southeast. and the chief says that you and amory are to go along. can you go?" little cawthorne's blue eyes met st. george's steadily for a moment, and without changing his gaze he reached for his hat. "i can get the page done in an hour," he promised, "and i can pack my thirty cents in ten minutes. will that do?" st. george laughed. "ah, well now, this goes," he said. "ask chillingworth. don't tell any one else." "'billy enny took a penny,'" hummed little cawthorne in perfect tranquillity. st. george set off at once for the mcdougle street house. a thousand doubts beset him and he felt that if he could once more be face to face with the amazing prince these might be better cleared away. moreover, the glimpses which the prince had given him of a world which seemed to lie as definitely outside the bourne of present knowledge as does death itself filled st. george with unrest, spiced his incredulity with wonder, and he found himself longing to talk more of the things at which the strange man had hinted. the squalor of the street was even less bearable in the early morning. st. george wondered, as he hurried across from the grand street station, how the prince had understood that he must not only avoid the great hotels, but that he must actually seek out incredible surroundings like these to be certain of privacy. for only the very poor are sufficiently immersed in their own affairs to be guiltless of curiosity, save indeed a kind of surface morbid wonderment at crêpe upon a door or the coming of a well-dressed woman to their neighbourhood. the prince might have lived in mcdougle street for years without exciting more than derisive comment of the denizens, derision being no other than their humour gone astray. st. george tapped at the door which the night before had admitted him to such revelation. there was no answer, and a repeated summons brought no sound from within. at length he tentatively touched the latch. the door opened. the room was quite empty. no remnant of furniture remained. he entered, involuntarily peering about as if he expected to find the prince in a dusty corner. the windows were still shuttered, and he threw open the blinds, admitting rectangles of sunlight. he could have found it in his heart, as he looked blankly at the four walls, to doubt that he had been there at all the night before, so emphatically did the surroundings deny that they had ever harboured a title. but on the floor at his feet lay a scrap of paper, twisted and torn. he picked it up. it was traced in indistinguishable characters, but it bore the holland coat of arms and crown which the prince had shown them. st. george put the paper in his pocket and questioned a group of boys in the passage. "yup," shouted one of the boys with that prodigality of intonation distinguishing the child of the streets, who makes every statement as if his word had just been contradicted out of hand, "he means de bloke wid de black block. aw, he lef' early dis mornin' wid 's junk follerin.' dey's two of 'em. wot's he t'ink? dis ain't no nigger's rest. dis yere's all eyetalian." st. george hurried to fifty-ninth street. it was not yet ten o'clock, but the departure of the prince made him vaguely uneasy and for his life he could not have waited longer. perhaps it was not true at all; perhaps none of it had happened. the mcdougle street part had vanished; what if the boris too were a myth? but as he sprang up the steps at the apartment house st. george knew better. the night before her hand had lain in his for an infinitesimal time, and she had said "until to-morrow." on sending his name to mrs. hastings he was immediately bidden to her apartment. he found the drawing-room in confusion--the furniture covered with linen, the bric-à-brac gone, and three steamer trunks strapped and standing outside the door. all of which mattered to him less than nothing, for olivia was there alone. she came down the dismantled room to meet him, smiling a little and very pale but, st. george thought, even more beautiful than she had been the day before. she was dressed for walking and had on a sober little hat, and straightway st. george secretly wondered how he could ever have approved of anything so flagrant as a gainsborough. she lifted her veil as they sat down, and st. george liked that. to complete his capitulation she turned to a little table set before the bowing flames of juniper branches in the grate. "this is breakfast," she told him; "won't you have a cup of tea and a muffin? aunt medora will be back presently from the chemist's." for the first time st. george blessed mrs. hastings. "you are really leaving to-day, miss holland?" he asked, noting the little ringless hand that gave him two lumps. "really leaving," she assented, "at noon to-day. mr. frothingham sails with us, and his daughter antoinette, who will be a great comfort to me. the prince doesn't know about her yet," she added naïvely, "but he must take her." st. george nodded approvingly. unless all signs failed, he reflected, yaque had some surprises in store at the hands of the daughter of its sovereign. "where does the prince appoint?" he asked. he listened in entire disapproval while she told him of the place below quarantine where they were to board the submarine. the prince, it appeared, had sent his servant early that morning to assure them that all was in readiness, a bit of oriental courtesy which made no impression upon st. george, though it explained the prompt withdrawal from 19 mcdougle street. when she had finished, st. george rose and stood before the fire, looking down at her from a world of uncertainty. "i don't like it, miss holland," he declared, and hesitated, divided between the desire to tell her that he was going too, and the fear lest mrs. hastings should arrive from the chemist's. olivia made a gesture of throwing it all from her. "have a muffin--do," she begged. "this is my last breakfast in america for a time--let me have a pleasant memory of it. mr. st. george, i want--oh, i want to tell you how greatly i appreciate--" "ah, please," urged st. george, and smiled while he protested, "you see, i've been very selfish about the whole matter. i'm selfish now to be here at all when, i dare say, you've no end of things to do." "no," olivia disclaimed, "i have not," and thus proved that she was a woman of genius. for a less complex woman always flutters through the hour of her departure. only juno can step from the clouds without packing a bag and feeding the peacocks and leaving, pinned to an asphodel, a note for jupiter. "then tell me what you are going to do in yaque," he besought. "forgive me--what are you going to do all alone there in that strange land, and such a land?" he divined that at this she would be very brave and buoyant, and he was lost in anticipative admiration; when she was neither he admired more than ever. "i don't know," said olivia gravely, "i only know that i must go. you see that, do you not--that i must go?" "ah, yes," st. george assured her, "i do indeed, believe me. don't you think," he said, "that i might give you a lamp to rub if you need help? and then i'll appear." "in yaque?" he nodded gravely. "yes, in yaque. i shall rise out of a jar like the evil genie; and though i shall be quite helpless you will still have the lamp. and i shall be no end glad to have appeared." "but suppose," said olivia merrily, "that when i have eaten a pomegranate or a potato or something in yaque i forget all about america? and when you step out of the jar i say 'off with his head,' by mistake. how shall i know it is you when the jar is opened?" "i shall ask you what the population of yaque is," he assured her, "and how the island compares with manhattan, and if this is your first visit, and how you are enjoying your stay; and then you will recognize the talk of civilization and spare me." "no," she protested, "i've longed to say 'off with his head' to too many people who have said all that to me. and you mustn't say that a holiday always seems like sunday, either." whereat they both laughed, and it seemed an uncommonly pleasant world, and even the sad errand that was taking olivia to yaque looked like a hope. then the talk ran on pleasantly, and things went very briskly forward, and there was no dearth of fleet little smiles at this and that. what was she to bring him from yaque--a pet ibis? no, he had no taste for ibises--unless indeed there should be fourth-dimension ibises; and even then he begged that she would select instead a magic field-glass, with which one might see what is happening at an infinite distance; although of what use would that be to him, he wanted to know, since it would be his too late to follow her errantry through yaque? they felt, as they talked, quite like the puppets of the days of haroun-al-raschid; only the puppets, poor children of mere magic, had not the traditions of the golden age of science for a setting, and were obliged to content themselves with mere tricks of jars of genii instead of applied electricity and its daring. what an arabian nights' entertainment we might have had if only scheherazade had ever heard of the present! as for the thousand-and-one-nights, they would not have contained all her invention. no wonder that the time went trippingly for the two who were concerned in such bewildering speculation as the prince had made possible and who were furthering acquaintanceship besides. "ah, well now, at all events," begged st. george at length, "will you remember something while you are away?" "your kindness, always," she returned. "but will you remember," said st. george with his boy's eagerness, "that there is some one who hopes no less than you for your success, and who will be infinitely proud of any command at all from you? and will you remember that, though i may not be successful, i shall at least be doing something to try to help you?" "you are very good," she said gently, "i shall remember. for already you have not only helped me--you have made the whole matter possible." "and what of that," propounded st. george gloomily, "if i can't help you just when the danger begins? i insist, miss holland, that it takes far more good nature to see some one else set off at adventure than it takes to go one's self. won't you let me come back here at twelve o'clock and go down with you to the boat?" "by all means," olivia assented, "my aunt and i shall both be glad, mr. st. george. then you can wish us well. what is a submarine like," she wanted to know; "were you ever on one?" "never, excepting a number of times," replied st. george, supremely unconscious of any vagueness. he was rapidly losing count of all events up to the present. he was concerned only with these things: that she was here with him, that the time might be measured by minutes until she would be caught away to undergo neither knew what perils, and that at any minute mrs. hastings might escape from the chemist's. although the commonplace is no respecter of enchantments, it was quite fifteen minutes before the sword fell and mrs. hastings did make the moment her prey, as pinkly excited as though her drawing-room had been untenanted. and in the meantime no one knows what pleasantly absurd thing st. george longed to say, it is so perilous when one is sailing away to yaque and another stands upon the shore for a word of farewell. but, indeed, if it were not for the soberest moments of farewell, journeys and their returns would become very tame affairs. when the first man and maid said even the most formal farewell, providing they were the right man and the right maid, the very stars must have begun their motion. very likely the fixed stars are nothing but grey-beards with no imagination. distance lends enchantment, but the frivolous might say that the preliminary farewell is the mint that coins it. and, enchantment being independent of the commonplace, after all, it may have been that certain stars had already begun to sing while st. george sat staring at the little bowing flames of the juniper branches and olivia was taking her tea. then in came mrs. hastings, a very literal interfering goddess, and her bonnet was frightfully awry so that the parrot upon it looked shockingly coquettish and irreverent and lent to her dignity a flavour of ill-timed waggishness. but it must be admitted that mrs. hastings and everything that she wore were "_les antipodes des grâces_." she was followed by a footman, his arms filled with parcels, and she sank among them on the divan and held out her limp, plump hand for a cup of tea. mrs. hastings had the hands that are fettered by little creases at the wrists and whose wedding rings always seem to be uncomfortably snug. she sat down, and her former activity dissolved, as it were, into another sort of energy and became fragments of talk. mrs. hastings was like the old woman in ovid who sacrificed to the goddess of silence, but could never keep still; save that mrs. hastings did not sacrifice. "good morning, mr. st. george," she said. "i'm sure i've quite forgotten everything. olivia dear, i've had all the prescriptions made up that i've ever taken to rutledge's, because no one can tell what the climate will be like, it's so low on the map. i've looked up the azores--that's where we get some of our choicest cheese. and camphor--i've got a pound of camphor. and i must say positively that i always was against these wars in the far east, because all the camphor comes from korea or one of those frightful islands and now it has gone up twenty-six cents a pound. and then the flaxseed, olivia dear. i've got a tin of flaxseed, for no one can tell--" st. george doubted if she knew when he said good morning, although she named him mr. st. john, gave him permission to go to the boat, hoped in one breath that he would come again to see them, and in the next that he would send them a copy of whatever the _sentinel_ might publish about them, in serene oblivion of the state of the post-office department in yaque. mrs. hastings, in short, was one of the women who are thrown into violent mental convulsions by the prospect of a journey; this was not at all because she was setting sail specifically for yaque, for the moment that she saw a porter or a pier, though she was bound only for the bronx or staten island, she was affected in the same way. as olivia gave st. george her hand he came perilously near telling her that he would follow her to yaque; but he reflected that if he were to tell her at all, he would better do so on the way to the submarine. so he went blindly down the hall and rang the elevator bell for so long that the boy deliberately stopped on the floor below and waited, with the diabolical independence of the american lords of the lift, "for to teach 'im a lessing," this one explained to a passing chamber-maid. st. george hurried to his apartment to leave a note for amory who was directed upon his arrival to bide there and await his host's return. then he paced the floor until it was time to go back to the boris, deaf to rollo's solemn information that the dust comes up out of the varnish of furniture during the night, like cream out of milk. by the time he had boarded a down-town car, st. george had tortured himself to distraction, and his own responsibility in this submarine voyage loomed large and threatening. therefore, it suddenly assumed the proportion of mountains yet unseen when, though it wanted ten minutes to twelve when he reached the boris, his card was returned by a faint polite clerk with the information that mrs. hastings and miss holland had been gone from the hotel for half an hour. there was a note for him in their box the clerk believed, and presently produced it--a brief, regretful word from olivia telling him that the prince had found that they must leave fully an hour earlier than he had planned. sick with apprehension, cursing himself for the ease and dexterity with which he had permitted himself to be outwitted by tabnit, st. george turned blindly from the office with some vague idea of chartering all the tugs in the harbour. it came to him that he had bungled the matter from first to last, and that bud or bennietod would have used greater shrewdness. and while he was in the midst of anathematizing his characteristic confidence he stepped in the outer hallway and saw that which caused that confidence to balloon smilingly back to support him. in the vestibule of the boris, deaf to the hovering attention of a door-boy more curious than dutiful, stood two men of the stature and complexion of prince tabnit of yaque. they were dressed like the youth who had answered the door of the prince's apartment, and they were speaking softly with many gestures and evidently in some perplexity. the drooping spirits of st. george soared to heaven as he hastened to them. "you are asking for miss holland, the daughter of king otho of yaque," he said, with no time to smile at the pranks of the democracy with hereditary titles. the men stared and spoke almost together. "we are," they said promptly. "she is not here," explained st. george, "but i have attended to some affairs for her. will you come with me to my apartment where we may be alone?" the men, who somehow made st. george think of tan-coloured greyhounds with very gentle eyes, consulted each other, not with the suspicion of the vulgar but with the caution of the thorough-bred. "pardon," said one, "if we may be quite assured that this is miss holland's friend to whom we speak--" st. george hesitated. the hall-boy listened with an air of polite concern, and there were curious over-shoulder glances from the passers-by. suddenly st. george's face lighted and he went swiftly through his pockets and produced a scrap of paper--the fragment that had lain that morning on the floor of the prince's deserted apartment, and that bore the arms of the king of yaque. it was the strangers' turn to regard him with amazement. immediately, to st. george's utmost embarrassment, they both bowed very low and pronounced together: "pardon, adôn!" "my name is st. george," he assured them, "and let's get into a cab." they followed him without demur. st. george leaned back on the cushions and looked at them--lean lithe little men with rapid eyes and supple bodies and great repose. they gave him the same sense of strangeness that he had felt in the presence of the prince and of the woman in the bitley reformatory--as if, it whimsically flashed to him, they some way rhymed with a word which he did not know. "what is it," st. george asked as they rolled away, "what is it that you have come to tell miss holland?" only one of the men spoke, the other appearing content to show two rows of exceptionally white teeth. "may we not know, adôn," asked the man respectfully, "whether the prince has given her his news? and if the prince is still in your land?" "the prince's servant, elissa, has tried to stab miss holland and has got herself locked up," st. george imparted without hesitation. an exclamation of horror broke from both men. "to stab--to _kill_!" they cried. "quite so," said st. george, "and the prince, upon being discovered, disclosed some very important news to miss holland, and she and her friends started an hour ago for yaque." "that is well, that is well!" cried the little man, nodding, and momentarily hesitated; "but yet his news--what news, adôn, has he told her?" for a moment st. george regarded them both in silence. "ah, well now, what news had he?" he asked briefly. the men answered readily. "prince tabnit was commissioned by the yaquians to acquaint the princess with the news of the strange disappearance of her father, the king, and to supplicate her in his place to accept the hereditary throne of yaque." "jupiter!" said st. george under breath. in a flash the whole matter was clear to him. prince tabnit had delivered no such message from the people of yaque, but had contented himself with the mere intimation that in some vanishing future she would be expected to ascend the throne. and he had done this only when olivia herself had sought him out after an attempt had been made upon her life by his servant. it seemed to st. george far from improbable that the woman had been acting under the prince's instructions and, that failing, he himself had appeared and obligingly placed the daughter of king otho precisely within the prince's power. now she was gone with him, in the hope of aiding her father, to meet heaven knew what peril in this pagan island; and he, st. george, was wholly to blame from first to last. "good heavens," he groaned, "are you sure--but are you sure?" "it is simple, adôn," said the man, "we came with this message from the people of yaque. a day before we were to land, akko and i--i am jarvo--overheard the prince plan with the others to tell her nothing--nothing that the people desire. when they knew that we had heard they locked us up and we have only this morning escaped from the submarine. if the prince has told her this message everything is well. but as for us, i do not know. the prince has gone." "he told her nothing--nothing," said st. george, "but that her father and the hereditary treasure have disappeared. and he has taken her with him. she has gone with him." deaf alike to their exclamations and their questions st. george sat staring unseeingly through the window, his mind an abyss of fear. then the cab drew up at the door of his hotel and he turned upon the two men precipitantly. "see," he cried, "in a boat on the open sea, would you two be at all able to direct a course to yaque?" both men smiled suddenly and brilliantly. "but we have stolen a chart," announced jarvo with great simplicity, "not knowing what thing might befall." st. george wrenched at the handle of the cab door. he had a glimpse of amory within, just ringing the elevator bell, and he bundled the two little men into the lobby and dashed up to him. "come on, old amory," he told him exultingly. "heaven on earth, put out that pipe and pack. we leave for yaque to-night!" chapter vii dusk, and so on dusk on the tropic seas is a ceremony performed with reverence, as if the rising moon were a priestess come among her silver vessels. shadows like phantom sails dip through the dark and lie idle where unseen crafts with unexplained cargoes weigh anchor in mid-air. one almost hears the water cunningly lap upon their invisible sides. to little cawthorne, lying luxuriously in a hammock on the deck of _the aloha_, fancies like these crowded pleasantly, and slipped away or were merged in snatches of remembered songs. his hands were clasped behind his head, one foot was tapping the deck to keep the hammock in motion while strange compounds of tune and time broke aimlessly from his lips. "meet me by moonlight alone, and then i will tell you a tale. must be told in the moonlight alone in the grove at the end of the vale" he caroled contentedly. amory, the light of his pipe cheerfully glowing, lay at full length in a steamer chair. _the aloha_ was bounding briskly forward, a solitary speck on the bosom of darkening purple, and the men sitting in the companionship of silence, which all the world praises and seldom attains, had been engaging in that most entertaining of pastimes, the comparison of present comfort with past toil. little cawthorne's satisfaction flowered in speech. "two weeks ago to-night," he said, running his hands through his grey curls, "i took the night desk when ellis was knocked out. and two weeks ago to-morrow morning we were the only paper to be beaten on the fownes will story. hi--you." "happy, cawthorne?" amory removed his pipe to inquire with idle indulgence. "am i happy?" affirmed little cawthorne ecstatically in four tones, and went on with his song: "the daylight may do for the gay, the thoughtless, the heartless, the free, but there's something about the moon's ray that is sweeter to you and to me." "did you make that up?" inquired amory with polite interest. "i did if i want to," responded little cawthorne. "everything's true out here--go on, tell everything you like. i'll believe you." st. george came out of the dark and leaned on the rail without speaking. sometimes he wondered if he were he at all, and he liked the doubt. he felt pleasantly as if he had been cut loose from all old conditions and were sailing between skies to some unknown planet. this was not only because of the strange waters rushing underfoot but because of the flowering and singing of something within him that made the world into which he was sailing an alien place, heavenly desirable. a week ago that day _the aloha_ had weighed anchor, and these seven days, in fairly fortunate weather, her white nose had been cleaving seas to traverse which had so long been her owner's dream; and yet her owner, in pleasant apostasy, had turned his back upon the whole matter of what he had been used to dream, and now ungratefully spent his time in trying to count the hours to his journey's end. somewhere out yonder, he reflected, as he leaned on the rail, this southern moonlight was flooding whatever scene _she_ looked on; the lapping of the same sea was in her ears; and his future and hers might be dependent upon those two perplexed tan-coloured greyhounds below. by which one would have said that matters had been going briskly forward with st. george since the morning that he had breakfasted with olivia holland. exactly when the end of the journey would be was not evident either to him or to the two strange creatures who proposed to be his guides. or rather to jarvo, who was still the spokesman; lean little akko, although his intelligence was unrivaled, being content with monosyllables for stepping-stones while the stream of jarvo's soft speech flowed about him. barnay, the captain, frankly distrusted them both, and confided to st. george that "them two little jool-eyed scuts was limbs av the old gint himself, and they reminded him, barnay, of a pair of haythen naygurs," than which he could say no more. but then, barnay's wholesale skepticism was his only recreation, save talking about his pretty daughter "of school age," and he liked to stand tucking his beard inside his collar and indulging in both. in truth, barnay, who knew the waters of the atlantic fairly well, was sorely tried to take orders from the two little brown strangers who, he averred, consulted a "haythen apparaytus" which they would cheerfully let him see but of which he could "make no more than av the spach av a fish," and then directed him to take courses which lay far outside the beaten tracks of the high seas. st. george, who had had several talks with them, was puzzled and doubtful, and more than once confided to himself that the lives of the passenger list of _the aloha_ might be worth no more than coral headstones at the bottom of the south atlantic. but he always consoled himself with the cheering reflection that he had had to come--there was no other way half so good. so _the aloha_ continued to plow her way as serenely as if she were heading toward the white cliffs of dover and trim villas and a custom-house. and the sea lay a blue, uninhabited glory save as land that barnay knew about marked low blades of smoke on the horizon and slipped back into blue sheaths. this was the evening of the seventh day, and that noon jarvo had looked despondent, and barnay had sworn strange oaths, and st. george had been disquieted. he stood up now, going vaguely down into his coat pockets for his pipe, his erect figure thrown in relief against the hurrying purple. st. george was good to look at, and amory, with the moonlight catching the glass of his pince-nez, smoked and watched him, shrewdly pondering upon exactly how much anxiety for the success of the enterprise was occupying the breast of his friend and how much of an emotion a good bit stronger. amory himself was not in love, but there existed between him and all who were a special kinship, like that between a lover of music and a musician. little cawthorne rose and shuffled his feet lazily across deck. "where is that island, anyway?" he wanted to know, gazing meditatively out to sea. st. george turned as if the interruption was grateful. "the island. i don't see any island," complained little cawthorne. "i tell you," he confided, "i guess it's just chillingworth's little way of fixing up a nice long vacation for us." they smiled at memory of chillingworth's grudging and snarling assents to even an hour off duty. from below came bennietod, walking slowly. the seaman's life was not for bennietod, and he yearned to reach land as fervently as did st. george, though with other anxiety. he sat down on the moon-lit deck and his face was like that of a little old man with uncanny shrewdness. his week among them had wrought changes in the head office boy. for bennietod was ambitious to be a gentleman. his covert imitations had always amused st. george and amory. now in the comparative freedom of _the aloha_ his fancy had rein and he had adopted all the habits and the phrases which he had long reserved and liked best, mixing them with scraps of allusions to things which benfy had encouraged him to read, and presenting the whole in his native lower east-side dialect. bennietod was bowery-born and office-bred, and this sad metropolitanism almost made of him a good philosopher. "i'd like immensely to say something," observed st. george abruptly, when his pipe was lighted. "oh, yes. all right," shrilled little cawthorne with resignation, "i suppose you all feel i'm the jonah and you thirst to scatter me to the whales." "i want to know," st. george went on slowly, "what you think. on my life, i doubt if i thought at all when we set out. this all promised good sport, and i took it at that. lately, i've been wondering, now and then, whether any of you wish yourselves well out of it." for a moment no one spoke. to shrink from expression is a characteristic in which the extremes of cultivation and mediocrity meet; the reserve of delicacy in st. george and amory would have been a reserve of false shame in bennietod, and of an exaggerated sense of humour in little cawthorne. it was not remarkable that from the moment the enterprise had been entered upon, its perils and its doubtful outcome had not once been discussed. st. george vaguely reckoned with this as he waited, while amory smoked on and blew meditative clouds and regarded the bowl of his pipe, and little cawthorne ceased the motion of his hammock, and bennietod hugged his knees and looked shrewdly at the moon, as if he knew more about the moon than he would care to tell. st. george felt his heart sink a little. then little cawthorne rose and squared valiantly up to him. "what," inquired the little man indignantly, "are you trying to do? pick a fight?" st. george looked at him in surprise. "because if you are," continued little cawthorne without preamble, "we're three to one. and three of us are going to yaque. we'll put you ashore if you say so." st. george smiled at him gratefully. "no--bennietod?" inquired little cawthorne. bennietod, pale and manifestly weak, grinned cheerfully and fumbled in sudden abashment at an amazing checked ascot which he had derived from unknown sources. "bes' t'ing t'ever i met up wid," he assented, "ef de deck'd lay down levil. i'm de sonny of a sea-horse if it ain't." "amory?" demanded the little man. amory looked along his pipe and took it briefly from his lips and shook his head. "don't say these things," he pleaded in his pleasant drawl, "or i'll swear something horrid." st. george merely held his pipe by the bowl and nodded a little, but the hearts of all of them glowed. after dinner they sat long on deck. rollo, at his master's invitation, joined them with a mandolin, which he had been discovered to play considerably better than any one else on board. rollo sat bolt upright in a reclining chair to prove that he did not forget his station and strummed softly, and acknowledged approval with: "yes, sir. a little music adds an air to any occasion, _i_ always think, sir." the moon was not yet full, but its light in that warm world was brilliant. the air was drowsy and scented with something that might have been its own honey or that might have come from the strange blooms, water-sealed below. now and then st. george went aside for a space and walked up and down the deck or sent below for jarvo. once, as jarvo left st. george's side, little cawthorne awoke and sat upright and inquiring, in his hammock. "what _is_ the matter with his feet?" he inquired peevishly. "i shall certainly ask him directly." "it's the seventh day out," amory observed, "and still nobody knows." for jarvo and akko had another distinction besides their diminutive stature and greyhound build. their feet, clad in soft soleless shoes, made of skins, were long and pointed and of almost uncanny flexibility. it had become impossible for any one to look at either of the little men without letting his eyes wander to their curiously expressive feet, which, like "courtier speech," were expressive without revealing anything. "i t'ink," bennietod gave out, "dat dey're lost eyetalian organ-grinder monkeys, wid huming intelligence, like bertran's bimi." "what a suspicious child it is," yawned little cawthorne, and went to sleep again. toward midnight he awoke, refreshed and happy, and broke into instant song: "the daylight may do for the gay, the thoughtless, the heartless, the free, but there's something about the moon's ray--" he was chanting in perfect tonelessness, when st. george cried out. the others sprang to their feet. "lights!" said st. george, and gave the glass to amory, his hand trembling, and very nearly snatched it back again. far to the southeast, faint as the lost pleiad, a single golden point pricked the haze, danced, glimmered, was lost, and reappeared to their eager eyes. the impossibility of it all, the impossibility of believing that they could have sighted the lights of an island hanging there in the waste and hitherto known to nobody simply because nobody knew the truth about the fourth dimension did not assail them. so absorbed had st. george become in the undertaking, so convincing had been the events that led up to it, and so ready for anything in any dimension were his companions, that their excitement was simply the ancient excitement of lights to the mariner and nothing more; save indeed that to st. george they spoke a certain language sweeter than the language of any island lying in the heart of mere science or mere magic either. when it became evident that the lights were no will-o'-the-wisps, born of the moon and the void, but the veritable lights that shine upon harbours, bennietod tumbled below for jarvo, who came on deck and gazed and doubted and well-nigh wept for joy and poured forth strange words and called aloud for akko. akko came and nodded and showed white teeth. "to-morrow," he said only. barnay came. "fwhat matther?" he put it cynically, scowling critically at jarvo and akko. "all in the way av fair fight, that'll be about mor-rocco, if i've the full av my wits about me, an' music to my eyes, by the same token." jarvo fixed him with his impenetrable look. "it is the light of the king's palace on the summit of mount khalak," he announced simply. the light of the king's palace. st. george heard and thrilled with thanksgiving. it would be then the light at her very threshold, provided the impossible is possible, as scientists and devotees have every reason to think. but was she there--was she there? if there was an oracle for the answer, it was not st. george. the little white stars danced and signaled faintly on the far horizon. whatever they had to reveal was for nearer eyes than his. the glass passed from hand to hand, and in turn they all swept the low sky where the faint points burned; but when some one had cried that the lights were no longer visible, and the others had verified the cry by looking blankly into a sudden waste of milky black--black water, pale light--and turned baffled eyes to jarvo, the little man spoke smoothly, not even reaching a lean, brown hand for the glass. "but have no fear, adôn," he reassured them, "the chart is not exact--it is that which has delayed us. it will adjust itself. the light may long disappear, but it will come again. the gods will permit the possible." they looked at one another doubtfully when the two little brown men had gone below, where barnay had immediately retired, tucking his beard in his collar and muttering sedition. if the two strange creatures were twin robin goodfellows perpetrating a monstrous twentieth century prank, if they were gigantic evolutions of puck whose imagination never went far beyond threshing corn with shadowy flails, at least this very modern caper demanded respect for so perfectly catching the spirit of the times. at all events it was immensely clever of them to have put their finger upon the public pulse and to have realized that the public imagination is ready to believe anything because it has seen so much proved. still, "science was faith once"; and besides, to st. george, charts and compasses of all known and unknown systems of seamanship were suddenly become but the dead letter of the law. the spirit of the whole matter was that olivia might be there, under the lights that his own eyes would presently see again. "who, remembering the first kind glance of her whom he loves, can fail to believe in magic?" it is very likely that having met olivia at all seemed at that moment so wonderful to st. george that any of the "frolic things" of science were to be accepted with equanimity. for an hour or more the moon, flooding the edge of the deck of _the aloha_, cast four shadows sharply upon the smooth boards. lined up at the rail stood the four adventurers, and the glass passed from one to another like the eye of the three grey sisters. the far beacon appeared and disappeared, but its actuality might not be doubted. if jarvo and akko were to be trusted, there in the velvet distance lay yaque, and med, the king's city, and the light upon the very palace of its american sovereign. st. george's pulses leaped and trembled. amory lifted lazy lids and watched him with growing understanding and finally, upon a pretext of sleep, led the others below. and st. george, with a sense of joyful companionship in the little light, paced the deck until dawn. chapter viii the porch of the morning by afternoon the island of yaque was an accomplished fact of distinguishable parts. there it lay, a thing of rock and green, like the islands of its sister latitudes before which the passing ships of all the world are wont to cast anchor. but having once cast anchor before yaque the ships of all the world would have had great difficulty in landing anybody. sheer and almost smoothly hewn from the utmost coast of the island rose to a height of several hundred feet one scarcely deviating wall of rock; and this apparently impregnable wall extended in either direction as far as the sight could reach. above the natural rampart the land sloped upward still in steep declivities, but cut by tortuous gorges, and afar inland rose the mountain upon whose summit the light had been descried. there the glass revealed white towers and columns rising from a mass of brilliant tropical green, and now smitten by the late sun; but save these towers and columns not a sign of life or habitation was discernible. no smoke arose, no wharf or dock broke the serene outline of the black wall lapped by the warm sea; and there was no sound save that of strong torrents afar off. lonely, inscrutable, the great mass stood, slightly shelved here and there to harbour rank and blossomy growths of green and presenting a rugged beauty of outline, but apparently as uninhabitable as the land of the north silences. consternation and amazement sat upon the faces of the owner of _the aloha_ and his guests as they realized the character of the remarkable island. st. george and amory had counted upon an adventure calling for all diplomacy, but neither had expected the delight of hazard that this strange, fairy-like place seemed about to present. each felt his blood stirring and singing in his veins at the joy of the possibilities that lay folded before them. "we shall be obliged to land upon the east coast then, jarvo?" observed st. george; "but how long will it take us to sail round the island?" "very long," jarvo responded, "but no, adôn, we land on this coast." "how is that possible?" st. george asked. "well, hi--you," said little cawthorne, "i'm a goat, but i'm no mountain goat. see the little swiss kid skipping from peak to peak and from crag to crag--" "do we scale the wall?" inquired st. george, "or is there a passage in the rock?" bennietod hugged himself in uncontrollable ecstasy. "hully gee, a submarine passage, in under de sea, like jules werne," he said in a delight that was almost awe. "there is a way over the rock," said jarvo, "partly hewn, partly natural, and this is known to the islanders alone. that way we must take. it is marked by a white blade blazoned on the rock over the entrance of the submarines. the way is cunningly concealed--hardly will the glass reveal it, adôn." barnay shook his head. "you've a bad time comin' with the home-sickness," he prophesied, tucking his beard far down in his collar until he looked, for barnay, smooth-shaven. "i've sailed the sou' atlantic up an' down fer a matther av four hundhred years, more or less, an' i niver as much as seed hide _nor_ hair av the place before this prisint. there ain't map or chart that iver dhrawed breath that shows ut, new or old. ut's been lifted out o' ground to be afther swallowin' us in--a sweet dose will be the lot av us, mesilf with as foine a gir-rl av school age as iver you'll see in anny counthry." "ah yes, barnay," said st. george soothingly--but he would have tried now to soothe a man in the embrace of a sea-serpent in just the same absent-minded way, amory thought indulgently. the sun was lowering and birds of evening were beginning to brood over the painted water when _the aloha_ cast anchor. in the late light the rugged sides of the island had an air of almost sinister expectancy. there was a great silence in their windless shelter broken only by the boom and charge of the breakers and the gulls and choughs circling overhead, winging and dipping along the water and returning with discordant cries to their crannies in the black rock. before the yacht, blazoned on a dark, water-polished stratum of the volcanic stone, was the white blade which jarvo told them marked the subterranean entrance to the mysterious island. st. george and his companions and barnay, jarvo and akko were on deck. rollo, whose soul did not disdain to be valet to a steam yacht, was tranquilly mending a canvas cushion. "the adôn will wait until sunrise to go ashore?" asked jarvo. "_sunrise_!" cried st. george. "heaven on earth, no. we'll go now." there was no need to ask the others. whatever might be toward, they were eager to be about, though rollo ventured to st. george a deprecatory: "you know, sir, one can't be too careful, sir." "will you prefer to stay aboard?" st. george put it quietly. "oh, no, sir," said rollo with a grieved face, "one should meet danger with a light heart, sir," and went below to pack the oil-skins. "hear me now," said barnay in extreme disfavour. "it's i that am to lay hereabouts and wait for you, sorr? lord be good to me, an' fwhat if she lays here tin year', and you somewheres fillin' the eyes av the aygles with your brains blowed out, neat?" he demanded misanthropically. "fwhat if she lays here on that gin'ral theory till she's rotted up, sorr?" "ah well now, barnay," said st. george grimly, "you couldn't have an easier career." little cawthorne, from leaning on the rail staring out at the island, suddenly pulled himself up and addressed st. george. "here we are," he complained, "here has been me coming through the watery deep all the way from broadway, with an octopus clinging to each arm and a dolphin on my back, and you don't even ask how i stood the trip. and do you realize that it's sheer madness for the five of us to land on that island together?" "what do you mean?" asked st. george. the little man shook his grey curls. "what if it's as barnay says?" he put it. "what if they should bag us all--who'll take back the glad news to the harbour? lord, you can't tell what you're about walking into. you don't even know the specific gravity of the island," he suggested earnestly. "how do you know but your own weight will flatten you out the minute you step ashore?" st. george laughed. "he thinks he is reading the fiction page," he observed indulgently. "still, i fancy there is good sense on the page, for once. we don't know anything about anything. i suppose we really ought not to put all five eggs in one basket. but, by jove--" he looked over at amory with troubled eyes. "as host of this picnic," he said, "i dare say i ought to stay aboard and let you fellows--but i'm hanged if i will." little cawthorne reflected, frowning; and you could as well have expected a bird to frown as little cawthorne. it was rather the name of his expression than a description of it. "suppose," he said, "that bennietod and i sit rocking here in this bay--if it is a bay--while you two rest your chins on the top of that ledge of rock up there, and look over. and about to-morrow or day after we two will venture up behind you, or you could send one of the men back--" "my thunder," said bennietod wistfully, "ain't i goin' to get to climb in de pantry window at de palace--nor fire out of a loophole--" "bennietod an' i couldn't talk to a prince anyway," said little cawthorne; "we'd get our language twisted something dizzy, and probably tell him 'yes, ma'am.'" st. george's eyes softened as he looked at the little man. he knew well enough what it cost him to make the suggestion, which the good sense of them all must approve. not only did little cawthorne always sacrifice himself, which is merely good breeding, but he made opportunities to do so, which is both well-bred and virtuous. when rollo came up with the oil-skins they told him what had been decided, and rollo, the faithful, the expressionless, dropped his eyelids, but he could not banish from his voice the wistfulness that he might have been one to stay behind. "sometimes it _is_ best for a person to change his mind, sir," was his sole comment. presently the little green dory drew away from _the aloha_, and they left her lying as much at her ease as if the phantom island before her were in every school-boy's geography, with a scale of miles and a list of the principal exports attached. "if we had diving dresses, adôn," jarvo suggested, "we might have gone down through the sluice and entered by the lagoon where the submarines pass." "jove," said amory, trying to row and adjust his pince-nez at the same time, "chillingworth will never forgive us for missing that." "you couldn't have done it," shouted little cawthorne derisively, from the deck of the yacht, "you didn't wear your rubbers. if anybody sticks a knife in you send up a r-r-r-ocket!" the landing, effected with the utmost caution, was upon a flat stone already a few inches submerged by the rising tide. looking up at the jagged, beetling world above them their task appeared hopeless enough. but jarvo found footing in an instant, and st. george and amory pressed closely behind him, rollo and little akko silently bringing up the rear and carrying the oil-skins. slowly and cautiously as they made their way it was but a few minutes until the three standing on the deck, and barnay open-mouthed in the dory, saw the sinuous line of the five bodies twist up the tortuous course considerably above the blazoned emblem of the white blade. in truth, with jarvo to set light foot where no foot seemed ever before to have been set, with jarvo to inspect every twig and pebble and to take sharp turns where no turn seemed possible, the ascent, perilous as it was, proved to be no such superhuman feat as from below it had appeared. but it seemed interminable. even when the sea lay far beneath them and the faces of the watchers on the deck of _the aloha_ were no longer distinguishable, the grim wall continued to stretch upward, melting into the sky's late blue. the afterglow laid a fair path along the water, and the warm dusk came swiftly out of the east. at snail's pace, now with heads bent to knees, now standing erect to draw themselves up by the arms or to leap a wicked-looking crevice, the four took their way up the black side of the rock. birds of the cliffs, disturbed from long rest, wheeled and screamed about them, almost brushing their faces with long, fearless wings. there was an occasional shelf where, with backs against the wall spotted with crystals of feldspar, they waited to breathe, hardly looking down from the dizzy ledge. great slabs of obsidian were piled about them between stretches of calcareous stone, and the soil which was like beds of old lava covered by thin layers of limestone, was everywhere pierced by sharp shoulders of stone lying in savage disarray. gradually rock-slides and rock-edges yielded a less insecure footing on the upper reaches, but the chasms widened and water dripping from lateral crevasses made the vague trail slippery and the occasional earth sodden and treacherous. for a quarter of a mile their way lay over a kind of porous gravel into which their feet sank, and beyond at the summit of a ridge jarvo halted and threw back to them a summary warning to prepare for "a long leap." a sharp angle of rock, jutting out, had been split down the middle by some ancient force--very likely a paleozoic butterfly had brushed it with its wing--and the edges had been worn away in a treacherous slope to the very lip of the crumbling promontory. from this edge to the edge of the opposite abutment there was a gap of wicked width, and between was a sheer drop into space wherefrom rose the sound of tumbling waters. when jarvo had taken the leap, easily and gracefully, alighting on the other side like the greyhound that he resembled, and the others, following, had cleared the edge by as safe a margin as if the abyss were a minor field-day event, st. george and amory looked back with sudden wonder over the path by which they had come. "i feel as if i weighed about ninety pounds," said st. george; "am i fading away or anything?" amory stood still. "i was thinking the same thing," he said. "by jove--do you suppose--what if little cawthorne hit the other end of the nail, as usual? suppose the specific gravity--suppose there is something--suppose it doesn't hold good in this dimension that a body--by jove," said amory, "wouldn't that be the deuce?" st. george looked at jarvo, bounding up the stony way as easily as if he were bounding down. "ah well now," he said, "you know on the moon an ordinary man would weigh only twenty-six or seven pounds. why not here? we aren't held down by any map!" they laughed at the pleasant enormity of the idea and were hurrying on when akko, behind them, broke his settled silence. "in america," he said, "a man feels like a mountain. here he feels like a man." "what do you mean by that?" demanded st. george uneasily. but akko said no more, and st. george and amory, with a disquieting idea that each was laughing at the other, let the matter drop. from there on the way was easier, leveling occasionally, frequently swelling to gentle ridges, and at last winding up a steep trail that was not difficult to keep in spite of the fast falling night. and at length jarvo, rounding a huge hummock where converging ridges met, scrambled over the last of these and threw himself on the ground. "now," he said simply. the two men stood beside him and looked down. it seemed to st. george that they looked not at all upon a prospect but upon the sudden memory of a place about which he might have dreamed often and often and, waking, had not been able to remember, though its familiarity had continued insistently to beat at his heart; or that in what was spread before him lay the satisfaction of burne-jones' wistful definition of a picture: "... a beautiful, romantic dream of something that never was, never will be, in a light better than any light that ever shone, in a land no one can define or remember, only desire..." yet it was to st. george as if he had reached no strange land, no alien conditions; but rather that he had come home. it was like a home-coming in which nothing is changed, none of the little improvements has been made which we resent because no one has thought to tell us of them; but where everything is even more as one remembers than one knew that one remembered. [illustration] at his feet lay a pleasant valley filled with the purple of deep twilight. far below a lagoon caught the late light and spread it in a pattern among hidden green. in the midst of the valley towered the mountain whose summit, royally crowned by shining towers, had been visible from the open sea. at its feet, glittering in the abundant light shed upon its white wall and dome and pinnacle, stood med, the king's city--but its light was not the light of the day, for that was gone; nor of the moon, not risen; and no false lights vexed the dark. yet he was looking into a cup of light, as clear as the light in a gazing-crystal and of a quality as wholly at variance with reality. the rocky coast of yaque was literally a massive, natural wall; and girt by it lay the heart of the island, fertile and populous and clothed in mystery. this new face which nature turned to him was a glorified face, and some way _it meant what he meant_. st. george was off for a few steps, trampling impatiently over the coarse grass of the bank. somewhere in that dim valley--was she there, was she there? was she in trouble, did she need him, did she think of him? st. george went through the ancient, delicious list as conscientiously as if he were the first lover, and she were the first princess, and this were the first ascent of yaque that the world had ever known. for by some way of miracle, the mystery of the island was suddenly to him the very mystery of his love, and the two so filled his heart that he could not have told of which he was thinking. that which had lain, shadowy and delicious, in his soul these many days--not so very many, either, if one counts the suns--was become not only a thing of his soul but a thing of the outside world, almost of the visible world, something that had existed for ever and which he had just found out; and here, wrapped in nameless light, lay its perfect expression. when a shaft of silver smote the long grass at his feet, and the edge of the moon rose above the mountain, st. george turned with a poignant exultation--did a mere victory over half a continent ever make a man feel like that?--and strode back to the others. "come on," he called ringingly in a voice that did everything but confess in words that something heavenly sweet was in the man's mind, "let's be off!" amory was carefully lighting his pipe. "i feel sort of tense," he explained, "as if the whole place would explode if i threw down my match. what do you think of it?" st. george did not answer. "it's a place where all the lines lead up," he was saying to himself, "as they do in a cathedral." the four went the fragrant way that led to the heart of the island. first the path followed the high bank the branches of whose tropical undergrowth brushed their faces with brief gift of perfume. on the other side was a wood of slim trunks, all depths of shadow and delicacies of borrowed light in little pools. everywhere, everywhere was a chorus of slight voices, from bark and air and secret moss, singing no forced notes of monotone, but piping a true song of the gladness of earth, plaintive, sweet, indescribably harmonious. it came to st. george that this was the way the woods at night would always sound if, somehow, one were able to hear the sweetness that poured itself out. even that familiar sense in the night-woods that something is about to happen was deliciously present with him; and though amory went on quietly enough, st. george swam down that green way, much as one dreams of floating along a street, above-heads. the path curved, and went hesitatingly down many terraces. here, from the dimness of the marge of the island, they gradually emerged into the beginnings of the faint light. it was not like entering upon dawn, or upon the moonlight. it was by no means like going to meet the lights of a city. it was literally "a light better than any light that ever shone," and it wrapped them round first like a veil and then like a mantle. dimly, as if released from the censer-smoke of a magician's lamp, boughs and glades, lines and curves were set free of the dark; and st. george and amory could see about them. yet it did not occur to either to distrust the phenomenon, or to regard it as unnatural or the fruit of any unnatural law. it was somehow quite as convincing to them as is his first sight of electric light to the boy of the countryside, and no more to be regarded as witchcraft. st. george was silent. it was as if he were on the threshold of far-away, within the porch of the morning of some day divine. the place was so poignantly like the garden of a picture that one has seen as a child, and remembered as a place past all speech beautiful, and yet failed ever to realize in after years, or to make any one remember, or, save fleetingly in dreams to see once more, since the picture-book is never, never chanced upon again. sometimes he had dreamed of a great sunny plain, with armies marching; sometimes he had awakened at hearing the chimes, and fancied sleepily that it was infinite music; sometimes, in the country in the early morning, he had had an unreasonable, unaccountable moment of perfect happiness: and now the fugitive element of them all seemed to have been crystallized and made his own in that floating walk down the wooded terraces of this unknown world. and yet he could not have told whether the element was contained in that beauty, or in his thought of olivia. at last they emerged upon a narrow, grassy terrace where white steps mounted to a wide parapet. jarvo ran up the steps and turned: "behold med, adôn," he said modestly, as if he had at that moment stirred it up in a sauce-pan and baked it before their astonished eyes. they were standing at the top of an immense flight of steps extending as far to right and left as they could see, and leading down by easy stages and wide landings to the white-paved city itself. the clear light flooded the scene--lucid, vivid, many-peopled. far as the eye could see, broad streets extended, lined with structures rivaling in splendour and beauty those unforgotten "topless towers." temples, palaces, and public buildings rose, storey upon storey, built of hewn stones of great size; and noble arches faced an open square before a temple of colossal masonry crowning an eminence in the centre of the city. directly in line with this eminence rose the mountain upon whose summit stood the far-seen pillars where burned the solitary light. if an enchanted city had risen from the waves because some one had chanced to speak the right word, it could have been no more bewildering; and yet the look of this city was so substantial, so adapted to all commonplace needs, so essentially the scene of every-day activity and purpose, that dozens of towns of petty european principalities seem far less actual and practicable homes of men. busy citizens hurrying, the bark of a dog, the mere tone of a temple bell spoke the ordinary occupations of all the world; and upon the chief street the moon looked down as tranquilly as if the causeway were a continuation of fifth avenue. but it was as if the spirit of adventure in st. george had suddenly turned and questioned him, saying: "what of olivia?" for olivia gone to a far-away island to find her father was subject of sufficient anxiety; but olivia in the power of a pretender who might have at command such undreamed resources was more than cool reason could comprehend. that was the principal impression that med, the king's city, made upon st. george. "to the right, adôn," jarvo was saying, "where the walls are highest--that is the palace of the prince, the palace of the litany." "and the king's palace?" st. george asked eagerly. jarvo lifted his face to the solitary summit light upon the mountain. "but how does one ascend?" cried st. george. "by permission of prince tabnit," replied jarvo, "one is borne up by six imperial carriers, trained in the service from birth. one attempting the ascent alone would be dashed in pieces." "no municipal line of airships?" ventured amory in slow astonishment. jarvo did not quite get this. "the airships, adôn," he said, "belong to the imperial household and are kept at the summit of mount khalak." "a trust," comprehended amory; "an absolute monarchy is a bit of a trust, anyhow. of course, it's sometimes an outraged trust..." he murmured on. "the adôn," said jarvo humbly, "will understand that we, i and akko, have borne great risk. it is necessary that we make our peace with all speed, if that may be. the very walls are the ears of prince tabnit, and it is better to be behind those walls. may the gods permit the possible." "do you mean to say," asked st. george, "that we too would better look out the prince at once?" "the adôn is wise," said jarvo simply, "but nothing is hid from prince tabnit." st. george considered. in this mysterious place, whose ways were as unknown to him and to his companions as was the etiquette of the court of the moon, clearly diplomacy was the better part of valour. it was wiser to seek out prince tabnit, if he had really arrived on the island, than to be upon the defensive. "ah, very well," he said briefly, "we will visit the prince." "farewell, adôn," said jarvo, bowing low, "may the gods permit the possible." "of course you will communicate with us to-morrow," suggested st. george, "so that if we wish to send rollo down to the yacht--" "the gods will permit the possible, adôn," jarvo repeated gently. there was a flash of akko's white teeth and the two little men were gone. st. george and amory turned to the descending of the wide white steps. such immense, impossible white steps and such a curious place for these two to find themselves, alone, with a valet. struck by the same thought they looked at each other and nodded, laughing a little. "alone in the distance," said amory, emptying his pipe, "and not a cab to be seen." rollo thrust forward his lean, shadowed face. "shall i look about for a 'ansom, sir?" he inquired with perfect gravity. st. george hardly heard. "it's like cutting into a great, smooth sheet of white paper," he said whimsically, "and making any figure you want to make." before they reached the bottom of the steps they divined, issuing from an isolated, temple-seeming building below, a train of sober-liveried attendants, all at first glance resembling jarvo and akko. these defiled leisurely toward the strangers and lined up irregularly at the foot of the steps. "enter trouble," said amory happily. they found themselves confronting, in the midst of the attendants, an olive man with no angles, whose face, in spite of its health and even wealth of contour, was ridiculously grave, as if the _papier-mâché_ man in the down-town window should have had a sudden serious thought just before his _papier-mâché_ incarnation. "permit me," said the man in perfect english and without bowing, "to bring to you the greeting of his highness, prince tabnit, and his welcome to yaque. i am cassyrus, an officer of the government. at the command of his highness i am come to conduct you to the palace." "the prince is most kind," said st. george, and added eagerly: "he is returned, then?" "assuredly. three days ago," was the reply. "and the king--is he returned?" asked st. george. the man shook his head, and his very anxiety seemed important. "his majesty, the king," he affirmed, "is still most lamentably absent from his throne and his people." "and his daughter?" demanded st. george then, who could not possibly have waited an instant longer to put that question. "the daughter of his majesty, the king," said cassyrus, looking still more as if he were having his portrait painted, "will in three days be recognized publicly as princess of yaque." st. george's heart gave a great bound. thank heaven, she was here, and safe. his hope and confidence soared heavenward. and by some miracle she was to take her place as the people of yaque had petitioned. but what was the meaning of that news of the prince's treachery which jarvo and akko had come bearing? the prince had faithfully fulfilled his mission and had conducted the daughter of the king of yaque safely to her father's country. what did it all mean? st. george hardly noted the majestic square through which they were passing. impressions of great buildings, dim white and misty grey and bathed in light, bewilderingly succeeded one another; but, as in the days which followed the news of his inheritance, he found himself now in a temper of unsurprise, in that mental atmosphere--properly the normal--which regards all miracle as natural law. he even omitted to note what was of passing strangeness: that neither the retinue of the minister nor the others upon the streets cast more than casual glances at their unusual visitors. but when the great gates of the palace were readied his attention was challenged and held, for though mere marvels may become the air one breathes, beauty will never cease to amaze, and the vista revealed was of almost disconcerting beauty. avenues of brightness, arches of green, glimpses of airy columns, of boundless lawns set with high, pyramidal shrines, great places of quiet and straight line, alleys whose shadow taught the necessity of mystery, the sound of water--the pure, positive element of it all--and everywhere, above, below and far, that delicate, labyrinth light, diffused from no visible source. it was as if some strange compound had changed the character of the dark itself, transmuting it to a subtle essence more exquisite than light, inhabiting it with wonders. and high above their heads where this translucence seemed to mix with the upper air and to fuse with moonbeams, sprang almost joyously the pale domes and cornices of the palace, sending out floating streamers and pennons of colours nameless and unknown. "jupiter," said the human amory in awe, "what a picture for the first page of the supplement." st. george hardly heard him. the picture held so perfectly the elusive charm of the question--the question which profoundly underlies all things. it was like a triumphant burst of music which yet ends on a high note, with imperfect close, hinting passionately at some triumph still loftier. from either side of the wall of the palace yard came glittering a detachment of the royal golden guard, clad in uniforms of unrelieved cloth-of-gold. these halted, saluted, wheeled, and between their shining ranks st. george and amory footed quietly on, followed by rollo carrying the yellow oil-skins. to st. george there was relief in the motion, relief in the vastness, and almost a boy's delight in the pastime of living the hour. yet royal golden guard, majestic avenues, and towered palace with its strange banners floating in strange light, held for him but one reality. and when they had mounted the steps of the mighty entrance, and the sound of unrecognized music reached him--a very myth of music, elusive, vagrant, fugued--and the palace doors swung open to receive them, he could have shouted aloud on the brilliant threshold: "he says she is here in yaque." chapter ix the lady of kingdoms so there were st. george and amory presently domiciled in a prince's palace such as asia and europe have forgotten, as by and by they will forget the taj mahal and the bon marché. and at nine o'clock the next morning in a certain tyrian purple room in the west wing of the palace of the litany the two sat breakfasting. "one always breakfasts," observed st. george. "the first day that the first men spend on mars i wonder whether the first thing they do will be to breakfast." "poor old mars has got to step down now," said amory. "we are one farther on. i don't know how it will be, but if i felt on mars the way i do now, i should assent to breakfast. shouldn't you?" "on my life, toby," said st. george, "as an idealist you are disgusting. yes, i should." the table had been spread before an open window, and the window looked down upon the palace garden, steeped in the gold of the sunny morning, and formal with aisles of mighty, flowering trees. within, the apartment was lofty, its walls fashioned to lift the eye to light arches, light capitals, airy traceries, and spaces of the hue of old ivory, held in heavenly quiet. the sense of colour, colour both captive and atmospheric, was a new and persistent delight, for it was colour purified, specialized, and infinitely extended in either direction from the crudity of the seven-winged spectrum. the room was like an alcove of outdoors, not divorced from the open air and set in contra-distinction, but made a continuation of its space and order and ancient repose--a kind of exquisite porch of light. across this porch of light rollo stepped, bearing a covered dish. the little breakfast-table and the laden side-table were set with vessels of rock-crystal and drinking-cups of silver gilt, and breakfast consisted of delicately-prepared sea-food, a pulpy fruit, thin wine and a paste of delicious powdered gums. these things rollo served quite as if he were managing oatmeal and eggs and china. one would have said that he had been brought up between the covers of an ancient history, nothing in consequence being so old or so new as to amaze him. upon their late arrival the evening before he had instantly moved about his duties in all the quiet decorum with which he officiated in three rooms and a bath, emptying the oil-skins, disposing of their contents in great cedar chests, and, from certain rich and alien garments laid out for the guests, pretending as unconcernedly to fleck lint as if they had been broadcloth from fifth avenue. he stood bending above the breakfast-table, his lean, shadowed hands perfectly at home, his lean, shadowed face all automatic attention. "rollo," said st. george, "go and look out the window and see if sodom is smoking." "yes, sir," said rollo, and moved to the nearest casement and bent his look submissively below. "everything quiet, sir," he reported literally; "a very warm day, sir. but it's easy to sleep, sir, no matter how warm the days are if only the nights are cool. begging your pardon, sir." st. george nodded. "you don't see jezebel down there in the trees," he pressed him, "or elissa setting off to found carthage? chaldea and egypt all calm?" he anxiously put it. rollo stirred uneasily. "there's a couple o' blue-tailed birds scrappin' in a palm tree, sir," he submitted hopefully. "ah," said st. george, "yes. there would be. now, if you like," he gave his servant permission, "you may go to the festivals or the funeral games or wherever you choose to-day. or perhaps," he remembered with solicitude, "you would prefer to be present at the wedding-of-the-land-water-with-the-sea-water, providing, as i suspect, tyre is handy?" "thank you, sir," said rollo doubtfully. "mind you put your money on the crack disc-thrower, though," warned st. george, "and you might put up a couple of darics for me." "no," languidly begged amory, "pray no. you are getting your periods mixed something horrid." "a person's recreation is as good for him as his food, sir," proclaimed rollo, sententious, anxious to agree. "food," said amory languidly, "this isn't food--it's molten history, that's what it is. think--this is what they had to eat at the cafés boulevardes of gomorrah. and to think we've been at tony's, before now. do you remember," he asked raptly, "those brief and savoury banquets around one o'clock, at tony's? from where little cawthorne once went away wearing two omelettes instead of his overshoes? don't tell me that tonycana and all this belong to the same system in space. don't tell me--" he stopped abruptly and his eyes sought those of st. george. it was all so incredible, and yet it was all so real and so essentially, distractingly natural. "i feel as if we had stepped through something, to somewhere else. and yet, somehow, there is so little difference. do you suppose when people die _they_ don't notice any difference, either?" "what i want to know," said amory, filling his pipe, "is how it's going to look in print. think of crass--digging for head-lines." st. george rose abruptly. amory was delicious, especially his drawl; but there were times-"print it," he exclaimed, "you might as well try to print the absolute." amory nodded. "oh, if you're going to be neoplatonic," he said, "i'm off to hum an orphic hymn. isn't it about time for the prince? i want to get out with the camera, while the light is good." the lateness of the hour of their arrival at the palace the evening before had prevented the prince from receiving them, but he had sent a most courteous message announcing that he himself would wait upon them at a time which he appointed. while they were abiding his coming, rollo setting aside the dishes, amory smoking, strolling up and down, and examining the faint symbolic devices upon the walls' tiling, st. george stood before one of the casements, and looked over the aisles of flowering tree-tops to the grim, grey sides of mount khalak, inscrutable, inaccessible, now not even hinting at the walls and towers upon its secret summit. he was thinking how heavenly curious it was that the most wonderful thing in his commonplace world of new york--that is, his meeting with olivia--should, out here in this world of things wonderful beyond all dream, still hold supreme its place as the sovereign wonder, the sovereign delight. "i dare say that means something," he said vaguely to himself, "and i dare say all the people who are--in love--know what it does mean," and at this his spirit of adventure must have nodded at him, as if it understood, too. when, in a little time, prince tabnit appeared at the open door of the "porch of light," it was as if he had parted from st. george in mcdougle street but the night before. he greeted him with exquisite cordiality and his welcome to amory was like a welcome unfeigned. he was clad in white of no remembered fashion, with the green gem burning on his breast, but his manner was that of one perfectly tailored and about the most cosmopolitan offices of modernity. one might have told him one's most subtly humourous story and rested certain of his smile. "i wonder," he asked with engaging hesitation when he was seated, "whether i may have a--cigarette? that is the name? yes, a cigarette. tobacco is unknown in yaque. we have invented no colonies useful for the luxury. how can it be--forgive me--that your people, who seem remote from poetry, should be the devisers and popularizers of this so poetic pastime? to breathe in the green of earth and the light of the dead sun! the poetry of your american smoke delights me." st. george smiled as he offered the prince his case. "in america," he said, "we devised it as a vice, your highness. we are obliged to do the same with poetry, if we popularize it." and st. george was thinking: "miss holland. he has seen miss holland--perhaps yesterday. perhaps he will see her to-day. and how in this world am i ever to mention her name?" but the prince was in the idlest and most genial of humours. he spoke at once of the matters uppermost in the minds of his guests, gave them news of the party from new york, told how they were in comfort in the palace on the summit of mount khalak, struck a momentary tragic note in mention of the mystery still mantling the absence of the king and repeated the announcement already made by cassyrus, the premier, that in two days' time, failing the return of the sovereign, the king's daughter would be publicly recognized, with solemn ceremonial, as princess of yaque. then he turned to st. george, his eyes searching him through the haze of smoke. "your own coming to yaque," he said abruptly, "was the result of a sudden decision?" "quite so, your highness," replied st. george. "it was wholly unexpected." "then we must try to make it also an unexpected pleasure," suggested the prince lightly. "i am come to ask you to spend the day with me in looking about med, the king's city." he dropped the monogrammed stub of his cigarette in a little jar of smaragdos, brought, he mentioned in passing, from a despoiled temple of one of the chthonian deities of tyre, and turned toward his guests with a winning smile. "come," he said, "i can no longer postpone my own pleasure in showing you that our nation is the lady of kingdoms as once were babylon and chaldea." it was as if the strange panorama of the night before had once more opened its frame, and they were to step within. as the prince left them st. george turned to rollo for the novelty of addressing a reality. "how do you wish to spend the day, rollo?" he asked him. rollo looked pensive. "could i stroll about a bit, sir?" he asked. "stroll!" commanded st. george cheerfully. "thank you, sir," said rollo. "i always think a man can best learn by observation, sir." "observe!" supplemented his master pleasantly, as a detachment of the guard appeared to conduct amory and him below. "don't black up the sandals," amory warned rollo as he left him, "and be back early. we may want you to get us ready for a mastodon hunt." "yes, sir," said rollo with simplicity, "i'll be back quite some time before tea-time, sir." st. george was smiling as they went down the corridor. he had been vain of his love that, in yaque as in america, remained the thing it was, supreme and vital. but had not the simplicity of rollo taken the leap in experience, and likewise without changing? for a moment, as he went down the silent corridors, lofty as the woods, vocal with faint inscriptions on the uncovered stone, the old human doubt assailed him. the very age of the walls was a protest against the assumption that there is a touchstone that is ageless. even if there is, even if love is unchanging, the very temper of unconcern of his valet might be quite as persistent as love itself. but the gallery emptying itself into a great court open to the blue among graven rafters, st. george promptly threw his doubt to the fresh, heaven-kissing wind that smote their faces, and against mystery and argument and age alike he matched only the happy clamour of his blood. olivia holland was on the island, and all the age was gold. in yaque or on the continents there can be no manner of doubt that this is love, as love itself loves to be. they emerged in the appeasing air of that perfect morning, and the sweetness of the flowering trees was everywhere, and wide roads pointed invitingly to undiscovered bournes, and overhead in the curving wind floated the flags and streamers of those joyous, wizard colours. they went out into the rejoicing world, and it was like penetrating at last into the heart of that "land a great way off" which holds captive the wistful thought of the children of earth, and reveals itself as elusively as ecstasy. if one can remember some journey that he has taken long ago--long ago and far away are the great touchstones--and can remember the glamourie of the hour and forget the substructure of events, if he can recall the pattern and forget the fabric, then he will understand the spirit that informed that first morning in yaque. it was a morning all compact of wonder and delight--wonder at that which half-revealed itself, delight in the ever-present possibility that here, there, at any moment, olivia holland might be met. as for the wonder, that had taken some three thousand years to accumulate, as nearly as one could compute; and as for the delight, that had taken less than ten days to make possible; and yet there is no manner of doubt which held high place in the mind of st. george as the smooth miles fled away from hurrying wheels. such wheels! motors? st. george asked himself the question as he took his place beside the prince in the exquisitely light vehicle, amory following with cassyrus, and the suites coming after, like the path from a lanthorn. for the vehicles were a kind of electric motor, but constructed exquisitely in a fashion which, far from affronting taste, delighted the eye by leading it to lines of unguessed beauty. they were motors as the ancients would have built them if they had understood the trick of science, motors in which the lines of utility were veiled and taught to be subordinate. the speed attained was by no means great, and the motion was gentle and sacrificed to silence. and when st. george ventured to ask how they had imported the first motors, the prince answered that as columbus was sailing on the waters of the atlantic at adventure, the people of yaque were touring the island in electric motors of much the same description, though hardly the clumsiness, of those which he had noticed in new york. this was the first astonishment, and other astonishments were to follow. for as they went about the island it was revealed that the remainder of the world is asleep with science for a pillow and the night-lamp of philosophy casting shadows. yet as the prince exhibited wonders, one after another, st. george, dimly conscious that these are the things that men die to discover, would have given them all for one moment's meeting with olivia on that high-road of med. if you come to think of it, this may be why science always has moved so slowly, creeping on from point to point. thus it came about that when prince tabnit indicated a low, pillared, temple-like building as the home of perpetual motion, which gave the power operating the manufactures and water supply of the entire island, st. george looked and understood and resolved to go over the temple before he left yaque, and then fell a-wondering whether, when he did so, olivia would be with him. when the prince explained that it is ridiculous to suppose that combustion is the chief means of obtaining light and heat, or that heaven provided divinely-beautiful forests for the express purpose of their being burned up; and when he told him that artificial light and heat were effected in a certain reservoir (built with a classic regard for the dignity of its use as a link with unspoken forces) st. george listened, and said over with attention the name of the substance acted upon by emanations--and wondered if olivia were not afraid of it. so it was all through the exhibition of more wonders scientific and economic than any one has dreamed since every one became a victim of the world's habit of being afraid to dream. although it is true that when st. george chanced to observe that there were about med few farms of tilled ground, the prince's reply did startle him into absorbed attention: "you are referring to agriculture?" prince tabnit said after a moment's thought. "i know the word from old parchments brought from phoenicia by our ancestors. but i did not know that the art is in practice anywhere in the world. do you mean to assure me," cried the prince suddenly, "that the vegetables which i ate in america were raised by what is known as 'tilling the soil'?" "how else, your highness?" doubted st. george, wondering if he were responsible for the fading mentality of the prince. prince tabnit looked away toward the splendour of some new thought. "how beautiful," he said, "to subsist on the sun and the dust. beautiful and lost, like the dreams of mitylene. but i feel as if i were reading in genesis," he declared. "is it possible that in this 'age of science' of yours it has not occurred to your people that if plants grow by slowly extracting their own elements from the soil, those elements artificially extracted and applied to the seed will render growth and fruitage almost instantaneous?" "at all events we've speculated about it," st. george hastened to impart with pride, "just as we do about telephones that will let people see one another when they talk. but nearly every one smiles at both." "don't smile," the prince warned him. "yaque has perfected both those inventions only since she ceased to smile at their probability. nothing can be simpler than instantaneous vegetation. any egyptian juggler can produce it by using certain acids. we have improved the process until our fruits and vegetables are produced as they are needed, from hour to hour. this was one of the so-called secrets of the ancient phoenicians--has it never occurred to you as important that the phoenician name for dionysos, the god of wine-growers, was lost?" mentally st. george added another barrel to the cargo of _the aloha_, and wondered if the _sentinel_ would start botanical gardens and a lighting plant and turn them to the account of advertisers. all the time, mile upon mile, was unrolling before them the unforgetable beauty of the island. so perfectly were its features marshaled and so exact were its proportions that, as in many great experiences and as in all great poems, one might not, without familiarity, recall its detail, but must instead remain wrapped in the glory of the whole. the avenues, wide as a river, swept between white banks of majestic buildings combining with the magic of great mass the pure beauty of virginal line. line, the joy of line, the glory of line, almost, st. george thought, the divinity of line, was everywhere manifest; and everywhere too the divinity of colour, no longer a quality extraneous, laid on as insecure fancy dictates, but, by some law long unrevealed, now actually identified with the object which it not so much decorated as purified. the most interesting of the thoroughfares led from the eurychôrus, or public square, along the lagoon. this fair water, extending from med to melita, was greenly shored and dotted with strange little pleasure crafts with exquisite sweeping prows and silken canopies. before a white temple, knee-deep in whose flowered ponds the ibises dozed and contemplated, was anchored the imperial trireme, with delicately-embroidered sails and prow and poop of forgotten metals. from within, temple music sounded softly and was never permitted to be silenced, as the flame of the vestals might never be extinguished. here on the shores had begun the morning traffic of itinerant merchants of med and melita, compelled by law to carry on their exchange in the morning only, when the light is least lovely. upon canopied wagons drawn by strange animals, with shining horns, were displayed for sale all the pleasantest excuses for commerce--ostrich feathers, gums, gems, quicksilver, papyrus, bales of fair cloth, pottery, wine and oranges. the sellers of salt and fish and wool and skins were forced down under the wharfs of the lagoon, and there endeavoured to attract attention by displaying fanciful and lovely banners and by liberating faint perfumes of the native orris and algum. street musicians, playing tunefully upon the zither and upon the crowd, wandered, wearing wreaths of fir, and clustered about stalls where were offered tenuous blades, and statues, and temple vessels filled with wine and flowers. at the head of the street leading to the temple of baaltis (my lady--aphrodite) the prince's motor was checked while a procession of pilgrims, white-robed and carrying votive offerings, passed before them, the votive tablet to the lady tanith and the face of baal being borne at the head of the line by a dignitary in a smart electric victoria. this was one of the frequent festival embassies to melita, to combine religious rites with mourning games and the dedication of the tablet, and there was considerable delay incident to the delivery of a wireless message to the dignitary with the tablet of the semitic inscription. st. george wondered vaguely why, in a world of marvels, progress should not already have outstripped the need of any communication at all. this reminded him of something at which the prince had hinted away off in another æon, in another world, when st. george had first seen him, and there followed ten minutes of talk not to be forgotten. "would it be possible for you to tell me, your highness," st. george asked,--and thereafter even a lover must have forgiven the brief apostasy of his thought--"how it can be that you know the english? how you are able to speak it here in yaque?" the motor moved forward as the procession passed, and struck into a magnificent country avenue bordered by trees, tall as elms and fragrant as acacias. "i can tell you, yes," said the prince, "but i warn you that you will not in the least understand me. i dare say, however, that i may illustrate by something of which you know. do there chance to be, for example, any children in america who are regarded as prodigies of certain understanding?" "you mean," st. george asked, "children who can play on a musical instrument without knowing how they do it, and so on?" "quite so," said the prince with interest. "many, your highness," affirmed st. george. "i myself know a child of seven who can play most difficult piano compositions without ever having been taught, or knowing in the least how he does it." "do you think of any one else?" asked the prince. "yes," said st. george, "i know a little lad of about five, i should say, who can add enormous numbers and instantly give the accurate result. and he has no idea how he does that, and no one has ever taught him to count above twelve. oh--every one knows those cases, i fancy." "has any one ever explained them, mr. st. george?" asked the prince. "how should they?" asked st. george simply. "they are prodigies." "quite so," said the prince again. "it is almost incredible that these instances seem to suggest to no one that there must be other ways to 'learn' music and mathematics--and, therefore, everything else--than those known to your civilization. let me assure you that such cases as these, far from being miracles and prodigies, are perfectly normal when once the principle is understood, as we of yaque understand it. it is the average intelligence among your people which is abnormal, inasmuch as it is unable to perform these functions which it was so clearly intended to exercise." "do you mean," asked st. george, "that we need not learn--as we understand 'learn'?" "precisely," said the prince simply. "you are accustomed, i was told in new york, to say that there is 'no royal road to learning.' on the contrary, i say to you that the possibilities of these children are in every one. but to my intense surprise i find that we of yaque are the only ones in the world who understand how to use these possibilities. our system of education consists simply in mastering this principle. after that, all knowledge--all languages, for instance--everything--belongs to us." st. george looked away to the rugged sides of mount khalak, lying in its clouds of iris morning mist, unreal as a mountain of ultima thule. it was all right--what he had just been hearing was a part of this ultimate and fantastic place to which he had come. and yet _he_ was real enough, and so, according to certain approved dialectic, perhaps these things were realities, too. he stole a glance at the prince's profile. here was actually a man who was telling him that he need not have faced latin and greek and calculus; that they might have been his of his own accord if only he had understood how to call them in! "that would make a very jolly thing of college," he pensively conceded. "you could not show me how it is managed, your highness?" he besought. "that will hardly come in bulk, too--" the prince shook his head, smiling. "i could not 'show you,' as you say," he answered, "any more than i could, at present, send a wireless communication without the apparatus--though it will be only a matter of time until that is accomplished, too." st. george pulled himself up sharply. he glanced over his shoulder and saw amory polishing his pince-nez and looking quite as if he were leaning over hansom-doors in the park, and he turned quickly to the prince, half convinced that he had been mocked. "suppose, your highness," he said, "that i were to print what you have just told me on the front page of a new york morning paper, for people to glance over with their coffee? do you think that even the most open-minded among them would believe that there is such a place as yaque?" the prince smiled curiously, and his long-fringed lids drooped in momentary contemplation. the auto turned into that majestic avenue which terminates in the eurychôrus before the palace of the litany. st. george's eye eagerly swept the long white way. at its far end stood mount khalak. _she_ must have passed over this very ground. "there is," the prince's smooth voice broke in upon his dream, "no such place as yaque--as you understand 'place.'" "i beg your pardon, your highness?" st. george doubted blankly. good heavens. maybe there had arrived in yaque no olivia, as he understood olivia. "you showed some surprise, i remember," continued the prince, "when i told you, in mcdougle street, that we of yaque understand the fourth dimension." mcdougle street. the sound smote the ear of st. george much as would the clang of the fire patrol in the midst of light opera. "yes, yes," he said, his attention now completely chained. yet even then it was not that he cared so absorbingly about the fourth dimension. but what if this were all some trick and if, in this strange land, olivia had simply been flashed before his eyes by the aid of mirrors? "i find," said the prince with deliberation, "that in america you are familiar with the argument that, if your people understood only length and breadth and did _not_ understand the third dimension--thickness--you could not then conceive of lifting, say, a square or a triangle and laying it down upon another square or triangle. in other words, you would not know anything of _up_ and _down_." st. george nodded. this was the familiar talk of college class-rooms. "as it is," pursued the prince, "your people do perfectly understand lifting a square and placing it upon a square, or a triangle upon a triangle. but you do not know anything about placing a cube upon a cube, or a pyramid upon a pyramid _so that both occupy the same space at the same time_. we of yaque have mastered that principle also," the prince tranquilly concluded, "and all that of which this is the alphabet. that is why we are able to keep our island unknown to the world--not to say 'invisible.'" for a moment st. george looked at him speechlessly; then, in spite of himself, a slow smile overspread his face. "but," he said, "your highness, there is not a mathematician in the civilized world who has not considered that problem and cast it aside, with the word that if fourth-dimensional space does exist it can not possibly be inhabited." "quite so," said the prince, "and yet here we are." and, if you come to think of it--as st. george did--that is the only answer to a world of impossibilities already proved possible. but the vista which all this opened smote him with irresistible humour. "ah well now, i suppose, your highness," he said, "that our ocean liners sail clean through the island of yaque, then, and never even have their smoke pushed sidewise?" the prince laughed pleasantly. "have you ever," he asked, "had occasion to explain the principles of hydraulics, or chess, or philosophical idealism to a three-year-old child, or a charwoman? you must forgive me, but really i can think of no better comparison. i am quite as powerless now as you have been if you have ever attempted it. i can only assure you that such things _are_. without jarvo or akko or some one who understood, you might have sailed the high seas all your life and never have come any nearer to yaque." st. george reflected. "is yaque the only example of this kind of thing," he asked, "that the fourth dimension would reveal?" "by no means," said the prince in surprise, "the world is literally teeming with like revelations, once the key is in your hands. the fourth dimension is only the beginning. we utilize that to isolate our island. but the higher dimensions are gradually being conquered, too. nearly all of us can pass into the fifth at will, 'disappearing,' as you have the word, from the lower dimensions. it is well-known to you that in a land whose people knew length and breadth, but no _up_ and _down_, an object might be pushed, but never lifted _up_ or put _down_. if it were to be lifted, such a people would believe it to have 'disappeared.' so, from you who know only three dimensions, yaque has 'disappeared,' until one of us guides you here. also we pass at will into the fifth dimension and even higher, and seem to 'disappear'; the only difference is that, there, we should not be able yet to guide one who did not himself understand how to pass there. just as one who understands how to die and to come to life, as you have the phrase, would not be able to take with him any one who did not understand how to take himself there..." st. george listened, grasping at straws of comprehension, remembering how he had heard all this theorized about and smiled at; but most of all he was beset by a practical consideration. "then," he said suddenly, the question leaping to his lips almost against his will, "if you hold this key to all knowledge, how is it that the king--mr. holland--could get away from you, and the hereditary treasure be lost?" the prince sighed profoundly. "we have by no means," he said, "perfected our knowledge. we are at one with the absolute in knowledge--true. but the affairs of every day most frequently elude us. not even the most advanced among us are perfect intuitionists. we have by no means reached that desirable and inevitable day when our minds shall flow together, without need of communication, without possibility of secret. we still suffer the disadvantage of a slight barrier of personality." "and it is into one of these lapses," thought st. george irreverently, "that the king has disappeared." aloud he asked curiously concerning a matter which was every moment becoming more incomprehensible. "but how, your highness," he said simply, "did your people ever consent to have an american for your king?" before the prince could reply there occurred a phenomenon that sent all thought of such insubstantialities as the secrets of the fourth dimension far in the background. the prince's motor, closely followed by the others of the train, had reached a little eminence from which the island unrolled in fair patterns. before them the smooth road unwound in varied light. at their left lay a still grove from whose depths was glimpsed a slim needle of a tower, rising, arrow-like, from the green. in the distance lay med, with shining domes. the water of the lagoon gave brightness here and there among the hills. and as st. george and the prince looked over the prospect they saw, far down the avenue toward med, a little, moving speck--a speck moving with a rapidity which neither the prince's motor nor any known motor of yaque had ever before permitted itself. in an instant the six members of the royal golden guard, who upon beautiful, spirited horses rode in advance of the train of the prince, wheeled and thundered back, lifting glittering hands of warning. "aside! aside!" shrieked the main golden guard, "a motor is without control!" immediately there was confusion. at a touch the prince's car was drawn to the road's extreme edge, and the golden guards rode furiously back along the train, hailing the peaceful, slow-going machines into orderly retreat. they were all sufficiently amenable, for at sight of the alarming and unprecedented onrush of the growing speck that was bearing full down upon them, anxiety sat upon every face. st. george watched. and as the car drew nearer the thought which, at first sight of its speed, had vaguely flashed into being, took definite shape, and his blood leaped to its music. whose hand would be upon that lever, whose daring would be directing its flight, whose but one in all yaque--and that olivia's? it was olivia. that was plain even in the mere instant that it took the great, beautiful motor, at thirty miles an hour, to flash past them. st. george saw her--coat of hunting pink and fluttering veil and shining eyes; he was dimly conscious of another little figure beside her, and of the unmistakable and agonized mrs. hastings in the tonneau; but it was only olivia's glance that he caught as it swept the prince. there was the faintest possible smile, and she was gone; and st. george, his heart pounding, sat staring stupidly after that shining cloud of dust, frantically wondering whether she could just possibly have seen him. for this was no trick of the imagination, his galloping heart told him that. and whether or not yaque was a place, the world, the world was within his grasp, instinct with possibilities heavenly sweet. his eyes met amory's in the minute when cassyrus, prime minister of yaque, had it borne in upon him that this was no runaway machine, but the ordinary and preferred pace of the daughter of their king; and while cassyrus, at the enormity of the conception, breathed out expostulations in several languages--some of them known to us only by means of inscriptions on tombs--amory spoke to st. george: "who was the other girl?" he asked comprehensively. "what other girl?" st. george blankly murmured. and at this, amory turned away with a look that could be made to mean whatever amory meant. on went the imperial train faring back to med over the road lately stirred to shining dust by the wheels of olivia's auto. olivia's auto. st. george was secretly saying over the words with a kind of ecstatic non-comprehension, when the prince spoke: "that," he said, "may explain why an american has been able to govern us. chance crowned him, but he made himself king." prince tabnit hesitated and his eyes wandered--and those of st. george followed--to a far winding dot in that opal valley, a mere speck of silver with a prick of pink, fleeing in a cloud of sunny dust. "i do not know if you will know what i mean," said the prince, "but hers is the spirit, and the spirit of her father, the king, which yaque had never known. it is the spirit which we of phoenicia seem to have lost since the wealth of the world accumulated at her ports and she gave her trust to the hands of mariners and mercenaries, and later bowed to the conqueror. it is the spirit that not all the continental races, i fancy, have for endowment, but yours possesses in rich measure. for this we would exchange half that we have achieved." st. george nodded, glowing. "it is a great tribute, your highness," he said simply, and in his heart he laid it at olivia's feet. thereafter, in the long ride to melita, during luncheon upon a high white terrace overlooking the sailless sea, and in the hours on the unforgetable roads of the islands, st. george, while incommunicable marvels revealed themselves linked with incommunicable beauty, sat in the prince's motor, his eyes searching the horizon for that fleeing speck of silver and pink. it did not appear again. and when the train of the prince rolled into the yard of the palace of the litany it trembled upon st. george's lips to ask whether the formalities of the court would permit him that day to scale the skies and call upon the royal household. "for whatever he says, i've got to do," thought st. george, "but no matter what he says, i shall go. doesn't amory realize that we've been more than twelve hours on this island, and that nothing has been done?" and then as they crossed the grassy court in the delicate hush of the merging light--the nameless radiance already penetrating the dusk--the prince spoke smoothly, as if his words bore no import deeper than his smile: "you are come," he said courteously, "in time for one of the ceremonies of our régime most important--to me. you will, i hope, do honour to the occasion by your presence. this evening, in the hall of kings in the palace of the litany, will occur the ceremony of my betrothal." "your betrothal, your highness?" repeated st. george uncertainly. "you will be attended by an escort," the prince continued, "and balator, the commander of the guard, will receive you in the hall. may the gods permit the possible." he swept through the portico before them, and they followed dumbly. the betrothal of the prince. st. george heard, and his eager hope went down in foreboding. he turned, hardly daring to read his own dread in the eyes of amory. amory, as st. george had said, was delicious, especially his drawl; but there were times--now, for example, when all that the eyes of amory expressed was what his lips framed, _sotto-voce_: "an american heiress, betrothed to the prince of a cannibal island! wouldn't chillingworth turn in his grave at his desk?" chapter x tyrian purple the "porch of light" proved to be an especially fascinating place at evening. evening, which makes most places resemble their souls instead of their bodies, had a grateful task in the beautiful room whose spirit was always uppermost, and evening moved softly in its ivory depths, preluding for sleep. here, his lean, shadowed face all anxiety, rollo stood, holding at arm's length a parti-coloured robe with floating scarfs. "it seems to me, sir," he said doubtfully, "that this one would 'ave done better. beggin' your pardon, sir." st. george shook his head distastefully. "it doesn't matter," he said, and broke into a slow smile as he looked at amory. the robes which the prince had provided for the evening were rather harder to become accustomed to than the notion of intuitive knowledge. "there's an air about this one though, sir," opined rollo firmly, "there's a cut--a sort of _way_ with the seams, so to speak, sir, that the other can't touch. and cut is what counts, sir, cut counts every time." "ah, yes, i dare say, rollo," said st. george, "and as a judge of 'cut' i don't say you can be equaled. but i do say that in the styles of deuteronomy you aren't necessarily what you might call up." "yes, sir," said rollo, dropping his eyes, "but a well-dressed man was a well-dressed man, sir, then _as_ now." as a matter of fact the well-knit, athletic young figures looked uncommonly well in the garments _à la mode_ in yaque. one would have said that if the garments followed deuteronomy fashions they had at all events been cut by the scissors of a court tailor to louis xv. the result was beautiful and bizarre, but it did not suggest stageland because the colours were so good. "i dare say," said st. george, examining the exquisitely fine cloth whose shades were of curious depth and richness, "that this may be regular tyrian purple." amory waved his long sleeves. "stop," he languidly begged, "you make me feel like a golden text." st. george went back to the row of open casements and resumed his walk up and down before the windows that looked away to the huge threatening bulk of mount khalak. since the prince's announcement that afternoon st. george had done little besides continuing that walk. now it wanted hardly half an hour to the momentous ceremony of the evening, big with at least one of the dozen portents of which he accused it. "amory," he burst out as he walked, "if you didn't know anything about it, would you say that the prince could possibly have made her consent to marry him?" amory, left in the middle of the great room, stood polishing his pince-nez exactly as if he had been waiting at the end of chillingworth's desk of a bright, american morning. "if i didn't know anything about it," he said cheerfully, "i should say that he had. as it is, having this afternoon watched a certain motor wear its way past me, i should say that nothing in yaque is more unlikely. and that's about as strong as you could put it." "we don't know what the man may have threatened," said st. george morosely, "he may have played upon her devotion to her father to some ridiculous extent. he may have refused to land the submarine at yaque at all otherwise--" st. george broke off suddenly. "toby!" he said. amory looked over and nodded. he had seen that look before on st. george's face. "she's not going to marry the prince," said st. george, "and if her father is alive and in a hole, he's going to be pulled out. and she's _not_ going to marry the prince." "why, no," assented amory, "no." he had guessed a good deal of the truth since he had been watching st. george flee over seas upon a yacht, shod, so to speak, with fire, and he had arrived at the suspicion that _the aloha_ was winged by little loves and guided under water by plenty of blue and green dragons. but he had not, until now, been thoroughly certain that st. george's spirit of adventure had another name; and though theoretically his sympathies leaped to the look in his friend's eyes, yet he found himself wondering practically what effect romance would be having upon their enterprise. after all, from a newspaper point of view, to relinquish any part of the adventure was a kind of tragedy, and it cost amory something to emphasize his assent. "of course she won't," he said, "and now let's toddle down and see about it." when the tread of the feet of a detachment of the royal golden guard was heard without, rollo advanced to the door with a dignity which amounted to melancholy. the setting of a palace and the proximity of a prince had raised his office to the majesty of skilled labour. he always threw open the door now as who should say, "enter. but mind you have a reason." at sight of the long liberty of the corridor where the light lay mysteriously touching tiles and tapestries to festal colours, amory's spirits rose contagiously, and his eyes shone behind his pince-nez. "me," he said, looking ahead with enjoyment at the glittering escort, "me--done in a fabric of about the eleventh shade of the yaque spectrum--made loose and floppy, after a modish canaanitish model. i'll wager that when the first-born of canaan was in the flood-tide of glory, this very gown was worn by one of the most beautiful women in the pentapolis of philistia. i'm going to photograph the model for the sunday supplement, and name it _the nebuchadnezzar_." amory murmured on, and st. george hardly heard him. he could almost count by minutes now the time until he should see her. would she see him, and might he just possibly speak with her, and what would the evening hold for her? as he went forth where she would be, the spell of the place was once more laid upon him, as it had been laid in the hour of his coming. once more, as in the hour when he had first looked down upon the valley brimming with a light "better than any light that ever shone" he was at one with the imponderable things which, always before, had just eluded him. now, as then, the thought of olivia was the symbol for them all. so the two went on through the winding galleries--silent, haunted--to the great staircase, and below into the crowded court. and when they reached the threshold of the audience-chamber they involuntarily stood still. the hall was like a temple in its sense of space and height and clear air, but its proportions did not impress one, and indeed one could not remember its boundaries as one does not consider the boundaries of a grove. it was amphitheatre-shaped, and about it ran a splendid colonnade, in the niches of whose cornices were beautiful grotesques--but yaque seemed to be a land whose very grotesques had all the dignity of the ultimate instead of crying for the indulgence due a phase. the roof was inlaid with prisms of clear stone, and on high were pilasters carved with the tyrian sphinxes crucified upon upright crosses, surmounted by parhelions of burnished metal. all the seats faced a great dais at the chamber's far end where three thrones were set. but it was the men and women in the great chamber who filled st. george with wonder. the women--they were beautiful women, slow-moving, slow-eyed, of soft laughter and sudden melancholy, and clear, serene profiles and abundant hair. and they were all _alive_, fully and mysteriously alive, alive to their finger-tips. it was as if in comparison all other women acted and moved in a kind of half-consciousness. it was as if, st. george thought vaguely, one were to step through the frame of a pre-raphaelite tapestry and suddenly find its strange women rejoicing in fulfillment instead of yearning, in noon instead of dusk. as he stood looking down the vast chamber, all springing columns and light lines lifting through the honey-coloured air, it smote st. george that these people, instead of being far away, were all near, surprisingly, unbelievably near to him,--in a way, nearer to his own elusive personality than he was himself. they were all obviously of his own class; he could perfectly imagine his mother, with her old lace and roman mosaics, moving at home among them, and the bishop, with his wise, kindly smile. yet he was irresistibly reminded of a certain haunting dream of his childhood in which he had seemed to himself to walk the world alone, with every one else allied against him because they all knew something that he did not know. that was it, he thought suddenly, and felt his pulse quickening at the intimation: _they all knew something that he did not know_, that he could not know. but, as they swept him with their clear-eyed, impersonal look, a look that seemed in some exquisite fashion to take no account of individuality, he was gratefully aware of a curious impression that they would like to have had him know, too. "they wish i knew--they'd rather i did know," st. george found himself thinking in a strange excitement, "if only i could know--if only i could know." he looked about him, smiling a little at his folly. he saw the light flash on amory's glasses as they turned inquisitively on this and that, and somehow the sight steadied him. "ah well," he assured himself, "i'll look them up in a thousand years or so, and we'll dine together, and then we'll say: 'don't you remember how i didn't know?'" immediately there presented himself to them a little man who proved to be balator, lord-chief-commander of the royal golden guard, and now especially directed by the prince, he pleasantly told them, to be responsible for their entertainment and comfort during the ceremony to follow. they were, in fact, his guests for the evening, but st. george and amory were uncertain whether, considering his office, this was a high honour or a kind of exalted durance. however, as the man was charming the doubt was not important. he had an attenuated face, so conveniently brown by race as to suggest the most soldierly exposure, and he had great, peaceable, slow-lidded eyes. he was, they subsequently learned, an authority upon insect life in yaque, for he had never had the smallest opportunity to go to war. as balator led his guests to their seats near the throne every one looked on them, as they passed, with the serenest fellowship, and no regard persisted longer than a glance, friendly and fugitive. balator himself not only refrained from stoning the barbarians with commonplaces, but he did not so much as mention america to them or treat them otherwise than as companions, as if his was not only the cosmopolitanism that knows no municipal or continental aliens of its own class, but a kind of inter-dimensional cosmopolitanism as well. "which," said amory afterward, "was enviable. the next man from trebizond or saturn or fez whom i meet i'm going to greet and treat as if he lived the proverbial 'twenty minutes out.'" a great clock boomed and throbbed through the palace, striking an hour that was no more intelligible than the jargon of a ship's clock to a landsman. somewhere an orchestra thrilled into haunting sound, poignant with disclosures barely missed. overhead, through the mighty rafters of the conical roof, the moon looked down. "that'll be the same old moon," said amory. "by jove! won't it?" "it will, please heaven," said st. george restlessly; "i don't know. will it?" near the throne was seated a company of dignitaries who wore upon their breasts great stars and were soberly dressed in a kind of scholar's gown. some whispered together and nodded and looked as solemn as tithing men; and others were feverishly restless and continually took papers from their graceful sleeves. by developments these were revealed to be the high council of yaque, conservative and radical, even in dimensional isolation. farther back rose tier upon tier of seats sacred to the wives and daughters of the ministry, and st. george even looked hopelessly and mechanically among these for the face that he sought. to some seats slightly elevated, not far from the dais, his attention was at length challenged by an upheaving and billowing of purple and black. he looked, and in the same instant what seemed to have been a kind of storm centre resolved itself cloudily into mrs. medora hastings, breathlessly resuming her seat, while mr. augustus frothingham, in indescribably gorgeous apparel elaborately bent to receive--and a member of the high council bent to hand--two glittering articles which st. george was certain were side-combs. there the lady sat, tilting her head to keep her tortoise-shell glasses on her nose, perpetually curving their chain over her ear, a gesture by which the side-combs were perpetually displaced. if the island people had been painted purple, st. george felt sure that she would have acted quite the same. personality meant nothing to her--not, as with them, because it had been merged in something greater, but because, with her, it was overborne by self. and there sat mr. frothingham (who did not attend the play during court because he believed that a man of affairs should not unduly stimulate the imagination), his head thrown back so that his long hair rested on his amazing collar, his hands laid trimly along his knees. in that crystal air, instinct with its delicate, dominant implication of things imponderable, the personality of each persisted undisturbed, in a kind of adamantine unconsciousness. again, as when he had considered the soul of rollo, st. george smiled a shade bitterly. is it then so easy to persist, he wondered? is love's uttermost gift so little? but as the music swelled with premonitory meaning, he understood something that its very transitoriness disclosed: the persistence of love, love's mere immortality, is the dead letter of the law without that which is elusive, imponderable, even evanescent as the spirit of the land to which he had come, into which he felt himself new-born. immediately, bestowing its gift of altered mood, other music, cut by the lift and fall of trumpets, sounded from hidden places all about the walls and from the alcoves of the lofty roof. then a veil hanging between two pillars was drawn aside, and the prince's train appeared. there were a detachment of the guard, splendid in their unrelieved gold, and the officers of the court, at their head cassyrus, the premier, who had manifestly been compounded of heaven to be a drum-major, and had so undeviating a look that he seemed always to have been caught, red-handed, at his post. last came prince tabnit, dressed in pure white save for a collar of precious stones from which hung the strange green gem that st. george remembered. his clear face and the whiteness of his hair lent to him an air of almost unearthly distinction. his delicate hands wearing no jewels were at his sides, and his head was magnificently erect. he mounted the dais as the music sank to silence, and without preface began to speak. "my people," he said, and st. george felt himself thrilling with the strength and tenderness of that voice, "in the continuance of this our time of trial we come among you that we may win strength and courage from your presence. since one mind dwells in us all, we have no need of words of cheer. that no message from his majesty, the king, has come to us is known to you all, with mourning. but the gods--to whom 'here' is the same as 'there'--will permit the possible, and they have permitted to us the presence of the daughter of our sovereign, by the grace of the infinite, heir to the throne of yaque. in two days, should his majesty not then have returned to his sorrowing people, she will, in accordance with our custom, be crowned hereditary princess of yaque and, after one year, queen of yaque and your rightful sovereign." as the prince paused, a little breath of assent was in the room, more potent than any crudity of applause. "next," pursued the prince, "we would invite your attention to our own affairs, which are of importance solely as they are affected by the immemorial tradition of the house of the litany. therefore, in accordance with the custom of our predecessors for two thousand years," lightly pursued the prince, "we have named this day as the day of our betrothal. moreover, this is determined upon in justice to the daughters of the twenty peers of yaque, whose marriage the law forbids until the choice of the head of the house of the litany has been made..." st. george listened, and his hope soared heavenward as the hope of young love will soar, in spite of itself, at the mere sight of open sky. the daughters of the twenty peers of yaque! of course they were to be considered. why should he fear that, because olivia was in yaque, the mere mention of a betrothal referred to olivia? he was bold enough to smile at his fears, to smile even when, as the prince ceased speaking, the music sounded again, as it were from the air, in a chorus of pure young voices with a ripple of unknown strings in accompaniment. suddenly, at the opening of great doors, a flood of saffron light was poured upon a stair, and at the summit appeared the leisurely head of a procession which the two men were destined never to forget. across the gallery and down the stair--it might have been the golden stair linking near with far--came a score of exquisite women in all the glory of their youth, of perfect physical beauty and splendid strength and fullness of life; and the wonder was not their beauty more than a kind of dryad delicacy of that beauty, which was yet not frailty but a look of angelic strength. but they were not remote--they were gloriously human, almost, one would say, divinely human, all gentle movement and warmth and tender breath. they were not remote, save as one's own soul would be remote by its very excess of intimacy with life, little maids, so shy that their actuality was certain, came before them carrying flowers, and these were followed by youths scattering fragrant burning powder whose fallen flames were instantly pounced upon and extinguished by small furry lemurs trained to lay silver discs upon the flames. and as they all ranged themselves about the throne a little figure appeared at the top of the stairway alone, beneath the lifted curtain. she was veiled; but the elastic step, the girlish grace, the poise and youthful dignity were not to be mistaken. the room whirled round st. george, and then closed in about him and grew dark. for this was the woman advancing to her betrothal; from the manner of her entrance there could be no doubt of that. and it was none of the daughters of the twenty peers. it was olivia. she wore a trailing gown of rainbow hues, more like the hues of water than of texture, and the warm light fell upon these as she descended and variously multiplied them to beauty. her little feet were sandaled and a veil of indescribable thinness was wound about her abundant hair and fell across her face, but the gold of her hair escaped the veil and rippled along her gown. carven chains and necklaces were upon her throat, and bracelets of beaten gold and jewels upon her arms. about her forehead glittered a jeweled band with pendent gems which, at her moving, were like noon sun upon water. as he realized that this was indeed she whom he had come to seek, only to find her hedged about with difficulties--and it might be by divinities--which he had not dreamed of coping, a kind of madness seized st. george. the lights danced before his eyes, and his impulse had to do with rushing up to the dais and crying everybody defiance but olivia. on the moon-lit deck of _the aloha_ he had dreamed out the island and the rescue of the island princess, and a possible home-going on his yacht to a home about which he had even dared to dream, too. but it had not once occurred to him to forecast such a contingency as this, or, later, so to explain to himself prince tabnit's change of purpose in permitting her recognition as princess of yaque--indeed, if what jarvo and akko had told him in new york were accurate, in bringing her to the island at all. and yet what, he thought crazily, if his guess at her part in this betrothal were far wrong? what if her father's safety were not the only consideration? what if, not unnaturally dazzled by the fairy-land which had opened to her ... even while he feared, st. george knew far better. but the number of terrors possible to a man in love is equal to those of battle-fields. amory bent toward him, murmuring excitedly. "jupiter," he said, "is she the american girl?" "she's miss holland," answered st. george miserably. "no--no, not the princess," said amory, "the other." st. george looked. on the stair was a little figure in rose and silver--very tiny, very fair, and no doubt the lawyer's daughter. "i dare say it is," he told him, as one would say, "now what the deuce of it?" prince tabnit had risen to receive olivia, and st. george had to see him extend his hand and assist her beside him upon the dais. in the absence of her father she was obliged to stand alone. then the little figure in rose and silver and one of the daughters of the peers advanced and lifted her veil, and st. george wanted to shout with sudden exultation. this then was she--so near, so near. surely no great harm could come to them so long as the sea and the mystery of the island no longer lay between them. did she know of his presence? although he and amory were seated so near the throne, they were at one side, and her clear, pure profile was turned toward them. and olivia did not lift her eyes throughout the prime minister's long address, of which st. george and amory, so lapped were they in wild projects and importunities, heard nothing until, uttered with indescribable pompousness, as if cassyrus were a dowager and had made the match himself, the concluding words beat upon st. george's heart like stones. they were the formal announcement of the betrothal of olivia, daughter of his majesty, otho i of yaque, to tabnit, prince of yaque and head of the house of the litany. st. george saw prince tabnit kneel before olivia and place a ring upon her hand--no doubt the ring which had betrothed the island princesses for three thousand years. he saw the high council standing with bowed heads, like the necessary archangels in an old painting; he caught the flash of the turquoise-blue ephod of the head of the religious order, as the benediction was pronounced by its wearer. and through it all he said to himself that all would be well if only she understood, if only she had the supreme self-consciousness to play the game. after all he knew her so little. he was certain of her exquisite, playful fancy, but had she imagination? would she see the value of the moment and watch herself moving through it? or would she live it with that feminine, unhumourous seriousness which is woman's weakness? she had an exquisite independence, he was certain that she had humour, and he remembered how alive she had seemed to him, receptive, like a woman with ten senses. but after all, would not her graceful sanity of view, that sense of tradition and unerring taste which he so reverenced, yet handicap her now and prevent her from daring whatever she must dare? amory was beside himself. it was all very well to feel a great sympathy for st. george, but the sight was more than journalistic flesh and blood could look upon with sympathetic calm. "an american girl!" he breathed in spite of himself. "why, st. george, if we can leave this island alive--" "well, _you_ won't," st. george explained, with brutal directness, "unless you can cut that." before silence had again fallen, the prime minister, all his fever of importance still upon him, once more faced the audience. this time his words came to st. george like a thunderbolt: "in three days' time, at noon, in this the hall of kings," he cried, letting each phrase fall as if he were its proud inventor, "immediately following the official recognition of olivia, daughter of otho i, as hereditary princess of yaque, there will be solemnized, according to the immemorial tradition of the island last observed six hundred and eighty-four years ago by queen pentellaria, the marriage of olivia of yaque, to his highness, prince tabnit, head of the house of the litany, and chief administrator of justice. _for the law prescribes that no unmarried woman shall sit upon the throne of yaque._ at noon of the third day will be observed the double ceremony of the recognition and the marriage. may the gods permit the possible." there was a soft insistence of music from above, a stir and breath about the room, the premier backed away to his seat, and st. george, even with the horrified tightening at his heart, was conscious of a vague commotion from the vicinity of mrs. medora hastings. then he saw the prince rise and turn to olivia, and extend his hand to conduct her from the hall. the great banquet room beyond the colonnade was at once thrown open, and there the court circle and the ministry were to gather to do honour to the new princess, whom prince tabnit was to lead to the seat at his right hand at the table's head. to the amazement of his highness, olivia made no movement to accept the hand that he offered. instead, she sat slightly at one side of the great glittering throne, looking up at him with something like the faintest conceivable smile which, while one saw, became once more her exquisite, girlish gravity. when the music sank a little her voice sounded above it with a sweet distinctness: "one moment, if you please, your highness," she said clearly. it was the first time that st. george had heard her voice since its good-by to him in new york. and before her words his vague fears for her were triumphantly driven. the spirit that he had hoped for was in her face, and something else; st. george could have sworn that he saw, but no one else could have seen the look, a glimpse of that delicate roguery that had held him captive when he had breakfasted with her--several hundred years before, was it?--at the boris. ah, he need not have feared for her, he told himself exultantly. for this was olivia--of america--standing in a company of the women who seemed like the women of whom men dream, and whose presence, save in glimpses at first meetings, they perhaps never wholly realize. these were the women of the land which "no one can define or remember." and yet, as he watched her now, st. george was gloriously conscious that olivia not only held her own among them, but that in some charm of vividness and of _knowledge of laughter_, she transcended them all. a ripple of surprise had gone round the room. for all the air of the ultimate about the island-women, st. george doubted whether ever in the three thousand years of yaque's history a woman had raised her voice from that throne upon a like occasion. and such a tender, beguiling, cajoling little voice it was. a voice that held little remarques upon whatever it had just said, and that made one breathless to know what would come next. "bully!" breathed amory, his eyes shining behind his pince-nez. prince tabnit hesitated. "if the princess wishes to speak with us--" he began, and olivia made a charming gesture of dissent, and all the jewels in her hair and upon her white throat caught the light and were set glittering. "no," she said gently, "no, your highness. i wish to speak in the presence of my people." she gave the "my" no undue value, yet it fell from her lips with delicious audacity. "indeed," she said, "i think, your highness, that i will speak to my people myself." chapter xi the end of the evening the hall of kings was very still as olivia rose. she stood with one hand touching her veil's hem, the other resting on the low, carved arm of the throne, and at the coming and going of her breath her jewels made the light lambent with the indeterminate colours of those strange, joyous banners floating far above her head. her voice was very sweet and a little tremulous--and it is the very grace of a woman's courage that her voice tremble never so slightly. it seemed to st. george that he loved her a thousand times the more for that mere persuasive wavering of her words. and, while he listened to what he felt to be the prelude of her message, it seemed to him that he loved her another thousand times the more--what heavenly ease there is in this arithmetic of love--for the tender meaning which, upon her lips, her father's name took on. when, speaking with simplicity and directness of the subject that lay uppermost in the minds of them all, she asked their utmost endeavour in their common grief, it was clear that what she said transcended whatever phenomena of mere experience lay between her and those who heard her, and they understood. the _rapport_ was like that among those who hear one music. but st. george listened, and though his mind applauded, it ran on ahead to the terrifying future. this was all very well, but how was it to help her in the face of what was to happen in three days' time? "therefore," olivia's words touched tranquilly among the flying ends of his own thought, "i am come before you to make that sacrifice which my love for my father, and my grief and my anxiety demand. i count upon your support, as he would count upon it for me. i ask that one heart be in us all in this common sorrow. and i am come with the unalterable determination both to renounce my throne there"--never was anything more enchanting than the way those two words fell from her lips--"and to postpone my marriage"--there never was anything more profoundly disquieting than _those_ two words in such a connection--"until such time as, by your effort and by my own, we may have news of my father, the king; and until, by your effort or by my own, the hereditary treasure shall be restored." so, serenely and with the most ingenuous confidence, did the daughter of the absent king otho make disposition of the hour's events. amory leaned forward and feverishly polished his pince-nez. "what do you think of that?" he put it, beneath his breath, "what _do_ you think of that?" st. george, watching that little figure--so adorably, almost pathetically little in its corner of the great throne--knew that he had not counted upon her in vain. over there on the raised seats mrs. medora hastings and mr. augustus frothingham were looking on matters as helplessly as they would look at a thunder-storm or a circus procession, and they were taking things quite as seriously. but olivia, in spite of the tragedy that the hour held for her, was giving the moment its exact value, guiltless of the feminine immorality of panic. to give a moment its due without that panic, is, st. george knew, a kind of genius, like creating beauty, and divining another's meaning, and redeeming the spirit of a thing from its actuality. but by that time the arithmetic of his love was by way of being in too many figures to talk about. which is the proper plight of love. every one had turned toward prince tabnit, and as st. george looked it smote him whimsically that that impassive profile was like the profiles upon the ancient coins which, almost any day, might be cast up by a passing hoof on the island mold. indeed, st. george thought, one might almost have spent the prince's profile at a fig-stall, and the vender would have jingled it among his silver and never have detected the cheat. but in the next moment the joyous mounting of his blood running riot in audacious whimsies was checked by the even voice of the prince himself. "the gratitude and love of this people," he said slowly, "are due to the daughter of its sovereign for what she has proposed. it is, however, to be remembered that by our ancient law the state and every satrapy therein shall receive no service, whether of blood or of bond, from an alien. the king himself could serve us only in that he was king. to his daughter as princess of yaque and wife of the head of the house of the litany, this service in the search for the sovereign and the hereditary treasure will be permitted, but she may serve us only from the throne." "upon my soul, then that lets _us_ out," murmured amory. and st. george remembered miserably how, in that dingy house in mcdougle street, he and olivia had listened once before to the recital of that law from the prince's lips. if they had known how next they would hear it! if they had known then what that law would come to mean to her! what could she do now--what could even olivia do now but assent? she could do a great deal, it appeared. she could incline her head, with a bewitching droop of eyelids, and look up to meet the eyes of the prince with a serenity that was like a smile. "in my country," said olivia gravely, "when anything special arises they frequently find that there is no law to cover it. it would seem to us"--it was as though the humility of that "us" took from her superb daring--"that this is a matter requiring the advice of the high council. therefore," asked little olivia gently, "will you not appoint, your highness, a special session of the high council to convene at noon to-morrow, to consider our proposition?" there was a scarcely perceptible stir among the members of the high council, for even the liberals were, it would seem, taken aback by a departure which they themselves had not instituted. olivia, still in submission to tradition which she could not violate, had gained the time for which she hoped. with a grace that was like the conferring of a royal favour, prince tabnit appointed the meeting of the high council for noon on the following day. "may the gods permit the possible," he added, and once more extended his hand to olivia. this time, with lowered eyes, she gave him the tips of her fingers and, as the beckoning music swelled a delicate prelude, she stepped from the dais and suffered the prince to lead her toward the banquet hall. amory drew a long breath, and it came to st. george that if he, amory, said anything about what he would give if he had a leased wire to the _sentinel_ office, there would no longer be room on the island for them both. but amory said no such thing. instead, he looked at st. george in distinct hesitation. "i say," he brought out finally, "st. george, by jove, do you know, it seems to me i've seen miss frothingham before. and how jolly beautiful she is," he added almost reverently. "maybe it was when you were a phoenician galley slave and she went by in a trireme," offered st. george, trying to keep in sight the bright hair and the floating veil beyond the press of the crowd. would he see olivia and would he be able to speak with her, and did she know he was there, and would she be angry? ah well, she could not possibly be angry, he thought; but with all this in his mind it was hardly reasonable of amory to expect him to speculate on where miss frothingham might have been seen before. if it weren't for this balator now, st. george said to himself restlessly, and suddenly observed that balator was expecting them to follow him. so, in the slow-moving throng, all soft hues and soft laughter, they made their way toward the colonnade that cut off the banquet room. and at every step st. george thought, "she has passed here--and here--and here," and all the while, through the mighty open rafters in the conical roof, were to be seen those strange banners joyously floating in the delicate, alien light. the wine of the moment flowed in his veins, and he moved under strange banners, with a strange ecstasy in his heart. therefore, suddenly to hear rollo's voice at his shoulder came as a distinct shock. "it's one of them little brown 'uns, sir," rollo announced in his best tone of mystery. "he's settin' upstairs, sir, an' he's all fer settin' there _till_ he sees you. he says it's most important, sir." amory heard. "shall i go up?" he asked eagerly; "i'd like a whiff of a pipe, anyway. it'll be something to tie to." "will you go?" asked st. george in undisguised gratitude. he was prepared to accept most risks rather than to lose sight of the star he was following. with a word to balator who explained where, on his return, he could find them, amory turned with rollo, and slipped through the crowd. having reasons of his own for getting back to the hall below, amory was prepared to speed well the interview with "the little brown 'un" who, he supposed, was jarvo. it was jarvo--jarvo, in a state of excitement, profound and incredible. the little man, from the annoyingly serene mode of mind in which he had left them, was become, for him, almost agitated. he sprang up from a divan in the great dressing-room of their apartment and approached amory almost without greeting. "adôn, adôn," he said earnestly, "you must leave the palace at once--at once. but to-night!" amory hunted for his pipe, found and lighted it, pressing a cigarette upon jarvo who accepted, and held it, alight, in the palm of his hand. "to-night," he repeated, as if it were a game. "ah well, now," said amory reasonably, "why, jarvo? and we so comfortable." the little man looked at amory beseechingly. "i know what i know," he said earnestly, "many things will happen. there is danger about the palace to-night--danger it may be for you. i do not know all, but i come to warn you, and to warn the adôn who has been kind to us. you have brought us here when we were alone in america," said jarvo simply. "akko and i will help you now. it was akko who remembered the tower." amory looked down at the bowl of his pipe, and shook his vestas in their box, and turned his eyes to rollo, listening near by with an air of the most intense abstraction. yes, all these things were real. they were all real, and here was he, amory, smoking. and yet what was all this amazing talk about danger in the palace, and being warned, and remembering the tower? "anybody would think i was crass, writing head-lines," he told himself, and blew a cloud of smoke through which to look at jarvo. "what are you talking about?" he demanded sternly. jarvo had a little key in his hand, which he shook. the key was on a slender, carved ring, and it jingled. and when he offered it to him amory abstractedly took it. "see, adôn," said jarvo, "see! in the ilex grove on the road that we took last night there is a white tower--it may be that you have noticed it to-day. that tower is empty, and this is the key. there may be guards, but i shall know how to pass among them. you must come with me there to-night, the three. even then it may be too late, i do not know. the gods will permit the possible. but this i know: the royal guard are of the lahnas, on whom the tax to make good the hereditary treasure will fall most heavily. they are filled with rage against your people--you and the king who is of your people. i do not know what they will do, but you are not safe for one moment in the palace. i come to warn you." amory's pipe went out. he sat pulling at it abstractedly, trying to fit together what st. george had told him of the hereditary treasure situation. and more than at any other time since his arrival on the island his heart leaped up at the prospect of promised adventure. what if st. george's romantic apostasy were not, after all, to spoil the flavour of the kind of adventure for which he, amory, had been hoping? he leaned eagerly forward. "what would you suggest?" he said. jarvo's eyes brightened. at once he sprang to his feet and stood before amory, taking soft steps here and there as he talked, in movement graceful and tenuous as the greyhound of which he had reminded st. george. "in the palace yard," explained the little man rapidly, "is a motor which came from melita, bringing guests for the ceremony of to-night. they will remain in the palace until after the marriage of the prince, two days hence. but the motor--that must go back to-night to melita, adôn. i have made for myself permission to take it there. but you--the three--must go with me. at the tower in the ilex grove i shall leave you, and i shall return. is this good?" "excellent. but what afterward?" demanded amory. "are we all to keep house in the tower?" jarvo shook his head, like a man who has thought of everything. "through to-morrow, yes," he said, "but to-morrow night, when the dark falls--" he bent forward and spoke softly. "did not the adôn wish to ascend the mountain?" he asked. "rather," said amory, "but how, good heavens?" "i and akko wish to ascend also; the prince has sent us no message, and we fear him," said jarvo simply. "there are on the island, adôn, six carriers, trained from birth to make the ascent. they are the sons of those whose duty it was to ascend, and they the sons for many generations. the trail is very steep, very perilous. six were taught to go up with messages long before the knowledge of the wireless way, long before the flight of the airships. they are become a tradition of the island. it is with them that you must ascend--if you have no fear." "fear!" cried amory. "but these men, what of them? they are in the employ of the state. how do you know they will take us?" jarvo dropped his eyes. "i and akko," he said quietly, "we are two of these six carriers, adôn." then amory leaped up, scattering the ashes of his pipe over the tiles. this, then, was what was the matter with the feet of the two men, about which they had all speculated on the deck of _the aloha_, the feet trained from birth to make the ascent of the steep trail, feet become long, tenuous, almost prehensile-"it's miracles, that's what it is," declared amory solemnly. "how on earth did they come to take you to new york?" he could not forbear asking. "the prince knew nothing of your country, adôn," answered jarvo simply. "he might have needed us to enter it." "to climb the custom-house," said amory abstractedly, and laughed out suddenly in sheer light-heartedness. here was come to them an undertaking to which st. george himself must warm as he had warmed at the prospect of the voyage. to go up the mountain to the threshold of the king's palace, where lived the daughter of the king. amory bent himself with a will to mastering each detail of the little man's proposals. rollo, they decided, was at once to make ready a few belongings in the oil-skins. immediately after the banquet st. george and amory were to mingle with the throng and leave the palace--no difficult matter in the press of the departures--and, on the side of the courtyard beneath the windows of the banquet room, jarvo, already joined by rollo, would be awaiting them in the motor bound for melita. "it sounds as if it couldn't be done," said amory in intense enjoyment. "it's bully." he paced up and down the room, talking it over. he folded his arms, and looked at the matter from all sides and wondered, as touching a story being "covered" for chillingworth, whether he were leaving anything unthought. "chillingworth!" he said to himself in ecstasy. "wouldn't chillingworth dote to idolatry upon this sight?" then amory stood still, facing something that he had not seen before. he had come, in his walk, upon a little table set near the room's entrance, and bearing a decanter and some cups. "hello," he said, "rollo, where did this come from?" rollo came forward, velvet steps, velvet pressing together of his hands, face expressionless as velvet too. "a servant of 'is 'ighness, sir," he said--rollo did that now and then to let you know that his was the blood of valets--"left it some time ago, with the compliments of the prince. it looks like a good, nitzy burgundy, sir," added rollo tolerantly, "though the man did say it was bottled in something b.c., sir, and if it was it's most likely flat. you can't trust them vintages much farther back than the french revolootion, beggin' your pardon, sir." amory absently lifted the decanter, and then looked at it with some curiosity. the decanter was like a vase, ornamented with gold medallions covered with exquisite and precise engraving of great beauty and variety of design. serpents, men contending with lions, sacred trees and apes were chased in the gold, and the little cups of sard were engraved in pomegranates and segments of fruit and pendent acorns, and were set with cones of cornelian. the cups were joined by a long cord of thick gold. amory set his hand to the little golden stopper, perhaps hermetically sealed, he thought idly, at about the time of the accidental discovery of glass itself by the phoenicians. amory was not imaginative, but as he thought of the possible age of the wine, there lay upon him that fascination communicable from any link between the present and the living past. "solomon and sargon," he said to himself, "the geese in the capitol, marathon, alexander, carthage, the norman conquest, shakespeare and miss frothingham!" he smiled and twisted the carven stopper. "and the girl is alive," he said almost wonderingly. "there has been so much time in the world, and yet she is alive now. down there in the banquet room." the odour of the contents of the vase, spicy, penetrating, delicious, crept out, and he breathed it gratefully. it was like no odour that he remembered. this was nothing like rollo's "good, nitzy burgundy"--this was something infinitely more wonderful. and the odour--the odour was like a draught. and wasn't this the wine of wines, he asked himself, to give them courage, exultation, the most superb daring when they started up that delectable mountain? st. george must know; he would think so too. "oh, i say," said amory to himself, "we must put some strength in jarvo's bones too--poor little brick!" with that amory drew the carven stopper, fitted in the little funnel that hung about the neck of the vase, poured a half-finger of the wine in each cup, and lifted one in his hand. but the mere odour was enough to make a man live ten lives, he thought, smiling at his own strange exultation. he must no more than touch it to his lips, for he wanted a clear head for what was coming. "come, jarvo," he cried gaily--was he shouting, he wondered, and wasn't that what he was trying to do--to shout to make some far-away voice answer him? "come and drink to the health of the prince. long may he live, long may he live--without us!" amory had stood with his back to the little brown man while he poured the wine. as he turned, he lifted one cup to his lips and rollo gravely presented the other to jarvo. but with a bound that all but upset the velvet valet, the little man cleared the space between him and amory and struck the cup from amory's hand. "adôn!" he cried terribly, "adôn! do not drink--do not drink!" the precious liquid splashed to the floor with the falling cup and ran red about the tiles. instantly a powerful and delightful fragrance rose, and the thick fumes possessed the air. amory threw out his hands blindly, caught dizzily at rollo, and was half dragged by jarvo to the open window. "oh, i say, sir--" burst out rollo, more upset over the loss of the wine than he was alarmed at the occurrence. if it came to losing a good, nitzy burgundy, rollo knew what that meant. "adôn," cried jarvo, shaking amory's shoulders, "did you taste the liquor--tell me--the liquor--did you taste?" amory shook his head. jarvo's face and the hovering rollo and the whole room were enveloped in mist, and the wine was hot on his lips where the cup had touched them. yet while he stood there, with that permeating fragrance in the air, it came to him vaguely that he had never in his life known a more perfectly delightful moment. if this, he said to himself vaguely, was what they meant by wine in the old days, then so far as his own experience went, the best "nitzy" burgundy was no more than a flabby, _vin ordinaire_ beside it. not that "flabby" was what he meant to call it, but that was the word that came. for he felt as if no less than six men were flowing in his veins, he summed it up to himself triumphantly. but after all, the effect was only momentary. almost as quickly as those strange fumes had arisen they were dissipated. and when presently amory stood up unsteadily from the seat of the window, he could see clearly enough that jarvo, with terrified eyes, was turning the vase in his hands. "it is the same," he was saying, "it must be the same. the gods have permitted the possible. i was here to tell you." "tell me what?" demanded amory with ungrateful irritation. "is the stuff poison?" he asked, tottering in spite of himself as he crossed the floor toward him. but jarvo turned his face, and upon it was such an incongruous terror that amory involuntarily stood still. "there are known to be two," said jarvo, holding the vase at arm's length, "and the one is abundant life, if the draught is not over-measured. but the other is ten thousand times worse than death." "what do you mean?" cried amory roughly. "what are you talking about? if the stuff is poison can't you say so?" jarvo looked at him swiftly. "these things are not spoken aloud in yaque," he said simply, and after that he held his peace. amory threatened him and laughed at him, but jarvo shook his head. at last amory scoffed at the whole matter and stretched out his hand for the vase. "come," he said, "at all events i'll take it with me. it can't be very much worse than the american liqueurs." "my word for it, sir, beggin' your pardon," said rollo earnestly, "it's a kind of what you might call med-i-eval burgundy, sir." "it is not well," said jarvo, handing the vase with reluctance, "yet take it--but see that it touches no lips. i charge you that, adôn." amory smiled and slipped the little vase in his coat pocket. "it's all right," he said, "i won't let it get away from me. i can find my legs now; i'll go back down. look sharp, rollo. be down there with the oil-skins. we put on this tyrian purple stuff over the whole outfit," he explained to jarvo, "and i suppose, you know, that you can get both robes back here for us, if we escape in them?" "assuredly, adôn," said jarvo, "and you must escape without delay. this wine must mean that the prince, too, wishes you harm. now let me be before you for a little, so that no one may see us together. i shall go now, immediately, to the motor--it is waiting already by the wall on the side of the courtyard opposite the windows of the banquet hall. i shall not fail you." "on the side of the courtyard opposite the windows of the banquet room," repeated amory. "thanks, jarvo. you're all kinds of a good fellow." "yes, adôn," gravely assented the little man from the threshold. ten minutes later amory followed. already rollo had packed the oil-skins, and amory, his nerves steadied and the excitement of all that the night promised come upon him, hurried before him down the corridor, his thoughts divided in their allegiance between the delight of telling st. george what was toward, and the new and alluring delight of seeing antoinette frothingham near at hand in the banquet room. after all, he had had only the vaguest glimpse of a little figure in rose and silver, and he doubted if he could tell her from the princess, but for the interpreting gown. amory looked up with an irrepressible thrill of delight. he was just at that moment crossing the high white audience-hall, the anteroom to the hall of kings--he, amory, in tyrian purple garments. if anything were needed to complete the picture it would be to meet face to face, there in that big, lonely room, a little figure in rose and silver. it made his heart beat even to think of the possibilities of that situation. he skirted the hall of kings, and stood in one of the archways of the colonnade, facing the banquet room. the banquet-table extended about three sides of the room, whose centre the guests faced. the middle space was left pure, unvexed by columns or furnishing. at the room's far end amory glimpsed the prince, at his side olivia's white veil, and her women about her; and, nearer, st. george and balator in the place appointed. a guard came to conduct him, and he crossed to his seat and sank down with the look that could be made to mean whatever amory meant. "i expect to be served," murmured the journalist in him, "by beautiful tame megatheriums, in sashes. and is that glyptodon salad?" st. george's eyes were upon the guests, so tranquilly seated, aware of the hour. "i fancy," he said in half-voice, "that presently we shall see little flames issuing from their hair, as there used from the hair of the ladies in werner's ballets." then as balator leaned toward him in his splendid leisure, fostering his charm, there came an amazing interruption. the low key of the room was electrically raised by a cry, loosed from some other plight of being, like an odour of burning encroaching upon a garden. "why have you not waited?" some one called, and the voice--clear, equal, imperious--evened its way upon the air and reduced to itself the soft speech of the others. silence fell upon them all, and their eyes were toward a figure standing in the open interval of the room--a figure whose aspect thrilled st. george with sudden, inexplicable emotion. it was an old man, incredibly old, so that one thought first of his age. his beard and hair were not all grey, but he had grotesquely brown and wrinkled flesh. his stuff robe hung in straight folds about his singularly erect figure, and there was in his bearing the dignity of one who has understood all fine and gentle things, all things of quietude. but his look was vacant, as if the mind were asleep. "why have you not waited?" he repeated almost wonderingly. "why have you not sent for me?" and his eyes questioned one and another, and rested on the face of the prince upon the dais, with olivia by his side. the guard, whom in some fashion the strange old man had eluded, hurried from the borders of the room. but he broke from them and was off up half the length of the hall toward the prince's seat. "do you not know?" he cried as he went, "i am malakh. read one another's eyes and you will know. i am malakh." as the guards closed about him he tottered and would have fallen save that they caught him roughly and pressed to a door, half carrying him, and he did not resist. but as speech was renewed another voice broke the murmur, and with great amazement st. george knew that this was olivia's voice. "no," she cried--but half as if she distrusted her own strange impulse, "let him stay--let him stay." st. george saw the prince's look question her. he himself was unable to account for her unexpected intercession, and so, one would have said, was olivia. she looked up at the prince almost fearfully, and down the length of the listening table, and back to the old man whose eyes were upon her face. "he is an old man, your highness," st. george heard her saying, "let him stay." prince tabnit, who gave a curious impression of doing everything that he did in obedience to inertia rather than in its defiance, indicated some command to the puzzled guards, and they led old malakh to a stone bench not far from the dais, and there he sank down, looking about him without surprise. "it is well," he said simply, "malakh has come." while st. george was marveling--but not that the old man spoke the english, for in yaque it was not surprising to find the very madmen speaking one's own tongue--balator explained the man. "he is a poor mad creature," balator said. "he walks the streets of med saying 'melek, melek,' which is to say, 'king,' and so he is seeking the king. but he is mad, and they say that he always weeps, and therefore they pretend to believe that he says 'malakh,' which is to say 'salt.' and they call him that for his tears. doubtless the princess does not understand. her highness has a tender heart." st. george was silent. the incident was trivial, but olivia had never seemed so near. sometimes in the world of commonplace there comes an extreme hour which one afterward remembers with "could that have been i? but could it have been i who did that?" and one finds it in one's heart to be certain that it was not one's self, but some one else--some one very near, some one who is always sharing one's own consciousness and inexplicably mixing with one's moments. "perhaps," st. george would have said, "there is some such person who is nearly, but not quite, i myself. and if there is, it was he and not i who was at that banquet!" it was one of the hours which seem to have been made with no echo. it was; and then passed into other ways, and one remembered only a brightness. for example, st. george listened to what balator said, and he heard with utmost understanding, and with the frequent pleasure of wonder, and was now and then exquisitely amused as one is amused in dreams. but even as he listened, if he tried to remember the last thing that was said, and the next to the last thing, he found that these had escaped him; and as he rose from the table he could not recall ten words that had been spoken. it was as if the some one very near, who is always sharing one's consciousness and inexplicably mixing with one's moments, had taken st. george's part at the banquet while he, himself, sat there in the rôle of his own outer consciousness. but neither he nor that hypothetical "some one else," who was also he, lost for one instant the heavenly knowledge that olivia was up there at the head of the table. amory, in spite of diplomatic effort, had not succeeded in imparting to st. george anything of his talk with jarvo. balator was too near, and the place was somehow too generally attentive to permit a secret word. so, as they rose from the table, st. george was still in ignorance of what was toward and knew nothing of either the ilex tower or the possibilities of the morrow. he had only one thought, and that was to speak with olivia, to let her know that he was there on the island, near her, ready to serve her--ah well, chiefly, he did not disguise from himself, what he wanted was to look at her and to hear her speak to him. but amory had depended on the confusion of the rising to communicate the great news, and to tell about jarvo, waiting in a motor out there in the palace courtyard, by the wall on the side opposite the windows of the banquet room. in an auspicious moment amory looked warily about, thrilling with premonition of his friend's enthusiasm. before he could speak, st. george uttered a startled exclamation, caught at amory's arm, sprang forward, and was off up the long room, dragging amory with him. about the dais there was suddenly an appalling confusion. push of feet, murmurs, a cry and, visible over the heads between, a glistening of gold uniforms closing about the throne seats, flashing back to the long, open windows, disappearing against the night... "what is it?" cried amory as he ran. "what is it?" "quick," said st. george only, "i don't know. they've gone with her." amory did not understand, but he saw that olivia's seat was empty; and when he swept the heads for her white veil, it was not there. "who has?" he said. st. george swerved to the side of the room toward the windows, and old malakh stood there, crying out and pointing. "the guard, i think," st. george answered, and was over the low sill of a window, running headlong across the courtyard, amory behind him. "there they go," st. george cried. "good god, what are we to do? there they go." amory looked. down a side avenue--one of those tunnels of shadow that taught the necessity of mystery--a great motor car was speeding, and in the dimness the two men could see the white of olivia's floating veil. at this, amory wheeled and searched the length of wall across the yard. if only--if only-there on the side of the courtyard opposite the windows of the banquet room stood the motor that was that night to go back to melita. bolt upright on the seat was jarvo, and climbing in the tonneau, with his neck stretched toward the confusion of the palace, was rollo. jarvo saw amory, who beckoned; and in an instant the car was beside them and the two men were over the back of the tonneau in a flash. "that way," cried st. george, with no time to waste on the miracle of jarvo's appearance, "that way--there. where you see the white." at a touch the motor plunged away into the fragrant darkness. amory looked back. figures crowded the windows of the palace, and streamed from the banquet hall into the courtyard. men hurried through the hall, and there was clamour of voices, and in the honey-coloured air the great bulk of the palace towered like a faithless sentinel, the alien banners in nameless colours sending streamers into the moon-lit upper spaces. on before, down nebulous ways, went the whiteness of the floating veil. chapter xii between-worlds down nebulous ways they went, the thin darkness flowing past them. the sloping avenue ran all the width of the palace grounds, and here among slim-trunked trees faint fringes of the light touched away the dimness in the open spaces and expressed the borders of the dusk. always the way led down, dipping deeper in the conjecture of shadow, and always before them glimmered the mist of olivia's veil, an eidolon of love, of love's eternal vanishing goal. and st. george was in pursuit. so were amory and jarvo, and rollo of the oil-skins, but these mattered very little, for it was st. george whose eyes burned in his pale face and were striving to catch the faintest motion in that fleeing car ahead. "faster, jarvo," he said, "we're not gaining on them. i think they're gaining on us. put ahead, can't you?" amory vexed the air with frantic questionings. "how did it happen?" he said. "who did it? was it the guard? what did they do it for?" "it looks to me," said st. george only, peering distractedly into the gloom, "as if all those fellows had on uniforms. can you see?" jarvo spoke softly. "it is true, adôn," he said, "they are of the guard. this is what they had planned," he added to amory. "i feared the harm would be to you. it is the same. your turn would be the next." "what do you mean?" st. george demanded. amory, with some incoherence, told him what jarvo had come to them to propose, and heightened his own excitement by plunging into the business of that night and the next, as he had had it from the little brown man's lips. "up the mountain to-morrow night," he concluded fervently, "what do you think of that? do you see us?" "maniac, no," said st. george shortly, "what do we want to go up the mountain for if miss holland is somewhere else? faster, jarvo, can't you?" he urged. "why, this thing is built to go sixty miles an hour. we're creeping." "perhaps it's better to start in gentle and work up a pace, sir," observed rollo inspirationally, "like a man's legs, sir, beggin' your pardon." st. george looked at him as if he had first seen him, so that amory once more explained his presence and pointed to the oil-skins. and st. george said only: "now we're coming up a little--don't you think we're coming up a little? throw it wide open, jarvo--now, go!" "what are you going to do when you catch them?" demanded amory. "we can't lunge into them, for fear of hurting miss holland. and who knows what devilish contrivance they've got--dum-dum bullets with a poison seal attachment," prophesied amory darkly. "what are you going to do?" "i don't know what we're going to do," said st. george doggedly, "but if we can overtake them it won't take us long to find out." never so slightly the pursuers were gaining. it was impossible to tell whether those in the flying car knew that they were followed, and if they did know, and if olivia knew, st. george wondered whether the pursuit were to her a new alarm, or whether she were looking to them for deliverance. if she knew! his heart stood still at the thought--oh, and if they had both known, that morning at breakfast at the boris, that _this_ was the way the genie would come out of the jar. but how, if he were unable to help her? and how could he help her when these others might have heaven knew what resources of black art, art of all the colours of the yaque spectrum, if it came to that? the slim-trunked trees flew past them, and the tender branches brushed their shoulders and hung out their flowers like lamps. warm wind was in their faces, sweet, reverberant voices of the wood-things came chorusing, and ahead there in the dimness, that misty will-o'-the-wisp was her veil, olivia's veil. st. george would have followed if it had led him between-worlds. in a manner it did lead him between-worlds. emerging suddenly upon a broader avenue their car followed the other aside and shot through a great gateway of the palace wall--a wall built of such massive blocks that the gateway formed a covered passageway. from there, delicately lighted, greenly arched, and on this festal night, quite deserted, went the road by which, the night before, they had entered med. "now," said st. george between set teeth, "now see what you can do, jarvo. everything depends on you." evidently jarvo had been waiting for this stretch of open road and expecting the other car to take it. he bent forward, his wiry little frame like a quivering spring controlling the motion. the motor leaped at his touch. away down the road they tore with the wind singing its challenge. second by second they saw their gain increase. the uniforms of the guards in the car became distinguishable. the white of olivia's veil merged in the brightness of her gown--was it only the shining of the gold of the uniforms or could st. george see the floating gold of her hair? ah, wonderful, past all speech it was wonderful to be fleeing toward her through this pale light that was like a purer element than light itself. with the phantom moving of the boughs in the wood on either side light seemed to dance and drip from leaf to leaf--the visible spirit of the haunted green. the unreality of it all swept over him almost stiflingly. olivia--was it indeed olivia whom he was following down lustrous ways of a land vague as a star; or was his pursuit not for her, but for the exquisite, incommunicable idea, and was he following it through a world forth-fashioned from his own desire? suddenly indistinguishable sounds were in his ears, words from amory, from jarvo certain exultant gutturals. he felt the car slacken speed, he looked ahead for the swift beckoning of the veil, and then he saw that where, in the delicate distance, the other motor had sped its way, it now stood inactive in the road before them, and they were actually upon it. the four guards in the motor were standing erect with uplifted faces, their gold uniforms shining like armour. but this was not all. there, in the highway beside the car, the mist of her veil like a halo about her, olivia stood alone. st. george did not reckon what they meant to do. he dropped over the side of the tonneau and ran to her. he stood before her, and all the joy that he had ever known was transcended as she turned toward him. she threw out her hands with a little cry--was it gladness, or relief, or beseeching? he could not be certain that there was even recognition in her eyes before she tottered and swayed, and he caught her unconscious form in his arms. as he lifted her he looked with apprehension toward the car that held the guards. to his bewilderment there was no car there. the pursued motor, like a winged thing of the most innocent vagaries, had taken itself off utterly. and on before, the causeway was utterly empty, dipping idly between murmurous green. but at the moment st. george had no time to spend on that wonder. he carried olivia to the tonneau of jarvo's car, jealous when rollo lifted her gown's hem from the dust of the road and when amory threw open the door. he held her in his arms, half kneeling beside her, profoundly regardless where it should please the others to dispose themselves. he had no recollection of hearing jarvo point the way through the trees to a path that led away, as far from them as a voice would carry, to the ilex tower whose key burned in amory's pocket, promising radiant, intangible things to his imagination. st. george understood with magnificent unconcern that amory and rollo were gone off there to wait for the return of him and jarvo; he took it for granted that jarvo had grasped that olivia must be taken back to her aunt and her friends at the palace; and afterward he knew only, for an indeterminate space, that the car was moving across some dim, heavenly foreground to some dim, ultimate destination in which he found himself believing with infinite faith. for this was olivia, in his arms. st. george looked down at her, at the white, exquisite face with its shadow of lashes, and it seemed to him that he must not breathe, or remember, or hope, lest the gods should be jealous and claim the moment, and leave him once more forlorn. that was the secret, he thought, not to touch away the elusive moment by hope or memory, but just to live it, filled with its ecstasies, borne on the crest of its consciousness. it seemed to him in some intimately communicated fashion, that the moment, the very world of the island, was become to him a more intense object of consciousness than himself. and somehow olivia was its expression--olivia, here in his arms, with the stir of her breath and the light, light pressure of her body and the fall of her hair, not only symbols of the sovereign hour, but the hour's realities. on either side the phantom wood pressed close about them, and its light seemed coined by goblin fingers. dissolving wind, persuading little voices musical beyond the domain of music that he knew, quick, poignant vistas of glades where the light spent itself in its longed-for liberty of colour, labyrinthine ways of shadow that taught the necessity of mystery. there was something lyric about it all. here nature moved on no formal lines, understood no frugality of beauty, but was lavish with a divine and special errantry to a divine and special understanding. and it had been given st. george to move with her merely by living this hour, with olivia in his arms. the sweet of life--the sweet of life and the world his own. the words had never meant so much. he had often said them in exultation, but he had never known their truth: the world was literally his own, under the law. nothing seemed impossible. his mind went back to the unexplained disappearing of that other motor and, however it had been, that did not seem impossible either. it seemed natural, and only a new doorway to new points of contact. in this amazing land no speculation was too far afield to be the food of every day. here men understood miracle as the rest of the world understands invention. already the mere existence of yaque proved that the space of experience is transcended--and with the thought a fancy, elusive and profound, seized him and gripped at his heart with an emotion wider than fear. what had become of the other car? had it gone down some road of the wood which the guards knew, or ... the words of prince tabnit came back to him as they had been spoken in that wonderful tour of the island. "the higher dimensions are being conquered. nearly all of us can pass into the fifth at will, 'disappearing,' as you have the word." was it possible that in the vanishing of the pursued car this had been demonstrated before him? into this space, inclusive of the visible world and of yaque as well, had the car passed _without the pursuers being able to point_ to the direction which it had taken? st. george smiled in derision as this flashed upon him, and it hardly held his thought for a moment, for his eyes were upon olivia's face, so near, so near his own ... undoubtedly, he thought vaguely, that other motor had simply swerved aside to some private opening of the grove and, from being hard-pressed and almost overtaken, was now well away in safety. yet if this were so, would they not have taken olivia with them? but to that strange and unapparent hyperspace they could not have taken her, because she did not understand. "...just as one," prince tabnit had said, "who understands how to die and come to life again would not be able to take with him any one who himself did not understand how to accompany him..." some terrifying and exalting sense swept him into a new intimacy of understanding as he realized glimmeringly what heights and depths lay about his ceasing to see that car of the guard. yet, with olivia's head upon his arm, all that he theorized in that flash of time hung hardly beyond the border of his understanding. indeed, it seemed to st. george as if almost--almost he could understand, as if he could pierce the veil and know utterly all the secrets of spirit and sense that confound. "we shall all know _when we are able to bear it_," he had once heard another say, and it seemed to him now that at last he was able to bear it, as if the sense of the uninterrupted connection between the two worlds was almost a part of his own consciousness. a moment's deeper thought, a quicker flowing of the imagination, a little more poignant projecting of himself above the abyss and he, too, would understand. it came to him that he had almost understood every time that he had looked at olivia. ah, he thought, and how exquisite, how matchless she was, and what heaven beyond heaven the world would hold for him if only she were to love him. st. george lifted the little hand that hung at her side, and stooped momentarily to touch his cheek to the soft hair that swept her shoulder. here for him lay the sweet of life--the sweet of the world, ay, and the sweet of all the world's mysteries. this alien land was no nearer the truth than he. his love was the expression of its mystery. they went back through the great archway, and entered the palace park. once more the slim-trunked trees flew past them with the fringes of light expressing the borders of the dusk. st. george crouched, half-kneeling, on the floor of the tonneau, his free hand protecting olivia's face from the leaning branches of heavy-headed flowers. he had been so passionately anxious that she should know that he was on the island, near her, ready to serve her; but now, save for his alarm and anxiety about her, he felt a shy, profound gratitude that the hour had fallen as it had fallen. whatever was to come, this nearness to her would be his to remember and possess. it had been his supreme hour. whether she had recognized him in that moment on the road, whether she ever knew what had happened made, he thought, no difference. but if she was to open her eyes as they reached the border of the park, and if she was to know that it was like this that the genie had come out of the jar--the mere notion made him giddy, and he saw that heaven may have little inner heaven-courts which one is never too happy to penetrate. but olivia did not stir or unclose her eyes. the great strain of the evening, the terror and shock of its ending, the very relief with which she had, at all events, realized herself in the hands of friends were more than even an island princess could pass through in serenity. and when at last from the demesne of enchantment the car emerged in the court of the palace, olivia knew nothing of it and, as nearly as he could recall afterward, neither did st. george. he understood that the courtyard was filled with murmurs, and that as olivia was lifted from the car the voice of mrs. medora hastings, in all its excesses of tone and pitch, was tilted in a kind of universal reproving. then he was aware that jarvo, beseeching him not to leave the motor, had somehow got him away from all the tumult and the questioning and the crush of the other motors setting tardily off down the avenue in a kind cf majestic pursuit of the princess. after that he remembered nothing but the grateful gloom of the wood and the swift flight of the car down that nebulous way, thin darkness flowing about him. he was to go back to join amory in some kind of tower, he knew; and he was infinitely resigned, for he remembered that this was in some way essential to his safety, and that it had to do with the ascent of mount khalak to-morrow night. for the rest st. george was certain of nothing save that he was floating once more in a sea of light, with the sweet of the world flowing in his veins; and upon his arm and against his shoulder he could still feel the thrill of the pressure of olivia's head. the genie had come out of the jar--and never, never would he go back. chapter xiii the lines lead up in the late hours of the next afternoon rollo, with a sigh, uncoiled himself from the shadow of the altar to the god melkarth, in the ilex temple, and stiffly rose. vicissitudes were not for rollo, who had not fathomed the joys of adaptability; and the savour of the sweet herbs which, from jarvo's wallet, he had that day served, was forgotten in his longing for a drop of tarragan vinegar and a bulb of garlic with which to dress the herbs. his lean and shadowed face wore an expression of settled melancholy. "sorrow's nothing," he sententiously observed. "it's trouble that does for a man, sir." st. george, who lay at full length on a mossy sill of the king's chapel counting the hours of his inaction, continued to look out over the glistening tops of the ilex trees. "speaking of trouble," he said, "what would you say, rollo, to getting back to the yacht to-night, instead of going up the mountain with us?" rollo dropped his eyes, but his face brightened under, as it were, his never-lifted mask. "oh, sir," he said humbly, "a person is always willing to do whatever makes him the most useful." "little cawthorne and bennietod," went on st. george, "ten to one will take to the trail to-night, if they haven't already. they'll be coming to med and reorganizing the police force, or raising a standing army or starting a subway. you'd do well to drop down and give them some idea of what's happened, and i fancy you'd better all be somewhere about on the day after to-morrow, at noon. not that there will be any wedding at that time," explained st. george carefully, "although there may be something to see, all the same. but you might tell them, you know, that miss holland is due to marry the prince then. can you get back to the yacht alone?" rollo hadn't thought of that, and his mask fell once more into its lines of misery. "i don't know, sir," he said doubtfully, "most men can go up a steep place all right. it's comin' down that's hard on the knees. and if i was to try it alone, sir--" jarvo made a sign of reassurance. "that is not well," he said, "you would be dashed to pieces. ulfin, one of the six, will wait for us to-night on the edge of the grove. he can conduct the way to the vessel." "ah, sir," said rollo, not without a certain self-satisfaction, "something is always sure to turn up, sir." from a tour of the temple amory came listlessly back to the king's chapel. there, where the descendants of abibaal had worshiped until their idols had been refined by time to a kind of decoration, the americans and jarvo had spent the night. they had slept stretched on benches of beveled stone. they had waked to trace the figures in a length of tapestry representing the capture of io on the coast of argolis, doubtless woven by an eye-witness. they had bathed in a brook near the entrance where stood the altar for the sacrifice round which the priests and _hierodouloi_ had been wont to dance, and where huge architraves, metopes and tryglyphs, massive as those at gebeil and tortosa and hewn from living rock, rose from the fragile green of the wood like a huge arm signaling its eternal "alas!" they had partaken of jarvo's fruit and sweet herbs, and rollo had served them, standing with his back to the niche where once had looked augustly down the image of the god. and now amory, with a smile, leaned against a wall where old vines, grown miraculously in crannies, spread their tendrils upon the friendly hieroglyphic scoring of the crenelated stone, and summed up his reflections of the night. "i've got it," he announced, "i think it was up in the adirondacks, summer before last. i think i was in a canoe when she went by in a launch, with the chiswicks. why, do you know, i think i dreamed about miss frothingham for weeks." st. george smiled suddenly and radiantly, and his smile was for the sake of both rollo and amory--rollo whose sense of the commonplace nothing could overpower, amory who talked about the chiswicks in the adirondacks. why not? st. george thought happily. here in the temple certain precious and delicate idols were believed to be hidden in alcoves walled up by mighty stone; and here, jarvo was telling them, were secret exits to the road contrived by the priests of the temple at the time of their oppression by the worshipers of another god; but yet what special interest could he and amory have in brooding upon these, or the ancient phoenicians having "invited to traffic by a signal fire," when they could sit still and remember? "to-night," he said aloud, feeling a sudden fellowship for both amory and rollo, "to-night, when the moon rises, we shall watch it from the top of the mountain." then he wondered, many hundred times, whether olivia could possibly have recognized him. when the dark had fallen they set out. the ilex grove was very still save for a fugitive wind that carried faint spices, and they took a winding way among trunks and reached the edge of the wood without adventure. there ulfin and another of the six carriers were waiting, as jarvo had expected, and it was decided that they should both accompany rollo down to the yacht. rollo handed the oil-skins to st. george and amory, and then stood crushing his hat in his hands, doing his best to speak. "look sharp, rollo," st. george advised him, "don't step one foot off a precipice. and tell the people on the yacht not to worry. we shall expect to see them day after to-morrow, somewhere about. take care of yourself." "oh, sir," said rollo with difficulty, "good-by, sir. i '_ope_ you'll be successful, sir. a person likes to succeed in what they undertake." then the three went on down the glimmering way where, last night, they had pursued the floating pennon of the veil. there were few upon the highway, and these hardly regarded them. it occurred to st. george that they passed as figures in a dream will pass, in the casual fashion of all unreality, taking all things for granted. yet, of course, to the passers-by upon the road to med, there was nothing remarkable in the aspect of the three companions. all that was remarkable was the adventure upon which they were bound, and nobody could possibly have guessed that. almost a mile lay between them and the point where the ascent of the mountain was to be begun. the road which they were taking followed at the foot of the embankment which girt the island, and it led them at last to a stretch of arbourescent heath, piled with black basaltic rocks. here, where the light was dim like the glow from light reflected upon low clouds, they took their way among great branching cacti and nameless plants that caught at their ankles. a strange odour rose from the earth, mineral, metallic, and the air was thick with particles stirred by their feet and more resembling ashes than dust. this was a waste place of the island, and if one were to lift a handful of the soil, st. george thought, it was very likely that one might detect its elements; as, here the dust of a temple, here of a book, here a tomb and here a sacrifice. he felt himself near the earth, in its making. he looked away to the sugar-loaf cone of the mountain risen against the star-lit sky. above its fortress-like bulk with circular ramparts burned the clear beacon of the light on the king's palace. as he saw the light, st. george knew himself not only near the earth but at one with the very currents of the air, partaker of now a hope, now a task, now a spell, and now a memory. it was as if love had made him one with the dust of dead cities and with their eternal spiritual effluence. at length they crossed the broad avenue that led from the eurychôrus to melita, and struck into the road that skirted the mountain; and where a thicket of trees flung bold branches across the way, three figures rose from the ground before them, and akko stepped forward and saluted, his white teeth gleaming. immediately jarvo led the way through a strip of underbrush at the base of the mountain, and they emerged in a glade where the light hardly penetrated. here were distinguishable the palanquins in which the ascent was to be made. these were like long baskets, upborne by a pole of great flexibility broadening to a wider support beneath the body of the basket and provided with rubber straps through which the arms were passed. when st. george and amory were seated, jarvo spoke hesitatingly: "we must bandage your eyes, adôn," he said. "oh really, really," protested st. george, "we don't understand half we do see. do let us see what we can." "you must be blindfolded, adôn," repeated jarvo firmly. amory, passing his arms reflectively through the rubber straps which akko held for him, spoke cheerfully: "i'll go up blindfold," he submitted, "if i can smoke." "neither of us will," said st. george with determination. "see here, jarvo, we are both level-headed. we pledge you our word of honour, in addition, not to dive overboard. now--lead on." "it has never been done," said the little brown man with obstinacy, "you will lose your reason, adôn." "ah well now, if we do," said st. george, "pitch us over and leave us. besides, i think we have. lead on, please." against the will of the others, he prevailed. the light oil-skins were placed in the baskets, each of which was shouldered by two men, jarvo bearing the foremost pole of st. george's palanquin. all the carriers had drawn on long, soft shoes which, perhaps from some preparation in which they had been dipped, glowed with light, illuminating the ground for a little distance at every step. "are you ready, adôn?" asked jarvo and akko at the same moment. "ready!" cried st. george impatiently. "ready," said amory languidly, and added one thought more: "i hope for chillingworth's sake," he said, "that frothingham is a notary public. we'll have to have somebody's seal at the bottom of all this copy." the baskets were lightly lifted. jarvo gave a sharp command, and all four of the men broke into a rhythmic chant. jarvo, leading the way, sprang immediately upon the first foothold, where none seemed to be, and without pause to the next. so perfectly were the men trained that it was as if but one set of muscles were inspiring the movements made to the beat of that monotonous measure. in their strong hands the flexible pole seemed to give as their bodies gave, and so lightly did they leap upward that the jar of their alighting was hardly perceptible, as if, as had occurred to st. george as they ascended the lip of the island, gravity were here another matter. so, without pause, save in the rhythm of that strange march music, the remarkable progress was begun. st. george threw one swift glance upward and looked down, shudderingly. beetling above them in the great starlight hung the gigantic pile, wall upon wall of rock hewn with such secret foothold that it was a miracle how any living thing could catch and cling to its forbidding surface. only lifelong practice of the men, who from childhood had been required to make the ascent and whose fathers and fathers' fathers before them had done the same, could have accounted for that catlike ability to cling to the trail where was no trail. the sensation of the long swinging upward movement was unutterably alien to anything in life or in dreams, and the sheer height above and the momently-deepening chasm below were presences contending for possession. strange fragrance stole from gum and bark of the decreasing vegetation. dislodged stones rolled bounding from rock to rock into the abyss. to right and left the way went. there was not even the friendly beacon of the summit to beckon them. it seemed to st. george that their whole safety lay in motion, that a moment's cessation from the advance would hurl them all down the sides of the declivity. since the ascent began he had not ceased to look down; and now as they rose free of the tree-tops that clothed the base of the mountain he could see across the plain, and beyond the bounding embankment of the island to the dark waste of the sea. somewhere out there _the aloha_ was rocking. somewhere, away to the northwest, the lights of new york harbour shone. _did_ they, st. george wondered vaguely; and, when he went back, how would they look to him? it seemed to him in some indeterminate fashion that when he saw them again there would be new lines and sides of beauty which he had never suspected, and as if all the world would be changed, included in this new world that he had found. half-way up the ascent a resting-place was contrived for the carriers. the projection upon which the baskets were lowered was hardly three feet in width. its edge dropped into darkness. within reach, leaves rustled from the summit of a tree rooted somewhere in the chasm. the blackness below was vast and to be measured only by the memory of that upward course. gemmed by its lighted hamlets the fair plain of the island lay, with med and melita glowing like lamps to the huge dusk. "st. george," said amory soberly, "if it's all true--if these people do understand what the world doesn't know anything about--" "yes," said st. george. "it makes a man feel--" "yes," said st. george, "it does." this, they afterward remembered, was all that they said on the ascent. one wonders if two, being met among the "strengthless tribes of the dead," would find much more to say. then they went on, scaling that invisible way, with the twinkling feet of the carriers drawing upward like a thread of thin gold which they were to climb. what, st. george thought as the way seemed to lengthen before them, what if there were no end? what if this were some gigantic trick of destiny to keep him for the rest of his life in mid-air, ceaselessly toiling up, a latter-day sisyphus, in a palanquin? he had dreamed of stairs in the darkness which men mounted and found to have no summits, and suppose this were such a stair? suppose, among these marvels that were related to his dreams, he had, as it were, tossed a ball of twine in the air and, like the indian jugglers, climbed it? suppose he had built a castle in the clouds and tenanted it with olivia, and were now foolhardily attempting to scale the air? ah well, he settled it contentedly, better so. for this divine jugglery comes once into every life, and one must climb to the castle with madness and singing if he would attain to the temples that lie on the castle-plain. gradually, as they approached the summit, the ascent became less precipitous. as they neared the cone their way lay over a kind of natural fosse at the cone's base; and, although the mountain did not reach the level of perpetual snow, yet an occasional cool breath from the dark told where in some natural cavern snow had lain undisturbed since the unremembered eruption of the sullen, volcanic peak. then came a breath of over-powering sweetness from some secret thicket, and something was struck from the feet of the bearers that was like white pumice gravel. st. george no longer looked downward; the plain and the waste of the sea were in a forgotten limbo, and he searched eagerly on high for the first rays of the light that marked the goal of his longing. yet he was unprepared when, swerving sharply and skirting an immense shoulder of rock, jarvo suddenly emerged upon a broad retaining wall of stone bordering a smooth, moon-lit terrace extending by shallow flights of steps to the white doors of the king's palace itself. as st. george and amory freed themselves and sprang to their feet their eyes were drawn to a glory of light shining over the low parapet which surrounded the terrace. "look," cried st. george victoriously, "the moon!" from the sea the moon was momently growing, like a giant bubble, and a bright path had issued to the mountain's foot. "see," she would doubtless have said if she could, "i would have shown you the way here all your life if only you had looked properly." but at all events st. george's prophecy was fulfilled: from the top of mount khalak they were watching the moon rise. st. george, however, was not yet in the company whose image had pleasantly besieged him when he had prophesied. he turned impatiently to the palace. jarvo, resting on the stones where he had sunk down, signaled them to go on, and the two needed no second bidding. they set off briskly across the plateau, amory looking about him with eager curiosity, st. george on the crest of his divine expectancy. the palace was set on the west of the gentle slope to which the mountain-top had been artificially leveled. the terrace led up on three sides from the marge of the height to the great portals. over everything hung that imponderable essence that was clearer and purer than any light--"better than any light that ever shone." in its glamourie, with that far ocean background, the palace of pale stone looked unearthly, a sky thing, with ramparts of air. the principle of the builders seemed not to have been the ancient dictum that "mass alone is admirable," for the great pile was shaped, with beauty of unknown line, in three enormous cylinders, one rising from another, the last magnificently curved to a huge dome on whose summit burned with inconceivable brilliance the light which had been a beacon to the longing eyes turned toward it from the deck of _the aloha_. in the shadow of the palace rose two high towers, obelisk-shaped from the pure white stone. scattered about the slope were detached buildings, consisting of marble monoliths resting upon double bases and crowned with carved cornices, or of truncated pyramids and pyramidions. these had plinths of delicately-coloured stone over which the light diffused so that they looked luminous, and the small blocks used to fill the apertures of the courses shone like precious things. adjacent to one of the porches were two conical shrines, for images and little lamps; and, near-by, a fallen pillar of immense proportions lay undisturbed upon the court of sward across which it had some time shivered down. but if the palace had been discovered to be the preserved and transported temple of solomon it could not have stayed st. george for one moment of admiration. he was off up the slope, seeing only the great closed portals, and with amory beside him he ran boldly up the long steps. it was a part of the unreality of the place that there seemed absolutely no sign of life about the king's palace. the windows glowed with the soft light within, but there were no guards, no servants, no sign of any presence. for the first time, when they reached the top of the steps, the two men hesitated. "personally," said amory doubtfully, "i have never yet tapped at a king's front door. what does one do?" st. george looked at the long stone porches, uncovered and girt by a parapet following the curve of the façade. "would you mind waiting a minute?" he said. with that he was off along the balcony to the south--and afterward he wondered why, and if it is true that fate tempts us in the way that she would have us walk by luring us with unseen roses budding from the air. where the porch abruptly widened to a kind of upper terrace, like a hanging garden set with flowering trees, three high archways opened to an apartment whose bright lights streamed across the grass-plots. st. george felt something tug at his heart, something that urged him forward and caught him up in an ecstasy of triumph and hope fulfilled. he looked back at amory, and amory was leaning on the parapet, apparently sunk in reflections which concerned nobody. so st. george stepped softly on until he reached the first archway, and there he stopped, and the moment was to him almost past belief. within the open doorway, so near that if she had lifted her eyes they must have met his own, was the woman whom he had come across the sea to seek. st. george hardly knew that he spoke, for it was as if all the world were singing her name. "olivia!" he said. chapter xiv the isle of hearts the room in which st. george was looking was long and lofty and hung with pale tapestries. white pillars supporting the domed white ceiling were wound with garlands. the smoke from a little brazen tripod ascended pleasantly, and about the windows stirred in the faint wind draperies of exceeding thinness, woven in looms stilled centuries ago. olivia was crossing before the windows. she wore a white gown strewn with roses, and she seemed as much at home on this alien mountain-top as she had been in her aunt's drawing-room at the boris. but her face was sad, and there was not a touch of the piquancy which it had worn the night before in the throne-room, nor of its delicious daring as she had sped past him in the big yaque touring car. save for her, the room was deserted; it was as if the prince had come to the castle and found the sleeping princess the only one awake. if in that supreme moment st. george had leaped forward and taken her in his arms no one--no one, that is, in the fairy-tale of what was happening--would greatly have censured him. but he stood without for a moment, hardly daring to believe his happiness, hardly knowing that her name was on his lips. he had spoken, however, and she turned quickly, her look uncertainly seeking the doorway, and she saw him. for a moment she stood still, her eyes upon his face; then with a little incredulous cry that thrilled him with a sudden joyous hope that was like belief, she came swiftly toward him. st. george loved to remember that she did that. there was no waiting for assurance and no fear; only the impulse, gloriously obeyed, to go toward him. he stepped in the room, and took her hands in his and looked into her eyes as if he would never turn away his own. in her face was a dawning of glad certainty and welcome which he could not doubt. "you," she cried softly, "you. how is it possible? but how is it possible?" her voice trembled a little with something so sweet that it raced through his veins with magic. "did you rub the lamp?" he said. "because i couldn't help coming." she looked at him breathlessly. "have you," he asked her gravely, "eaten of the potatoes of yaque? and are you going to say, 'off with his head'? and can you tell me what is the population of the island?" at that they both laughed--the merry, irrepressible laugh of youth which explains that the world is a very good place indeed and that one is glad that one belongs there. and the memory of that breakfast on the other side of the world, of their happy talk about what would happen if they two were impossibly to meet in yaque came back to them both, and set his heart beating and flooded her face with delicate colour. in her laugh was a little catching of the breath that was enchanting. "not yet," she said, "your head is safe till you tell me how you got here, at all events. now tell me--oh, tell me. i can't believe it until you tell me." she moved a little away from the door. "come in," she said shyly, "if you've come all the way from america you must be very tired." st. george shook his head. "come out," he pleaded, "i want to stand on top of a high mountain and show you the whole world." she went quite simply and without hesitation--because, in yaque, the maddest things would be the truest--and when she had stepped from the low doorway she looked up at him in the tender light of the garden terrace. "if you are quite sure," she said, "that you will not disappear in the dark?" st. george laughed happily. "i shall not disappear," he promised, "though the world were to turn round the other way." they crossed the still terrace to the parapet and stood looking out to sea with the risen moon shining across the waters. the light wind stirred in the cedrine junipers, shaking out perfume; the great fairy pile of the palace rose behind them; and before them lay the monstrous moon-lit abyss than whose depths the very stars, warm and friendly, seemed nearer to them. to the big young american in blue serge beside the little new princess who had drawn him over seas the dream that one is always having and never quite remembering was suddenly come true. no wonder that at that moment the patient amory was far enough from his mind. to st. george, looking down upon olivia, there was only one truth and one joy in the universe, and she was that truth and that joy. "i can't believe it," he said boyishly. "believe--what?" she asked, for the delight of hearing him say so. "this--me--most of all, you!" he answered. "but you must believe it," she cried anxiously, "or maybe it will stop being." "i will, i will, i am now!" promised st. george in alarm. whereat they both laughed again in sheer light-heartedness. then, resting his broad shoulders against a prism of the parapet, st. george looked down at her in infinite content. "you found the island," she said; "what is still more wonderful you have come here--but _here_--to the top of the mountain. oh, did you bring news of my father?" st. george would have given everything save the sweet of the moment to tell her that he did. "but now," he added cheerfully, and his smile disarmed this of its over-confidence, "i've only been here two days or so. and, though it may look easy, i've had my hands full climbing up this. i ought to be allowed another day or two to locate your father." "please tell me how you got here," olivia demanded then. st. george told her briefly, omitting the yacht's ownership, explaining merely that the paper had sent him and that jarvo and akko had pointed the way and, save for that journey down nebulous ways in the wake of her veil the night before, sketching the incidents which had followed his arrival upon the island. "and one of the most agreeable hours i've had in yaque," he finished, "was last night, when you were chairman of the meeting. that was magnificent." "you _were_ there!" cried olivia, "i thought--" "that you saw me?" st. george pressed eagerly. "i think that i thought so," she admitted. "but you never looked at me," said st. george dolefully, "and i had on a forty-two gored dress, or something." "ah," olivia confessed, "but i had thought so before when i knew it couldn't be you." st. george's heart gave a great bound. "when before?" he wanted to know ecstatically. "ah, before," she explained, "and then afterward, too." "when afterward?" he urged. (smile if you like, but this is the way the happy talk goes in yaque as you remember very well, if you are honest.) "yesterday, when i was motoring, i thought--" "i was. you did," st. george assured her. "i was in the prince's motor. the procession was temporarily tied up, you remember. did you really think it was i?" but this the lady passed serenely over. "last night," she said, "when that terrible thing happened, who was it in the other motor? who was it, there in the road when i--was it you? was it?" she demanded. "did you think it was i?" asked st. george simply. "afterward--when i was back in the palace--i thought i must have dreamed it," she answered, "and no one seemed to know, and _i_ didn't know. but i did fancy--you see, they think father has taken the treasure," she said, "and they thought if they could hide me somewhere and let it be known, that he would make some sign." "it was monstrous," said st. george; "you are really not safe here for one moment. tell me," he asked eagerly, "the car you were in--what became of that?" "i meant to ask you that," she said quickly. "i couldn't tell, i didn't know whether it turned aside from the road, or whether they dropped me out and went on. really, it was all so quick that it was almost as if the motor had stopped being, and left me there." "perhaps it did stop being--in this dimension," st. george could not help saying. at this she laughed in assent. "who knows," she said, "what may be true of us--_nous autres_ in the fourth dimension? in yaque queer things are true. and of course you never can tell--" at this st. george turned toward her, and his eyes compelled hers. "ah, yes, you can," he told her, "yes, you can." then he folded his arms and leaned against the stone prisms again, looking down at her. evidently the magician, whoever he was, did not mind his saying that, for the palace did not crumble or the moon cease from shining on the white walls. "still," she answered, looking toward the sea, "queer things _are_ true in yaque. it is queer that you are here. say that it is." "heaven knows that it is," assented st. george obediently. presently, realizing that the terrace did not intend to turn into a cloud out-of-hand, they set themselves to talk seriously, and st. george had not known her so adorable, he was once more certain, as when she tried to thank him for his pursuit the night before. he had omitted to mention that he had brought her back alone to the palace of the litany, for that was too exquisite a thing, he decided, to be spoiled by leaving out the most exquisite part. besides, there was enough that was serious to be discussed, in all conscience, in spite of the moon. "tell me," said st. george instead, "what has happened to you since that breakfast at the boris. remember, i have come all the way from new york to interview you, mademoiselle the princess." so olivia told him the story of the passage in the submarine which had arrived in yaque two days earlier than _the aloha_; of the first trip up mount khalak in the imperial airship; of mrs. hastings' frantic fear and her utter refusal ever to descend; and of what she herself had done since her arrival. this included a most practical account of effort that delighted and amazed st. george. no wonder mrs. hastings had said that she always left everything "executive" to olivia. for olivia had sent wireless messages all over the island offering an immense reward for information about the king, her father; she had assigned forty servants of the royal household to engage in a personal search for such information and to report to her each night; she had ordered every house in yaque, not excepting the house of the litany and the king's palace itself, to be searched from dungeon to tower; and, as st. george already knew, she had brought about a special meeting of the high council at noon that day. "it was very little," said the american princess apologetically, "but i did what i could." "what about the meeting of the high council?" asked st. george eagerly; "didn't anything come of that?" "nothing," she answered, "they were like adamant. i thought of offering to raise the hereditary treasure by incorporating the island and selling the shares in america. nobody could ever have found what the shares stood for, but that happens every day. half the corporations must be capitalized chiefly in the fourth dimension. that is all," she added wearily, "save that day after to-morrow i am to be married." "that," st. george explained, "is as you like. for if your father is on the island we shall have found him by day after to-morrow, at noon, if we have to shake all yaque inside out, like a paper sack. and if he isn't here, we simply needn't stop." olivia shook her head. "you don't know the prince," she said. "i have heard enough to convince me that it is quite as he says. he holds events in the hollow of his hand." "amory proposed," said st. george, "that we sit up here and throw pebbles at him for a time. and amory is very practical." olivia laughed--her laugh was delicious and alluring, and st. george came dangerously near losing his head every time that he heard it. "ah," she cried, "if only it weren't for the prince and if we had news of father, what a heavenly, heavenly place this would be, would it not?" "it would, it would indeed," assented st. george, and in his heart he said, "and so it is." "it's like being somewhere else," she said, looking into the abyss of far waters, "and when you look down there--and when you look up, you nearly _know_. i don't know what, but you nearly know. perhaps you know that 'here' is the same as 'there,' as all these people say. but whatever it is, i think we might have come almost as near knowing it in new york, if we had only known how to try." "perhaps it isn't so much knowing," he said, "as it is being where you can't help facing mystery and taking the time to be amazed. although," added st. george to himself, "there are things that one finds out in new york. in a drawing-room, at the boris, for instance, over muffins and tea." "it will be delightful to take all this back to new york," olivia vaguely added, as if she meant the fairy palace and the fairy sea. "it will," agreed st. george fervently, and he couldn't possibly have told whether he meant the mystery of the island or the mystery of that hour there with her. there was so little difference. "suppose," said olivia whimsically, "that we open our eyes in a minute, and find that we are in the prince's room in mcdougle street, and that he has passed his hand before our faces and made us dream all this. and father is safe after all." "but it isn't all a dream," st. george said softly, "it can't possibly all be a dream, you know." she met his eyes for a moment. "not your coming away here," she said, "if the rest is true i wouldn't want that to be a dream. you don't know what courage this will give us all." she said "us all," but that had to mean merely "us," as well. st. george turned and looked over the terrace. what an arabian night it was, he was saying to himself, and then stood in a sudden amazement, with the uncertain idea that one of the schererazade magicians had answered that fancy of his by appearing. a little shrine hung thick with vines, its ancient stone chipped and defaced, stood on the terrace with its empty, sightless niche turned toward the sea. leaning upon its base was an old man watching them. his eyes under their lowered brows were peculiarly intent, but his look was perfectly serene and friendly. his stuff robe hung in straight folds about his singularly erect figure, and his beard and hair were not all grey. but he was very old, with incredibly brown and wrinkled flesh, and his face was vacant, as if the mind were asleep. as he looked, st. george knew him. here on the top of this mountain was that amazing old man whom he had last seen in the banquet hall at the palace of the litany--that old malakh for whom olivia had so unexplainably interceded. "what is that man doing here?" st. george asked in surprise. [illustration] "he is a mad old man, they said," olivia told him, "down there they call him malakh--that means 'salt'--because they said he always weeps. we had stopped to look at a metallurgist yesterday--he had some zinc and some metals cut out like flowers, and he was making them show phosphorescent colours in his little dark alcove. the old man was watching him and trying to tell him something, but the metallurgist was rude to him and some boys came by and jostled him and pushed him about and taunted him--and the metallurgist actually explained to us that every one did that way to old malakh. so i thought he was better off up here," concluded olivia tranquilly. st. george was silent. he knew that olivia was like this, but everything that proved anew her loveliness of soul caught at his heart. "tell me," he said impulsively, "what made you let him stay last night, there in the banquet hall?" she flushed, and shook her head with a deprecatory gesture. "i haven't an idea," she said gravely, "i think i must have done it so the fairies wouldn't prick their feet on any new sorrow. one has to be careful of the fairies' feet." st. george nodded. it was a charming reason for the left hand to give the right, and he was not deceived. "look at him," said st. george, almost reverently, "he looks like a shade of a god that has come back from the other world and found his shrine dishonoured." some echo of st. george's words reached the old man and he caught at it, smiling. it was as if he had just been thinking what he spoke. "there are not enough shrines," he said gently, "but there are far too many gods. you will find it so." something in his words stirred st. george strangely. there was about the old creature an air of such gentleness, such supreme repose and detachment that, even in that place of quiet, his presence made a kind of hush. he was old and pallid and fragile, but there lingered within him, while his spirit lingered, the perfume of all fine and gentle things, all things of quietude. when he had spoken the old man turned and moved slowly down the ways of strange light, between the fallen temples builded to forgotten gods, and he seemed like the very spirit of the ancient mountain, ignorant of itself and knowing all truth. "how strange," said st. george, looking after him, "how unutterably strange and sad." "that is good of you," said olivia. "aunt dora and antoinette thought i'd gone quite off my head, and mr. frothingham wanted to know why i didn't bring back some one who could have been called as a witness." "witness," st. george echoed; "but the whole place is made of witnesses. which reminds me: what is the sentence?" "the sentence?" she wondered. "the potatoes of yaque," he reminded her, "and my head?" "ah well," said olivia gravely, "inasmuch as the moon came up in the east to-night instead of the west, i shall be generous and give you one day's reprieve." "do you know, i _thought_ the moon came up in the east to-night," cried st. george joyfully. * * * * * it was half an hour afterward that amory's languid voice from somewhere in the sky broke in upon their talk. as he came toward them across the terrace st. george saw that he was miraculously not alone. afterward amory told him what had happened and what had made him abide in patience and such wondrous self-effacement. when st. george had left him contemplating the far beauties of the little blur of light that was med, mr. toby amory set a match to one of his jealously expended store of habanas and added one more aroma to the spiced air. to be standing on the doorstep of a king's palace, confidently expecting within the next few hours to assist in locating the king himself was a situation warranting, amory thought, such fragrant celebration, and he waited in comparative content. the moon had climbed high enough to cast a great octagonal shadow on the smooth court, and the habana was two-thirds memory when, immediately back of amory, a long window opened outward, releasing an apparition which converted the remainder of the habana into a fiery trail ending out on the terrace. it was a girl of rather more than twenty, exquisitely petite and pretty, and wearing a ruffley blue evening gown whose skirt was caught over her arm. she stopped short when she saw amory, but without a trace of fear. to tell the truth, antoinette frothingham had got so desperately bored withindoors that if amory had worn a black mask or a cloak of flame she would have welcomed either. for the last two hours mrs. medora hastings and mr. augustus frothingham had sat in a white marble room of the king's palace, playing chess on mr. frothingham's pocket chess-board. mr. frothingham, who loathed chess, played it when he was tired so that he might rest and when he was rested he played it so that he might exercise his mind--on the principle of a cool drink on a hot day and a hot drink on a cool day. mrs. hastings, who knew nothing at all about the game, had entered upon the hour with all the suave complacency with which she would have attacked the making of a pie. mrs. hastings had a secret belief that she possessed great aptitude. antoinette frothingham, the lawyer's daughter, had leaned on the high casement and looked over the sea. the window was narrow, and deep in an embrasure of stone. to be twenty and to be leaning in this palace window wearing a pale blue dinner-gown manifestly suggested a completion of the picture; and all that evening it had been impressing her as inappropriate that the maiden and the castle tower and the very sea itself should all be present, with no possibility of any knight within an altitude of many hundred feet. "the dear little ponies' heads!" mrs. hastings had kept saying. "what a poetic game chess is, mr. frothingham, don't you think? that's what i always said to poor dear mr. hastings--at least, that's what he always said to me: 'most games are so _needless_, but chess is really up and down poetic'" mr. frothingham made all ready to speak and then gave it up in silence. "um," he had responded liberally. "i'm sure," mrs. hastings had continued plaintively, "neither he nor i ever thought that i would be playing chess up on top of a volcano in the middle of the ocean. it's this awful feeling," mrs. hastings had cried querulously, "of being neither on earth nor under the water nor in heaven that i object to. and nobody can get to us." "that's just it, mrs. hastings," antoinette had observed earnestly at this juncture. "um," said mr. frothingham, then, "not at all, not at all. we have all the advantages of the grave and none of its discomforts." whereupon antoinette, rising suddenly, had slipped out of the white marble room altogether and had found the knight smoking in loneliness on the very veranda. amory put his cap under his arm and bowed. "i hope," he said, "that i haven't frightened you." he was an american! antoinette's little heart leaped. "i am having to wait here for a bit," explained amory, not without vagueness. miss frothingham advanced to the veranda rail and contrived a shy scrutiny of the intruder. "no," she said, "you didn't frighten me in the least, of course. but--do you usually do your waiting at this altitude?" "ah, no," answered amory with engaging candour, "i don't. but i--happened up this way." amory paused a little desperately. in that soft light he could not tell positively whether this was miss holland or that other figure of silver and rose which he had seen in the throne room. the blue gown was not interpretative. if she was miss holland it would be very shabby of him to herald the surprise. naturally, st. george would appreciate doing that himself. "i'm looking about a bit," he neatly temporized. antoinette suddenly looked away over the terrace as her eyes met his, smiling behind their pince-nez. amory was good to look at, and he had never been more so than as he towered above her on the steps of the king's palace. who was he--but who was he? antoinette wondered rapidly. had a warship arrived? was yaque taken? or had--she turned eyes, round with sudden fear, upon amory. "did prince tabnit send you?" she demanded. amory laughed. "no, indeed," he said. amory had once lived in the south, and he accented the "no" very takingly. "i came myself," he volunteered. "i thought," explained antoinette, "that maybe he opened a door in the dark, and you walked out. it _is_ rather funny that you should be here." "you are here, you know," suggested amory doubtfully. "but i may be a cannibal princess," antoinette demurely pointed out. it was not that her astonishment was decreasing; but why--modernity and the democracy spoke within her--waste the possibilities of a situation merely because it chances to be astonishing? moments of mystery are rare enough, in all conscience; and when they do arrive all the world misses them by trying to understand them. which is manifestly ungrateful and stupid. they do these things better in yaque. "you maybe," agreed amory evenly, "though i don't know that i ever met a desert island princess in a dinner frock. but then, i am a beginner in desert islands." "are you an american?" inquired antoinette earnestly. amory looked up at the frowning façade of the king's palace, and he could have found it in his heart to believe his own answer. "i'm the ghost," he confessed, "of a poor beggar of a phoenician who used to make water-jars in sidon. i have been condemned to plow the high seas and explore the tall mountains until i find the pitiful princess. she must be up at the very peak, in distress, and i--" amory stopped and looked desperately about him. would st. george never come? how was he, amory, to be accountable for what he told if he were left here alone in these extraordinary circumstances? then antoinette lightly clapped her hands. "a ghost!" she exclaimed with pleasure. "miss holland hoped the place was haunted. a phoenician ghost with an alabama accent." she had said "miss holland hoped." "aren't you--aren't you miss holland?" demanded amory promptly, a joyful note of uncertainty in his voice. antoinette shook her head. "no," she said, "though i don't know why i should tell you that." from amory's soul rolled a burden that left him treading air on mount khalak. she was not miss holland. what did he care how long st. george stayed away? "i am tobias amory," he said, "of new york. most people don't know about the sidonian ghost part. but i've told you because i thought, perhaps, you might be the pitiful princess." antoinette's heart was beating pleasantly. of new york! how--oh, how did he get here? was there, then, a wishing-stone in that window embrasure where she had been sitting, and had the knight come because she had willed it? how much did he know? how much ought she to tell? nothing whatever, prudently decided the lawyer's daughter. "i've had, i'm almost certain, the pleasure of seeing you before," imparted amory pleasantly, adjusting his pince-nez and looking down at her. she was so enchantingly tiny and he was such a giant. "in new york?" demanded antoinette. "no," said amory, "no. do desert island princesses get to new york occasionally, then? no, i think i saw you in yaque. yesterday. in a silver automobile. did i?" antoinette dimpled. "we frightened them all to death," she recalled. "did we frighten you?" "so much," admitted amory, "that i took refuge up here." "where were you?" antoinette asked curiously. really, he was very amusing--this big courtly creature. how agreeable of olivia to stay away. "ah, tell me how you got here," she impetuously begged. "desert island people don't see people from new york every day." "well then, o pitiful princess," said the shade from sidon, "it was like this--" it was easy enough to fleet the time carelessly, and assuredly that high moon-lit world was meant to be no less merry than the golden. whoever has chanced to meet a delightful companion on some silver veranda up in the welkin knows this perfectly well; and whoever has not is a dull creature. but there are delightful folk who are wont to suspect the dullest of harbouring some sweet secret, some sense of "those sights which alone (says the nameless greek) make life worth enduring," and this was akin to such a sight. after a time, at antoinette's conscientious suggestion, they strolled the way that st. george had taken. and to olivia and the missing adventurer over by the parapet came amory's soft query: "st george, may i express a friendly concern?" "ah, come here, toby," commanded st. george happily, "her highness and i have been discussing matters of state." "antoinette!" cried olivia in amazement. from time immemorial royalty has perpetually been surprised by the behaviour of its ladies-in-waiting. "i've been remembering a verse," said amory when he had been presented to olivia, "may i say it? it goes: "'i'll speak a story to you, now listen while i try: i met a queen, and she kept house a-sitting in the sky.'" "come in and say it to my aunt," olivia applauded. "aunt dora is dying of ennui up here." they crossed the terrace in the hush of the tropic night. through the fairy black and silver the four figures moved, and it was as if the king's palace--that sky thing, with ramparts of air--had at length found expression and knew a way to answer the ancient glamourie of the moon. chapter xv a vigil upon mrs. hastings and mr. augustus frothingham, drowsing over the pocket chess-board, the sound of footsteps and men's voices in the corridor acted with electrical effect. then the door was opened and behind olivia and antoinette appeared the two visitors who seemed to have fallen from the neighbouring heavens. the two chess-pretenders looked up aghast. if there were a place in the world where chaperonage might be relaxed the uninformed observer would say that it would be the top of mount khalak. "mercy around us!" cried mrs. medora hastings, "if it isn't that newspaper man! he's probably come over here to cable it all over the front page of every paper in new york. well," she added complacently, as if she had brought it all about, "it seems good to see some of your own race. how _did_ you get here? some trick, i suppose?" "my dear fellows," burst out mr. augustus frothingham fervently, "thank god! i'm not, ordinarily, unequal to my situations, but i confess to you, as i would not to a client, that i don't object to sharing this one. how did you come?" "it's a house-party!" said antoinette ecstatically. amory looked at her in her blue gown in the light of the white room, and his spirits soared heavenward. why should st. george have an idea that he controlled the hour? from a tumult of questioning, none of which was fully answered before mrs. hastings put another query, the lawyer at length elicited the substance of what had occurred. "you came up the side of the mountain, carried by four of those frightful natives?" shrilled mrs. hastings. "olivia, think. it's a wonder they didn't murder you first and throw you over afterward, isn't it, olivia? oh, and my poor dear brother. to think of his lying somewhere all mangled and bl--" emotion overcame mrs. hastings. her tortoise-shell glasses fell to her lap and both her side-combs tinkled melodiously to the tiled floor. "this reminds me," said mr. frothingham, settling back and finding a pencil with which to emphasize his story, "this reminds me very much of a case that i had on the june calendar--" in half an hour st. george and amory saw that all serious consideration of their situation must be accomplished alone with olivia; for in that time mr. frothingham had been reminded of two more cases and mrs. hastings had twice been reduced to tears by the picture of the possible fate of her brother. moreover, there presently appeared supper--a tray of the most savoury delicacies, to produce which olivia had slipped away and, st. george had no doubt, said over some spell in the kitchens. supper in the white marble room of the king's palace was almost as wonderful as muffins and tea at the boris. there were olivia in her gown of roses on one side of the table and antoinette on the other and between them the hungry and happy adventurers. across the room under a tall silver vase that might have been the one proposed by achilles at the funeral games for patroclus ("that was the work of the 'skilful sidonians'" st. george recalled with a thrill), mrs. hastings and mr. frothingham were conscientiously finishing their chess, since the lawyer believed in completing whatever he undertook, if for nothing more than a warning never to undertake it again. manifestly the little ivory kings and queens and castles were in league with all the other magic of the night, for the game prolonged itself unconscionably, and the supper party found it far from difficult to do the same. st. george looked at olivia in her gown of roses, and his eyes swept the high white walls of the room with its frescoes and inscriptions, its broken statues and defaced chests of stone and ancient armour, and so back to olivia in her gown of roses, with her little ringless hands touching and lifting among the alien dishes as she ministered to him. what a dear little gown of roses and what beautiful hands, st. george thought; and as for the broken statues and the inscriptions and the contents of the stone chests, nobody had paid any attention to them for so long that they could hardly have missed his regard. nor amory's. for amory was in the midst of a reminiscent reference to the chiswicks, in the adirondacks, and to antionette frothingham in a launch. at last they all were aware that the chess-board was being closed and mrs. hastings had risen. "i suppose," she was saying, "that they have an idea here, the poor deluded creatures, that it is very late. but i tell olivia that we are so much farther east it _can't_ be very late in new york at this minute, and i intend to go to bed by my watch as i always do, and that is new york time. if i were in new york i wouldn't be sleepy now, and i'm no different here, am i? i don't think people are half independent enough." mrs. hastings stepped round a stone god, almost faceless, that stood in a little circular depression in the floor. "olivia, where," she inquired, patting the bobbing, ticking jet on her gown, "where do you think that frightful, mad, old man is?" "i heard him cross the corridor a little while ago," olivia answered. "i think he went to his room." "i must say, olivia," said mrs. hastings with a damp sigh, "that you are very selfish where i am concerned--in _this_ matter." "ah," said olivia, "please, aunt dora. he is far too feeble to harm any one. and he's away there on the second floor." "i'm sure he's a murderer," protested mrs. hastings. "he has the murderer's eye. mr. hastings would have said he has. we all sleep on the ground floor here," she continued plaintively, "because we are so high up anyway that i think the air must be just as pure as it would be up stairs. i always leave my window up the width of my handkerchief-box." as they went out to the great corridor olivia spoke softly to st. george. "look up," she said. he looked, and saw that the vast circular chamber was of incalculable height, extending up to the very dome of the palace, and shaping itself to the lines of the topmost of the three huge cones. it was a great well of light, playing over strange frescoes of gods and daemons, of constellations and of beasts, and exquisite with all the secret colours of some other way of vision. as high as the eye could see, the precious metals upon the skeleton of the open roof shone in the bright light that was set there--the light on the summit of the king's palace. st. george turned from the glory of it and looked into her eyes. "'a new heaven and a new earth,'" he said; but he did not mean the dome of light nor yet the splendour of the palace. * * * * * manifestly, there is no use in being asleep when one can dream rather better awake. st. george wandered aimlessly between his room and amory's and took the time to reflect that when a man looks the way amory did he might as well have cupids painted on his coat. "st. george," amory said soberly, "is this the way you've been feeling all the way here? is this what you came for? then, on my soul, i forgive you everything. i would have climbed ten mountains to meet antoinette frothingham." "i've been watching you, you son of dixie," said st. george darkly; "don't you lose your head just when you need it most." "i have a notion yours is gone," defended amory critically, "and mine is only going." "that's twice as dangerous," st. george wisely opined; "besides--mine is different." "so is mine," said amory, "so is everybody's." st. george stepped through the long window to the terrace. amory didn't care whether anybody listened; he simply longed to talk, and st. george had things to think about. he crossed the terrace to the south, and went back to the very spot where he and olivia had stood; and there, because the night would have it no other way, he stretched along the broad wall among the vines, and lit his pipe, and lay looking out at sea. here he was, liberated from the business of "buzzing in a corner, trifling with monosyllables," set upon a field pleasant with hazard and without paths, to move in the primal experiences where words themselves are born. better and more intimate names for everything seemed now almost within his ken. he had longed unspeakably to go pilgriming, and he had forthwith been permitted to leave the world behind with its thickets and thresholds, its hesitations and confusions, its marching armies, breakfasts, friendships and the like, and to live on the edge of what will be. he thought of his mother, in her black gowns and roman mosaic pins with a touch of yellow lace at her throat, listening to the bishop as he examined the dicta of still cloisters, and he told himself that he knew a heresy or two that were like belief. his mother and the bishop at tübingen and on the baltic! curiously enough, they did not seem very remote. he adored his mother and the bishop, and so the thought of them was a part of this fairy tale. all pleasant thoughts whether of adventure or impression boast kinship, perhaps have identity. and the name of that identity was olivia. so he "drove the night along" on the leafy parapet. he was not far from asleep, nor perhaps from the dream of the roman emperor who believed the sea to have come to his bedside and spoken with him, when something--he was not sure whether it was a voice or a touch--startled him awake. he rose on his elbow and looked drowsily out at the glorified blackness--as if black were no longer absence cf colour but, the veil of negative definitions having been pierced, were found to be a mystic union of colour and more inclusive than white. the very dark seemed delicately vocal and to "fill the waste with sound" no less than the wash of the waves. st. george awoke deliciously confused by a returning sense of the sweet and the joy of the night. "'this was the loneliest beach between two seas,'" there flitted through his mind, "'and strange things had been done there in the ancient ages.'" he turned among the vines, half listening. "and in there is the king's daughter," he told himself, "and this is certainly 'the strangest thing that ever befell between two seas.' and i have a great mind to look up the old woman of that tale who must certainly be hereabout, dancing 'widdershins.'" then, like a bright blade unsheathed in a quiet chamber, a cry of great and unmistakable fear rang out from the palace--a woman's cry, uttered but once, and giving place to a silence that was even more terrifying. in an instant st. george was on his feet, running with all his might. "coming!" he called, "where are you--where are you?" and his heart pounded against his side with the certainty that the voice had been olivia's. it was unmistakably olivia's voice that replied to him. "here!" she cried clearly, and st. george followed the sound and dashed through the long open window of the room next that in which he had first seen her that night. "here," she repeated, "but be careful. some one is in this room." "don't be afraid," he cried cheerily into the dark. "it's all right," which is exactly what he would have said if there had been about dragons and real shades from sidon. the room was now in darkness, and in the dim light cast by the high moon he could at first discern nothing. he heard a silken rustling and the tap of slippered feet. the next instant the apartment was quick with light, and in the curtained entrance to an inner room, olivia, in a brown dressing-gown, her hair vaguely bright about her flushed face, stood confronting him. between them, his thin hand thrown up, palm outward, to protect his eyes from the sudden light, was the old man whom st. george had last seen by the shrine on the terrace. st. george was prepared for a mere procession of palace ghosts, but at this strange visitor he stared for an uncomprehending moment. "what are you doing here?" he said wonderingly to him; "what in the world are you doing here?" the old man looked uncertainly about him, one hand spread against the pillar behind him, the other fumbling at his throat. "i think," he answered almost indistinguishably, "i think that i meant to sit here--to sit in the room beyond, where the mock stars shine." olivia uttered an exclamation. "how could he possibly know that?" she said. "but what does he mean?" asked st. george. she crossed swiftly to a portiere hanging by slender rings from the full height of the lofty room, and at her bidding st. george followed her. she pushed aside the curtain, revealing a huge cave of the dark, a room whose walls were sunk in shadow. but overhead the ceiling was constellated in stars, so that it seemed to st. george as if he were looking into a nearer heaven, homing the far lights that he knew. the pleiades, orion, and the southern cross, blazing down with inconceivable brilliance, were caught and held captive in the cup of this nearer sky. "it is like this at night," olivia said, "but we see nothing in the daytime, save the vague outlines of here and there a star. but how could he have known? there is no other door save this." the old man had followed them and stood, his eyes fixed on the shining points. "it is done well," he said softly, "it makes one feel the firmament." st. george, thrilling with the strangeness of what he saw, and the strangeness of being there with olivia and this weird old man of the mountain, turned toward him almost fearfully. how did he know, indeed? "ah well," he said, striving to reassure her, "i've no doubt he has wandered in here some evening, while you were at dinner. no doubt--" he stopped abruptly, his eyes fixed on the old man's hand. for as he lifted it st. george had thought that something glittered. without hesitation he caught the old man's arm about the wrist, and turned his hand in his own palm. in the thin fingers he found a small sealed tube, filled with something that looked like particles of nickel. "do you mind telling me what that is?" asked st. george. old malakh's eyes, liquid and brown and very peaceful, met his own without rebuke. "do you mean the gem?" he asked gently. "it is a very beautiful ruby." then st. george saw upon the hand that held the sealed tube a ring of matchless workmanship, set with a great ruby that smouldered in the shadow where they stood. olivia looked at st. george with startled eyes. "he was not wearing this when we first saw him," she said. "i haven't seen him wearing it at all." st. george confronted the old man then and spoke with some determination. "will you please tell us," he said, "what there is in this tube, and how you came by this ring?" old malakh looked down reflectively at his hand, and back to st. george's face. it was wonderful, the air of courtliness and urbanity and delicate breeding which persisted through age and infirmity and the fallow mind. "i wish that i might tell you," he said humbly, "but i have only little lights in my head, instead of words. and when i say them, they do not mean--what they _shine_. do you not see? that is why every one laughs. but i know what the lights say." st. george looked at olivia helplessly. "will you tell me where his room is?" he said, "and i'll go back with him. i don't know what to make of this, quite, but don't be frightened. it's all right. didn't you say he is on the second floor?" "yes, but don't go alone with him," begged olivia suddenly, "let me call some of the servants. we don't know what he may do." st. george shook his head, smiling a little in sheer boyish delight at that "we." "we" is a very wonderful word, when it is not put to unimportant uses by kings, editors and the like. "i'd rather not, thank you," he said. "i'll have a talk with him, i think." "his room is at the top of the stair, on the left," said olivia reluctantly, "but i wish--" "we shall get on all right," st. george assured her, "and don't let this worry you, will you? i was smoking on the terrace. i'll be there for a while yet. good night," he said from the doorway. "good night," said olivia. "good night--and, oh, i thank you." st. george's expectation of having a talk with the old man was, however, unfounded. old malakh led the way to his room--a great place of carven seats and a frowning bed-canopy and high windows, and doors set deep in stone; and he begged st. george to sit down and permitted him to examine the sealed tube filled with little particles that looked like nickel, and spoke with gentle irrelevance the while. at the last st. george left him, feeling as if he were committing not so much an indignity as a social solecism when he locked the door upon the lonely creature, using for the purpose a key-like implement chained to the lock without and having a ring about the size of the iron crown of the lombards. "good night," old malakh told him courteously, "good night. but yet all nights are good--save the night of the heart." st. george went back to the terrace. for hours he paced the paths of that little upper garden or lay upon the wall among the pungent vines. but now he forgot the iridescent dark and the companion-sea and the high moon and the king's palace, for it was not these that made the necromancy of the night. it was permitted him to watch before the threshold while olivia slept, as lovers had watched in the youth of the world. whatever the morrow held, to-night had been added to yesternight. not until the dawn of that morrow whitened the sky and drew from the vapourous plain the first far towers of med, the king's city, did st. george say good night to her glimmering windows. chapter xvi glamourie there is a certain poster, all stars and poppies and deep grass; and over these hangs a new moon which must surely have been cut by fairy scissors, for it looks as much like a cake or a cowslip as it looks like a moon. but withal it sheds a light so eery and strangely silver that the poster seems, in spite of the poppies, to have been painted in spring-wind. "never," said some chance visitors vehemently, "have i seen such a moon as that!" "but ah, sir, and ah, madame," was the answer--it is not recorded whether the poster spoke or whether some one spoke for it--"wouldn't you like to?" now, therefore, concerning the sweet of those hours in the king's palace the vehement may be tempted to exclaim that in life things never happen like that. ah--do they not so? you have only to go back to the days when young love and young life were yours to recall distinctly that the most impossible things were every-day occurrences. what about the time that you went down one street instead of up another and _that_ changed the entire course of your days and brought you two together? what about the song, the june, the letter that touched the world to gold before your eyes and caught you up in a place of clouds? remembering that magic, it is quite impossible to assert that any charming thing whatever would not have happened. is there not some wonderland in every life? and is not the ancient citadel of love-upon-the-heights that common wonderland? one must believe in all the happiness that one can. but if the most vehement--who are as thick as butterflies--still remain unconvinced and persist that they never heard of things fallen out thus, there is left this triumph: "ah, sir, or ah, madame, wouldn't you like to?" * * * * * a fugitive wind rollicking in from sea next morning swept through the palace and went on around the world; and thereafter it had an hundred odourous ways of attracting attention, which were merely its own tale of what pleasant things it had seen and heard on high. for example, that breakfast. a cloth had been laid at one end of the long stone table whereat, since the days of abibaal, brother to hiram, friend to david, kings had breakfasted and banqueted, and this cloth had now been set with the ancient plate of the palace--dishes that looked like helmets and urns and discs. here olivia and antoinette, in charming print frocks, made a kind of tea in a kind of biblical samovar and served it in vessels that resembled individual trophies of the course. and here st. george and amory praised the admirable english muffins which some one had taught the dubious cook to make; and mr. augustus frothingham tip-fingered his way about his plate among alien fruits and queer-shaped cakes. "are they cookies or are they manna?" amory wondered, "for they remind me of coriander seeds." and here mrs. hastings, who always awoke a thought impatient and became ultra-complacent with no interval of real sanity, wistfully asked for a soft-boiled egg and added plaintively: "though i dare say the very hens in yaque lay something besides eggs--pineapples, very likely." "i suppose," speculated amory, "that when we get perfectly intuitionized we won't have to eat either one because we'll know beforehand exactly how they both taste." "a _reductio ad absurdum_, my young friend," said the lawyer sternly; "the real purpose of eating will remain for ever unchanged." later, while mrs. hastings and mr. frothingham went out on the terrace in the sun and wished for a morning paper ("i miss the weather report so," complained mrs. hastings) the four young people with jarvo and akko for guides set out to explore the palace. for st. george had risen from his two hours' sleep with some clearly-defined projects, and he meant first to go over every niche and corner of the great pile where one--say a king--might be hidden with twenty other kings, and no one be at all the wiser. what a morning it was! when the rollicking wind got to that part of the story it must have told about it in such intimating perfumes that even the unimaginative were constrained to sit idle, "thinking delicate thoughts." there never was a fairer temple of romance, a very temple of young love's plaisaunce; and since the coming of st. george and amory all the cavernous chambers and galleries were become homes of hope that the king would be found and all would yet be well. to the main part of the palace there were storey after storey, all octagons and pentagons and labyrinths, so that incredulity and amazement might increase with every step. how they had ever raised those massive blocks of stone to that great height no one can guess unless, indeed, amory's theory were correct and the palace had originally been built upon level ground and had had its surroundings blasted neatly away to make a mountain. at all events there were the walls of the great airy rooms made of the naked stone, exquisitely beveled and chiseled, and frescoed with the planetary deities--eloti, the moon with her chariot drawn by white bulls, the sun and his four horses, with his emblem of a column in the form of a rising flame--types taken from the heavens and from the abyss. there were roofs of sound fir and sweet cedar, carven cornices, cave-like window embrasures with no glass, and little circular rooms built about shrines in which sat broken images of baal the sun god, of a sandaled astarte, and a ravening melkarth, with the lion's skin. from a great upper corridor there went a stairway, each deep step of which was placed on the back of a stone lion of increasing size, until the tallest lion's head extended close to the painted ceiling, and there were comfortable benches cut in his gigantic paws. many of the rooms were without furnishing, some were filled with vague, splendid stuff mouldering away, and others with most luxuriously-devised ministries to beauty and comfort. the palace was curiously and wonderfully an habitation of more than two thousand years ago, furnished with a taste and luxury in advance of this moment's civilization of the world. the heart of that elder world beat strangely in one of the upper chambers where they came upon a little work-shop, strewn with unknown metals and tools and empty crucibles, and in their midst a rectangular metallic plate partly traced with a device of boughs, appearing, in one light, slightly fluorescent. "it is the work of the princess simyra, adôn," said jarvo. "she was the daughter of king thabion, and when she died what she had touched in this room was left unmoved. but it was very many years ago--i have forgotten. every one has forgotten." they went down among the very roots of the palace, three full storeys below the surface of the summit. jarvo went before, lighting the way, and they threaded vaulted corridors and winding passages, and emerged at last in a silent, haunted chamber whose stones had been hewn and sunken there, before issus. this was the chamber of the tombs of the kings, and its floor echoed to their footsteps, now hollowly, now with ringing clearness. three sides of the mighty hall were lined with _loculi_ or niches, each as deep as the length of a man. about the floor stood stone sarcophagi and beneath the long flags kings were sleeping, each with his abandoned name graven on the stones, washed year-long by the dark. in the room's centre was a lofty cylindrical tomb, mounted by four steps, and this was the resting-place of king abibaal, the younger son of king abibaal of tyre, and the brother to king hiram, who ruled in tyre when the phoenicians who settled yaque, or arqua, first passed the straits of gibraltar and gained the open sea. ("dear me," said mrs. hastings when they told her, "i was at mount vernon once, and the washingtons' tombs there impressed me very deeply, but they were nothing to these in point of age, were they?") sunken in the wall was a tomb of white marble hewn in a five-faced pyramidion, where slept queen mitygen, who ruled in yaque while alexander was king of persia. there was said to have been buried with her a casket of love-letters from alexander, who may have known yaque and probably at one time visited it and, in that case, was entertained in the very palace. and if this is true the story of his omission to conquer the island may one day divert the world. jarvo bent before a low tomb whose stone was delicately scored with winged circles. "perhaps," he said, "you will recall the accounts of the kidnapped egyptian priestesses sold to the theoprotions by phoenician merchants in the heroic age of greece? they were not all sold. here lie the bones of four, given royal burial because of their holy office." nothing was unbelievable--nothing had been unbelievable for so long that these four had almost learned that everything is possible. which, if you come to think of it, and no matter how absurdly you learn it, is a thing immeasurably worth realizing in this world of possibilities. it is one of our two magics. "and this," jarvo said softly, pausing before a vacant niche opposite the tomb of king abibaal, "this will be the receptacle for the present king of yaque, his majesty, king otho, by the grace of god." olivia suddenly looked up at st. george, her face pale in the ghostly light. there it had been, waiting for them all the while, the sense of the vivid personal against the vague eternal. but her involuntary appeal to him, slight as it was, thrilled st. george with tenderness as vivid as this tragic element itself. they went back to the sun and the sweet messengering air above, and crossed a little vacant grassy court on the north side of the mountain. here they saw that the palace climbed down the northern slope from the summit, and literally overhung the precipice where the supports were made fast by gigantic girders run in the living rock. a little observatory was built below the edge of the mountain, and this box of a place had a glass floor, and one felt like a fly on the sky as one stood there. it was said that a certain king of yaque, sometime in the course of the punic wars, had thrown himself from this observatory in a rage because his court electrician had died, but how true this may be it is impossible to say because so little is known about electricity. below the building lay quite the most wonderful part of the king's palace. here in the long north rooms, hermetically quiet, was the heart of the treasure of the ancient island. here, saved inexplicably from the wreck of the past, were a thousand testimonies to that lost and but half-guessed art of the elder world. beautiful things, made in the days when king solomon built the temple at jerusalem, lined the walls, and filled the stone shelves, together with curios of that later day when phoenicia stood first in knowledge of the plastic and glyptic arts. workers in gold and ivory, in gems and talismans, in brass and fine linen and purple had done the marvels which those courtier adventurers brought with them over the sea, and to these, from year to year, had been added the treasure of private chests--necklaces and coronals and hair-loops, bottles and vases of glass coloured with metallic oxides, and patterned aggry-beads, now sometimes found in ancient tombs on the ashantee coasts. beneath an altar set with censers and basins of gold was a chest brought from amathus, its ogive lid carved with _bigæ_ or two-horsed chariots, and it was in this chest, jarvo told them, that the hereditary treasure had been kept. the chamber walls were covered with bas-reliefs in the ill-proportioned and careful carving of the phoenician artists not yet under greek influence, and all about were set the wonderful bronzes, such as tyrian artificers made for the temple. the other chambers gave still deeper utterance to days remote, for it was there that the king's library had been collected in case after case, filled with parchment rolls preserved and copied from age to age. what might not be there, they wondered--annals, state documents, the phoenician originals of histories preserved elsewhere only in fragments of translation or utterly lost, the secrets of science and magic known to men the very forms of whose names have perished; and not only the longed-for poems of sido and jopas, but of who could tell how many singing hearts, lyric with joy and love and still voiceful here in these strange halls? these were chambers such as no one has ever entered, for this was the vexing of no unviolated tomb and no buried city, but the actual return to the past, watching lonely on the mountain. "clusium," said amory softly. "i had actually wanted to go to the cemetery at clusium, to see some inscriptions!" "no, you didn't, toby," said st. george pleasantly, "you wanted to go somewhere and you called it clusium. you wanted an adventure and you thought clusium was the name of it." "i know," said amory shamelessly, "and there are no end of names for it. but it's always the same thing. _excepting this_." "excepting this," st. george repeated fervently as they turned to go; and if, in singing of that morning, the rollicking wind sang that, it must have breathed and trembled with a chorus of faint voices from every shelf in the room,--voices that of old had thrilled with the same meaning and woke now to the eternal echo. woke now to the eternal echo--an echo that touched delicately through the events of that afternoon and laid strange values on all that happened. otherwise, if they four were not all a little echo-mad, how was it that in the shadow of doubt, in the face of danger, and near the inextinguishable mystery they yet found time for the little, wing-like moments that never hold history, because they hold revelation. there were, too, some events; but an event is a clumsy thing at best, unless it has something intangible about it. the delicious moments are when the intangibilities prevail and pervade and possess. in the king's palace there must have been shrines to intangibilities--as there should be everywhere--for they seemed to come there, and belong. the mere happenings included, for example, a talk that st. george had with mr. augustus frothingham on the terrace after luncheon, in which st. george laid before the lawyer a plan which he had virtually matured and of which he himself thought very well. thought so well, because of its possibilities, that his face was betrayingly eager as he told about it. it was, briefly, that inasmuch as four of the six men who could scale the mountain were now on its summit, and inasmuch as all the airships were there also, now, therefore, they, the guests on the island of yaque, were in a perfectly impregnable position--counting out fifth dimension contingencies, which of course might include appearings as well as disappearings--and why shouldn't they stay there, and let the ominous noon of the following day slip by unmarked? and when the lawyer said, "but, my dear fellow," as he was bound to say, st. george answered that down there in med there would be, by noon of the following day, two determined persons who, if jarvo would get word to them, would with perfect certainty find mr. otho holland, the king, if he were on the island. and when "well, but my dear fellow" occurred again, st. george replied with deference that he knew it, but although he never had managed an airship he fancied that perhaps he might help with one; and down there in the harbour was a yacht waiting to sail for new york, and therefore no one need even set foot on the island who didn't wish. and mr. frothingham laid one long hand on each coat-lapel and threw back his head until his hair rested on his collar, and he looked at the palace--that titan thing of the sky with ramparts of air--and said, "nothing in all my experience--" and st. george left him, deep in thought. on the way back he chanced upon mrs. hastings, seated on a bench of lapidescent wood in the portico--and a titanic portico it looked by day--and, having sent for the palace chef, she was attempting to write down the recipe for the salad of that day's luncheon, although it was composed chiefly of fowls now extinct everywhere excepting in yaque. "but my poultry man will get them for me," she urged with determination; "i have only to tell him the name of what i want, and he can always produce it in tins, nicely labeled." later, st. george came upon old malakh, leaning on the terrace wall, looking out to sea, and stood close beside him, marveling at the pallor and the thousand wrinkles of the man's strange face. the face was stranger by day than it had been by night--this st. george had felt when he went that morning to release him, and the old man leaned from the frowning bed-hangings to bid him a gentle good morning. could he be, st. george now wondered vaguely, a citizen of the fifteenth or twentieth dimension, and, there, did they live to his incredible age? then he noticed that the old man was not wearing the ruby ring. "i wear it only when i wish to see it shine, sir," old malakh answered, and st. george marveled at that courteous "sir," and at other things. to everything that he asked him the old man returned only his urbane, unmeaning replies, touched with their melancholy symbolism. when st. george left him it was in the hope that olivia would consent to have him sent down the mountain, although st. george himself was half inclined to agree with amory's "but, really, i would far rather talk with one madman with this madman's manners than to sup with uncouth sanity" and "after all, if he should murder us, probably no one could do it with greater delicacy." and olivia had no intention of sending old malakh back to med. "how could one possibly do that?" she wanted to know, and there was no oracle. all the while the world of intangibilities was growing, growing as only that world can grow from the abysmal silence of life that went before. st. george was saying to himself that at last the _here_ and the _now_ were infinitely desirable; and as for the fear for the morrow, what was that beside the promise of the days beyond? at noon they all climbed the obelisk tower with its ceiling of carved leaves above carved leaves, and the real heavens a little farther up. they leaned on the broad wall, cut by mock bastions and faced the glory of the sunny, trembling sea, starred with the dipping wings of gulls. blue sky, blue sea, eyes that saw looks that eyes did not know they gave--ah, what a day it was! when the rollicking wind told about that, down on the dun earth, surely it echoed their young courage, their young belief in the future, the incorruptibility of their understanding that the future was theirs, under the law. for the wind always teaches that. the wind is the supreme believer, and one has only to take a walk in it at this moment to know the truth. yet in spite of the wind, in spite of their high security, in spite of the little wing-like moments that hold not history but revelation, they were all going down the hours beneath the pendent sword of "to-morrow, at noon." chapter xvii beneath the surface up came the dusk to the doors of the king's palace--a hurry of grey banners flowing into the empty ways where the sun had been. upon this high dominion night could not advance unheralded, and here the twilight messengered her coming long after the dark lay thick on the lowland and on the toiling water. st. george, leaning from amory's window, looked down on the shadows rising in exquisite hesitation, as if they came curling from the lighted censer of med. there is no doubt at all, olivia had said gravely, that the dusk is patterned, if only one could see it--figured in unearthly flowers, in wandering stars, in upper-air sprites, grey-winged, grey-bodied, so that sometimes glimpsing them one fancies them to be little living goblins. he smiled, remembering her words, and glanced over his shoulder down the long room where the other light was now beginning to creep about, first expressing, then embracing the chamber dusk. it seemed precisely the moment when something delicate should be caught passing from gloom to radiance, to be thankfully remembered. but only many-winged colours were visible, though he could hear a sound like little murmurous speech in the dusky roof where the air had a recurrent fashion of whispering knowingly. indeed, the air everywhere in the palace had a fashion of whispering knowingly, for it was a place of ghostly draughts and blasts creeping through chambers cleft by yawning courts and open corridors and topped by that skeleton dome. and as st. george turned from the window he saw that the door leading into the hall, urged by some nimble gust, imaginative or prying, had swung ajar. st. george mechanically crossed the room to close the door, noting how the pale light warmed the stones of that cave-like corridor. with his hand upon the latch his eyes fell on something crossing the corridor, like a shadow dissolving from gloom to gloom. well beyond the open door, stealing from pillar to pillar in the dimness and moving with that swiftness and slyness which proclaim a covert purpose as effectually as would a bell, he saw old malakh. now st. george was in felt-soled slippers and he was coatless, because in the adjoining room jarvo, with a heated, helmet-like apparatus, was attempting to press his blue serge coat. in that room too was amory, catching glimpses of himself in a mirror of polished steel, but within reach, on the divan where jarvo had just laid it, was amory's coat; and st. george caught that up, slipped it on, and was off down the corridor after the old man, moving as swiftly and slyly as he. st. george had no great faith in him or in what he might know, but the old man puzzled him, and mystification is the smell of a pleasant powder. the palace was very still. presumably, mrs. hastings and mr. frothingham were already at chess in the drawing-room awaiting dinner. st. george heard a snatch of distant laughter, in quick little lilts like a song, and it occurred to him that its echo there was as if one were to pin a ruffle of lace to the grim stones. some one answered the laugh, and he heard the murmurous touching of soft skirts entering the corridor as he dived down the ancient dark of one of the musty passages. there the silence was resumed. in the palace it was as though the stillness were some living sleeper, waking with protests, thankful for the death of any echo. no one was in the gallery. st. george, stepping softly, followed as near as he dared to that hurrying figure, flitting down the dark. a still narrower hallway connected the main portion of the palace with a shoulder of the south wing, and into this the old man turned and skirted familiarly the narrow sunken pool that ran the length of the floor, drawing the light to its glassy surface and revealing the shadows sent clustering to the indistinguishable roof. midway the gallery sprang a narrow stairway, let in the wall and once leading to the ancient armoury, but now disused and piled with rubbish. old malakh went up two steps of this old stairway, turned aside, and slipped away so swiftly that his amazed pursuer caught no more than an after-flutter of his dun-coloured garments. st. george, his softly-clad feet making no noise upon the stones, bounded forward and saw, through a triangular aperture in the stones, and set so low that a man must crouch upon the step to enter, a yawning place of darkness. he might very well have been taking his life in his hands, for he could have no idea whether the aperture led to the imperial dungeons or to the imperial rain-water cistern; but st. george instantly bent and slipped down into that darkness, thick with the dust of the flight of the old man. with the distinctly pleasurable sensation of being still alive he found himself standing upright upon an uneven floor of masonry. he thrust out his arms and touched sides of mossy rock. then just before him a pale flame flickered. the old man had kindled a little taper that hardly did more than make shallow hollows in the darkness through which he moved. it was easy to follow now, and st. george went breathlessly on past the rudely-hewn walls and giant pillars of that hidden way. he might have been lost with ease in any of the lower processes of the palace which they had that morning visited; but he could not be deceived about the chambers which he had once seen, and this subterranean course was new to him. was it, he wondered, new to olivia, and to jarvo? else why had it been omitted in that morning's search? and was this strange guide going on at random, or did he know--something? a suspicion leaped to st. george's mind that made his heart beat. the king--might he be down here after all, and might this weird old man know where? his own consciousness became chiefly conjecture, and every nerve was alert in the pursuit; not the less because he realized that if he were to lose this strange conductor who went on before, either in secure knowledge or in utter madness, he himself might wander for the rest of his life in that nether world. past grim latchless doors sealing, with appropriate gestures, their forgotten secrets, past outlying passages winding into the heart of the mountain, past niches filled with shapeless crumbling rubbish they hurried--the mad old man and his bewildered pursuer. twice the way turned, gradually narrowing until two could hardly have passed there, and at last apparently terminated in a short flight of steps. old malakh mounted with difficulty and st. george, waiting, saw him standing before a blank stone wall. immediately and without effort the old man's scanty strength served to displace one of the wall's huge stones which hung upon a secret pivot and rolled noiselessly within. he stepped through the aperture, and st. george sprang behind him, watched his moment to cross the threshold, crouched in the leaping shadow of the displaced stone and looked--looked with the undistinguishing amazement that a man feels in the panorama of his dreams. the room was small and low and set with a circular bench, running about a central pillar. on the table was a confusion of things brilliantly phosphorescent, emitting soft light, and mingled with bulbs, coils and crucibles lying in a litter of egg-shells, feathers, ivory and paper. but it was not these that held st. george incredulous; it was the fire that glowed in their midst--a fire that leaped and trembled and blazed inextinguishable colour, smouldering, sparkling, tossing up a spray of strange light, lambent with those wizard hues of the pennons and streamers floating joyously from the dome of the palace of the litany--the fire from the subject hearts of a thousand jewels. there could be no doubting what he saw. there, flung on the table from the mouth of a carven casket and harbouring the captive light of ages gone, glittered what st. george knew would be the gems of the hereditary treasure of the kings of yaque. but for old malakh to know where the jewels were--that was as amazing as was their discovery. st. george, breathing hard in his corner, watched the long, fine hands of the old man trembling among the delicate tubes and spindles, lingering lovingly among the stones, touching among the necklaces and coronals of the dead queens whose dust lay not far away. it was as if he were summoning and discarding something shining and imponderable, like words. the contents of the casket which all yaque had mourned lay scattered in this secret place of which only this strange, mad creature, a chance pensioner at the palace, had knowledge. suddenly the memory of balator's words smote st. george with new perception. "he walks the streets of med," balator had told him at the banquet, "saying 'melek, melek,' which is to say 'king,' and so he is seeking the king. but he is mad, and he weeps; and therefore they pretend to believe that he says, 'malakh,' which is to say 'salt,' and they call him that, for his tears." could old malakh possibly know something of the king? the hope returned to st. george insistently, and he watched, spending his thought in new and extravagant conjecture, his mental vision blurring the details of that heaped-up, glistening confusion; and on the opposite side of the table the old man lifted and laid down that rainbow stuff of dreams, delighting in it, speaking softly above it. had he been the king's friend, st. george was asking--but why did no one know anything of him? or had he been an enemy who had done the king violence--but how was that possible, in his age and feebleness? mystifying as the matter was, st. george exulted as much as he marveled; for it would be his, at all events, to place the jewels in olivia's hands and clear her father's name; he longed to step out of the dark and confront the old man and seize the casket out of hand, and he would probably have done so and taken his chances at getting back to the upper world, had he not been chained to his corner by the irresistible hope that the old man knew something more--something about the king. and while he wondered, reflecting that at any cost he must prevent the replacing of the pivotal stone, he saw old malakh take up his taper, turn away from the table, and open a door which the room's central pillar had cut from his view. he was around the table in an instant. the open door revealed three stone steps which the old man was ascending, one at a time. following him cautiously st. george heard a door grate outward at the head of the stair, saw the taper move forward in darkness, and the next moment found himself standing in the room of the tombs of the kings of yaque. and he saw that the panel which had swung inward to admit them was set low in the monolithic tomb of king abibaal himself. old malakh had crossed swiftly to the wall opposite the tomb, and stood before the vacant niche which was to be occupied, as jarvo had announced, by "his majesty, king otho, by the grace of god." there, setting aside his taper, the old man stretched his arms upward to the empty shelf and with a gesture of inconceivable weariness bowed his head upon them and stood silent, the leaping candle-light silvering his hair. "upon my soul," thought st george with finality, "he's murdered him. old malakh has murdered the king, and it's driven him crazy." with that he did step out of the dark, and he laid his hand suddenly upon the old man's shoulder. "malakh," he said, "what have you done with the king?" the old man lifted his head and turned toward st. george a face of singular calm. it was as if so many phantoms vexed his brain that a strange reality was of little consequence. but as his eyes met those of st. george a sudden dimness came over them, the lids fluttered and dropped, and his lips barely formed his words: "the king," he said. "i did not leave the king. it was the king who somehow went away and left me here--" he threw out his hands blindly, tottered and swayed from the wall; and st. george received him as he fell, measuring his length upon the stones before king otho's future tomb. st. george caught down the light and knelt beside him. death seemed to have come "pressing within his face," and breathing hardly disquieted his breast. st. george fumbled at the old man's robe, and beneath his fingers the heart fluttered never so faintly. he loosened the cloth at the withered throat, passed his hand over the still forehead, and looked desperately about him. the other inmates of the palace were, he reflected, about two good city blocks from him; and he doubted if he could ever find his unaided way back to them. mechanically, though he knew that he carried no flask, he felt conscientiously through his pockets--a habit of the boy in perplexity which never deserts the man in crises. in the inside pocket of the coat that he was wearing--amory's coat--his fingers suddenly closed about something made of glass. he seized it and drew it forth. it was a little vase of rock-crystal, ornamented with gold medallions, covered with exquisite and precise engraving of great beauty and variety of design--gryphons, serpents, winged discs, men contending with lions. st. george stared at it uncomprehendingly. in the press of events of the last eight-and-forty hours amory had quite forgotten to mention to him the prince's intended gift of wine, almost three thousand years old, sealed in phoenicia. st. george drew the stopper. in an instant an odour, spicy, penetrating, delicious, saluted him and gave life to the dead air of the room. for a moment he hesitated. he knew that the flask had not been among amory's belongings and that he himself had never seen it before. but the odour was, he thought, unmistakable, and so powerful that already he felt as if the liquor were racing through his own veins. he touched it to his lips; it was like a full draught of some marvelous elixir. sudden confidence sat upon st. george, and thanking his guiding stars for the fortunate chance, he unhesitatingly set the flask to the old man's lips. there was a long-drawn, shuddering breath, a fluttering of the eyelids, a movement of the limbs, and after that old malakh lay quite still upon the stones. once more st. george thrust his hand within the bosom of the loose robe, and the heart was beating rapidly and regularly and with amazing force. in a moment deep breaths succeeded one another, filling the breast of the unconscious man; but the eyelids did not unclose, and st. george took up the taper and bent to scan the quiet face. st. george looked, and sank to his knees and looked again, holding the light now here, now there, and peering in growing bewilderment. what he saw he was wholly unable to define. it was as if a mask were slowly to dissolve and yet to lie upon the features which it had covered, revealing while it still made mock of concealing. colour was in the lips, colour was stealing into the changed face. the _changed_ face--changed, st. george could not tell how; and the longer he looked, and though he rubbed his eyes and turned them toward the dark and then looked again, moving the taper, he could neither explain nor define what had happened. he set the candle on the floor and sprang away from the quiet figure, searching the dark. the great silent place, with its shoulders of sarcophagi jutting from the gloom was black save for the little ring of pallid light about that prostrate form. st. george sent his hand to his forehead, and shook himself a bit, and straightened his shoulders with a smile. "it must be the stuff you've tasted," he addressed himself solemnly. "heaven knows what it was. it's the stuff you've tasted." though he had barely touched his lips to the rock-crystal vase st. george's blood was pounding through his veins, and a curious exhilaration filled him. he looked about at the rims and corners of the tombs caught by the light, and he laughed a little--though this was not in the least what he intended--because it passed through his mind that if king abibaal and queen mitygen, for example, might be treated with the contents of the mysterious vase they would no doubt come forth, abibaal with memories of the queen of sheba in his eyes, and queen mitygen with her casket of alexander's letters. then st. george went down on his knees again, and raised the old man's head until it rested upon his own breast, and he passed the candle before his face, his hand trembling so that the light flickered and leaped up. this time there was no mistaking. the tissues of old malakh's ashen face and throat and pallid hands were undergoing some subtle transfiguration. it was as if new blood had come encroaching in their veins. it was as if the muscles were become firm and full, as if the wrinkled skin had been made smooth, the lips grown fresh, as if--the word came to st. george as he stared, spell-stricken--as if _youth_ had returned. st. george slipped down upon the stones and sat motionless. there was a little blue, forked vein on the man's forehead, and upon this he fastened his eyes, mechanically following it downward and back. lines had crossed it, and there had been a deep cleft between the eyes, but these had disappeared, leaving the brow almost smooth. the cheeks were now tinged with colour, and the throat, where he had pulled aside the robe, showed firm and white. mechanically st. george passed his hand along the inert arm, and it was no more withered than his own--the arm of no greybeard, but of a man in the prime of life. what did it mean--what did it mean? st. george waited, the blood throbbing in his temples, a mist before his eyes. what did it mean? the minutes dragged by and still the unconscious man did not stir or unclose his eyes. from time to time st. george pressed his hand to the heart, and found it beating on rhythmically, powerfully. when he found himself sitting with averted head, as if he were afraid to look back at that changing face, a fear seized him that he had lost his reason and that what he imagined himself to see was a phase of madness. so he left the old man's side and sturdily tramped away into the huge dark of the room, resolutely explaining to himself that this was all very natural; the old man had been ill, improperly nourished, and the powerful stimulant of the wine had partly restored him. but even while he went over it st. george knew in his heart that what had happened was nothing that could be so explained, nothing that could be explained at all by anything within his ken. his footsteps echoed startlingly on the stones, and the chill breath of the place smote his face as he moved. he stumbled on a displaced tile and pitched forward upon a jagged corner of sarcophagus, and reeled as if at a blow from some arm of the darkness. the taper rays struck a length of wall before him, minting from the gloom a sheet of pale orchids clinging to the unclean rock. st. george remembered a green slope, spangled with crocuses and wild strawberries, coloured like the orchids but lying under free sky, in free air. it seemed only a trick of chance that he was not now lying on that far slope, wherever it was, instead of facing these ghost blooms in this ghost place. back there, where the light glimmered beside the tomb of king abibaal, nobody could tell what awaited him. if the man could change like this, might he not take on some shape too hideous to bear in the silence? st. george stood still, suddenly clenching his hands, trying to reach out through the dark and to grasp--himself, the self that seemed slipping away from him. but was he mad already, he wondered angrily, and hurried back to the far flickering light, stumbling, panting, not daring to look at the figure on the floor, not daring not to look. he resolutely caught up the candle and peered once more at the face. as steadily and swiftly as change in the aspect of the sky the face had gone on changing. st. george had followed to the chamber an old tottering man; the figure before him was a man of not more than fifty years. st. george let fall the candle, which flickered down, upright in its socket; and he turned away, his hand across his eyes. since this was manifestly impossible he must be mad, something in the stuff that he had tasted had driven him mad. he felt strong as a lion, strong enough to lift that prostrate figure and to carry it through the winding passages into the midst of those above stairs, and to beg them in mercy to tell him how the man looked. what would _she_ say? he wondered what olivia would say. dinner would be over and they would be in the drawing-room--olivia and amory and antoinette frothingham; already the white room and the lights and antoinette's laughter seemed to him of another world, a world from which he had irrevocably passed. yet there they were above, the same roof covering them, and they did not know that down here in this place of the dead he, st. george, was beyond all question going mad. with a cry he pulled off amory's coat, flung it over the unconscious man, and rushed out into the blackness of the corridor. he would not take the light--the man must not die alone there in the dark--and besides he had heard that the mad could see as well in the dark as in the light. or was it the blind who could see in the dark? no doubt it was the blind. however, he could find his way, he thought triumphantly, and ran on, dragging his hand along the slippery stones of the wall--he could find his way. only he must call out, to tell them who it was that was lost. so he called himself by name, aloud and sternly, and after that he kept on quietly enough, serene in the conviction that he had regained his self-control, fighting to keep his mind from returning to the face that changed before his eyes, like the appearances in the puppet shows. but suddenly he became conscious that it was his own name that he went shouting through the passages; and that was openly absurd, he reasoned, since if he wanted to be found he must call some one else's name. but he must hurry--hurry--hurry; no one could tell what might be happening back there to that face that changed. "olivia!" he shouted, "amory! jarvo--oh, jarvo! rollo, you scoundrel--" whereat the memory that rollo was somewhere on a yacht assailed him, and he pressed on, blindly and in silence, until glimmering before him he saw a light shining from an open door. then he rushed forward and with a groan of relief threw himself into the room. opposite the door loomed the grim sarcophagus of king abibaal, and beside it on the floor lay the figure with the face that changed. he had gone a circle in those tortuous passages, and this was the room of the tombs of the kings. he dragged himself across the chamber toward the still form. he must look again; no one could tell what might have happened. he pulled down the coat and looked. and there was surely nothing in the delicate, handsome, english-looking face upturned to his to give him new horror. it was only that he had come down here in the wake of a tottering old creature, and that here in his place lay a man who was not he. which was manifestly impossible. mechanically st. george's hand went to the man's heart. it was beating regularly and powerfully, and deep breaths were coming from the full, healthily-coloured lips. for a moment st. george knelt there, his blood tingling and pricking in his veins and pulsing in his temples. then he swayed and fell upon the stones. * * * * * when st. george opened his eyes it was ten o'clock of the following morning, though he felt no interest in that. there was before him a great rectangle of light. he lifted his head and saw that the light appeared to flow from the interior of the tomb of king abibaal. the next moment amory's cheery voice, pitched high in consternation and relief, made havoc among the echoes with a background of jarvo's smooth thanksgiving for the return of adôn. st. george, coatless, stiff from the hours on the mouldy stones, dragged himself up and turned his eyes in fear upon the figure beside him. it flashed hopefully through his mind that perhaps it had not changed, that perhaps he had dreamed it all, that perhaps ... by his first glance that hope was dispelled. from beneath amory's coat on the floor an arm came forth, pushing the coat aside, and a man slenderly built, with a youthful, sensitive face and somewhat critically-drooping lids, sat up leisurely and looked about him in slow surprise, kindling to distinct amusement. "upon my soul," he said softly, "what an admission--what an admission! i can not have made such a night of it in years." upon which jarvo dropped unhesitatingly to his knees. "melek! melek!" he cried, prostrating himself again and again. "the king! the king! the gods have permitted the possible." chapter xviii a morning visit in an upper room in the palace of the litany, fair with all the burnished devices of the early light, prince tabnit paced on that morning of mornings of his marriage day. because of his great happiness the whole world seemed to him like some exquisite intaglio of which this day was the design. the room, "walled with soft splendours of damascus tiles," was laid with skins of forgotten animals and was hung with historic tapestries dyed by ancient fingers in the spiral veins of the murex. there were frescoes uniting the dream with its actuality, columns carved with both lines and names of beauty, pilasters decorated with chain and checker-work and golden nets. a stairway led to a high shrine where hung the crucified tyrian sphinx. the room was like a singing voice summoning one to delights which it described. but whatever way one looked all the lines neither pointed nor seemed to have had beginning, but being divorced from source and direction expressed merely beauty, like an altar "where none cometh to pray." prince tabnit, in his trailing robe of white embroidered by a thousand needles, looked so akin to the room that one suspected it of having produced him, athena-wise, from, say, the great black shrine. when he paused before the shrine he seemed like a child come to beseech some last word concerning the riddle, rather than a man who believed himself to have mastered all wisdom and to have nailed the world-sphinx to her cross. "surely there is a vein for the silver and a place for the gold where they fine it. iron is taken out of the earth and brass is moulton out of the stone. man setteth an end to darkness and searcheth out all perfection: the stones of darkness and of the shadow of death," he was repeating softly. "so it is," he added, "'and searcheth to the farthest bound.' have i not done so? and do i not triumph?" then the youth who had once admitted st. george and his friends to that far-away house in mcdougle street--with the hokey-pokey man outside the door--entered with the poetry of deference; and if, as he bent low, there was a lift and droop of his eyelids which tokened utter bewilderment, not to say agitation, he was careful that the prince should not see that. "her highness, the princess of yaque, mrs. hastings, mr. augustus frothingham and miss frothingham ask audience, your highness," he announced clearly. prince tabnit turned swiftly. "whom do you say, matten?" he questioned and when the boy had repeated the names, meditated briefly. he was at a loss to fathom what this strange visit might portend; beyond doubt, he reflected (in a world which was an intaglio of his own designing) it portended nothing at all. he hastened forward to wait upon them and paused midway the room, for the highest tribute that a prince of the litany could pay to another was to receive him in this chamber of the crucified sphinx. "conduct them here, matten," he commanded, and took up his station beside an hundred-branched candlestick made in curium. there he stood when, having been led down corridors of ivory and through shining anterooms, mrs. hastings and olivia and antoinette appeared on the threshold of the chamber, followed by mr. frothingham. as the prince hastened forward to meet them with sweepings of his gown embroidered by a thousand needles and bent above their hands uttering gracious words, assuredly in all the history of med and of the litany the room of the crucified sphinx had never presented a more peculiar picture. into that tranquil atmosphere, dream-pervaded, mrs. medora hastings swept with all the certainty of an opinion bludgeoning the frail security of a fact. she had refused to have her belongings sent to the apartments in the house of the litany placed that day at her disposal, preferring to dress for the coronation before she descended from mount khalak. she was therefore in a robe of black samite, trimmed with the fur of a whole chapter of extinct animals, and bangles and pendants of jewels bobbed and ticked all about her. but on her head she wore the bonnet trimmed with a parrot, set, as usual, frightfully awry. beside her, with all the timidity of charming reality in the presence of fantasy, came olivia and antoinette--olivia in a walking frock of white broadcloth, with an auto coat of hunting pink, and a cap held down by yards of cloudy veiling; antoinette in a blue cloth gown, and about them both--stout little boots and suede gloves and smart shirt-waists--such an air of actuality as this chamber, prince and sphinx and tradition and all, could not approach. mr. augustus frothingham had struck his usual incontestable middle-ground by appearing in the blue velvet of a robe of state, over which he had slipped his light covert top-coat, and he carried his immaculate top-hat and a silver-headed stick. "prince tabnit," said mrs. medora hastings without ceremony, "what have they done with that poor young man? ask him, olivia," she besought, sinking down upon a chair of verd antique and extending a limp, plump hand to the niece who always did everything executive. olivia was very pale. she had hardly slept, night-long. alarm at the inexplicable disappearance of st. george at dinner-time the day before and at the discovery that old malakh was nowhere about had, by morning, deepened to unreasoning fear among them all. and then olivia, knowing nothing of what had taken place in the room of the tombs, had resolved upon a desperate expedient, had bundled into an airship her almost prostrate aunt, mr. frothingham and his excited little daughter, and had borne down upon the palace of the litany two hours before noon. amory, frantic with apprehension, had stayed behind with jarvo, certain that st. george could not have left the mountain. but now that olivia stood before the prince it required but a moment to convince her that prince tabnit really knew nothing of st. george's whereabouts. indeed, since his gift of phoenician wine, sealed three thousand years ago, and the immediate evanishment of the two americans, his highness had no longer vexed his thought with them, and he was genuinely amazed to know that (in a world which was an intaglio of his own designing) these two had actually spent yesterday at the king's palace on mount khalak. he perceived that he must give them more definite attention than his half-idle device of the wine--intended as that had been as a mere hyperspatial practical joke, not in the least irreconcilable with his office of host. "mr. st. george came to yaque to help me find my father," olivia was concluding earnestly, "and if anything has happened to him, prince tabnit, i alone am responsible." the prince reflected for a moment, his eyes fixed upon the hundred-branched candlestick. then: "mr. st. george's disappearance," he said, "has prevented a still more unpleasant catastrophe." "catastrophe!" repeated mrs. hastings, quite without tucking in her voice at the corners, "i have thought of no other word since i got to be royalty." "a world experience, a world experience, dear madame," contributed mr. frothingham, his hands laid trimly along his blue velvet lap. "but that doesn't make it any easier to bear, no matter what anybody says," retorted the lady. "inasmuch," pursued prince tabnit with infinite regret, "as these americans have, as you say, assisted in the search for your father, the king, they have most unfortunately violated that ancient law which provides that no state or satrapy shall receive aid, whether of blood or of bond, from an alien. the royal house alone is exempt." "and the penalty," demanded olivia fearfully. "is there a penalty? what is that, prince tabnit?" the voice of the prince was never more mellow. "do not be alarmed, i beg," he hastened his reassurance. "upon the return of mr. st. george, he and his friend will simply be set adrift in a rudderless airship, an offering to the great idea of space." mrs. hastings swayed toward the prince in her chair of verd antique, and her voice seemed to become brittle in the air. "oh, is that what you call being ahead of the time," she demanded shrilly, "getting behind science to behave like nero? and for my part i don't see anything whatever about the island that is ahead of the times. you haven't even got silk shoe-laces. i actually had to use a cloth-of-gold sandal strap to lace my oxfords, and when i lost a cuff-link i was obliged to make shift with two sides of one of queen agothonike's ear-rings that i found in the museum at the palace. and that isn't all," went on the lady, wrong kindling wrong, "what do you do for paper and envelopes? there is not a quire to be found in med. they offered me _wireless blanks_--an ultra form that mr. hastings would never have considered in good taste. and how about visiting cards? i tried to have a plate made, and they showed me a wireless apparatus for flashing from the doorstep the name of the visitor--an electrical entrance which mr. hastings would have considered most inelegant. ahead of the times, with your rudderless airships! i have always said that the electric chair is a way to be barbarous and good form at the same time, and that is what i think about yaque!" mr. frothingham's hands worked forward convulsively on his blue velvet knees. "my dear madame," he interposed earnestly, "the history of criminal jurisprudence, not to mention the remarkable essay of the marquis beccaria--proves beyond doubt that the extirpation of the offender is the only possible safety for the state--" olivia rose and stood before the prince, her eyes meeting his. "you will permit this sentence?" she asked steadily. "as head of the house of the litany, you will execute it, prince tabnit?" "alas!" said the prince humbly, "it is customary on the day of the coronation to set adrift all offenders. i am the servant of the state." "then, prince tabnit, i can not marry you." at this mrs. hastings looked blindly about for support, and mr. frothingham and antoinette flew to her side. in that moment the lady had seen herself, prophetically, in black samite and her parrot bonnet, set adrift in the penitential airship with her rebellious niece. for a moment prince tabnit hesitated: he looked at olivia, who was never more beautiful than as she defied him; then he walked slowly toward her, with sweep and fall of his garments embroidered by a thousand needles. antoinette and her father, ministering to mrs. hastings, heard only the new note that had crept into his voice, a thrill, a tremour-"olivia!" he said. her eyes met his in amazement but no fear. "in a land more alien to me than the sun," said the prince, "i saw you, and in that moment i loved you. i love you more than the life beyond life upon which i have laid hold. i brought you to this island to make you my wife. do you understand what it is that i offer you?" olivia was silent. she was trembling a little at the sheer enormity of the moment. suddenly, prince tabnit seemed to her like a name that she did not know. "will you not understand what i mean?" he besought with passionate earnestness. "can i make my words mean nothing to you? do you not see that it is indeed as i say--that i have grasped the secret of life within life, beyond life, transcending life, as his understanding transcends the man? the wonder of the island is but the alphabet of wisdom. the secrets of life and death and being itself are in my grasp. the hidden things that come near to you in beauty, in dream, in inspiration are mine and my people's. all these i can make yours--i offer you life of a fullness such as the people of the world do not dream. i will love you as the gods love, and as the gods we will live and love--it may be for ever. nothing of high wisdom shall be unrevealed to us. we shall be what the world will be when it nears the close of time. come to me--trust me--be beside me in all the wonder that i know. but above all, love me, for i love you more than life, and wisdom, and mystery!" olivia understood, and she believed. the mystery of life had always been more real to her than its commonplaces, and all her years she had gone half-expecting to meet some one, unheralded, to whom all things would be clear, and who should make her know by some secret sign that this was so, and should share with her. she had no doubt whatever that prince tabnit spoke the truth--just as the daughter of the river-god inachus knew perfectly that she was being wooed by a voice from the air. indeed, the world over, lovers promise each other infinite things, and are infinitely believed. "i do understand you, prince tabnit," olivia said simply, "i do understand something of what you offer me. i think that these things were not meant to be hidden from men always, so i can even believe that you have all that you say. but--there is something more." olivia paused--and swiftly, as if some little listening spirit had released the picture from the air, came the memory of that night when she had stood with st. george on that airy rampart beside the wall of blossoming vines. "there is something more," she repeated, "when two love each other very much i think that they have everything that you have said, and more." he looked at her in silence. the stained light from some high window caught her veil in meshes of rose and violet--fairy colours, witnessing the elusive, fairy, invincible truth of what she said. "you mean that you do not love me?" said the prince gently. "i do not love you, your highness," said olivia, "and as for the wisdom of which you speak, that is worse than useless to you if you can do as you say with two quite innocent men." she hesitated, searching his face. "is there no way," she said, "that i, the daughter of your king, can save them? i will appeal to the people!" the prince met her eyes steadily, adoringly. "it would avail nothing," he said, "they are at one with the law. yet there is a way that i can help you. if mr. st. george returns, as he must, he and his friends shall be set adrift with due ceremony--but in an imperial airship, with a man secretly in control. by night they can escape to their yacht. this i will do--upon one condition." "oh--what is that?" she asked, and for all the reticence of her eagerness, her voice was a betrayal. prince tabnit turned to the window. below, in the palace grounds, and without, in the eurychôrus, a thousand people awaited the opening of the palace doors. they filled the majestic avenue, poured up the shadowed alleys that taught the necessity of mystery, were grouped beneath the honey-sweet trees; and above their heads, from every dome and column in the fair city, flowed and streamed the joyous, wizard, nameless colours of the pennons blown heavenward against the blue. they were come, this strange, wise, elusive people, to her marriage. the prince was smiling as he met her eyes; for the world was always the exquisite intaglio, and to-day was its design. "they know," he said simply, "what was to have been at noon to-day. do you not understand my condition?" chapter xix in the hall of kings somewhat before noon the great doors of the palace of the litany and of the hall of kings were thrown open, and the people streamed in from the palace grounds and the eurychôrus. abroad among them--elusive as that by which we know that a given moment belongs to dawn, not dusk--was the sense of questioning, of unrest, of expectancy that belongs to the dawn itself. especially the youths and maidens--who, besides wisdom, knew something of spells--waited with a certain wistfulness for what might be, for change is a kind of god even to the immortals. but there were also those who weighed the departures incident to the coming of the strange people from over-seas; and there were not lacking conservatives of the old régime to shake wise heads and declare that a barbarian is a barbarian, the world over. all that rainbow multitude, clad for festival, rose with the first light music that stole, winged and silken, from hidden cedar alcoves, and some minutes past the sounding of the hour of noon the chamfered doors set high in the south wall of the hall of kings were swung open, and at the head of the stair appeared olivia. she was alone, for the custom of yaque required that the island princesses should on the day of their recognition first appear alone before their people in token of their mutual faith. from the wardrobes at the castle olivia had chosen the coronation gown of queen mitygen herself. it was of fine lace woven in a single piece, and it lay in a foam of shining threads traced with pure lines of shadow. on her head were a jeweled coronal and jeweled hair-loops in the phoenician fashion, once taken from a king's casket and sent secretly, upon the decline of assyrian ascendancy, to be bartered in the marts of coele-syria. chains of jewels, in a noon of colour, lay about her throat, as once they lay upon the shoulders of the dead queens of yaque and, before them, of the women of the elder dynasties long since recorded in indifferent dust. girdling her waist was a zone of rubies that burned positive in the tempered light. with all her delicacy, olivia was like her rubies--vivid, graphic, delineated not by light but by line. the members of the high council rustled in their colour and white, and flashed their golden stars; the golden guards (save the apostate few who were that day sentenced to be set adrift) were filling the stairway like a bank of buttercups; and olivia's women, led by antoinette in a gown of colours not to be lightly denominated, were entering by an opposite door. in the raised seats near the high council, mrs. hastings and mr. frothingham leaned to wave a sustaining greeting. until that high moment mrs. medora hastings had been by no means certain that olivia would appear at all, though she openly nourished the hope that "everything would go off smoothly." ("i don't care much for foreigners and never have," she confided to mr. frothingham, "still, i was thinking while i was at breakfast, after all, to the prince _we are_ the foreigners. there is something in that, don't you think? and then the dear prince--he is so very metaphysical!") upon the beetling throne olivia took her place, and her women sank about her like tiers of sunset clouds. she was so little and so beautiful and so unconsciously appealing that when prince tabnit and cassyrus and the rest of the court entered, it is doubtful if an eye left olivia, to homage them. but prince tabnit was the last to note that, for he saw only olivia; and the world--the world was an intaglio of his own designing. with due magnificence the preliminary ceremonies of the coronation proceeded--musty necessities, like oaths and historical truths, being mingled with the most delicate observances, such as the naming of the former princesses of the island, from adija, daughter of king abibaal, to olivia, daughter of king otho; and such as counting the clouds for the misfortunes of the régime. this last duty fell to the office of the lord chief-chancellor, and from an upper porch he returned quickening with the intelligence that there was not a cloud in the sky, a state of the heavens known to no coronation since babylon was ruled by assyrian viceroys. the lord chief-chancellor and cassyrus themselves brought forth the crown--a beautiful crown, shining like dust-in-the-sun--and cassyrus, in a voice that trumpeted, rehearsed its history: how it had been made of jewels brought from the coffers of amasis and apries, when king nebuchadnezzar wrested phoenicia from egypt, and, too, of all manner of precious stones sent by queen atossa, wife of darius, when the crotoniat democedes, with two triremes and a trading vessel, visited yaque before they went to survey hellenic shores, with what disastrous result. and olivia, standing in the queen's gown, listened without hearing one word, and turned to have her veil lifted by antoinette and the daughter of a peer of yaque; and she knelt before the people while the lord chief-chancellor set the crown on her bright hair. it was a picture that thrilled the lord chief-chancellor himself--who was a worshiper of beauty, and a man given to angling in the lagoon and making metric translations of the inscriptions. then it was in the room as if a faint flame had been breathed upon and had upleaped in a thousand ways of expectancy, and as if a secret sign had been set in the lift and dip of the music--the music that was so like the great chamber with its lift and dip of carven line. the thrill with which one knows the glad news of an unopened letter was upon them all, and they heard that swift breath of an event that stirs before its coming. when olivia's women fell back from the dais with wonder and murmur, the murmur was caught up in the great hall, and ran from tier to tier as amazement, as incredulity, and as thanksgiving. for there, beside the beetling throne, was standing a man, slenderly built, with a youthful, sensitive face and critically-drooping lids, and upon them all his eyes were turned in faint amusement warmed by an idle approbation. "perfect--perfect. quite perfect," he was saying below his breath. olivia turned. the next moment she stood with outstretched arms before her father; and king otho, in his long, straight robe, encrusted with purple amethysts, bent with exquisite courtesy above his daughter's hands. "my dear child," he murmured, "the picture that you make entirely justifies my existence, but hardly my absence. shall we ask his highness to do that?" it mattered little who was to do that so long as it was done. for to that people, steeped in dream, risen from the crudity of mere events to breathe in the rarer atmosphere of their significance, here was a happening worthy their attention, for it had the dignity of mystery. even mrs. medora hastings, billowing toward the throne with cries, was less poignantly a challenge to be heard. upon her the king laid a tranquillizing hand and, with a droop of eyelids in recognition of mr. frothingham, he murmured: "ah, medora--medora! delight in the moment--but do not embrace it," while beside him, star-eyed, olivia stood waiting for prince tabnit to speak. to olivia, trembling a little as she leaned upon his arm, king otho bent with some word, at which she raised to his her startled face, and turned from him uncertainly, and burned a heavenly colour from brow to chin. then, her father's words being insistent in her ear, and her own heart being tumultuous with what he had told her, she turned as he bade her, and, following his glance, slipped beneath a shining curtain that cut from the audience chamber the still seclusion of the king's alcove, a chamber long sacred to the sovereigns of yaque. confused with her wonder and questioning, hardly daring to understand the import of her father's words, olivia went down a passage set between two high white walls of the palace, open to-day to the upper blue and to the floating pennons of the dome. here, prickly-leaved plants had shot to the cornices with uncouth contorting of angled boughs, and in their inner green ruffle-feathered birds looked down on her with the uncanny interest of myriapods. she caught about her the lace of her skirts and of her floating veil, and the way echoed musically to the touch of her little sandals and was bright with the shining of her diadem. and at the end of the passage she lifted a swaying curtain of soft dyes and entered the king's alcove. the king's alcove laid upon one the delicate demands of calm open water--for its floor of white transparent tiles was cunningly traced with the reflected course of the carven roof, and one seemed to look into mirrored depths of disappearing line between spaces shaped like petals and like chevrons. in the king's alcove one stood in a world of white and one's sight was exquisitely won, now by a niche open to a blue well of sea and space, now by silver plants lucent in high casements. and there one was spellbound with this mirroring of the near which thus became the remote, until one questioned gravely which was "there" and which was "here," for the real was extended into vision, and vision was quickened to the real, and nothing lay between. but to olivia, entering, none of these things was clearly evident, for as the curtain of many dyes fell behind her she was aware of two figures--but the one, with a murmured word which she managed somehow to answer without an idea what she said or what it had said either, vanished down the way that she had come. and she stood there face to face with st. george. he had risen from a low divan before a small table set with figs and bread and a decanter of what would have been bordeaux if it had not been distilled from the vineyards of yaque. he was very pale and haggard, and his eyes were darkly circled and still fever-bright. but he came toward her as if he had quite forgotten that this is a world of danger and that she was a princess and that, little more than a week ago, her name was to him the unknown music. he came toward her with a face of unutterable gladness, and he caught and crushed her hands in his and looked into her eyes as if he could look to the distant soul of her. he led her to a great chair hewn from quarries of things silver and unremembered, and he sat at her feet upon a bench that might have been a stone of the altar of some forgotten deity of dreams, at last worshiped as it should long have been worshiped by all the host that had passed it by. he looked up in her face, and the room was like a place of open water where heaven is mirrored in earth, and earth reflects and answers heaven. st. george laughed a little for sheer, inextinguishable happiness. "once," he said, "once i breakfasted with you, on tea and--if i remember correctly--gold and silver muffins. won't you breakfast with me now?" olivia looked down at him, her heart still clamourous with its anxiety of the night and of the morning. "tell me where you can have been," she said only; "didn't you know how distressed we would be? we imagined everything--in this dreadful place. and we feared everything, and we--" but yet the "we" did not deceive st. george; how could it with her eyes, for all their avoidings, so divinely upon him? "did you," he said, "ah--did you wonder? i wish i knew!" "and my father--where did you find him?" she besought. "it was you? you found him, did you not?" st. george looked down at a fold of her gown that was fallen across his knee. how on earth was he ever to move, he wondered vaguely, if the slightest motion meant the withdrawing of that fold. he looked at her hand, resting so near, so near, upon the arm of the chair; and last he looked again into her face; and it seemed wonderful and before all things wonderful, not that she should be here, jeweled and crowned, but that he should so unbelievably be here with her. and yet it might be but a moment, as time is measured, until this moment would be swept away. his eyes met hers and held them. "would you mind," he said, "now--just for a little, while we wait here--not asking me that? not asking me anything? there will be time enough in there--when _they_ ask me. just for now i only want to think how wonderful this is." she said: "yes, it is wonderful--unbelievable," but he thought that she might have meant the white room or her queen's robe or any one of all the things which he did not mean. "_is_ it wonderful to you?" he asked, and he said again: "i wish--i wish i knew!" he looked at her, sitting in the moon of her laces and the stars of her gems, and the sense of the immeasurableness of the hour came upon him as it comes to few; the knowledge that the evanescent moment is very potent, the world where the siren light of the remote may at any moment lie quenched in some ashen present. to him, held momentarily in this place that was like shoreless, open water, the present was inestimably precious and it lay upon st. george like the delicate claim of his love itself. what the next hour held for them neither could know, and this universal uncertainty was for him crystallized in an instant of high wisdom; over the little hand lying so perilously near, his own closed suddenly and he crushed her fingers to his lips. "olivia--dear heart," he said, "we don't know what they may do--what will happen--oh, may i tell you _now_?" there was no one to say that he might not, for the hand was not withdrawn from his. and so he did tell her, told her all his heart as he had known his heart to be that last night on _the aloha_, and in that divine twilight of his arriving on the island, and in those hours beside the airy ramparts of the king's palace, and in the vigil that followed, and always--always, ever since he could remember, only that he hadn't known that he was waiting for her, and now he knew--now he knew. "must you not have known, up there in the palace," he besought her, "the night that i got there? and yesterday, all day yesterday, you must have known--didn't you know? i love you, olivia. i couldn't have told you, i couldn't have let you know, only now, when we can't know what may come or what they may do--oh, say you forgive me. because i love you--i love you." she rose swiftly, her veil floating about her, silver over the gold of her hair; and the light caught the enchantment of the gems of the strange crown they had set upon her head, and she looked down at him in almost unearthly beauty. he stood before her, waiting for the moment when she should lift her eyes. and the eyes were lifted, and he held out his arms, and straight to them, regardless of the coronation laces of queen mitygen, went olivia, princess of yaque. he put aside her shining hair, as he had put it aside in that divine moment in the motor in the palace wood; and their lips met, in that world that was like the shoreless open sea where earth reflects heaven, and heaven comes down. they sat upon the white-cushioned divan, and st. george half knelt beside her as he had knelt that night in the fleeing motor, and there were an hundred things to say and an hundred things to hear. and because this fragment of the past since they had met was incontestably theirs, and because the future hung trembling before them in a mist of doubt, they turned happy, hopeful eyes to that future, clinging to each other's hands. the little chamber of translucent white, where one looked down to a mirrored dome and up to a kind of sky, became to them a place bounded by the touch and the look and the voice of each other, as every place in the world is bounded for every heart that beats. "sweetheart," said st. george presently, "do you remember that you are a princess, and i'm merely a kind of man?" was it not curious, he thought, that his lips did not speak a new language of their own accord? "i know," corrected olivia adorably, "that i'm a kind of princess. but what use is that when it only makes trouble for us?" "us"--"makes trouble for us." st. george wondered how he could ever have thought that he even guessed what happiness might be when "trouble for us" was like this. he tried to say so, and then: "but do you know what you are doing?" he persisted. "don't you see--dear, don't you see that by loving me you are giving up a world that you can never, never get back?" olivia looked down at the fair disordered hair on his temples. it seemed incredible that she had the right to push it from his forehead. but it was not incredible. to prove it olivia touched it back. to prove that _that_ was not incredible, st. george turned until his lips brushed her wrist. "don't you know, don't you, dear," he pressed the matter, "that very possibly these people here have really got the secret that all the rest of the world is talking about and hoping about and dreaming they will sometime know?" olivia heard of this likelihood with delicious imperturbability. "i know a secret," she said, just above her breath, "worth two of that." "you'll never be sorry--never?" he urged wistfully, resolutely denying himself the entire bliss of that answer. "never," said olivia, "never. shall you?" that was exceptionally easy to make clear, and thereafter he whimsically remembered something else: "you live in the king's palace now," he reminded her, "and this is another palace where you might live if you chose. and you might be a queen, with drawing-rooms and a poet laureate and all the rest. and in new york--in new york, perhaps we shall live in a flat." "no," she cried, "no, indeed! not 'perhaps,' i _insist_ upon a flat." she looked about the room with its bench brought from the altar of a forgotten deity of dreams, with its line and colour dissolving to mirrored point and light--the mystic union of sight with dream--and she smiled at the divine incongruity and the divine resemblance. "it wouldn't be so very different--a flat," she said shyly. wouldn't it--wouldn't it, after all, be so very different? "ah, if you only think so, really," cried st. george. "but it will be different, just different enough to like better," she admitted then. "you know that i think so," she said. "if only you knew how much i think so," he told her, "how i have thought so, day and night, since that first minute at the boris. olivia, dear heart--when did you think so first--" she shook her head and laid her hands upon his and drew them to her face. "now, now--now!" she cried, "and there never was any time but now." "but there will be--there will be," he said, his lips upon her hair. after a time--for time, that seems to have no boundaries in the abstract, is a very fiend for bounding the divine concrete--after a time amory spoke hesitatingly on the other side of the curtain of many dyes. "st. george," he said, "i'm afraid they want you. mr. holland--the king, he's got through playing them. he wants you to get up and give 'em the truth, i think." "come in--come in, amory," st. george said and lifted the curtain, and "i beg your pardon," he added, as his eyes fell upon antoinette in a gown of colours not to be lightly denominated. she had followed olivia from the hall, and had met amory midway the avenue of prickly trees, and they had helpfully been keeping guard. now they went on before to the hall of kings, and st. george, remembering what must happen there, turned to olivia for one crowning moment. "you know," she said fearfully, "before father came the prince intended the most terrible things--to set you and mr. amory adrift in a rudderless airship--" st. george laughed in amusement. the poor prince with his impossible devices, thinking to harm him, st. george--_now_. "he meant to marry you, he thought," he said, "but, thank heaven, he has your father to answer to--and me!" he ended jubilantly. and yet, after all, heaven knew what possibilities hemmed them round. and heaven knew what she was going to think of him when she heard his story. he turned and caught her to him, for the crowning moment. "you love me--you love me," he said, "no matter what happens or what they say--no matter what?" she met his eyes and, of her own will, she drew his face down to hers. "no matter what," she answered. so they went together toward the chamber which they had both forgotten. when they reached the hall of kings they heard king otho's voice--suave, mellow, of perfect enunciation: "--some one," the king was concluding, "who can tell this considerably better than i. and it seems to me singularly fitting that the recognition of the part eternally played by the 'possible' be temporarily deferred while we listen to--i dislike to use the word, but shall i say--the facts." it seemed to st. george when he stood beside the dais, facing that strange, eager multitude with his strange unbelievable story upon his lips--the story of the finding of the king--as if his own voice were suddenly a part of all the gigantic incredibility. yet the divinely real and the fantastic had been of late so fused in his consciousness that he had come to look upon both as the normal--which is perhaps the only sane view. but how could he tell to others the monstrous story of last night, and hope to be believed? none the less, as simply as if he had been narrating to chillingworth the high moment of a political convention, st. george told the people of yaque what had happened in that night in the room of the tombs with that mad old malakh whom they all remembered. it came to him as he spoke that it was quite like telling to a field of flowers the real truth about the wind of which they might be supposed to know far more than he; and yet, if any one were to tell the truth about the wind who would know how to listen? he was not amazed that, when he had done, the people of yaque sat in a profound silence which might have been the silence of innocent amazement or of utter incredulity. but there was no mistaking the face of prince tabnit. its cool tolerant amusement suddenly sent the blood pricking to st. george's heart and filled him with a kind of madness. what he did was the last thing that he had intended. he turned upon the prince, and his voice went cutting to the farthest corner of the hall: "men and women of yaque," he cried, "i accuse your prince of the knowledge that can take from and add to the years of man at will. i accuse him of the deliberate and criminal use of that knowledge to take king otho from his throne!" st. george hardly knew what effect his words had. he saw only olivia, her hands locked, her lips parted, looking in his face in anguish; and he saw prince tabnit smile. prince tabnit sat upon the king's left hand, and he leaned and whispered a smiling word in the ear of his sovereign and turned a smiling face to olivia upon her father's right. "i know something of your american newspapers, your majesty," the prince said aloud, "and these men are doing their part excellently, excellently." "what do you mean, your highness?" demanded st. george curtly. "but is it not simple?" asked the prince, still smiling. "you have contrived a sensation for the great american newspaper. no one can doubt." king otho leaned back in the beetling throne. "ah, yes," he said, "it is true. something has been contrived. but--is the sensation of _his_ contriving, prince?" olivia stood silent. it was not possible, it was not possible, she said over mechanically. for st. george to have come with this story of a potion--a drug that had restored youth to her father, had transformed him from that mad old malakh-"father!" she cried appealingly, "don't you remember--don't you know?" king otho, watching the prince, shook his head, smiling. "at dawn," he said, "there are few of us to be found remaining still at table with socrates. i seem not to have been of that number." "olivia!" cried st. george suddenly. she met his eyes for a moment, the eyes that had read her own, that had given message for message, that had seen with her the glory of a mystic morning willingly relinquished for a diviner dawn. was she not princess here in yaque? she laid her hand upon her father's hand; the crown that they had given her glittered as she turned toward the multitude. "my people," she said ringingly, "i believe that that man speaks the truth. shall the prince not answer to this charge before the high council now--here--before you all?" at this king otho did something nearly perceptible with his eyebrows. "perfect. perfect. quite perfect," he said below his breath. the next instant the eyelids of the sovereign drooped considerably less than one would have supposed possible. for from every part of the great chamber, as if a storm long-pent had forced the walls of the wind, there came in a thousand murmurs--soft, tremulous, definitive--the answering voice to olivia's question: "yes. yes. yes..." chapter xx out of the hall of kings in prince tabnit's face there was a curious change, as if one were suddenly to see hieroglyphics upon a star where before there had been only shining. but his calm and his magnificent way of authority did not desert him, as so grotesque a star would still stand lonely and high in the heavens. he spoke, and upon the multitude fell instant silence, not the less absolute that it harboured foreboding. "whatever the people would say to me," said the prince simply, "i will hear. my right hand rests in the hand of the people. in return i decree allegiance to the law. your princess stands before you, crowned. this most fortunate return of his majesty, the king, can not set at naught the sacred oath which has just left her lips. henceforth, in council and in audience, her place shall be at his majesty's right hand, as was the place of that princess athalme, daughter of king kab, in the dynasty of the fall of rome. is it not, therefore, but the more incumbent upon your princess to own her allegiance to the law of the island by keeping her troth with me--that troth witnessed and sanctioned by you yourselves? this ceremony concluded i will answer the demands of the loyal subjects whose interests alone i serve. for we obey that which is higher than authority--the law, born in the beginning--" prince tabnit's voice might almost have taken his place in his absence, it was so soft, so fine of texture, no more consciously modulated than is the going of water or the way of a wing. it was difficult to say whether his words or, so to say, their fine fabric of voice, begot the silence that followed. but all eyes were turned upon olivia. and, prince tabnit noting this, before she might speak he suddenly swept his flowing robes embroidered by a thousand needles to a posture of humility before his sovereign. "your majesty," he besought, "i pray your consent to the bestowal upon my most unworthy self of the hand of your daughter, the princess olivia." king otho leaned upon the arm of his carven throne. against its strange metal his hand was cameo-clear. "for the king," he was remembering softly, "'the pyrenees, or so he fancied, ceased to exist.' for another 'the mountains of daphne are everywhere.' each of us has his impossible dream to prove that he is an impossible creature. why not i? to be normal is the cry of all the hobgoblins ... and what does the princess say?" he asked aloud. "her highness has already given me the great happiness to plight me her troth," said prince tabnit. king otho's eyebrows flickered from their parallel of repose. "in yaque or in america," he murmured, "the americans do as the americans do. none of us is mentioned in deuteronomy, but what is the will of the princess?" the american sovereign asked. mrs. hastings, seated near the dais, heard; and as she turned, a rhinestone side-comb slipped from her hair, tinkled over the jewels of her corsage and shot into the lap of a member of the high council. he, never having seen a side-comb, fancied that it might be an infernal machine which he had never seen either, and, palpitating, flashed it to the guardian hand of mr. frothingham. at the same moment: "ah, why, otho," said mrs. hastings audibly, "we had two ancestors at bannockburn!" "bannockburn!" argued mr. augustus frothingham, below the voice, "bannockburn. but what, my dear mrs. hastings, is bannockburn beside the midianites and the moabites and the hittites and the ammonites and the levites?" in this genealogical moment the prince leaned toward olivia. "choose," he said significantly, but so softly that none might hear, "oh, my beloved, choose!" the faces of the great assembly blurred and wavered before olivia, and the low hum of the talk in the room was relative, like the voices of passers-by. she looked up at the prince and away from him in mute appeal to something that ought to help her and would not. for olivia was of those who, never having seen the face of destiny very near, are accustomed to look upon nothing as wholly irrevocable; and--for one of her graces--she had the feminine expectation that, if only events can be sufficiently postponed, something will intervene; which is perhaps a heritage of the gentlest women descended from homeric days. if the island was so historic, little olivia may have said, where was the interfering goddess? she looked unseeingly toward st. george and toward her father, and the sense of the bitter actuality of the choice suddenly wounded her, as the actual for ever wounds the woman and the dream. then suddenly, above the stir of expectation of the people, and the associate bustling of the high council there came a vague confusion and trampling from outside, and the far outer doors of the hall were thrown open with a jar and a breath, vibrant as a murmur. there was a cry, the determined resistance of some of the golden guard, and shouts of expostulation and warning as they were flung aside by a powerful arm. in the disorder that followed, a miraculously-familiar figure--that familiarity and strangeness are both miracles ought to explain certain mysteries--was beside st. george and a thankful voice said in his ear: "mr. st. george, sir, for the mercy of heaven, sir--come back to the yacht. no person can tell what may happen ten minutes ahead, sir!" the oracle of this universal truth was rollo, palpitating, his immaculate coat stained with earth, earth-stains on his cheeks, and his breast labouring in an excitement which only anxiety for his master could effect. but st. george hardly saw him. his eyes were fixed on some one who stood towering before the dais, like the old prints of the avenging goddesses. clad in the hideous stripes which boards of directors consider _de rigueur_ for the soul that is to be won back to the normal, stood the woman elissa, who, by all counts of prince tabnit, should have been singing a hymn with mrs. manners and miss bella bliss utter in the bitley reformatory, in westchester county, new york. "stop!" she cried in that perfect english which is not only a rare experience but a pleasant adventure, "what new horror is this?" to prince tabnit's face, as he looked at her, came once more that indefinable change--only this time nearer and more intimately explainable, as if something ethereal, trained to delicate lines, like smoke, should suddenly shape itself to a menace. st. george saw the woman step close to the dais, he saw olivia's eyes questioning him, and in the hurried rising of the peers and of the high council he heard rollo's voice in his ear: "it's a gr'it go, sir," observed rollo respectfully, "the woman has things to tell, sir, as people generally don't know. she's flew the coop at the place she was in--it seems she's been shut up some'eres in america, sir; an' she got 'old of the capting of a tramp boat o' some kind--one o' them boats as smells intoxicating round the 'atches--an' she give 'im an' the mate a 'andful o' jewelry that she'd on 'er when she was took in an' 'ad someways contrived to 'ang on to, an' i'm blessed hif she wasn't able fer to steer fer the island, sir--we took 'er aboard the yacht only this mornin' with 'er 'air down her back, an' we've brought 'er on here. an' she says--men can be gr'it beasts, sir, an' no manner o' mistake," concluded rollo fervently. and a little hoarse voice said in st. george's ear: "mr. st. george, sir--we ain't late, are we? we been flirtin' de ger-avel up dat ka-liff since de car-rack o' day." and there was bennietod, with an edge of an old horse pistol showing beneath his cuff; and, round-eyed and alert as a bird newly alighted on a stranger sill, little cawthorne stood; and the sight put strength into st. george, and so did little cawthorne's words: "i didn't know whether they'd let us in or not," he said, "unless we had on a plaited décolletté, with biases down the back." clearly and confidently in the silent room rang the voice of the woman confronting prince tabnit, and her eyes did not leave his face. st. george was struck with the change in her since that day in the reformatory chapel. then she had been like a wild, alien thing in dumb distress; now she was unchained and native. her first words explained why, in the extreme dilemma in which st. george had last seen her, she had yet remained mute. "i release myself," she cried, "from my oath of silence, though until to-day i have spoken only to those who helped me to come back to you--my master. have you nothing to say to me? has the time seemed long? is it a weary while since i left you to do your will and murder the woman whom you were now about to make your wife?" a cry of horror rose from the people, and then stillness came again. "take the woman away," said prince tabnit only, "she is speaking madness." "i am speaking the truth," said the woman clearly. "i was of melita--there are those here who will know my face. and it is not i alone who have served the state. i challenge you, tabnit--here, before them all! where are gerya and ibera, cabulla and taura? have not their people, weeping, besought news of them in vain? and what answer have you given them?" murmurs and sobs rose from the assembly, stilled by the tranquil voice of the prince. "where are they?" he repeated gently, his voice vibrant in its rise and fall, its giving of delicate values. "but the people know where they are. they have attained to the perfect life and died the perfect death. for i have raised them to the supreme estate." prince tabnit, with uplifted face, sat motionless, looking out over the throng from beneath lowered lids; then his eyes, confident and a little mocking, returned to the woman. but they had for her no terror. she turned from him, confronting the pale, eager faces of the people; and in her beauty and distinction she was like olivia's women, crowded beside the dais. "men and women of yaque," cried elissa, "i will tell you to what 'supreme estate' these friends whom you seek have long been raised. for here in med and in melita you will find many of those whom you have mourned as dead--you will find them as you yourselves have met and passed them, it may have been countless times, on your streets of yaque--not young and beautiful as when they left you, but men and women of incredible age. withered, shaken by palsy, infirm, they creep upon their lonely ways or go at will to drag themselves unrecognized along your highways, as helpless as the dead themselves. they number scores, and they are those who have displeased your prince by some little word, some little wrong, or, more than these, by some thwarting of the way of his ambition: oblo, who disappeared from his place as keeper at the door; ithobal, satrap of melita; young prince kaal--ay, and how many more? you do not understand my words? i say that your prince has knowledge of some secret, accursed drug that can call back youth or make actual age--_age_, do you understand--just as we of yaque bring both flowers and fruit to swift maturity!" olivia uttered a little cry, not at the grotesque horror of what the woman had said but at the miracle of its unconscious support of the story and theory of st. george. and st. george heard; and suddenly, because another had voiced his own fantastic message, its incredibility and unreality became appalling, and yet he felt infinitely reconciled to both because he interpreted aright that little muffled exclamation from olivia. what did it matter--oh, what did it matter whether or not the reality were grotesque? what seems to be happening is always the reality, if only one understands it sufficiently. and at all events there had been that hour in the king's alcove. at last, as he weighed that hour against the fantasy of all the rest, st. george understood and lived the divine madness of all great moments, the madness that realizes one star and is content that all the heavens shall march unintelligibly past so long as that single shining is not dimmed. but king otho was riding no such griffin with sun-gold wings. king otho was genuinely and personally interested in the woman's words. he turned to prince tabnit with animation. "really, prince," he said, "is it so? pray do not deny it unless there is no other way, for i am before all things interested. it is far more important to me that you tell me as much as you can tell, than that you deny or even disprove it." prince tabnit smiled in the eagerly interested face of his sovereign, and rose and came to the edge of the dais, his garments embroidered by a thousand needles touching and floating about him; and it was as if he reached those before him by a kind of spiritual magnetism, not without sublimity. "my people," he said--and his voice had all the tenderness that they knew so well--"this is some conspiracy of those to whom we have shown the utmost hospitality. i would have shielded your king, for he was also my sovereign and i owed him allegiance. but now that is no longer possible, and the time is come. know then, oh my people of yaque, that which my loyalty has led me wrongfully to conceal: that in the strange disappearance and return of your sovereign, king otho, he who will may trace the loss of that which the island has mourned without ceasing. i accuse your king--he is no longer mine--of being now in possession of the hereditary treasure of yaque." then st. george came back with a thrill to actuality. in the press of the events of this morning, after his awakening in the room of the tombs, he had completely forgotten the soft fire of gems that had burned beneath the hands of old malakh in that dark chamber under king abibaal's tomb. he and amory and jarvo had, with the king, left the chamber by the upper passages, and amory and jarvo knew nothing of the jewels. yet st. george was certain that he could not have been mistaken, and he listened breathlessly for what the king would say. king otho, with a smile, nodded in perfect imperturbability. "that is true," he said, "i had forgotten all about it." they waited for him to speak, the people in amazed silence, mrs. medora hastings saying unintelligible things in whispers, for which she had a genius. "it is true," said king otho, "that i am responsible for the disappearance of the hereditary treasure. you will find it at this moment in a basement dungeon of the palace on mount khalak. on the very day, three months ago, that i dined with your prince i had made a discovery of considerable importance to me, namely, that the little island of yaque is richer in most of the radio-active substances than all the rest of the world. the discovery gave me keener pleasure than i had known in years--i had suspected it for some time after i found the noctilucous stars on the ceiling of my sitting-room at the palace. and in the work-shop of the princess simyra i came upon a quantity of metallic uranium, and a great many other things which i question the taste of taking the time to describe. but my experiments there with the very perfect gems of your admirable collection had evidently been antedated by some of your own people, for the apparatus was intact. i shall be glad to show some charming effects to any one who cares to see them. i have succeeded in causing the diamonds of darius to phosphoresce most wonderfully." the phosphorescence of the diamonds of darius was to the people far less important than the joyous fact which they were not slow to grasp, that the hereditary treasure was, if they might believe the king's words, restored to them, and the burden of the tax averted. they did not understand, nor did they seek to understand; because they knew the inefficiency of details and they also knew the value of mere import. but the king, child of a social order that wreaks itself on particularizations, returned to his quest for a certain recounting. "prince tabnit," he said, "the high council and the people of yaque are impatient for your answer to this woman's words." "i rejoice with them and with your majesty," replied prince tabnit softly, "that the treasure is safe. my own explanation is far less simple. if what this woman says is true, yet it is true in such wise as, strive as i may, i can not speak; nor, strive as you may, can you fathom. therefore i say that the claim which she has made is idle, and not within my power to answer." at this st. george bounded to his feet. amory looked up at him in terror, and little cawthorne and bennietod went a step or two after him as he sprang forward, and rollo's lean shadowed face, obvious as his way of speech, was wrinkled in terrified appeal. "an idle claim!" st. george thundered as he strode before the dais. "is this woman's story and mine an idle claim, and one not within your power to answer? then i will tell you how to answer, prince tabnit. i challenge you now, in the presence of your people--taste this!" upon the carven arm of prince tabnit's throne st. george set something that he had taken from his pocket. it was the vase of rock-crystal from which, the night before in the room of the tombs, the king had drunk. what followed was the last thing that st. george had expected. it was as if his defiance had unlocked flood-gates. in an instant the vast assembly was in motion. with a sound of garments that was like far wind they were upon their feet and pressing toward the throne. with all the passion of their "yes! yes! yes!" in response to olivia's appeal they came, resistlessly demanding the answer to some dreadful question long shrouded in their hearts. their armour was their silence; they made no sound save that ominous sweep of their robes and the conspiracy of their sandaled feet upon the tiles. st. george did not turn. indeed, it did not once cross his mind that their hostility could possibly be toward him. besides, his look was fixed upon the prince's face, and what he read there was enough. the peers, the high council and those nearest the throne wavered and swerved from the man, leaving him to face what was to come. whatever was to come he would have met nobly. he was of those infrequent folk of some upper air who exhibit a certain purity even in error, or in worse. he stood with his exquisite pale face uplifted, his white hair in a glory about it, his white gown embroidered by a thousand needles falling in virginal lines against the warm, pure colour of that room with its wraiths of hue and light. and he opened the heart of the green jewel that burned upon his breast. "not for me the wine of youth," he said slowly, "but the poison of age. the poison which, without me to unlock the secret, all mankind must drink alone. may you drink it late, my friends!" he cried. "i, who hold in my soul the secret of the passing of time and youth, drink now to those among you and among all men who have won and kept the one thing dearer than these." he touched the green gem to his lips, and let it fall upon the embroidered laces on his breast. then quietly and in another voice he began to speak. with the first words there came to st. george the thrill of something that had possessed him--when? in that ecstatic moment on _the aloha_ when he had seen the light in the king's palace; in the instant when the isle of yaque had first lain subject before him, "a land which no one can define or remember--only desire;" in the divine time of his triumph in having scaled the heights to the palace, that sky-thing, with ramparts of air; above all, in the hour of his joy in the king's alcove, when olivia had looked in his eyes and touched his lips. inexplicably as the way that eternity lies barely unrevealed in some kin-thing of its own--a shell, a duty, a vista--he suddenly felt it now in what the prince was saying. he listened, and for one poignant stab of time he knew that he touched hands with the elemental and saw the ancient kindliness of all those people naked in their faces and knew himself for what he was. he listened, and yet there was no making captive the words of the prince in understanding. prince tabnit was speaking the english, and every word was clearly audible and, moreover, was probably daily upon st. george's lips. but if it had been to ransom the rest of the world from its night he could not have understood what the prince was saying. every word was a word that belonged as much to st. george as to the prince; but in some unfathomable fashion the inner sense of what he said for ever eluded, dissolving in the air of which it was a part. and yet, past all doubting, st. george knew that he was hearing the essence of that strange knowledge which the isle of yaque had won while all the rest of mankind struggled for it--he knew with the certainty with which we recognize strange forces in a dozen of the every-day things of life, in electricity, in telepathy, in dreams. with the same certainty he realized that what the prince was saying would, if he could understand, lift a certain veil. here, put in words at last, was manifestly the secret, that catch of understanding without which men are groping in the dark, perhaps that mere pointing of relations which would make clear, without blasphemy, time and the future, rebirth and old existence, it might be; and certainly the accident of personality. here, crystallized, were the things that men almost know, the dream that has just escaped every one, the whisper in sleep that would have explained if one could remember when one woke, the word that has been thrillingly flashed to one in moments of absorption and has fled before one might catch the sound, the far hope of science, the glimpse that comes to dying eyes and is voiced in fragments by dying lips. here without penetrating the great reserve or tracing any principle to its beginning, was the truth about both. and st. george was powerless to receive it. he turned fearfully to olivia. ah--what if she did not guess anything of the meaning of what she was hearing? for one instant he knew all the misery of one whose friend stands on another star. but when he saw her uplifted face, her eager eyes and quick breath and her look divinely questioning his, he was certain that though she might not read the figures of the veil, yet she too knew how near, how near they stood; and to be with her on this side was dearer--nay, was nearer the secret--than without her to pass the veil that they touched. then he looked at amory; wouldn't old amory know, he wondered. wouldn't his mere understanding of news teach him what was happening? but old amory, the light flashing on his pince-nez, was keeping one eye on the prince and wondering if the chair that he had just placed for antoinette was not in the draught of the dome; and little antoinette was looking about her like a rosebud, new to the butterflies of june; and king otho was listening, languid, heavy-lidded, sensitive to little values, sophisticating the moment; and little cawthorne stood with eyes raised in simple, tolerant wonder; and the others, bennietod, mrs. hastings and mr. augustus frothingham, showed faces like the pools in which pebbles might be dropped, making no ripples--one must suppose that there are such pools, since there are certainly such faces. st. george saw how it was. here, spoken casually by the prince, just as the banal would speak of the visible and invisible worlds, here was the sesame of understanding toward which the centuries had striven, the secret of the link between two worlds; and here, of all mankind, were only they two to hear--they two and that motionless company who knew what the prince knew and who kept it sealed within their eyes. st. george looked at the multitude in swift understanding. they were like a greek chorus, signifying what is. they knew what the prince was saying, they had the secret and yet--they were _no nearer, no nearer_ than he. with their ancient kindliness naked in their faces, st. george knew that through his love he was as near to the source as were they. and it was suddenly as it had been that first night when he had stridden buoyantly through the island; for he could not tell which was the secret of the prince and of these people and which was the blessedness of his love. none the less he clung desperately to the last words of prince tabnit in a vain effort to hold, to make clear, to sophisticate one single phrase, as one waking in the night says over, in a vain effort to fix it, some phantom sentence cried to him in dreams by a shadowy band destined to be dissolved when, in bright day, he would reclaim it. he even managed frantically to write down a jumble of words of which he could make nothing, save here and there a phrase like a touch of hands from the silence: "...the infinite moment that is pending" ... "all is become a window where had been a wall" ... "the wintry vision" ... they were all words that beckon without replying. and all the time it was curiously as if the something silent within st. george himself, that so long had striven to speak, were crying out at last in the prince's words--and he could not understand. yet in spite of it all, in spite of this imminent satisfying of the strange, dreadful curiosity which possesses all mankind, st. george, even now, was far less keen to comprehend than he was to burst through the throng with olivia in his arms, gain the waiting _aloha_ and sail into the new york harbour with the prize that he had won. "i drink now to those among you and among all men who have won and kept that which is greater than these," the prince had said, and st. george perfectly understood. he had but to look at olivia to be triumphantly willing that the gods should keep their secrets about time and the link between the two worlds so long as they had given him love. what should he care about time? he had this hour. when the prince ceased speaking the hall was hushed; but because of the tempest in the hearts of them all the silence was as if a strong wind, sweeping powerfully through a forest, were to sway no boughs and lift no leaves, only to strive noiselessly round one who walked there. prince tabnit wrapped his white mantle about him and sat upon his throne. spell-stricken, they watched him, that great multitude, and might not turn away their eyes. slowly, imperceptibly, as time touches the familiar, the face of the prince took on its change--and one could not have told wherein the change lay, but subtly as the encroachment of the dark, or the alchemy of the leaves, or the betrayal of certain modes of death, the finger was upon him. while they watched he became an effigy, the hideous face of a fantasy of smoke against the night sky, with a formless hand lifted from among the delicate laces in farewell. there was no death--the horror was that there was no death. only this curse of age drying and withering at the bones. a long, whining cry came from cassyrus, who covered his face with his mantle and fled. the spell being broken, by common consent the great hall was once more in motion--st. george would never forget that tide toward all the great portals and the shuddering backward glances at the white heap upon the beetling throne. they fled away into the reassuring sunlight, leaving the echoless hall deserted, save for that breathing one upon the throne. there was one other. from somewhere beside the dais the woman elissa crept and knelt, clasping the knees of the man. [illustration] chapter xxi open secrets "will you have tea?" asked olivia. st. george brought a deck cushion and tucked it in the willow steamer chair and said adoringly that he would have tea. tea. in a world where the essentials and the inessentials are so deliciously confused, to think that tea, with some one else, can be a kind of heaven. "two lumps?" pursued olivia. "three, please," st. george directed, for the pure joy of watching her hands. there were no tongs. "aren't the rest going to have some?" olivia absently shared her attention, tinkling delicately about among the tea things. "doesn't every one want a cup of tea?" she inquired loud enough for nobody to hear. st. george, shifting his shoulder from the rail, looked vaguely over the deck of _the aloha_, sighed contentedly, and smiled back at her. no one else, it appeared, would have tea; and there was none to regret it. st. george's cursory inspection had revealed the others variously absorbed, though they were now all agreed in breathing easily since barnay, interlarding rational speech with irishisms of thanksgiving, had announced five minutes before that the fires were up and that in half an hour _the aloha_ might weigh anchor. the only thing now left to desire was to slip clear of the shadow of the black reaches of yaque, shouldering the blue. meanwhile, antoinette and amory sat in the comparative seclusion of the bow with their backs to the forward deck, and it was definitely manifest to every one how it would be with them, but every one was simply glad and dismissed the matter with that. mr. frothingham, in his steamer chair, looked like a soft collapsible tube of something; bennietod, at ease upon the uncovered boards of the deck, was circumspectly having cheese sandwiches and wastefully shooting the ship's rockets into the red sunset, in general celebration; and rollo, having taken occasion respectfully to submit to whomsoever it concerned that fact is ever stranger than fiction, had gone below. mr. otho holland and little cawthorne--but their smiles were like different names for the same thing--were toasting each other in something light and dry and having a bouquet which mr. holland, who ought to know, compared favourably with certain vintages of 1000 b.c. in a hammock near them reclined mrs. medora hastings, holding two kinds of smelling salts which invariably revived her simply by inducing the mental effort of deciding which was the better. her hair, which was exceedingly pretty, now rippled becomingly about her flushed face and was guiltless of side-combs--she had lost them both down a chasm in that headlong flight from the cliff's summit, and they irrecoverably reposed in the bed of some brook of the miocene period. and mrs. hastings, her hand in that of her brother, lay in utter silence, smiling up at him in serene content. for king otho of yaque was turning his back upon his island domain for ever. in that hurried flight across the eurychôrus among his distracted subjects, his resolution had been taken. jarvo and akko, the adieux to whom had been every one's sole regret in leaving the island, had miraculously found their way to the king and his party in their flight, and were despatched to mount khalak for such of their belongings as they could collect, and the island sovereign was well content. "ah well now," he had just observed, languidly surveying the tropical horizon through a cool glass of winking amber bubbles, "one must learn that to touch is far more delicate than to lift. it is more wonderful to have been the king of one moment than the ruler of many. it is better to have stood for an instant upon a rainbow than to have taken a morning walk through a field of clouds. the principle has long been understood, but few have had--shall i say the courage?--to practise it. yet 'courage' is a term from-the-shoulder, and what i require is a word of finger-tips, over-tones, ultra-rays--a word for the few who understand that to leave a thing is more exquisite than to outwear it. it is by its very fineness circumscribed--a feminine virtue. women understand it and keep it secret. i flatter myself that i have possessed the high moment, vanished against the noon. ah, my dear fellow--" he added, lifting his glass to st. george's smile. but little cawthorne--all reality in his heliotrope outing and duck and grey curls--raised a characteristic plaint. "oh, but i've done it," he mournfully reviewed. "when'll i ever be in another island, in front of another vacated throne? why didn't i move into the palace, and set up a natty, up-to-date little republic? i could have worn a crown as a matter of taste--what's the use of a democracy if you aren't free to wear a crown? and what kind of american am i, anyway, with this undeveloped taste for acquiring islands? if they ever find this out at the polls my vote'll be challenged. what?" "aw whee!" said bennietod, intent upon a roman candle, "wha' do you care, mr. cawt'orne? you don't hev to go back fer to be a child-slave to chillingwort'. me, i've gotta good call to jump overboard now an' be de sonny of a sea-horse, dead to rights!" st. george looked at them all affectionately, unconscious that already the experience of the last three days was slipping back into the sheathing past, like a blade used. but he was dawningly aware, as he sat there at olivia's feet in glorious content, that he was looking at them all with new eyes. it was as if he had found new names for them all; and until long afterward one does not know that these moments of bestowing new names mark the near breathing of the god. the silence of mrs. hastings and her quiet devotion to her brother somehow gave st. george a new respect for her. over by the wheel-house something made a strange noise of crying, and st. george saw that mr. frothingham sat holding a weird little animal, like a squirrel but for its stumpy tail and great human eyes, which he had unwittingly stepped on among the rocks. the little thing was licking his hand, and the old lawyer's face was softened and glowing as he nursed it and coaxed it with crumbs. as he looked, st. george warmed to them all in new fellowship and, too, in swift self-reproach; for in what had seemed to him but "broad lines and comic masks" he suddenly saw the authority and reality of homely hearts. the better and more intimate names for everything which seemed now within his grasp were more important than yaque itself. he remembered, with a thrill, how his mother had been wont to tell him that a man must walk through some sort of fairy-land, whether of imagination or of the heart, before he can put much in or take much from the market-place. and lo! this fairy-land of his finding had proved--must it not always prove?--the essence of all reality. his eyes went to olivia's face in a flash of understanding and belief. "don't you see?" he said, quite as if they two had been talking what he had thought. she waited, smiling a little, thrilled by his certainty of her sympathy. "none of this happened really," triumphantly explained st. george, "i met you at the boris, did i not? therefore, i think that since then you have graciously let me see you for the proper length of time, and at last we've fallen in love just as every one else does. and true lovers always do have trouble, do they not? so then, yaque has been the usual trouble and happiness, and here we are--engaged." "i'm not engaged," olivia protested serenely, "but i see what you mean. no, none of it happened," she gravely agreed. "it couldn't, you know. anybody will tell you that." in her eyes was the sparkle of understanding which made st. george love her more every time that it appeared. he noted, the white cloth frock, and the coat of hunting pink thrown across her chair, and he remembered that in the infinitesimal time that he had waited for her outside the palace of the litany, she must have exchanged for these the coronation robe and jewels of queen mitygen. st. george liked that swift practicality in the race of faery, though he was completely indifferent to mrs. hastings' and antoinette's claims to it; and he wondered if he were to love olivia more for everything that she did, how he could possibly live long enough to tell her. when one has been to yaque the simplest gifts and graces resolve themselves into this question. _the aloha_ gently freed herself from the shallow green pocket where she had lain through three eventful days, and slipped out toward the waste of water bound by the flaunting autumn of the west. an island wind, fragrant of bark and secret berries, blew in puffs from the steep. a gull swooped to her nest in a cranny of the basalt. from below a servant came on deck, his broad american face smiling over a tray of glasses and decanters and tinkling ice. it was all very tranquil and public and almost commonplace--just the high tropic seas at the moment of their unrestrained sundown, and the odour of tea-cakes about the pleasantly-littered deck. and for the moment, held by a common thought, every one kept silent. now that _the aloha_ was really moving toward home, the affair seemed suddenly such a gigantic impossibility that every one resented every one else's knowing what a trick had been played. it was as if the curtain had just fallen and the lights of the auditorium had flashed up after the third act, and they had all caught one another breathless or in tears, pretending that the tragedy had really happened. "promise me something," begged st. george softly, in sudden alarm, born of this inevitable aspect; "promise me that when we get to new york you are not going to forget all about yaque--and me--and believe that none of us ever happened." olivia looked toward the serene mystery of the distance. "new york," she said only, "think of seeing you in new york--now." "was i of more account in yaque?" demanded st. george anxiously. "sometimes," said olivia adorably, "i shall tell you that you were. but that will be only because i shall have an idea that in yaque you loved me more." "ah, very well then. and sometimes," said st. george contentedly, "when we are at dinner i shall look down the table at you sitting beside some one who is expounding some baneful literary theory, and i shall think: what do i care? he doesn't know that she is really the princess of far-away. but i do." "and he won't know anything about our motor ride, alone, the night that i was kidnapped, either--the literary-theory person," olivia tranquilly took away his breath by observing. st. george looked up at her quickly and, secretly, olivia thought that if he had been attractive when he was courageous he was doubly so with the present adorably abashed look in his eyes. "when--alone?" st. george asked unconvincingly. she laughed a little, looking down at him in a reproof that was all approbation, and to be reproved like that is the divinest praise. "how did you know?" protested st. george in fine indignation. "besides," he explained, "i haven't an idea what you mean." "i guessed about that ride," she went on, "the night before last, when you were walking up and down outside my window. i don't know what made me--and i think it was very forward of me. do you want to know something?" she demanded, looking away. "more than anything," declared st. george. "what?" "i think--" olivia said slowly, "that it began--then--just when i first thought how wonderful that ride would have been. except--that it had begun a great while before," she ended suddenly. and at these enigmatic words st. george sent a quick look over the forward deck. it was of no use. mr. frothingham was well within range. "heavens, good heavens, how happy i am," said st. george instead. "and then," olivia went on presently, "sometimes when there are a lot of people about--literary-theory persons and all--i shall look across at you, differently, and that will mean that you are to remember the exact minute when you looked in the window up at the palace, on the mountain, and i saw you. won't it?" "it will," said st. george fervently. "don't try to persuade me that there wasn't any such mountain," he challenged her. "i suppose," he added in wonder, "that lovers have been having these secret signs time out of mind--and we never knew." olivia drew a little breath of content. "bless everybody," she said. so they made invasion of that pure, dim world before them; and the serene mystery of the distance came like a thought, drawn from a state remote and immortal, to clasp the hand of there in the hand of here. "and then sometimes," st. george went on, his exultation proving greater than his discretion, "we'll take the yacht and pretend we're going back--" he stopped abruptly with a quick indrawn breath and the hope that she had not noticed. he was, by several seconds, too late. "whose yacht is it?" olivia asked promptly. "i wondered." st. george had dreaded the question. someway, now that it was all over and the prize was his, he was ashamed that he had not won it more fairly and humiliated that he was not what she believed him, a pillar of the _evening sentinel_. but amory had miraculously heard and turned himself about. "it's his," he said briefly, "i may as well confess to you, miss holland," he enlarged somewhat, "he's a great cheat. _the aloha_ is his, and so am i, busy body and idle soul, for using up his yacht and his time on a newspaper story. you were the 'story,' you know." "but," said olivia in bewilderment, "i don't understand. surely--" "nothing whatever is sure, miss holland," amory sadly assured her, but his eyes were smiling behind his pince-nez. "you would think one might be sure of him. but it isn't so. me, you may depend upon me," he impressed it lightly. "i'm what i say i am--a poor beggar of a newspaper man, about to be held to account by one chillingworth for this whole millenial occurrence, and sent off to a political convention to steady me, unless i'm fired. but st. george, he's a gay dilettante." then amory resumed a better topic of his own; and olivia, when she understood, looked down at her lover as miserably as one is able when one is perfectly happy. "oh," she said, "and up there--in the palace to-day--i did think for a minute that perhaps you wanted me to marry the prince so that--they could--." one could smile now at the enormity of that. "so that i could put it in the paper?" he said. "but, you see, i never could put it in any paper, even if i didn't love you. who would believe me? a thousand years from now--maybe less--the _evening sentinel_, if it is still in existence, can publish the story, perhaps. until then i'm afraid they'll have to confine themselves to the doings of the precincts." olivia waived the whole matter for one of vaster importance. "then why did you come to yaque?" she demanded. mr. frothingham had left his place by the wheel-house and wandered forward. the steamer chair had a back that was both broad and high, and one sitting in its shadow was hermetically veiled from the rest of the deck. so st. george bent forward, and told her. after that they sat in silence, and together they looked back toward the island with its black rocks smitten to momentary gold by a last javelin of light. there it lay--the land locking away as realities all the fairy-land of speculation, the land of the miracles of natural law. they had walked there, and had glimpsed the shadowy threshold of the morning. suppose, st. george thought, that instead of king otho, with his delicate sense of the merely visible, a great man had chanced to be made sovereign of yaque? and instead of mr. frothingham, slave to the contestable, and little cawthorne in bondage to humour, and amory and himself swept off their feet by a heavenly romance, suppose a party of savants and economists had arrived in yaque, with a poet or two to bring away the fire--what then? st. george lost the doubt in the noon of his own certainty. there could be no greater good, he chanted to the god who had breathed upon him, than this that he and amory shared now with the wise and simple world, the world of the resonant new names. he even doubted that, save in degree, there could be a purer talisman than the spirit that inextinguishably shone in the face of the childlike old lawyer as the strange little animal nestled in his coat and licked his hand. and these were open secrets. open secrets of the ultimate attainment. they watched the land dissolving in the darkness like a pearl in wine of night. but at last, when momentarily they had turned happy eyes to each other's faces, they looked again and found that the dusk, taking ancient citadels with soundless tread, had received the island. and where on the brow of the mountain had sprung the white pillars of the king's palace glittered only the early stars. "crown jewels," said olivia softly, "for everybody's head." 