Transcriber’s Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

The “Stranger” in the Cyclone.

FRANK NELSON SERIES.

THE
BOY TRADERS;
OR, THE
SPORTSMAN’S CLUB AMONG THE BOERS.

By HARRY CASTLEMON,

AUTHOR OF “THE GUNBOAT SERIES,” “SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES,” “ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES,” ETC.

PHILADELPHIA

HENRY T. COATES & CO.

CINCINNATI:

R. W. CARROLL & CO.

CONTENTS.

THE BOY TRADERS;

OR, THE

SPORTSMAN’S CLUB AMONG THE BOERS.

CHAPTER I.
THE SANDWICH ISLANDS.

“Now, Uncle Dick, what is the matter?”

The captain of the Stranger looked toward the companion-ladder, up which his nephew had just disappeared, and motioned to Frank to close the door.

“That is the fourth time I have seen you look at that barometer during the last half hour,” continued Frank.

“Yes, and I find it lower every time I look at it,” answered the old sailor. “It is coming; trotting right along, too.”

“What is coming? Another tornado?”

“No, a regular old-fashioned cyclone.”

“I declare, it don’t seem to me that the schooner can stand much more pounding,” said Frank, drawing a long breath.

“Oh, she is good for a dozen battles like the one she has just passed through,” continued Uncle Dick, encouragingly. “Give me a tight craft, a good crew, and plenty of elbow-room, and I would much rather be afloat during a storm than on shore. There are no trees, chimneys, or roofs to fall on us here.”

“But we haven’t plenty of elbow-room,” said Frank, somewhat anxiously. “The islands are scattered around here thicker than huckleberry bushes in a New England pasture, and they are all surrounded with coral reefs, too.”

“I know it; but it is our business to keep clear of the coral reefs. Now, let me see how much you know. Where’s the schooner?”

Frank, who now occupied his old position as sailing-master of the vessel, took a chart from Uncle Dick’s desk, and pointed out the position of their little craft, which he had marked with a red lead-pencil after taking his observation at noon.

“Very good,” said Uncle Dick. “Which side of the equator are we?”

“South,” answered Frank.

“How many motions have cyclones?”

“Two; rotary and progressive.”

“Which way do they revolve in the Southern hemisphere?”

“In the same direction that the sun appears to move.”

“Correct. Now, suppose that while you were in command of the Tycoon, you had found out that there was a cyclone coming—”

“I’m afraid I shouldn’t have found it out,” interrupted Frank, “for I don’t know what the signs are.”

“But we will suppose that you knew all about it. After you have seen one or two, you will know how to tell when they are coming. We will suppose, now, that a cyclone comes up, and that the wind blows strongly from the northwest. Which way from you is the centre of the storm?”

“Southwest.”

“And which way is it coming?”

“Toward the southeast.”

“Then if you bore away to the southwest you would escape, of course?”

“No, sir; I should probably insure my destruction, for I should sail straight into the vortex. A northeasterly course would soon take me out of danger.”

“Yes, you would get out of danger that way, but how soon I don’t know. The paths of some of these hurricanes are a thousand miles broad. You’ll do, however, and you are a very good boy to learn your lesson so well.”

“Shall I go to the head?” asked Frank, with a laugh.

The last time we saw the members of the Sportsman’s Club, they had just found Frank Nelson after a long separation from him. Their vessel was lying in the harbor of Honolulu; Captain Barclay, the wounded commander of the whaler, had been taken to a hospital on shore; his ship, the Tycoon, had passed through the hands of the American consul, who placed a new captain aboard of her with orders to take her to the States, where she belonged; and for the first time in long weeks the Club were free from excitement, and had leisure to sit down and calmly talk over the adventures that had befallen them, and the exploits they had performed since leaving home.

They had many things to converse about, as we know, and some of their number had reason to feel elated over what they had done. Walter had been a hero for once in his life, for had he not been captured by robbers, who believed him to be somebody else, been confined in Potter’s ranche, and held as a hostage for the chief of the band who was a prisoner in the fort? That was the worst predicament that Walter had ever been in, and it was no wonder that there was a warm place in his heart for Dick Lewis and Bob Kelly, the men who had rescued him from his perilous situation.

Archie Winters was also a hero, for he had lassoed and ridden the wild horse which had so long defied all efforts to capture him, and would in all probability have given him, in a few days more, into the possession of his lawful owner, Colonel Gaylord, had not he and his two friends, Fred and Eugene, unfortunately stumbled upon Zack and Silas, the trappers who robbed the emigrant. One thing made Archie hug himself with delight every time he thought of the various exciting incidents that happened while he remained in the trappers’ company, and that was, that Zack and Silas did not get the million dollars after all. He laughed outright when he remembered how astounded and enraged they were to find that the box, which they supposed was filled with nuggets and gold-dust, contained nothing but a small brass machine something like the works of a clock. Archie wondered what had become of the hospitable Pike, and whether or not he had succeeded in putting his machine together again, and running his quartz mill with it.

But while the members of the Club gave to Walter and Archie all the credit which their adventures and achievements demanded, they were unanimous in according the lion’s share of praise to Frank Nelson, who had brought himself safely out of a predicament, the like of which the boys had never heard of before. It seemed almost impossible that one who had been “shanghaied” and thrust into the forecastle of a whale-ship to do duty as a common sailor, should, in so short a time and by sheer force of character, have worked his way to the quarter-deck, and into a position for which only men of years and experience are thought to be qualified. But they had abundant evidence that such was the fact. There was a witness in the person of the trapper, who was kidnapped at the same time, and who had escaped in a manner so remarkable that even Uncle Dick, who had seen a world of marvellous things, said the same feat could not be performed again under like circumstances. Besides, the boys had seen Frank on the Tycoon’s quarter-deck, had heard him give orders that were promptly obeyed, had messed with him in his cabin, and he had brought them safely into the harbor of Honolulu, beating the swift little Stranger out of sight on the way.

As for Frank himself, he was very well satisfied with what he had done, and often declared that an adventure which, at first, threatened to terminate in something serious, had had a most agreeable ending. His forced sojourn on the Tycoon and all the incidents that had happened during that time—the sight of the first whale he ever struck coming up on a breach close in front of his boat, and looming up in the air like a church steeple; the excessive fatigue that followed the long hours spent in cutting in and trying out; the sleepless nights; the days and weeks of suspense he had endured; the race and the desperate battle under a broiling sun he had had in Mr. Gale’s boat on the day Captain Barclay deserted him; the fight with the natives at the Mangrove Islands, and the rescue of the prisoners—all these things would have seemed like a dream to Frank now, had it not been for the large callous spots on the palms of his hands, which had been brought there by handling heavy oars and by constant pulling at tarred ropes. The sight of these recalled very forcibly to his mind the days and nights of toil which sometimes tested his strength and endurance so severely that he hardly expected to live through them. Nothing could have tempted him to submit to the same trials again, but now that they were all over and he was safe among friends once more, he would not have sold his experience at any price.

The Stranger remained at the Sandwich Islands three weeks, and during that time the boys saw everything of interest there was to be seen. Eugene, who was impatient to get ashore to see how the “savages” lived, was quite astonished when his brother informed him that the natives were considered to be the most generally educated people in the world; that there was scarcely a man, woman, or child of suitable age among them who could not read and write; that they had contributed a goodly sum of money to the Sanitary Commission during our late war; that they had sent a good many men to serve in our army and navy; and that among them were a brigadier-general, a major, and several officers of lower grade. Eugene could hardly believe it; but when he got ashore and saw the fine hotel erected by the government at a cost of one hundred and twenty thousand dollars, the prison, hospital, churches, and school-houses, he was obliged to confess that he was among civilized people. Frank and Archie were equally astonished at the familiar appearance of things, and told their Southern friends that if they could imagine how Honolulu would look without the bananas, palm, and tamarind trees, they could tell exactly how the majority of New England villages looked.

The first Sunday the Club spent ashore they went to the seaman’s chapel to hear Father Damon preach to the sailors; and the next day they hired horses, a pack-mule, and guides for a ride around the island. This was a great relief to them, especially to Dick and Bob, for it gave them a taste of the frontier life to which they had so long been accustomed. They were all glad to find themselves on horseback once more; so they journeyed very leisurely, and the ride, which could easily have been accomplished in four days, consumed the best part of eight.

Having explored Oahu pretty thoroughly, the Club returned on board the Stranger, which set sail for Hilo in the island of Hawaii, which place they reached after a rough passage of four days. At Hilo—the town has been devastated by a tidal wave since the Club visited it—they had their first view of a sport for which the natives of these islands are so famous—swimming with the surf-board. It was a fine, not to say a thrilling sight to see a party of men, some of whom were lying, others kneeling, and still others standing erect upon boards which seemed scarcely large enough to support their weight, shooting towards the beach with almost railroad speed, closely followed by a huge comber that seemed every instant to be on the point of overwhelming them. The grace and skill exhibited by the swimmers made the feat appear very easy of accomplishment, and after watching the bathers for a few minutes, Eugene declared that he could do it as well as anybody, and dared Archie to get a board somewhere and go into the water with him.

“Find a board yourself, and see if I am afraid to follow where you dare lead,” was Archie’s prompt reply; and to show that he meant what he said, he pulled off his jacket and threw it on the sand.

“Now, Archie,” remonstrated Frank, “I wouldn’t undertake anything I was certain to make a failure of, if I were you. You can’t get beyond the surf to save your life.”

“I’d like to know if I can’t duck my head and let a billow pass over me as well as anybody?”

“No, you can’t.”

“There’s where you are mistaken. You’ll see. Our countrymen can dive deeper and come out drier than any people in the world, not even excepting these Sandwich Islanders. I’ll go as far as my leader goes, you may rely upon that. Say, Mr. Kanaker,” added Archie, approaching a stalwart swimmer who had just been landed high and dry by a huge billow, “you gives me board, I gives you, quarter, eh?”

The native smiled good-naturedly and astonished Archie by replying in plain English, and in much better terms than he had used—

“You may have it certainly, but I wouldn’t advise you to try it.”

While Archie stood perplexed and bewildered, wondering how he ought to apologize to the man for addressing him in such a way, the latter continued, “I think your friend has given up the idea of going out.”

Archie looked toward Eugene, and saw that he was standing with his boots in his hand, gazing intently toward the water. He glanced in the same direction, and was just in time to see a swimmer overtaken by a huge comber, and carried out of sight in an instant. Archie was greatly alarmed, and expected to see the man dashed stunned and bruised on the beach; but presently a head bobbed up and out of the water beyond the breaker, and the bold swimmer, still safe and sound and undismayed by his failure, struck out for another trial, diving under the waves as they came rolling in, and finally made his way to the smooth water, half a mile from shore, where he waited for another high swell to carry him in. That was as near as Archie and Eugene ever came to trying their skill with the surf-board. One picked up his jacket, the other pulled on his boots, and as both these acts were performed at the same time, neither could consistently accuse the other of backing out.

The first excursion the Club made from Hilo was to a bay, with an unpronounceable name, on the opposite side of the island, the scene of Captain Cook’s death; and the next was to the volcano of Kilauea, the largest active crater in the world. The trappers, who accompanied the Club wherever they went, set out on this last expedition with fear and trembling. The boys had explained to them the theory of volcanoes as best they could, and to say that the backwoodsmen were astonished would but feebly express their feelings. They had never heard of a burning mountain before, and they were overwhelmed with awe. The statement that there was a hole in the ground three miles long, a mile broad, and a thousand feet deep, containing two lakes filled with something that looked like red-hot iron, was almost too much for them to believe; but the Club promised to show it to them, and so the trappers mounted their horses and set out with the rest. But they went no farther than the Volcano House, at which the party stopped for the night. The Club and Uncle Dick took up their quarters in the house, but the trappers preferred spreading their blankets on the veranda. Some time during the night the rainstorm, that had set in just before dark, cleared away, and old Bob, who happened to be awake, suddenly caught sight of something that terrified him beyond measure. He aroused his companion, and the two sat there on the veranda until morning looking at it. The top of the mountain which had been pointed out to them as the volcano, seemed to be on fire, and now and then sheets of flame would shoot up above the summit, lighting up the clouds overhead, until it seemed to the two anxious watchers that the whole heavens were about to be consumed.

By the time daylight came they had seen enough of volcanoes, and emphatically refused to go another step toward the crater. There was something up there, they said, that must be dreadful to look at, and they didn’t want to get any nearer to it. The boys went, however, and descended into the crater, and filled their pockets with chunks of lava, saw the burning lakes, breathed the sulphurous fumes that arose from them, walked over a fiery, molten mass from which they were separated by only fourteen inches of something Uncle Dick said was cold lava, but which was still so hot that it burned the soles of their boots, and finally came back to the Volcano House again at five o’clock, with minds so deeply impressed by what they had seen that it could never be forgotten. They did not have much to say about their journey—they wanted to keep still and think about it; but when at last their tongues were loosed, the burning lakes were the only subjects of their conversation until the new and novel sights of another country took possession of their minds and thoughts for the time being.

The trappers were also wonderfully impressed, though in a different way. They were frightened again, and after that they had many long and earnest debates on the subject of an immediate return to America. But when they came to talk it over and ask the advice of others, they found that there were many obstacles in their way. Dick Lewis remembered and feared the boarding-house keeper, while old Bob was afraid to trust himself to any vessel besides the Stranger. Neither he nor Dick wanted to cross the Pacific again, for what if one of those big “quids,” or the mother of that baby whale they had seen, should meet them and send them to the bottom? No, they dared not go back, and they dreaded to go on. There were dangers before as well as behind. New and wonderful sights were being brought to their notice every day, and there were many others yet to come that they had often heard the boys talk about. There were animals called lions and tigers, as fierce as panthers, only a great deal larger and stronger, some of which were so bold that they would rush into a settlement in broad daylight, and carry off the first man that came in their way. There were other animals called elephants, that stood as high at the shoulders as the roof of Potter’s rancho, whose teeth weighed fifty pounds apiece, and one of whose feet was so heavy that it took two strong men to shoulder it. There were serpents so enormous that they could crush and swallow a deer or a human being, and others so numerous and deadly that more than thirty thousand people had died in one year from the effects of their bites. And, more wonderful than all, here was Uncle Dick, who had brought them safely through so many dangers, and who had met and vanquished all these monsters, and he was going straight back to the countries where they were to be found! He was going to take his nephews and Frank there too, and the reckless youngsters were eager to go. The trappers couldn’t understand it. They didn’t mind an occasional brush with Indians and grizzlies—they rather enjoyed it; but the thought of a single man boldly attacking an animal as large as a house was enough to terrify them.

The trappers talked these matters over at every opportunity, and finally decided that they would rather meet the dangers yet to come, provided they could do so in Uncle Dick’s company and Frank’s, than go back alone and face those they had left behind them. They announced this decision quietly, like men who had determined to bravely meet the fate they could not avert, and suffered themselves to be carried away to new countries and new dangers on the other side of the Pacific.

CHAPTER II.
THE GALE.

The Sandwich Islands having been thoroughly explored, the Stranger set sail for the harbor of Hilo, and shaped her course across the Pacific. Japan was the Club’s destination, but they were in no hurry to get there, and besides there were objects of interest to be seen on the way. There were numerous islands to be visited, and among them were the Mangroves. The boys were anxious to see the place where the fight with the natives occurred, and Uncle Dick, yielding to their entreaties, told Frank to take the schooner there, a command which he gladly obeyed. The boys would also have been delighted could they have seen the village which had been burned by Frank’s orders. They tried to induce Uncle Dick to let them go there, giving as a reason for this insane desire that possibly the savages might be holding other prisoners whom they could release. But the old sailor settled that matter very quickly. He wasn’t going to put his vessel and crew in danger for nothing, that was certain. The boys might go ashore after terrapins if the schooner stopped in the bay over night, and that was all they could do.

When they arrived in sight of the principal island, and had approached within a mile of the beach, Uncle Dick said to Frank:

“The natives of course know by this time that we are coming, and to show them that we are prepared to take care of ourselves, wouldn’t it be a good plan to kick up a little dust out there with a thirty-pound shot?”

“I think it would,” answered Frank. “As our vessel is small, they will know that we have a small crew, and the noise of a shell or two whistling through the trees may save us from an attack if we lie at anchor all night.”

Since leaving Bellville the crew had been drilled in the use of small arms and in handling the big guns almost as regularly as though the Stranger had been a little man-of-war; but none of the pieces had ever spoken yet, and the Club were delighted with the prospect of hearing Long Tom’s voice. The crew were at once piped to quarters, the shifting men took their place about the thirty-pounder (the vessel’s company was too small to allow of a full crew for each of the three guns), and in response to the old familiar order, “Cast loose and provide,” which they had all heard many a time when it meant something besides shelling an unoccupied piece of woods, quickly stripped off the canvas covering and made the piece ready for business. A cartridge was driven home, a shell placed on top of it, the gun was trained in accordance with Frank’s desires, the second captain lowered the breech a little, the first captain raised his hand, and the crew stood back out of the way.

“Fire!” said Frank.

The first captain pulled the lock-string, and the little vessel trembled all over as Long Tom belched forth its contents. Then something happened that the Club had not looked for. As the smoke arose from the mouth of the cannon, a crowd of natives, who had been lying concealed behind the rocks on the beach, jumped to their feet and ran with all haste into the woods. The shell ploughed through the trees above their heads, and exploding, sent up a cloud of white smoke to mark the spot.

“That was pretty close to some of them, Frank,” said Uncle Dick.

“It is no matter if it hurt some of them,” said Frank, in reply. “They had an ambush ready for us, didn’t they? Suppose we had been out of water, and had sent a boat’s-crew ashore after some? There wouldn’t a man of them have come back to us.”

Three more shells followed the first, being thrown toward other points on the island, to show the treacherous inhabitants that the schooner’s company could reach a good portion of their territory if they felt so disposed, and then the cannon was taken in charge by the quarter-gunner, who, after rubbing it inside and out until it shone like a mirror, put on its canvas covering again. A few minutes afterward, the Stranger dropped anchor in the bay, near the spot where the Tycoon had been moored when attacked by the natives.

“This is the place,” said Frank, to the boys who gathered around to hear once more the story of the thrilling scenes that had been enacted in that lonely spot but a few short weeks before. “Here is where the ship was anchored, and that creek over there was the ambush from which the canoes came. The boats’ crews who went ashore after water were attacked on that white beach you see off the port bow, and there was where we landed when we went out to burn the village, which was located about three-quarters of a mile from the beach.”

The boys could understand Frank’s description of the fight now that they saw before them the very spot in which it had taken place. They listened to the story as attentively as though they had never heard it before, and ran down to supper telling one another that they would see and learn more in the morning when they went ashore after terrapins. “And I hope that then the natives will try and see what we are made of,” said Eugene to Archie, in a confidential whisper. “My new Henry rifle that I bought in ’Frisco to replace the one Jack stole from me will rust for want of use if it lies in its case much longer.”

“I hope we shall have a chance to rescue the prisoners they are still holding,” said Archie. “It must be dreadful to pass one’s life here among these heathen. The worst part of such a captivity to me would be the knowledge that every now and then friends came here who would be only too willing to take me off if I could only get to them. I wish there were enough of us to take the island.”

Probably the prisoners who were still in the hands of the natives wished the same thing. Perhaps, too, they had some hopes of rescue when they heard the roar of the thirty-pounder awaking the echoes among the hills. But the schooner’s company was in no situation to render them assistance, and the Club were now as near the island as they ever went. While they were at supper, the officer of the deck suddenly descended the companion-ladder and interrupted the lively conversation that was going on by asking the captain if he would come on deck a minute. Uncle Dick went, and had hardly disappeared before the boys heard the boatswain’s whistle, followed by the order: “All hands stand by to get the ship under way.”

With one accord the Club dropped their knives and forks and ran up the ladder to see what was the occasion of the order; some of them being in such a hurry that they did not stop to find their caps.

“Master Frank,” said Dick Lewis, who met his young friend at the top of the ladder, “is that a quid out thar? Is that ole whale comin’ to ax the cap’n what he’s done with her baby?”

The trapper pointed seaward, and Frank, looking in the direction indicated by his finger, saw a dark cloud rising rapidly in the horizon, and beneath it a long line of foam and a dense bank of mist that was moving toward the island.

“Rodgers says we’re done for now,” continued Dick, whose face was white as a sheet. “He says me and Bob never seed a whale yet, but will see one now; that is, if we have a chance to see anything afore she opens her mouth and sends us to—, to—; what sort of a place did he say that was, Bob?” inquired Dick, turning to his frightened companion, who stood close beside him.

“I don’t know; somebody’s cupboard,” replied Bob.

“Davy Jones’s locker, most likely,” explained Frank. “Now, Dick, when Rodgers or anyone else, says such a thing to you again, you just tell him that you know better. We’re going to have a blow, that’s all. You have seen enough of them among the mountains and on the prairies to know what they are.”

“But, whar be we goin’?” asked Dick, seeing that the Stranger was walking rapidly up to her anchor.

“We’re going out, of course.”

“In the face and eyes of it?” gasped the trapper, looking dubious at the angry clouds, whose appearance was indeed most threatening. “Why don’t we stay here whar we’re safe?”

“Because we are not safe here. This is the most dangerous spot we could be in. The wind will blow directly on shore, and the waves will come rolling in here as high as the crosstrees. The first one that struck us would carry us out there in the woods.”

“Then, let’s take our shootin’ irons an’ go ashore,” said Dick. “I’d sooner fight the niggers than stay on this little boat and be drownded.”

“And what would we do with the schooner? Leave her to take care of herself? That’s a pretty idea, isn’t it? She would be smashed into kindling-wood on the beach, and then how would we ever get home again? No, no, Dick; we must take care of the vessel first, so we are going out where we shall have plenty of room. I wish we were out there now,” added Frank, anxiously, as he directed his gaze toward a high rocky promontory which jutted out into the water a mile in advance of them. “That point is a pretty long one, and if we don’t weather it before the storm breaks it will be good-bye, Stranger, and Sportsman’s Club, too.”

“Never fear,” exclaimed Uncle Dick, who happened to overhear this last remark. “We’ve got a capful of wind, and that is all we need to make an offing. Once off this lee-shore, we shall have plenty of room, unless we are blown up against the Ladrone Islands.”

“And about the time that happens, look out for pirates,” said Eugene.

“What’s them?” asked Dick.

“Oh, they are wild, lawless men, like Allen and Black Bill,” replied Eugene.

The trapper’s brow cleared at once. He was not afraid of lawless men, for he had met too many of them during his career on the plains. He was perfectly willing to meet anything that could be resisted by the weapons to which he had been accustomed from his earliest boyhood, but storms like this that was now approaching, and whales and “quids,” that could destroy a vessel, and elephants as large as a house, Dick did not want to see.

The Stranger was under sail in a very few minutes, and with all her canvas spread she began to move away from the dangerous shore under her lee. What little wind there was stirring was rapidly dying away, but it blew long enough to enable the little vessel to pass the threatening point which Frank so much dreaded, and then sail was quickly shortened, and every preparation made to meet the on-coming tempest.

“Go below, now, boys,” said Uncle Dick, as he came out of the cabin with his oilcloth suit on, and his speaking-trumpet in his hand. “I am going to batten down everything. Take Dick and Bob with you.”

Before the trappers could refuse to go, as they would probably have done had they been allowed time to think, they were pulled down into the cabin, and the door, being closed behind them, was covered with a tarpaulin; so were the skylights, and thus the cabin was made so dark that the boys could scarcely distinguish one another’s features. This was the first time these precautions had been taken since rounding Cape Horn, and the boys made up their minds that the storm was going to be a severe one.

“I don’t like this at all,” said Eugene. “I’d much rather go on deck and face it.”

“You are safer here, for there is no danger of being washed overboard,” said Featherweight.

“But I want to see what is going on,” said Eugene. “I can’t bear to be shut up in this way.”

“How would you like to belong to the crew of a monitor?” asked George. “In action, or during a storm at sea, the crew are all below, and they are kept there by heavy iron gratings.”

“Whew!” exclaimed Eugene. “They must be regular coffins.”

“They sometimes prove to be, that’s a fact. The Tecumseh was blown up by a torpedo in Mobile harbor, and went to the bottom, carrying one hundred and twelve men with her.”

“Human natur’!” shrieked Dick, as all the occupants of the cabin were thrown from their seats by the sudden lurching of the vessel. “We’re goin’, too! We’re goin’, too!”

“Oh, no,” replied Frank, picking himself up from under the table, where he had been pitched headlong. “That was only the first touch of the storm.”

“Well, if that’s a touch, I sincerely hope that we shall not get a blow,” said Archie, crawling back to his seat and rubbing his elbow with one hand and his head with the other.

“She will soon come right side up,” said Frank.

But to Dick and Bob, and even to some of the other occupants of the cabin, it seemed for a few minutes as though the Stranger was destined to come wrong side up. She heeled over until the floor stood at such an angle that it was useless for one to attempt to retain an upright position, and the boys were knocked and bumped about in a way that was quite bewildering. But she came up to a nearly even keel at last, as Frank had said she would, and then the boys could tell, confined as they were, that she was travelling through the water at a tremendous rate of speed. They looked out at the bull’s-eyes, but could gain no idea of the state of affairs outside, for the glasses were obscured by the rain and by the spray which was driven from the tops of the waves. The waves must have rolled mountains high, judging by the way their little vessel was tossed about by them, and the wind roared and screeched so loudly that the boys could not hear a single order, or even the tramping of the sailors’ feet as they passed over their heads. So completely were all sounds of life above decks shut out from them, that the Club might have thought that the captain and all his crew had been swept overboard, had it not been for the steady course the vessel pursued. That told them that there was somebody watching over them, and that there was a skilful and trusty hand at the helm.

The storm continued with unabated fury all the night long, but with the rising of the sun the wind died away almost as suddenly as it had arisen, the tarpaulin was thrown off, and the captain came into the cabin looking like anything in the world except a man who had spent the last twelve hours in fighting a gale. He looked as jolly and good-natured as though he had just arisen from a refreshing sleep.

“Well, Uncle Dick, this is rather more than a sailing wind, isn’t it?” asked Eugene.

“Rather,” was the laughing reply. “But the worst of it is over now. We shall have a heavy sea for a few hours, but that will not prevent us from fixing up a little. It was one of the hardest gales I ever experienced; and if the Mangrove Islands had been under our lee when it struck us—”

The old sailor shrugged his shoulders, and the boys knew what he meant by it.

“You said something about fixing up a little,” said Frank. “Was anything carried away?”

Uncle Dick nodded his head, and the Club went on deck in a body to take a survey of the schooner. She did not look much like the Stranger of the day before, and the boys wondered how she could have received so much damage without their knowing anything about it. The flying jibboom was gone, and so were both the topmasts. Some of the ratlines had parted and were streaming out straight in the wind like signals of distress, the port bulwarks were smashed in, the deck was littered with various odds and ends, life-lines were stretched along the sides, and altogether the handsome little craft looked very unlike herself. What must have been the power of the elements to work all this ruin to a stanch craft which had been built solely for strength and safety? It must have been tremendous, and the boys were reminded that all danger from it had not yet passed when they looked at the man who was lashed to the helm. Presently they received another convincing proof of the fact. The officer of the deck suddenly called out, “Hold fast, everybody!” and the boys looked up just in time to see the schooner plunge her nose into a huge billow which curled up over her bow, and breaking into a small Niagara Falls, washed across the deck, sweeping it clean of everything movable, and carrying with it one of the sailors, who missed the life-line at which he grasped. Ready hands were stretched out to his assistance, but the man saved himself by clutching at the life-rail and holding fast to it.

The Club knew now how the bulwarks had been smashed in. The wave filled the deck almost waist deep, and they were astounded at the force with which it swept along. That portion of it which did not flow down into the cabin passed out through the scuppers, leaving behind it a party of youngsters with very wet skins and pale faces, who clung desperately to the life-lines, and looked hastily about to see if any of their number were missing. Their fears on this score being set at rest, they glanced down into the cabin to see how Uncle Dick was getting on. The old sailor was holding fast to the table and standing up to his knees in water, but he had nothing to say. He was used to such things.

“Why don’t we lay to till the storm subsides?” said Eugene, slapping his wet trowsers and holding up first one foot and then the other to let the water run out of his boots.

“The gale is over now,” said the officer of the deck; “but we can’t expect the sea to go down at once after such a stirring up as it had last night.”

Although the waves did not go down immediately, they subsided gradually, so that the men could be set to work to repair the damage done during the storm. At the end of a week the Stranger looked as good as new, and was ready for another and still more severe test of her strength, which came all too soon, and promised for the time being to bring the Club’s voyage to an abrupt ending.

CHAPTER III.
THE LAST OF LONG TOM.

For four weeks succeeding the gale the weather was delightful. Propelled by favoring breezes the Stranger sped rapidly on her way, stopping now and then at some point of interest long enough to allow the boys to stretch their cramped limbs on shore, a privilege of which they were always glad to avail themselves. Eugene found ample opportunity to try his new Henry rifle on the various species of birds and animals with which some of the islands abounded, and the others collected such a supply of curiosities, in the shape of weapons and ornaments, which they purchased from the natives, that the cabin of the Stranger soon began to look like a little museum. The Club’s absent friends, Chase and Wilson, were not forgotten. If one of their number found any curiosities of special value, such as bows and arrows, spears, headdresses, or cooking utensils, he always tried to procure more just like them to send to the two boys in Bellville. Everything passed off smoothly for four weeks, as we have said, and then the members of the Club, having made up their minds that they had seen enough of the islands of the Pacific, began to urge Uncle Dick to shape the schooner’s course toward Japan. On this same day Frank noticed, with some uneasiness, that the captain seemed to be very much interested in his barometer, so much so that he paid frequent visits to it; and every time he looked at it he would come out of his cabin and run his eye all around the horizon as if he were searching for something. But he said nothing, and neither did Frank until dinner was over, and Archie and George and the rest of the Club had ascended to the deck. Then he thought it time to make some inquiries, and the result was the conversation we have recorded at the beginning of our first chapter.

“A cyclone!” thought Frank, with a sinking at his heart such as he had frequently felt when threatened by some terrible danger. The very name had something appalling in it. There they were, surrounded by treacherous reefs which rendered navigation extremely difficult and dangerous, even under the most favorable circumstances, and Uncle Dick knew that there was a hurricane approaching, and still he allowed his vessel to run along with all her sails spread. Frank had read of shipmasters ordering in every stitch of canvas on the very first indication of an approaching storm, and wondered why Uncle Dick did not do the same.

The old sailor filled his pipe for his after-dinner smoke, and Frank went on deck to see how things looked there. Then he found that some precautions had already been taken to insure the safety of the schooner and her company. The islands, which clustered so thickly on all sides of them in the morning, were further away now, and were all lying astern. In front and on both sides of them nothing was to be seen but the sky and the blue water. Uncle Dick meant to have plenty of elbow-room.

The first thing that attracted Frank’s attention after he had noted the position of the islands, was the unusual gloom and silence that seemed to prevail everywhere. The men who were gathered about the capstan conversed in almost inaudible tones, the two mates seemed to be wholly absorbed in their own reflections and in watching the horizon; and even the voices of the merry group on the quarter-deck were tuned to a lower key. The wind whistled through the cordage as usual, the water bubbled up under the bows, the masts and yards creaked and groaned, but all these sounds were subdued—were uttered in a whisper, so to speak, as if the schooner and the element through which she was passing were depressed in the same degree and manner that Frank and the rest were. Away off to the eastward he now discovered a large ship, standing along with all her canvas spread that would catch the wind. Frank was glad to see her. During the fearful convulsion that was to follow he thought it would be a great comfort to know that he and his companions were not alone on the deep—that there were human beings near who might be able to extend a helping hand if they got into trouble. Somebody did get into trouble, and help was needed and freely and promptly given; but it was not to the Stranger or her crew.

“How far is it, Mr. Baldwin?” asked Frank.

“It is close at hand,” was the reply. “Half an hour will tell the story.”

“Why didn’t we take in something then, and get ready for it?” inquired Frank.

“Why, we want to run away from it, don’t we? How could we do it with everything furled? You may safely trust the captain. There’s a heap of knowledge under those gray hairs of his.”

“I know that,” returned Frank, quickly. “I only asked for information.”

“You see,” continued the officer, “hurricanes are not like ordinary gales. The wind moves in a circle, and at the same time the body of the storm has a motion in a straight line. The pressure of the atmosphere is less the nearer you get to the outside of the storm, and greater as you approach the centre; while if you should get into the very centre of it, you wouldn’t feel any wind at all.”

“Has that been proved, or is it merely supposition?” asked Frank.

“It has been proved in a hundred cases, and once in my own experience. It happened two years ago, and off the Mauritius. It began with a rather stiff breeze, which in two hours increased to a gale, and in two more to the worst hurricane I ever saw in my life. It blew squarely from the northeast, and when it got so hard that it seemed as if wood and iron couldn’t stand it an instant longer, there came a calm quicker than you could say Jack Robinson, and there wasn’t a breath of air stirring. This lasted fifteen minutes, and then without any warning the wind began again with the most terrible screech I ever heard, and blew from the southwest as hard as ever. Now, we don’t propose to get in there with this little craft. As soon as we can tell which way it is coming from we’ll run off in another direction and get out of its track. There’s the first puff of it now,” said the officer, as a strong gust of wind filled the sails, and the schooner began to careen under the pressure. “Keep her steady, there.”

Mr. Baldwin started toward the cabin, but Uncle Dick was on the alert, and came up the ladder in two jumps. He looked at the compass, made sure of the direction of the wind, then issued some hasty orders, and in five minutes more the Stranger was bounding away on another tack, and in a direction lying almost at right angles with the one she had been following. This was the time for Frank to see if his ideas were correct. He looked at the compass and found that the wind was coming from the northeast, coming pretty strong, too, which proved that they must be some distance inside of the outer circle of the storm. It proved, too, that the centre of the storm lay to the northwest of them, and as it was moving toward the southeast, of course it was coming directly toward them. The shortest way out of its path lay in a southwesterly direction, and that was the way the schooner was heading, as he saw by another glance at the compass. It took him some time to think these points all out, but Uncle Dick, aided by the skill acquired by long experience, had decided them without a moment’s delay.

“What was the old course, quartermaster?” asked Frank.

“Nor’west, one-half west, sir,” was the answer.

“We were holding as straight for it as we could go,” said Frank, drawing a long breath. “In a little while we’d have been in the very midst of it.”

“In the midst of what?” asked Walter, who with the rest of the Club had watched Uncle Dick’s movements in surprise. “What is the trouble, and why was the course of the vessel changed so suddenly?”

It required but a few minutes for Frank to make his explanations, and then there were other interested ones aboard the schooner who watched the progress of the storm with no little anxiety. They noticed with much satisfaction that the strange ship to the eastward was keeping company with them; that she also had changed her course, and was sailing in a direction parallel to the one the Stranger was following. This proved that her captain’s calculations had led to the same result as those of Uncle Dick.

The wind steadily increased in force for almost four hours, being accompanied at the last by the most terrific thunder and lightning, and by such blinding sheets of rain that the boys and the trappers were driven to the cabin and kept close prisoners there. This was all they felt and all they knew of that cyclone until a long time afterward, when, in another part of the world and under more agreeable circumstances, Eugene received a paper from his friend Chase, accompanied by a letter which contained this paragraph:

“I send you to-day a copy of the Herald, in which appears an account of a terrible and most destructive storm that happened down there somewhere. As the last letter you sent me was written while you were approaching the Mangrove Islands, where Nelson performed the exploit that made him master of the Tycoon, I felt a little uneasy, fearing that you might have been caught out in it. Did you see the waves that flooded the islands named in the article referred to, and did you feel the wind that twisted off large trees as if they had been pipe-stems, and carried the tops so far away that they were never seen afterwards?”

No, the Club saw and felt none of these, but they did see and feel the effects of the protracted gale that set in at the close of that eventful day, and never abated until the Stranger had been completely dismantled, and her consort, the large ship that hove in sight just before the storm commenced, driven high and dry upon the shores of one of those inhospitable islands. This happened on the third day after the cyclone. During the whole of this time the boys and the trappers were confined to the cabin, and did not once sit down to a cooked meal, the storm being so severe that it was impossible to build a fire in the galley. During the night that followed the second day the fury of the gale seemed to increase a hundred-fold, and the boys and their two friends passed the long, gloomy hours in a state of anxiety and alarm that cannot be described. On the morning of the third day the tarpaulin that covered the cabin was suddenly thrown aside, and Uncle Dick came down. The frightened boys held their breath while they looked at him, for something told them that he had bad news for them.

“Go on deck, now,” said the old sailor, shouting the words through his trumpet, for the gale roared so loudly that he could not have made himself understood had he addressed them in any other way. “Hold fast for your lives and stand by to do as I tell you. There is an island under our lee and I can’t get away from it, because the schooner is dismantled and almost unmanageable. We are driving ashore as fast as the wind can send us. I want you boys and Dick and Bob to go to the pumps. The men are tired out.”

The boys’ hearts seemed to stop beating. They followed Uncle Dick to the deck, and grasping the life-lines he passed to them, gazed in awe at the scene presented to their view. Never in their lives, not even when rounding the Horn, had they seen such waves as they saw that morning. They seemed to loom up to the sky, and how the Stranger escaped being engulfed by some of them, drifting, as she did, almost at their mercy, was a great mystery. Of the beautiful little schooner which had been so recently refitted, there was nothing left but the hull. Both masts were gone, the bowsprit was broken short off, and a little piece of sail, scarcely larger than a good-sized pillowcase, which was rigged to a jury mast, was all the canvas she had to keep her before the wind. Now and then, as she was lifted on the crest of a billow, the boys could see the island a few miles to leeward of them, and the long line of breakers rolling over the rocks toward which the vessel was being driven with tremendous force. It seemed as if nothing could be done to avert the death toward which they were hastening, but even yet the crew had not given up all hope. There was no confusion among them, and every man was busy. Some were at the pumps, and others at work getting up the anchors and laying the cables. A sailor never gives up so long as his vessel remains afloat.

Toward the pumps the boys made their way with the assistance of the life-lines, and taking the places of the weary seamen, went to work with a will. Frank’s eyes were as busy as his arms, and whenever he could get a glimpse of the island he closely examined the long line of breakers before him, in the hope of discovering an opening in it through which the Stranger could be taken to a place of safety. He could see no opening, but he saw something else, and that was a crowd of men running along the beach.

Before Frank had time to make any further observations, one of the mates tapped him on the shoulder and made signs for him and his companions to increase their exertions at the pumps, following up these signs by others intended to convey the disagreeable information that the Stranger was taking in water faster than they pumped it out. Frank understood him, and so did the others; and if they had worked hard before, they worked harder now. The schooner was sinking, and something must be done to lighten her. Frank knew that this was the substance of the communication which Mr. Baldwin shouted into the ears of his commander, although he could not hear a word of it on account of the shrieking of the gale, and when Uncle Dick pointed toward the thirty-pounder that stood in the waist, Frank knew what he had determined on. The gun was to be thrown overboard, and there was no time lost in doing it, either. The mate removed the iron pin which held the gun-carriage to a ring in the deck, and two sailors, with axes in their hands, crept to the waist by the help of the life-lines. They stood there until the schooner made a heavy lurch to starboard, and then in obedience to a sign from the mate, severed the fastenings at a blow. The piece being no longer held in position slid rapidly across the deck, through an opening the waves had made in the bulwarks, and disappeared in the angry waters. That was the last of Long Tom. Frank was sorry to see it go, and hoped that the schooner was now sufficiently lightened. If she was not, the next things to be sacrificed would be the twenty-four pounders, and in case they were thrown overboard, what would they have to defend themselves with if those natives he had seen on the beach should prove to be hostile? Small arms, even though some of them did shoot sixteen times, could not accomplish much against such a multitude.

The vessel being lightened and the water in the wells declared to be at a standstill, Uncle Dick turned his attention to the island and to the long line of breakers before him, which he closely examined through his glass. He must have discovered something that gave him encouragement, for he turned quickly and issued some hasty orders which the boys could not hear. But they could see them obeyed. Another jury-mast was set up, another little piece of canvas given to the wind, and the course of the schooner was changed so that she ran diagonally across the waves, instead of directly before them. She rolled fearfully after this. Wide seams opened in her deck and the water arose so rapidly in the wells that the boys grew more frightened than ever. How much longer they would have succeeded in keeping the vessel afloat under circumstances like these, it is hard to tell; but fortunately the most part of the danger was passed a few minutes afterward. The Stranger dashed through an opening in the breakers and ran into water that seemed as smooth as a millpond compared with the rough sea they had just left. But the Club never forgot the two minutes’ suspense they endured while they were passing the rocks. It was awful! It seemed to them that Uncle Dick was guiding the schooner to certain destruction, and so frightened were they that they ceased their exertions at the pumps. The water arose before them like a solid wall, but it was clear there, while on each side it was broken into foam by the rocks over which it passed. The noise of the waves combined with the noise of the gale was almost deafening, and all on board held their breath when a sudden jar, accompanied by a grating sound, which if once heard can never be forgotten, told them that the schooner had struck! The blow, however, was a very light one, and did no damage. The next moment a friendly wave lifted her over the obstruction and carried her with railroad speed toward the beach. A hearty cheer broke from the tired crew, and Uncle Dick pulled off his hat and drew his hand across his forehead. Then the boys knew that the danger was over.

“All ready with the anchor!” shouted Uncle Dick, and that was the first order the boys had heard since coming on deck.

“All ready, sir,” was the reply.

The schooner ran on a quarter of a mile farther, the water growing more and more quiet the nearer she approached the beach, and then the order was given to let go. The anchor was quickly got overboard, and when she began to feel its resisting power, the Stranger came about and rode safely within short rifle-shot of the shore where the boys had expected her to lay her bones, and perhaps their own. As soon as she was fairly brought up with her head to the waves, a squad of men was sent to the pumps, and the boys tottered back, and supporting themselves by the first objects they could lay hold of, panted loudly. They were almost exhausted.

“Mr. Baldwin,” said Uncle Dick, “have a fire started in the galley without a minute’s delay, and see that the doctor serves up the best he’s got in the lockers to these weary men. We’ll be the better for a cup of hot coffee.”

Having given these orders, Uncle Dick came up and shook each of the boys by the hand with as much cordiality as he would have exhibited if he had not seen them for a twelvemonth.

“Now that it is all over, I can tell you that awhile ago I thought it was the last of us,” said he. “Mr. Baldwin,” he added, as the mate came up out of the galley, “have the magazine lighted. Frank, I think you had better send our compliments to those fellows in the shape of a two-second shell.”

Uncle Dick pointed over the stern, and Frank was surprised to see a fleet of canoes loaded with natives approaching the schooner. His mind had been so completely occupied with other things that he had not thought of them since he saw Long Tom go overboard.

“Perhaps they are coming to help us,” said he.

“Well, we don’t want any of their help, and you had better tell them so in language they will understand. Do it, too, before they come much nearer.”

If Frank had been as cool as he usually was, and as cool as Uncle Dick was in spite of the trying scenes through which he had just passed, he would have seen the reason for this apparently hasty order. One glance at the approaching canoes would have been enough. He would have noticed that those of the natives who were handling the paddles bent to their work with an eagerness which showed that they were animated by something besides a desire to render assistance to the distressed vessel; that the others brandished their weapons about their heads in the most threatening manner; and, had the wind been blowing from them toward himself, he would have heard yells such as he had never heard before, not even when the Indians attacked the wagon-train to which he once belonged. He went to the gun, which was quietly stripped and cast loose. A cartridge with a shrapnel attached was driven home, and the nearest of the approaching canoes was covered by the weapon.

“Shoot to hit,” said Uncle Dick. “If those Malays gain a footing on our deck, our voyage will be ended sure enough.”

“All ready, sir,” said Frank.

“Let them have it, then,” commanded Uncle Dick.

The twenty-pounder roared, and the shrapnel, true to its aim, struck the crowded canoe amidships, cutting it completely in two and sending all her crew into the water. The destruction that followed an instant afterwards must have been great. The missile exploded in the very midst of the natives, of whom Uncle Dick said there were at least three hundred, and created a wonderful panic among them. They had not looked for such a reception from a vessel that was little better than a wreck. The whole crowd turned and made for the shore, those in the uninjured canoes being in such haste to seek a place of safety that they left their companions who were struggling in the water to take care of themselves as best they could. As the fleet separated a little, Uncle Dick surveyed the scene with his glass, and announced that the shot had been well-directed, four boatloads of natives having been emptied out into the bay.

“Perhaps they will let us alone now,” said Frank.

“It will not be safe to relax our vigilance as long as we stay here, simply because they have been once repulsed,” returned Uncle Dick. “I know what those fellows are, for I have had some experience with them. They have been thrashed repeatedly by our own and English vessels of war, but they soon forget it and act as badly as ever. A man who falls into their hands never escapes to tell how he was treated. Now, Frank, load that gun and secure it; and Mr. Baldwin, have a sentry kept on that quarter-deck night and day, with orders to watch that shore as closely as ever—Eh? What’s the matter?”

The officer in reply pointed seaward. Uncle Dick and the boys looked, and were horrified to see a large ship in the offing, drifting helplessly before the gale.

CHAPTER IV.
A CHANGE OF PROGRAMME.

“That’s the same ship we saw at the beginning of the cyclone,” said Frank. “I know her by her white hull and the black stripe above her water-line.”

“Heaven help her,” said Uncle Dick, “for we can’t.”

The rest of the schooner’s company could say nothing. They could only stand and watch the hapless vessel, which the angry waves tossed about as if she had been a boy’s plaything. Like the Stranger, she was completely dismantled. The stump of her mizzenmast was standing, and there was something in her bow that looked like a jury-mast, with a little piece of canvas fluttering from it. This was probably the remnants of the storm-sail that had been hoisted to give the vessel steerageway, but it had been blown into shreds by the gale, and now the great ship was helpless. As she drifted along before the waves she would now and then disappear so suddenly when one broke over her, and remain out of sight so long, that the anxious spectators thought they had seen the last of her. But she always came up again, and nearer the threatening reefs than before. Her destruction was only a question of time, and a very few minutes’ time too, for she was too close to the rocks now to reach the opening through which the schooner had passed, even had her captain been aware of its existence, and able to get any canvas on his vessel. The boys looked on with blanched cheeks and beating hearts, and some of them turned away and went into the cabin that they might not see the terrible sight.

In striking contrast to these exhibitions of sympathy from the schooner’s company was the delight the natives on shore manifested when they discovered the doomed ship. They gathered in a body on the beach opposite the point on the reefs where the vessel seemed destined to strike, and danced, and shouted, and flourished their weapons, just as they had done when the Stranger first hove in sight. The ship and her cargo, which the waves would bring ashore as fast as the hull was broken up, would prove a rich booty to them. Perhaps, too, a few prisoners might fall into their hands, and on these the relatives and friends of those who had been killed by Frank’s shot could take ample vengeance.

“Mr. Baldwin,” said Uncle Dick, suddenly, “have the boats put into the water. I don’t know that it will be of any use,” he added, turning to Frank, “for it doesn’t look to me, from here, as though a human being could pass through those breakers alive. But a sailor will stand a world of pounding, and if one gets through with a breath in him, we must be on hand to keep him from falling into the power of those wretches on shore.”

“Are you going to send the boats out there, Uncle Dick?” exclaimed Eugene. “You mustn’t go. The natives would fill you full of arrows and spears.”

“Don’t be uneasy,” said the old sailor. “The mates will go, and Frank will see that the savages are kept out of range of the boats.”

“Will you open fire on them? So you can. I didn’t think of that.”

The schooner’s boats, which were stowed on deck, and which had fortunately been but slightly damaged by the gale, were quickly put into the water. Then Uncle Dick, having mustered the crew, told them what he wanted to do, and called for volunteers, and there was not a man who was too weary to lend a hand to the distressed strangers. Every one of them stepped forward. The best oarsmen were selected and ordered over the side, the mates took command, and the boats pulled away behind the reefs to place themselves in a position to assist any one who might survive the wreck. Their departure was announced by another shrapnel from the twenty-four pounder on the quarter-deck, which the natives on shore regarded as Uncle Dick intended they should regard it—as a hint that their presence on the beach was most undesirable. They took to their heels in hot haste the instant they saw the smoke arise from the schooner’s deck, but some of them were not quick enough in their movements to escape the danger. The shrapnel ploughed through the sand at their feet, and, exploding, scattered death on every side. Frank was amazed at the effect.

“Never mind,” said Uncle Dick, who thought by the expression he saw on the face of his young friend that he did not much like the work, “they would serve us worse than that if they had the power. They are fifty or a hundred to our one, and as we must remain here for a month at least, our safety can only be secured by teaching them a lesson now that they will not forget as long as the Stranger is in sight. Keep it up.”

And Frank did keep it up. He threw his shells at regular intervals—firing slowly so as not to heat the gun—and dropped them first in one part of the woods, and then in another, to show the natives that there was no place of safety anywhere within range of his little Dahlgren. Having found a safe passage for the boats along the beach, he turned to look at the ship once more. She was close upon the reefs. Even as he looked she was lifted on the crest of a tremendous billow and carried toward them with lightning speed. Frank turned away his head, for he could not endure the sight, and even Uncle Dick’s weather-beaten face wore an expression of alarm that no one had seen there when his own vessel was battling with the gale a short half hour before. The shock of the collision must have been fearful, and Frank, who had thus far clung to the hope that some of the crew might be saved, lost all heart now. The sea made quick work with what was left of the ship. She began to go to pieces at once, and portions of the hull, as fast as they were broken off by the waves and the friction of the rocks, were hurled through the breakers toward the beach.

“It is just dreadful, isn’t it?” said George, who had kept close at Frank’s side. “I remember that the first time I saw a ship in New Orleans, I looked at her beams and braces, and wondered how it was possible for so strong a craft to be wrecked. This one is no more than a chip in a millpond.”

“An element that sometimes exerts a force of six thousand pounds to the square foot, and which has been known to move great rocks weighing forty tons and over, is a terrible enemy to do battle with,” replied Frank.

“I am afraid the poor fellows are all gone, and that our boats will be of no use out there,” said Uncle Dick, “I can’t see anybody.”

“I can,” exclaimed Archie, who had kept his glass directed toward the ship. “Don’t you see his head bobbing up and down with that mast, or spar, or whatever it is? He is the only one I have seen thus far.”

“One life is well worth saving,” returned Uncle Dick. “The boats have discovered him, have they not? I see one of them pulling toward the breakers.”

“Yes, sir; and now they’ve got him, or what the breakers have left of him,” replied Archie, joyously. “They’re hauling him in.”

All the crew could see that now without the aid of glasses, and when the half-drowned man was safe in the boat, their satisfaction found vent in loud and long-continued cheers. After that more cheers were given, for, as the hull went to pieces, the boys saw several heads bobbing about in the angry waters; and although some of them did not pass the breakers, others did, and those who reached the smooth water on the other side were promptly rescued by the boats. Archie called out the number of the saved as fast as he saw them taken from the water, and when he said, “That makes eleven,” Uncle Dick’s surprise and delight were almost unbounded.

“I don’t see how in the world they ever got through those breakers,” said he, “but I’m glad all the same that they did. There’s no loss without some gain. If we hadn’t been blown in here not one of those eleven men, that we may be the means of restoring to home and friends once more, would have been left to tell how his ship was destroyed. We’re in a scrape that it will take us a good month to work out of, but we have lost none of our little company, and are still able to be of service to those who are worse off than ourselves. Do you see any more, Archie?”

“No, sir. There are a good many pieces of the wreck going through, but I see no more men. They are transferring all the rescued to one boat now.”

“That’s right. They’re going to bring them aboard. Doctor, keep up a roaring fire in the galley, and you, men, go below and put on some dry clothes, and lay out a suit apiece for these poor fellows who have none of their own to put on.”

The second mate’s boat remained on the ground to pick up any other unfortunates who might survive the passage of the breakers, while Mr. Baldwin turned back to take those already rescued on board the schooner. The boys awaited his approach with no little impatience. They wanted to be the first to assist the strangers over the side; but when the boat came up they drew back almost horrified. The rescued men lay motionless on the bottom of the cutter, and there was only one among them who had life enough left in him to hold up his head. Utterly exhausted with their long conflict with the gale, and bruised and battered by the rocks, they were hoisted aboard more dead than alive, and tenderly carried into the forecastle and laid upon the bunks. Uncle Dick was kept busy after that bandaging wounds and administering restoratives from the schooner’s medicine-chest, and the boys, who wanted to help but did not know what to do, stood on deck at the head of the ladder watching him.

“I wish we were all doctors,” said Archie, at length. “I don’t like to stand here with my hands in my pockets, and if I were to go down there I might be in the way.”

“No doubt you would,” said his cousin. “But still there is something we can do. We can relieve the crew and give them a chance to sleep. I’ll speak to Mr. Baldwin.”

So saying, Frank hurried off and held a short consultation with the first officer. When he came forward again he announced with a great show of dignity that he was the officer of the deck now, and expected to be obeyed accordingly. With an assumption of authority that made all the boys laugh, he ordered Archie to relieve the sentry on the quarter-deck, placed Bob and Perk to act as anchor watch, and after telling the others that they might lie down and take a nap if they chose, he placed his hands behind his back and began planking the weather side of the quarter-deck.

Mr. Baldwin was much pleased with this arrangement, for it gave him and the rest of the crew an opportunity to obtain the rest and sleep of which they stood so much in need. Uncle Dick was satisfied with it, too. The latter came out of the forecastle about midnight, and when he called for the officer of the deck was promptly answered by Frank, who in a few words explained the situation to him. “Have we done right?” he asked.

“Perfectly,” replied Uncle Dick. “It was kind and thoughtful in you, and I thank you for it. Our poor fellows are almost worn out, and it is a pity they can’t have beds to sleep in,” he added, glancing at the stalwart sailors who were stretched out on the deck, slumbering heavily. “If you and the rest of the boys can stand it until morning they will be refreshed, and a good breakfast will put them in a fit condition for work.”

“Oh, we can stand it,” said Frank, “and will do the best we can.”

“I have no fears. I know you will do just what ought to be done. All you have to do is to see that the anchor holds, and keep your weather eye directed toward the island. The night is pretty dark, and you must look out for a surprise, for these natives are bold and cunning. If you see or hear anything suspicious, bang away without stopping to call me.”

“I will,” said Frank. “How are our friends below?”

“Pretty well pounded, some of them, but I think they will be about soon. They must have had a hard time by all accounts, but the trouble is they don’t all tell the same story, and there is no officer among them of whom I can make inquiries. They are all foremast hands. One says their ship, the Sea Gull, was just from Melbourne, and another says she was from Hobart Town, Tasmania.”

“Tasmania!” repeated Frank. “That used to be called Van Diemen’s Land.”

“Yes; and if four of our new friends ought not to be back there at this minute, I am very much mistaken.”

“Are they convicts?” asked Frank, drawing a long breath.

“I don’t know. Wait till you see them, and then tell me what you think about it. This trouble is going to interfere with our arrangements a trifle. This being our second break-up, we have but few spars and little spare canvas left, so we can only refit here temporarily—in other words, put up such rigging as will last until we can reach some port where we can go into the docks and have a regular overhauling. If we are going to Natal we must cross the Indian Ocean, and I don’t want to venture near the Mauritius with a leaky vessel. It blows too hard there sometimes. We have been driven a long way out of our course, and if my calculations are correct, our nearest port is Hobart Town. We’ll go there, and while the vessel is being refitted we’ll take a run back into the country and see how the sheep and cattle herders live. We shall be obliged to stay there a month or two, and perhaps by the time we are ready to sail again you boys will decide that you don’t want to go to Japan. If you do, it will suit me. By the way, I wish you would step into the forecastle every half hour or so and see if those men want anything. Good-night.”

Uncle Dick went down into his cabin, and Frank walked off where Archie stood leaning on his musket and watching the island, whose dim outlines could just be seen through the darkness. “Do you hear or see anything?” he asked.

“Nothing at all,” answered Archie. “It is dull business, this standing guard when there’s nothing going on.”

“Well, I’ll relieve you.”

“Oh, no; you stay here and talk to me, and I will hold the musket. What was it Uncle Dick said about going back to Japan?”

Frank repeated the conversation he had had with the captain, adding:

“You know his heart is set on going to Natal, and I believe that was one reason why he undertook this voyage. He has often told me that he would go a long distance just to see a wild elephant once more. If we waste much more time on our journey we can’t stay a great while in Africa. Uncle Dick’s wishes ought to be respected.”

“Of course they must be,” said Archie, quickly. “Well, I’d as soon go to Australia as to Japan. Perhaps we’ll have a chance to knock over a kangaroo, and that’s an animal I’ve never seen yet.”

“I am not sure that they are to be found in Van Diemen’s Land,” said Frank.

“Van Diemen’s Land!” echoed Archie. “That’s a convict settlement.”

Frank nodded his head.

“Well, I am just as near the fine fellows who live there as I want to be,” said his cousin.

“Perhaps you are nearer to some of them at this minute than you imagine. What would you say if you should see four of them come on deck to-morrow morning?”

Archie raised his musket to his shoulder, and looked at his cousin. “Did Uncle Dick say that there are four of them among these strangers?”

“No, he didn’t say so, but I know he thinks so.”

“Whew!” whistled Archie; “here’s fun. I wonder if they wouldn’t be kind enough to get up some excitement for us if we should ask them?”

“Haven’t you had enough during the last few days? I have.”

“There’s too much of a sameness about these gales and cyclones. We want a change—something new.”

Archie afterward had occasion to recall this remark. Before many weeks had passed over his head he found that the men of whom he was speaking were quite willing to give him all the excitement he wanted, and that, too, without waiting to be asked to do so.

“But, after all, what can they do?” asked Archie, after thinking a moment. “They are only four in number, and Dick Lewis and Rodgers can take care of them.”

With this reflection to comfort him, Archie once more turned his attention to the island, and Frank went forward to see how the anchor watch were getting on, and to tell them and the rest of the unwelcome discovery Uncle Dick had made. Of course the boys were all interested and excited, and wished that morning would come so that they might see what sort of looking fellows the convicts were. Frank also told them of the change Uncle Dick proposed to make in their route ahead, and they were all satisfied with it.

Nothing happened that night that is worthy of record. The wearied sailors slumbered in safety, while Frank and his companions looked out for the vessel, and walked the deck, and told stories to keep themselves awake. The Stranger dragged twice before morning, but each time a little more chain was let out, and finally enough weight was added to her anchor to make her ride securely. Frank visited the forecastle every half hour to hand a glass of water to one of the rescued men, or moisten the bandages of another, and during these visits he picked out four of the patients whom he thought to be the escaped convicts. One of them was the nearest approach to a giant he had ever seen. Even Dick Lewis would have looked small beside him. He reminded Frank of Boson, the third mate of the Tycoon, only he was a great deal larger and stronger. The man was sleeping soundly, and Frank leaned against his bunk and took a good look at him.

“If these four fellows should attempt any mischief, I don’t know whether Dick and Rodgers could take care of them or not,” thought he. “I’m afraid they’d have their hands full with this one man.”

Frank went on deck feeling as he had never felt before. He was not sorry that the man had been saved from the breakers, but somehow he could not help wishing that he had been picked up by some vessel besides the Stranger. If there was any faith to be put in appearances, the man was but little better than a brute, and Frank told himself that the sooner they reached some port and put him ashore, the sooner he would feel at his ease again.

Uncle Dick came on deck at 5 o’clock, and the boys all went below to take a short nap; but their short nap turned out to be a long one, for having had no sleep worth mentioning for four nights in succession, they were lost in a dreamless slumber almost as soon as they touched their bunks, and it was twelve o’clock before they awoke. Then they were aroused by the roar of the twenty-four pounder over their heads. They started up in great alarm, and pulling on their clothes with all possible haste, rushed to the deck expecting to find the natives approaching to attack the vessel, and perhaps clambering over the side. But they were most agreeably disappointed. About half of the crew of the Stranger, aided by some of the rescued men, were busy setting things to rights, and a short distance from the schooner was the cutter, which was pulling toward the beach.

“Did I frighten you?” asked Uncle Dick, as the boys crowded up the ladder. “Your faces say I did. That boat out there is going ashore after some timber for spars, and that shrapnel was a notice to the natives to keep out of the way.”

“Oh!” said the boys, who were all greatly relieved.

They took another look at the boat, ran their eyes along the beach to make sure that there were no natives in sight, and then turned their attention to the rescued men, who were working with the crew. There were five of them—Uncle Dick said the others were not yet able to leave their bunks—and conspicuous among them was the giant whom Frank had picked out as one of the escaped convicts. All the boys opened their eyes as they looked at him. Even Frank was astonished. Now that he could see the whole of him he looked larger than he did while he was lying in his bunk. “What do you think of him, Mr. Baldwin?” asked Eugene, after trying in vain to induce his uncle to express an opinion.

“I think there is only one place in the world that he’s fit for,” was the reply.

“What place is that?”

“The place he came from.”

Some other conversation followed, and when the boys went below they told one another that Mr. Baldwin fully expected that Waters—that was the name the giant had given—would occasion trouble sooner or later. “And if he once gets started it will take all the men in the vessel to subdue him,” said Eugene, somewhat anxiously.

“Will it?” exclaimed Archie. “I can show you one who will manage him alone.”

“Who is he?”

“Dick Lewis.”

“Now let me tell you what’s a fact,” said Perk. “Dick can’t stand up against an avalanche.”

“You’ll see,” said Archie, who had unbounded confidence in his backwoods friend. “You’ll see.”

And sure enough they did.

CHAPTER V.
THE TWO CHAMPIONS.

For a week nothing occurred to relieve the dull monotony of their life. The crew worked early and late, and under the skilful hands of the carpenter and his assistants the masts, spars, and booms that were to take the place of those that had been lost during the gale, began to assume shape, and were finally ready for setting up. The timber of which the most of them were made was brought from the shore, and Frank kept such close watch over the boats, and the crews and workmen who went off in them, that the natives never molested them. If the Malays had kept out of sight on the first day of their arrival, the boys might have believed the island to be uninhabited, for they saw no signs of life there now.

On board the schooner everything was done decently and in order, as it always was. The rescued men were all on their feet now, and able to do duty. All but four of them—those suspected of being escaped convicts—were able seamen, and these lent willing and effective aid in the work of refitting the vessel. They were all Englishmen, but for some reason or other they were not as arrogant and overbearing as the majority of their countrymen seem to be, and the best of feeling prevailed between them and the Stranger’s crew.

For a few days Waters conducted himself with the utmost propriety. He seemed to be awed by his recent narrow escape from death, and so entirely wrapped up in his meditations that he could hardly be induced to speak to anybody. But the impressions he had received gradually wore off as his bruises and scratches began to heal and his strength to come back to him, and he assumed an impudent swagger as he went about his work, that made the second mate look at him pretty sharply. He recovered the use of his tongue too, and began to talk in a way that did not suit the old boatswain’s mate, who one day sternly commanded him to work more and jaw less. This reprimand kept Waters in shape for a day or two, and then he appeared to gain confidence again, and got himself into a difficulty that was rather more serious. Swaggering aft one morning after breakfast with a borrowed pipe in his mouth, he suddenly found himself confronted by the officer of the deck, who stepped before him.

“You have no business back here,” said Mr. Parker. “Go for’ard where you belong.”

Waters took his pipe out of his mouth, and drawing himself up to his full height, scowled down at the officer, “Look ’ere,” said he, with his English twang; “hif you knowed me, you’d know hit’s jist a trifle dangerous for heny man of your hinches to stand afore me.”

“I am second mate of this vessel,” answered Mr. Parker, hotly, “and any more such language as that will get you in the brig. Go for’ard where you belong.”

Like a surly hound that had been beaten by his master, Waters turned about and went back to the forecastle. He was sullen all that day, and “soldiered”—that is, shirked his work—so persistently that the old boatswain’s mate was almost beside himself.

“I don’t like the cut of that fellow’s jib, cap’n,” said Barton, as he ranged up alongside of Frank that night after the boats had been hoisted at the davits, and the boarding nettings triced up. “He’s spoiling for a row. He says if Lucas calls him a lubber again he’s going to knock him down. He’s no good. Do you know what he was going aft for this morning? Well, I do. He was going to take a look at the old man’s strong box. You know it stands in the cabin right where you can see it through the skylights.”

“Why did he want to take a look at the strong box?” asked Frank. “Has he any designs upon it?”

“If he hasn’t, what makes him ask so many questions, sir?” asked the coxswain, in reply. “He’s pumped the crew, easy like, till he’s found out everything. He wanted to know how much we got a month, and when one of the men told him that we could each have a handful of bright new yellow-boys to spend in our next port if we wanted it, but that the old man had advised us, friendly like, to leave all our earnings in his hands and he would pay us interest on it at the end of the cruise, same as the bank—when he found this out he wanted to know where the old man kept his money and how much he had. Now what did he want to know that for, sir?”

“What, indeed!” thought Frank, as Barton hurried away in obedience to some orders. “He will bear watching, I think. I wish he was safe ashore.”

Frank lost no time in making Uncle Dick acquainted with what he had heard. The old sailor looked grave while he listened, and although he said nothing in Frank’s hearing, he told Mr. Baldwin privately to keep Waters so busily employed that he would have no time to think of mischief, and at the very first sign of insubordination to promptly put him where he would be powerless to work harm to the vessel or any of her crew. Waters made the sign the very next morning. At five o’clock he was ordered to assist in pumping out the schooner, and he obeyed with altogether too much deliberation to suit Lucas, who was accustomed to see men hurry when they were spoken to. This was the way Waters always obeyed an order. He seemed to think he could do as he pleased, and no one would dare take him to task for it. But when the old boatswain’s mate was on duty he was on duty all over, and any of his men who neglected their work were sure to be called to account. He had been very patient with Waters because he was a landsman, but he could not stand “soldiering.”

“I wish this was a man-o’-war now, and that flogging had not been abolished,” said Lucas, as Waters came slowly up to the pump, staring impudently at the mate as if to ask him what he was going to do about it. “It would do me good to start you with a cat-o’-nine tails.”

“Do you think the likes o’ you could use a cat on me now?” sneered Waters.

“I’ve used it on many a better man,” was the quick reply. “Make haste, you lubber. I’ll stand this no longer. I’ll report”—

What it was that the old mate was going to report he did not have time to tell, for Waters suddenly drew one of his huge fists back to his shoulder, and when he straightened it out again Lucas went spinning across the deck, rolling over and over, and finally bringing up against the bulwarks. Every one who saw it—and every one who belonged to the schooner was on deck, except her captain—was amazed at the ease with which it was done.

Of course the excitement ran high at once. During the two years and more that had passed since the schooner left Bellville, a blow had never been struck on her deck, and never had an oath been heard there until these rescued men were brought aboard. The whole crew arose as one man, not to punish the offender for striking the petty officer, but to secure him before he could do any more mischief. But Waters was fairly aroused, and acted more like a mad brute than a human being. He backed up against the bulwarks, and in less time than it takes to tell it, prostrated the entire front rank of his assailants, including Barton, Rodgers, the Doctor, as the negro cook was called, and the old gray-headed sailor who had so badly frightened Dick Lewis by telling him that one of the Sandwich Islands was the equator, and that when they passed it they would be on the under side of the earth.

Having cleared a space in front of him, Waters sprang to the windlass, and seizing a handspike, was back against the bulwarks again before any one could prevent him. “Stand by me, mates,” he roared, “and we’ll take the ship. Back me hup, and we’ll drive these Yankees hover among the sharks.”

“I declare!” gasped Eugene, who was the first of the frightened boys who could find his tongue, “he’s started at last, and he’ll walk across the deck with that handspike as though there was no one here. The best men in the crew are like so many straws in his way.”

All these incidents which we have been so long in describing, occupied but a very few seconds in taking place. Before the astonished officer of the deck could recover himself sufficiently to command the peace, Waters had complete possession of the forecastle. And even when the officer did recover himself the orders he issued might as well have been addressed to the mast, for Waters paid no attention to them.

“Drop that handspike,” shouted Mr. Baldwin, starting forward.

“Yes, I’ll drop it no doubt,” replied Waters. “You remember what you said to me yesterday, don’t you, you fellow with the gold band around your cap? Look hout for yourself, for I’m coming for you now.”

Waters was as good as his word. Swinging his handspike viciously about his head to clear a path before him, he started aft; but before he had made many steps he ran against something, just as Archie had predicted. Dick Lewis and old Bob Kelly had stood silent and amazed spectators of the scene, and Archie, who had expected so much of his backwoods friend in case of disturbance, forgot that he was present. But now the trapper called attention to himself by giving one or two fierce Indian yells, like those that had so often rung in his ears while he was battling with or fleeing from his sworn enemies.

“Whoop! Whoop!” yelled Dick.

The boys looked towards him and saw that he had prepared himself for action by discarding his hat and pushing back his sleeves. Then he crouched like a panther about to make a spring, and in a second more was flying across the deck like an arrow from a bow. Waters saw him coming, and halting, drew back his handspike in readiness to receive him. As the trapper approached within striking distance, the weapon descended with such speed and power that the boys all uttered an exclamation of horror, and Frank involuntarily started forward as if to shield his friend from the blow that seemed about to annihilate him. But Dick was in no need of help. Long experience had taught him how to take care of himself in any emergency. A flash of lightning is scarcely quicker than was the movement he made to avoid the descending weapon. It passed harmlessly through the air over his head, and the force with which it was driven sent Waters sideways into the arms of the trapper, while the handspike flew from his grasp and went over the side.

“Stand by me, mates!” roared the giant, as he felt the trapper’s strong arms closing about him with crushing power.

This was all he had time to say—he was not allowed an instant in which to do anything—for before the words had fairly left his lips he was thrown to the deck with stunning force, and held as firmly as if he had been in a vice. Just then Uncle Dick appeared on the scene. “Master-at-arms!” he exclaimed.

“Here, sir,” replied the petty officer, stepping forward. He knew that his services would be required and he was all ready to act. He had a pair of irons in his hand—something the boys did not suppose could be found in the schooner’s outfit.

“Put them on,” said Uncle Dick. “Now, Lewis,” he added, after the ruffian’s hands and ankles had been securely confined, “let him up.”

“Can’t I give him just one leetle whack for every man he’s knocked down, cap’n?” asked the trapper, flourishing one of his clenched hands in the air.

“Let him up,” repeated Uncle Dick.

The backwoodsman obeyed the order very reluctantly. He arose to his feet, pulling his antagonist up with him.

“Waters, is this the way you repay us for saving your worthless life?” demanded Uncle Dick, sternly. “Some of the men you struck were the very ones who kept you from falling into the hands of the savages on shore.”

“I’ll pay you for it hall afore I am done with you,” gasped the prisoner, panting from the violence of his exertions. “Hand you, my friend in buckskin, I’ll see you some other day when this thing—”

Waters Finds his Master.

“Silence!” commanded Uncle Dick.

“There’s honly one way to stop my talking and that is to stop my breath,” declared Waters, boldly.

“You will go without food for twenty-four hours for every word you utter,” replied Uncle Dick. “Master-at-arms, take him down and put him in the brig. Mr. Baldwin,” he continued, in a lower tone, “have a sentry put over him with orders to allow him to hold communication with no one.”

The fear of being starved into submission effectually closed the prisoner’s mouth, and without another word he allowed the master-at-arms to lead him below. The boys breathed easier when they saw his head disappear below the combings of the hatchway.

“How did this trouble begin, Mr. Baldwin?” demanded Uncle Dick.

The officer told him in a few words and the captain said, with a smile,

“That is a good deal of work to be done in so short a space of time. I came on deck as soon as I could get up from the table. When we reach Hobart Town I’ll teach this fellow that he can’t strike my men with impunity. You say he called for help from his friends. Did they seem inclined to give it?”

“Yes, sir, one of them did. He picked up a handspike, but lacked the courage to use it. The other two stood still and looked on.”

“Send them to the mast, Mr. Baldwin. They all belong to the same class, and it may be well to have a fair understanding with them.”

Mr. Baldwin passed the order to the old boatswain’s mate, who was going about his work with an eye bunged up, and presently Waters’s three friends came to the mast and respectfully removed their caps. There was no swagger or bluster about them. The defeat of their champion had cowed them completely. Uncle Dick first explained why he had brought them there, and then for five minutes talked to them in a way the boys had never heard him talk before. Even Walter and Eugene were surprised to know that their jolly uncle could be so stern and severe. He used words that the men before him could readily understand. He bluntly told them that they were escaped convicts (the start they gave when they heard this showed that he had hit the nail fairly on the head), and that he was just the man to deal with such characters as they were. He would rid his vessel of their unwelcome presence as soon as he could, and give her a good scrubbing from stem to stern after they went. He did not want them there, but while they stayed they must walk a chalk-mark; and if he heard so much as a mutinous eye-wink from any of them, he would show them that the discipline that was maintained on board the Stranger could be made as severe as that to which they had been subjected by their prison taskmasters. That was all, and they might go forward and bear everything he had said to them constantly in mind.

The suspected men, glad to be let off so easily, returned to their work, and we may anticipate events a little by saying that they took the old sailor at his word, and never made the schooner’s company the least trouble—that is, they made them no trouble before they reached Hobart Town, whither the Stranger went to refit. What they did afterward is another matter; we have not come to that yet. We may also say that the trapper won a high place in the estimation of all the foremast hands by the exploit he performed that morning. He had peace after that. None of the sailors ever told him any more stories about the Flying Dutchman, the squids, and the whale that swallowed Jonah. It was not because they were afraid of him—no one who behaved himself could look into the trapper’s wild gray eye and feel the least fear of him—but because they wanted to reward him for what he had done. When the crew assembled around the mess-chest at meals Dick was always the first one waited upon by the mess-cook, and if any of the blue jackets found a tit-bit in the pan, it was always transferred to Dick’s plate. Old Bob also came in for a large share of their attention, and it was not long before these little acts of kindness so worked upon the feelings of the two trappers, that they declared that if the schooner wouldn’t pitch about so with the waves, and they could have a chance to use their rifles now and then, they would as soon be there among the sailors as in the mountains.

Of course the exciting scene of which they had been the unwilling witnesses produced a commotion among the boys, who for a long time could talk about nothing else. If they ever forgot it, one glance at the battered face which the old boatswain’s mate carried about with him would instantly recall it, and set their tongues in motion again. The ease with which the supple trapper had vanquished his huge antagonist, was the occasion of unbounded astonishment to all of them except Frank and Archie. The latter always wound up the conversation by saying:

“Didn’t I tell you that Waters would run against a stump if he attempted any foolishness? You have heard the expression ’as quick as lightning,’ and now you know what it means. Hold on till we get ashore,” he added, one day, “and I’ll show you some more of it.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Fred.

“I’ll borrow or hire a horse somewhere, and run a race with Dick.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Eugene, “I know from what you have said that the trapper must be very fleet, but he can’t beat a good horse if I ride him.”

“He can run a hundred yards, and turn and run back to the starting-point, and beat the swiftest horse that ever moved,” replied Archie, emphatically, “and you may ride the horse.”

The boys looked toward Frank, who confirmed Archie’s statement by saying that he had seen him win a race of that description, but still they were not satisfied. It was a novel idea to them, this matching a man’s lightness of foot against the speed of a horse, and they longed for an opportunity to see the swift trapper put to the test.

Meanwhile the work of refitting the vessel went steadily on. Having a large force at his command, the work was accomplished in much less time than the captain expected it could be done. The question whether their proposed visit to Japan and India should be given up was discussed, and decided in the affirmative. Uncle Dick gave the boys their choice of two courses of action: they could carry out their original plan, spend a few weeks in Asia, and after they had seen all they wanted to see they would start directly for home by the way of the Cape of Good Hope, stopping during the voyage only when it was necessary to take in fresh supplies of food and water; or they would go to Natal, purchase there a trader’s outfit, and spend a few months travelling about in the interior of Africa, skirmishing with the strange animals they would find there. In either case they must first go to the nearest port, and have the schooner completely overhauled and refitted. She had been badly strained by the gale, and her captain did not consider her safe. The boys decided on the latter course simply because they knew Uncle Dick wished it.

This was the first time during the voyage that anything had been said about going “home,” and the simple sound of the word was enough to set them to thinking. Up to this time they had been going away from their native land; but now every mile which the schooner passed over brought them nearer to the loved ones they had left behind.

CHAPTER VI.
THE CONSUL’S “CLARK.”

Finally, to the Club’s great relief, the work was all done. The masts had been stepped, the sails bent on, the last ratline knotted, and Uncle Dick only waited for a high tide to carry the schooner over the coral reef that marked the entrance to the bay. When the proper moment arrived the crew gladly responded to the order of the old boatswain’s mate, “All hands stand by to get ship under way!” and to the enlivening strains of “The girl I left behind me,” which Eugene played on his flute, walked the little vessel up to her anchor. Then the sails were trimmed to catch the breeze, the star-spangled banner was run up to the peak, and the lonely island echoed to the unwonted sound of a national salute. The first two guns were shotted and were pointed toward the island, as a parting token of the estimation in which its inhabitants were held by the schooner’s company, and the other eleven were fired with blank cartridges.

The boys could not help shuddering as they passed over the reef. Its course could be traced for a mile or more on each side of them. The opening through which they sailed was the only clear space they could see in the whole length of it, and that was barely wide enough to admit of the passage of their little vessel. The Sea Gull could never have got through it; and how they had ever passed it in their waterlogged craft, driven by a furious gale, was something they could not explain. The waves foamed and roared around them, and being thrown back by the rocks, followed in the wake of the schooner as if enraged at being cheated of their prey. The boys trembled while they looked, and all breathed easier when the man in the fore-chains who was heaving the lead, called out “No bottom!” The reef was passed in safety and they were fairly afoot once more; but their vessel was crippled and leaky, and there was not one among the five hundred people who saw her sail so gaily out of the harbor of Bellville who would have recognized her now. She had no topmasts, yards, or flying jibboom, and could only spread four sails where she had once spread nine, and, when the wind was light, ten, not counting the studding-sails. All Uncle Dick asked of her was to take them in safety to Hobart Town, where she could be put in trim for her long voyage across the Indian Ocean.