Cover
"WITH THEIR ARMS STILL BOUND FIRMLY TO THEIR SIDES, THE PRISONERS STUMBLED THROUGH THE FOREST."
THE BLUE RAIDER
A TALE OF ADVENTURE
IN THE SOUTHERN SEAS
BY
HERBERT STRANG
ILLUSTRATED BY
C. E. BROCK
HUMPHREY MILFORD
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
LONDON, EDINBURGH, GLASGOW
TORONTO, MELBOURNE, CAPE TOWN, BOMBAY
1920
HERBERT STRANG
Complete List of Stories
ADVENTURES OF DICK TREVANION, THE
ADVENTURES OF HARRY ROCHESTER, THE
A GENTLEMAN AT ARMS
A HERO OF LIÉGE
AIR PATROL, THE
AIR SCOUT, THE
BARCLAY OF THE GUIDES
BLUE RAIDER, THE
BOYS OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE
BROWN OF MOUKDEN
BURTON OF THE FLYING CORPS
CARRY ON
CRUISE OF THE GYRO-CAR, THE
FIGHTING WITH FRENCH
FLYING BOAT, THE
FRANK FORESTER
HUMPHREY BOLD
JACK HARDY
KING OF THE AIR
KOBO
LORD OF THE SEAS
MOTOR SCOUT, THE
OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN, THE
ONE OF CLIVE'S HEROES
PALM TREE ISLAND
ROB THE RANGER
ROUND THE WORLD IN SEVEN DAYS
SAMBA
SETTLERS AND SCOUTS
SULTAN JIM
SWIFT AND SURE
THROUGH THE ENEMY'S LINES
TOM BURNABY
TOM WILLOUGHBY'S SCOUTS
WITH DRAKE ON THE SPANISH MAIN
WITH HAIG ON THE SOMME
CONTENTS
- [A BEACH IN NEW GUINEA]
- [THE DRUMS]
- [THE CHIMNEY]
- [MR. HAAN]
- [IN THE TOILS]
- [THE TOTEM]
- [REMINISCENCES]
- [A RECONNAISSANCE]
- [COMPLICATIONS]
- [THE CAST OF THE DIE]
- [THE ORDEAL OF EPHRAIM MEEK]
- [THE LEDGE]
- [A FORCED LANDING]
- [AN INTERLUDE]
- [DUK-DUK]
- [FLIGHT]
- [THE ATTACK ON THE VILLAGE]
- [THE AVALANCHE]
- [AT ARM'S LENGTH]
- [THE LAST RAID]
- [JUSTICE]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Frontispiece in Colour
['With their arms still bound firmly to their sides, the prisoners stumbled through the forest.'] (See page [97].)
['Come up and have a look at this, Meek']
[Up and up, foot by foot, arrows whizzing and clicking]
[A score of dusky natives burst into the ring]
[Grinson marched in at the head of a procession]
['Who says I ain't tattooed?']
[With every step the descent became steeper]
[Kafulu sprang upon Meek from behind]
[The German flung a pail of water over the unconscious Meek]
[Noiselessly on his stocking soles tip-toed after the German]
[One of the Germans raised his revolver, but before he could fire, Hoole launched the spear at him]
[Grinson gave the boulder a shove in the desired direction]
[With a thunderous crash it struck the side of the vessel a few feet below the rail]
[Quickly they set their ladders against the barricade, and began to swarm up]
CHAPTER I
A BEACH IN NEW GUINEA
''Tis a matter of twenty-five years since I was in a fix like this 'ere,' said the boatswain, ruminatively, turning a quid in his cheek. 'Ephraim, me lad, you can bear me out?'
'I can't rightly say as I can, Mr. Grinson,' said Ephraim, in his husky voice, 'but I 'll try.'
The boatswain threw a leg over the stern-post of the much-battered ship's boat that lay listed over just beyond the breakers of a rough sea, and cast a glance at the two young men who stood, with hands in pockets, gazing up at the cliffs. Their backs were towards him; they had either not heard, or were disinclined to notice what he had said.
'Ay, 'twas twenty-six year ago,' he resumed, in a voice like the note of an organ pipe. 'We was working between Brisbane and the Solomons, blackbirding and what not; 'twas before your time, young gents, but----'
'What's that you 're saying?' demanded one of the two whose backs he had addressed.
'I was saying, sir, as how I was in a fix like this 'ere twenty-seven year ago, or it may be twenty-eight: Ephraim's got the head for figures. We was working between Brisbane and the Carolines--a tight little schooner she was, light on her heels. You can bear me out, Ephraim?'
'If so be 'twas the same craft, light and tight she was,' Ephraim agreed.
'Well, a tidal wave come along and pitched her clean on to a beach like as this might be--not a beach as you could respect, with bathing-boxes and a promenade, but a narrow strip of a beach, a reg'lar fraud of a beach, under cliffs as high as a church...'
'Say, Grinson, get a move on,' drawled the second of the two younger men. 'What about your beach? How does it help us, anyway?'
'Well, look at the difference, sir. There we was: schooner gone to pieces, a score of us cast ashore, three of us white men, the rest Kanakas. 'Tis thirty years since, but the recollection of them awful days gives me the 'orrors. My two white mates--the Kanakas ate 'em, being 'ungry. I drops a veil over that 'orrible tragedy. Being about a yard less in the waist than I am to-day, I was nimble as a monkey, and went up those cliffs like greased lightning, broke off chunks of rock weighing anything up to half a ton, and pitched 'em down on the Kanakas scrambling up after me, panting for my gore. For three days and nights I kept 'em at bay, and my arms got so used to flinging down rocks that when I was rescued by a boat's crew from a Dutch schooner they kept on a-working regular as a pendulum, and they had to put me in a strait jacket till I was run down. You can bear me out, Ephraim, me lad?'
'I can't exactly remember all them particlers, Mr. Grinson, but truth 's truth, and 'tis true ye 've led a wonderful life, and stranger things have happened to ye--that I will say on my oath.'
'You were one of the two that were eaten, I suppose?' said the young man who had first spoken, eyeing Ephraim with a quizzical smile.
'Gee! That's the part Grinson dropped a veil over,' said the other. 'What's the moral of your pretty fairy story, Grinson?'
'Moral, sir? 'Tis plain.' He opened his brass tobacco-box, and deliberately twisted up another quid. Then he said impressively: 'Dog don't eat dog; otherways we 're all white men, and there 's no Kanakas.'
Phil Trentham laughed, a little ruefully.
'We may have to eat each other yet,' he said. Then, waving his arms towards the cliffs, he added: 'The prospect doesn't please--what do you make of it?'
The situation in which the four men found themselves had certainly no element of cheerfulness. They were the sole survivors from a tramp steamer which, on the previous day, had fallen a prey to a German raider. After a night's tossing in their small open boat, they had been cast up on this unknown shore, and when they examined the craft, marvelled that they escaped with their lives. Collision with a rock that just peeped above the breakers some fifty yards out had stove, in her garboard-strakes, a hole through which a man might creep. Luckily, the bag of ship's biscuits, which, with a keg of water, formed their whole stock of provisions, had not been washed out or injured.
But what of the future? The narrow strip of sandy beach on which they had been thrown stretched along the foot of high precipitous cliffs that showed a concave arc to the sea. At each horn a rocky headland jutted far out, its base washed high by the waves. The cliffs were rugged and appeared unscalable, even with the aid of the tufts of vegetation that sprouted here and there from fissures in their weather-beaten face. It seemed that they were shut in between the cliffs and the sea, penned between the headlands, confined to this strip of sand, perhaps two miles long, from which there was apparently no landward exit. Their boat was unseaworthy; there was no way of escape by land or sea.
Phil Trentham, working copra on a remote island of the South Pacific, had learnt of the outbreak of war some months after the event, and taken passage on the first steamer that called, intending to land at the nearest port and thence to make his way to some centre of enlistment. Among the few passengers he had chummed up with a young fellow about his own age--one Gordon P. Hoole, who hailed from Cincinnati, had plenty of money, and was touring the Pacific Islands in tramp steamers for amusement. Each was in his twentieth year, stood about five feet ten, and wore a suit of ducks and a cowboy hat; there the likeness between them ended. Trentham was fair, Hoole dark. The former had full ruddy cheeks, broad shoulders, and massive arms and calves; the latter was lean and rather sallow, more wiry than muscular. Trentham parted his hair; Hoole's rose erect from his brow like a short thick thatch. Both had firm lips and jaws, and their eyes, unlike in colour, were keen with intelligence and quick with humour.
Their two companions in misfortune presented an odd contrast to them and to each other. Josiah Grinson, forty-eight years of age, was five feet six in height, immensely broad, with a girth of nearly sixty inches, arms as thick as an average man's legs, and legs like an elephant's. His broad, deeply bronzed face, in the midst of which a small nose, over a long clean upper lip, looked strangely disproportionate, was fringed with a thick mass of wiry black hair. Little eyes of steely blue gazed out upon the world with a hard unwinking stare. He wore a dirty white sweater, much-patched blue trousers, and long boots. His big voice was somewhat monotonous in intonation, and he had been known to doze in the middle of a sentence, wake up and continue without a flaw in the construction.
Ephraim Meek, who had been mate to Grinson's boatswain for about a quarter of a century, was a head taller, but lost the advantage of his inches through a forward stoop of his gaunt frame. Where Grinson was convex Meek was concave. His hollow cheeks were covered with straggling, mouse-coloured hair; his long thin nose made him look more inquisitive than he really was; his faded grey eyes, slightly asquint, seemed to be drawn as by a magnet to the countenance of his superior. Meek was a whole-hearted admirer of the boatswain, and their long association was marred by only one thing--a perpetual struggle between Meek's personal devotion and his conscientious regard for veracity. No one knew what pangs Grinson's frequent appeals to 'Ephraim, me lad,' to 'bear him out' cost the anxious man. But he had always managed to satisfy the boatswain without undue violence to his own scruples, and Grinson had never felt the strain.
'What do I make of it?' repeated Hoole. 'Nix!'
'Where do you suppose we are, Grinson?' asked Trentham.
'I ain't good at supposing, sir, but I know we 're somewheres on the north coast of New Guinea,' Grinson replied. 'Which I mean to say it's inhabited by cannibals, and I was nearly eat once myself. 'Twas twenty or maybe twenty-one years ago, when----'
'By and by, Grinson,' interrupted Trentham. 'It's a gruesome story, no doubt, and we 'll fumigate it with our last go-to-bed pipe.'
'Just so,' Hoole put in. 'I guess we 'd better explore. It don't feel good on this beach.'
'Certainly. To save time we 'd better split up. You take Grinson and go one way; I 'll go the other with Meek. Whoever sees a way up the cliffs, signal to the others.'
They paired off, and walked in opposite directions along the sand. A line of seaweed some thirty feet from the cliffs indicated high-water mark, and relieved them of any fear of being engulfed by the tide.
Trentham and Meek had struck off to the west, and as they went along they scanned the rugged face of the cliffs for a place where it would be possible to scale them. For nearly half a mile they roamed on in silence; Meek was one of those persons who do not invite conversation. Then, however, the seaman came to a halt.
'I wouldn't swear to it, sir,' he said in his deprecating way, 'but if you 'll slew your eyes a point or two off the cliffs, I do believe you 'll see the stump of a mast.'
He raised his lank hand and pointed.
'That won't help us much,' said Trentham, looking towards a pocket of sand some distance above high-water mark, and surrounded by straggling bushes. 'We can't sail off in a wreck.'
'That's true as gospel, sir, but it came into my mind, like, that where there 's a mast there 's a hull, and p'r'aps it 'll give us a doss-house for the night.'
'It 'll be choked with sand. Still, we 'll have a look at it.'
They walked towards the spot where four or five feet of a jagged mast stood up apparently from the embedding sand. As they emerged from the surrounding bushes they discovered parts of the bulwarks projecting a few inches above a mound of silted-up sand, a little higher than their heads. Clambering up the easiest slope, and stepping over the rotting woodwork, Trentham gave a low whistle of surprise.
'Come up and have a look at this, Meek,' he said to the man standing in his bent-kneed attitude below.
'COME UP AND HAVE A LOOK AT THIS, MEEK.'
Meek came to his side, and drew his fingers through his thin whiskers as he contemplated the scene before him. Then he turned his eyes on Trentham, and from him to the cliffs and the beach around.
'Rum, sir!' he ejaculated. 'Uncommon rum!'
While the greater part of the vessel was deep in sand, a certain area of the deck around the base of the mast was covered with only a thin layer, through which the iron ring of a hatch was clearly visible. On all sides of it the sand appeared to have been cleared away, and heaped up like a regular rampart.
'Some one has been here, and not so long ago,' said Trentham. 'It's certainly queer. See if you can lift the hatch; we may as well go below.'
Meek hesitated.
'If so be there 's cannibals----' he began.
'Nonsense! They wouldn't be stifling under hatches.'
'Or maybe dead corpses or skellingtons.'
'Come, pull up the hatch; I 'll go down first.'
Brushing away the thin covering of sand, Meek seized the ring and heaved. The hatch came up so easily that he almost lost his balance.
'The stairway 's quite sound,' said Trentham, peering into the depths. 'Stand by!'
He stepped upon the companion, and descended. In a few seconds Meek heard the striking of a match, and Trentham's voice ringing out of the vault.
'Come down, Meek; there are no skeletons.'
Meek looked around timorously, sighed, and went slowly down the ladder. Trentham had just struck another match, and was holding it aloft. The flame disclosed a small cabin, the floor space almost filled with a massive table and three chairs of antique make, all of dark oak. Upon the table lay an old sextant, a long leather-bound telescope, a large mug of silver-gilt, heavily chased, a silver spoon, and several smaller objects. On the wall hung a large engraved portrait in a carved oak frame, representing a stout, hook-nosed, heavily wigged gentleman in eighteenth century costume, with a sash across the shoulder and many stars and decorations on the breast.
Meek breathed heavily. The match went out.
'I can't afford to use all my matches,' said Trentham. 'Run up and cut a branch from a bush; that'll serve for a torch for the present. And signal to the others.'
'I don't hardly like to say it, sir, but I 'm afeard as my weak voice won't reach so far.'
'My good man, you 've got long arms. Wave 'em about. Climb up the mast. Use your gumption!'
Meek mounted to the deck, and Trentham smiled as he heard a husky voice shouting, 'Ahoy!' After some minutes the man returned with a thick dry branch.
'I give a hail, sir, and flung my arms about frantic, and Mr. Grinson, he seed me. I can't say he heard me, not being sure. He 've a wonderful voice himself--wonderful, and I heard him answer as clear as a bell.'
'That's all right!' said Trentham, lighting the branch. 'We 've made a discovery, Meek.'
'Seemingly, sir. I 'm fair mazed, and that's the truth of it. Who might be the old soldier yonder, and what's he wear that thing on his head for? He ain't a sea captain, that I 'll swear, and I wonder at any sailor-man sticking up a soldier's picture in his cabin.'
'You 're quite right, Meek,' replied Trentham, who had been scrutinising the portrait. 'The old soldier, as you call him, is a king.'
'You don't say so, sir! Where's his crown, then?'
'Ah, I wonder where! The poor man lost his crown and his head too. It's Louis XVI., King of France a hundred years ago and more. Here it is in French, below the engraving: "Engraved after the portrait by Champfleury." We 're in a French vessel, Meek--the ship of some French explorer, no doubt, who was wrecked here goodness knows how many years ago.'
Meek looked around again, and slightly shivered.
'I wonder what they did with the bones?' he murmured.
'What bones?'
'The cannibals, I mean, sir, when they 'd eat the captain and crew.'
'You 've a ghastly imagination, Meek. A question more to the point is, how it happens that these things remain here, so well preserved. There 's very little sand on the floor, as you see; any one would think that somebody comes here now and then to tidy up. Would your cannibals do that, do you think?'
'I wouldn't like to say, sir. I 'll ask Mr. Grinson; he knows 'em, being nearly eat himself. But I don't know who 'd have a good word for cannibals.'
'At any rate, they aren't thieves. This mug, for instance, is silver gilt, and of some value; here 's a coat-of-arms engraved on it, and it must have been polished not very long ago. Yes, it has been rubbed with sand; look at the slight scratches. I 'm beginning to think rather well of your cannibals.'
'Touch wood, sir,' said Meek earnestly. 'I wouldn't say a thing like that, not till I knowed. And as for thieves--well, if a man's bad enough to eat another man, he 's bad enough to be a thief, and if he ain't a thief, 'tis because he don't know the vally of things. Ignorance is a terrible unfortunate calamity.'
A sonorous bellow from above caused Meek to jump.
'There, now!' he said. 'My head 's full of cannibals, and 'tis Mr. Grinson. We 're down below!' he called.
'Is the place afire?' asked Grinson, sniffing, as he bent his head over the hatchway. 'I thought 'twas Mr. Trentham smoking when I seed the smoke, but I see you 're disinfecting the cabin, sir, and I don't wonder. This 'ere wreck must have been collecting germs a good few years.'
'Come down, Grinson,' said Trentham. 'Where 's Mr. Hoole?'
'Taking a look up the chimbley, sir.'
'What chimney?'
'Well, that's what he called it; for myself I 'd call it a crack.' He came ponderously down the ladder. 'Jiminy! Ephraim, me lad, you never tidied up so quick in your life before.'
'I can't truthfully say as I tidied up, Mr. Grinson,' said Meek. ''Tis uncommon tidy for a cabin, that's a fact.'
'Picters, too! The master o' this 'ere ship must have been a rum cove!'
'He was a Frenchman, Mr. Trentham says.'
'That accounts for it. I remember a French captain----'
The chimney, Grinson,' Trentham interrupted. 'You haven't explained----'
'True, sir; it was took out of my mind, seeing things what I didn't expect. As we come along, sir, Mr. Hoole he says: "Ain't that a chimbley?" "Where?" says I, not seeing no pot nor cowl. "There!" says he, and he points to what I 'd call a long crack in the cliff.'
'Where is it?'
'About half a cable length astern, sir. Mr. Hoole went to have a look at it. Here he is!'
'Phew! That torch of yours is rather a stinker!' said Hoole, springing lightly down the ladder. 'My! This is interesting, Trentham. I wondered where the path led.'
'You 've found a path?'
'Sure! Didn't you see it?'
'No. The fact is, Meek and I were so much taken up with the wreck that we forgot everything else. But we didn't see any footprints in the sand.'
'There are none about here, except yours. The path is way back a few yards. I caught sight of a narrow fissure in the cliff, what we call a chimney in the Rockies. I pushed through the undergrowth to take a keek at it, and came upon distinct signs of a beaten track, leading straight to the chimney. That's barely wide enough to admit a man; Grinson would stick, I guess; but 'tis surely used as a passage. There are notches cut in the cliff at regular intervals.'
'Then we can get away?'
'Sure! All but Grinson, that is. We 'd have to leave him behind.'
'Don't say so, sir,' said Meek. 'Mr. Grinson 's not so fat as he was--not by a long way. I 'm afeard if he stays, I must stay too.'
'Thank 'ee, Ephraim, me lad,' said Grinson warmly. 'But Mr. Hoole is pulling my leg. You take him too serious; he 's a gentleman as will have his joke. He wouldn' go for to desert two poor seamen.'
'I never could understand a joke--never!' said Meek. ''Tis a misfortune, but so I was born.'
Hoole and Trentham, meanwhile, had been examining the relics and discussing the bearing of their discoveries on the situation.
'It's quite clear that the wreck is visited,' said Trentham.
'By natives, of course. Why? How often? It doesn't matter much, except that if we saw them, we might get a notion as to whether we could safely go among them and get their help. You are sure the chimney is climbable?'
'Certain. The notches are deep, and you could set your back against the opposite wall and climb without using your hands.'
'I 'll have a look at it. Then we had better go back to our boat, get some grub, and talk things over. It's too late to go in for further adventures to-day.'
'That's so. Say, I 'd leave the hatch off for a while. The place reeks--it would give us away.'
'Right! We 'll clear out. The men can keep guard above while we 're examining that chimney.'
CHAPTER II
THE DRUMS
An hour later they were seated in the boat, nibbling biscuits and taking turns to sip at the water in their keg.
'Now that we 've proved that Grinson can just squeeze into the chimney,' said Hoole, 'I guess we had better climb to-morrow and take a look round. But what then? What do you know about this blamed island, Grinson?'
'Not as much as you could stuff into a pipe, in a manner of speaking,' said Grinson. 'A few years ago I spent a couple of weeks in Moresby and round about--you can bear me out, Ephraim, me lad--and I know no more than what I picked up there. That's on the south-east: we 're on the north, on what's German ground, or was; and by all that's said, the Germans never took much trouble to do more than hoist their flag. They 've got a port somewhere, but whether we 're east of it or west of it, I don't know no more than the dead.'
'So when we climb, we shan't know which way to go,' said Trentham. 'Yet our only chance is to make along the coast till we reach some white settlement, unless we could manage to attract attention on some passing ship. You don't know what the natives are like hereabout?'
'No, sir. They do say there 's little chaps about two feet high in the forests, but I never seed 'em. The folks on the coast ain't so little, and down Moresby way they 've learnt to behave decent; but I reckon they 're pretty wild in other parts, and I know some of 'em are 'orrid cannibals, 'cos I was nearly eat myself once. We was lying becalmed off the Dutch coast, away in the west of this 'ere island, and some of us had gone ashore for water, and----'
'What's that noise?' exclaimed Hoole, springing up.
A faint purring sound came to their ears.
'It's uncommonly like an aeroplane engine,' said Trentham. 'It would be rather fun to be taken off in an aeroplane.'
'Never in life!' said Meek mournfully. 'It 'ud turn my weak head.'
'Your head will be quite safe, Meek,' said Trentham. 'The only aeroplane that's likely to be in these latitudes is the one that scouted for the German raider. Our poor captain guessed what was coming when he saw the thing, and three hours afterwards they got us, and he was dead.'
'There it is!' cried Hoole, pointing sea-ward.
They were just able to discern the machine, little more than a speck, flying along from west to east. In a few minutes it had disappeared.
'Flying after other game,' said Trentham. 'You were saying, Grinson?'
'And I got parted from the rest, through chasing a butterfly, which I was always a stoodent of nature. I had just nabbed a lovely pink 'un with gold spots, when a crowd of naked savages surrounded me, their faces hidjous with paint, and their spears pointing at me like the spokes of a wheel. Not having my pistol with me, I couldn't shoot 'em all down one after another, so I offered 'em the butterfly, then a brass button, and one or two other little things I had about me, which any decent nigger would 'a been thankful for. But no! Nothing but my gore would satisfy 'em, or rather my fat, for I was in them days twice the size I am now. You can bear me out, Ephraim, me lad?'
'I wouldn't be sure 'twas exactly twice, Mr. Grinson, but not far short--a pound or so under, p'r'aps.'
'I thought my last hour was come, and it came on me sudden that I hadn't made my will----'
'There 's a smudge of smoke far out,' cried Hoole. 'If we get on a rock and wave our shirts, somebody 'll see us.'
They looked eagerly out to sea. A steamer, just distinguishable on the horizon, was proceeding in the same direction as the aeroplane they had noticed a few minutes before. Grinson put up his hands to shade his eyes as he gazed.
'If I had a pair of glasses, or that there telescope in the wreck! Ah! I may be wrong, but I believe 'tis that ruffian of a pirate as sunk our craft yesterday. Seems to me we 'd better keep our shirts on our backs, sir.'
'I dare say you 're right,' said Hoole. 'For my part I 'd rather try my luck with cannibals than with those Germans again.'
'Which I agree with you, sir,' said Grinson. 'With luck, or I may say gumption, you can escape from cannibals, like I did.'
'Ah, yes. How did you get out of that ring of spears?'
The boatswain took such pleasure in retailing his yarns that the two young men gave him plenty of rope.
'I was fair upset at not having made my will, thinking of how the lawyers would fight over my remains, in a manner of speaking. So I takes out my pocket-book and my fountain pen, and with a steady hand I begins to write. It shows what comes of a man doing his dooty. Them cannibals was struck all of a heap when they seed black water oozing out of a stick. They lowered the points of their spears, and, instead of being a circle, they formed up three deep behind me, looking over my shoulder. It come into my head they took me for a medicine-man, and the dawn of a great hope lit up my pearly eyes.'
'Where did you get that, Grinson?' asked Hoole.
'What, sir?'
'That about "pearly eyes" and the rest.'
'Oh, that! It took my fancy in a nice little story called Lord Lyle's Revenge as a kind lady once give me, and I 've never forgot it. Well, as I was saying, I set to droring a portrait of the ugliest mug among 'em--fuzzy hair, nose bones and all--they a-watching me all the time with bated breath; and when I 'd put in the finishing stroke, blest if every man Jack of 'em didn't begin to quarrel about whose photo it was. Never did you hear such a hullabaloo. Fixing of 'em with my eagle eye, I waved 'em back like as if I was shooing geese, took a pin from my weskit and stuck the portrait on a tree, and told 'em to fight it out who was the ugliest of 'em, 'cos he was the owner. The cannibals made a rush for the tree, every one of 'em trying to prevent the rest from getting the picture, and I lit my pipe and walked away as steady as a bobby on dooty. You can bear me out, Ephraim, me lad?'
'Wonderful steady you was, Mr. Grinson, and the bottle of rum empty too. I couldn't have walked so steady. The other chaps said as how you 'd been taking a nap, but I never believed 'em.'
'Never go napping on dooty, Ephraim; which I mean to say we 'll have to take watch and watch to-night, gentlemen. What with cannibals and them big hermit crabs and other vermin, 'twouldn't be safe for us all to have our peepers shut.'
'Very true, Grinson,' said Trentham. 'The boat's rather exposed: you had better choose a spot on the beach where we can shelter for the night. There are some rocks yonder that look promising. Then we 'll arrange about watching.'
Grinson and Meek went off together; the others meanwhile strolled up and down, discussing plans for the morrow.
'We 're so badly off,' said Trentham. 'You 've luckily got your revolver; any spare cartridges?'
'A score or so.'
'I 've only a penknife, worse luck. Grinson has a long knife, and Meek, no doubt, has a knife of some sort; but three knives and a revolver won't enable us to put up much of a fight if we really do come across any cannibals.'
'And I guess that fountain pens and pocket books won't be much good. We couldn't patch up the boat?'
'Without tools? Besides, I shouldn't care to risk a voyage. We may have a chance of reaching some settlement overland, and I dare say could pick up some food; but on the sea we might drift for weeks, even if we could exist on our few biscuits and little water.'
'Well, old man, we 'll get what sleep we can and try the chimney in the morning. The sky promises fair weather, anyway; did you ever see such a splendid sunset?'
They were facing west, and beyond the headland the sun, a gorgeous ball of fire, was casting a blood-red glow on the scarcely rippling sea. On the cliffs the leaves of the palms were edged with crimson, and flickered like flames as they were gently stirred by the breeze. The two friends stood side by side, silently watching the magnificent panorama. Suddenly Hoole caught Trentham by the arm, and pulled him down behind a rock.
'My sakes!' he exclaimed under his breath. 'D' you see people moving between the wreck and the cliff?'
Trentham took off his hat and peered cautiously over the rocks.
'You 're right,' he said. 'It's not easy to make 'em out; they 're in the shadow of the headland; we 're a good mile away, I fancy. They can't see us at present, but we had better warn the others; the sun as it moves round will strike us presently.'
They returned to the spot which Grinson had selected for their camping place--a space of clear sand protected on one side by a group of rocks and on the other by a clump of bushes spreading from the base of the cliffs. Meek had already brought up their scanty stores from the boat; Grinson had stripped off his jersey and shirt.
'If you 'll take my advice, gentlemen,' he said, 'you 'll swill the sticky off--you 'll sleep all the better for it. Bathing all in I wouldn't advise, in case of sharks.'
'Shall we get any sleep, I wonder?' said Trentham. 'There are men on the beach, Grinson.'
'Men, sir?'
'Cannibals!' murmured Meek.
'We saw figures moving between the wreck and the cliff.'
'Holy poker!' exclaimed the boatswain, rapidly drawing on his shirt. Trentham noticed momentarily the figure of a bird tattooed on his upper left arm. 'Hope they don't come this way.'
'Why shouldn't we take the bull by the horns and go their way?' said Hoole. 'I 'll tackle 'em, if you like. You don't know but we 'd make friends of them.'
'Not by no manner of means, sir, I beg you,' said Grinson. 'The New Guinea savages are the fiercest in creation; Ephraim can bear me out; cunning as the devil, and that treacherous. The tales I could tell! But I wouldn't freeze your blood, not for the world; all I say is, keep out of their clutches.'
'Where can we hide, if so be they come this way?' faltered Meek.
'There 's nothing to bring them along this bare beach,' said Trentham. 'They won't see us if we remain here; I doubt whether they 'll even see the boat. No doubt they 'll be gone by the morning.'
'Just so,' said Hoole. 'Still, we 've got to meet them some time, probably----'
'Better by daylight, sir,' said Grinson. 'Wild beasts and savages are always most fearsome at night. I say, lay low.'
'As low as you can,' Meek added.
The glow of sunset faded, and in the deepening shade the figures were no longer visible. The four men sat in their shelter, talking in undertones, none of them disposed to sleep. For a while only the slow tumbling surf bore a murmurous counterpoint to their voices. All at once a dull boom struck upon their ears. It was not the explosive boom of a gun, but a deep prolonged note. Soon it was followed by a similar sound, at a slightly higher pitch, and the two notes alternated at regular intervals.
'Drums, by the powers!' ejaculated Grinson. ''Tis a dance, or a feast, or both.'
'A mighty slow dance,' said Hoole. 'I 'd fall asleep between the steps.'
But even as he spoke the sounds became louder and more rapid, and presently in the midst of the now continuous booming a voice was heard, chanting in monotone. Into this broke a deeper growling note as from many voices in unison, and after the song and accompaniment had continued for some time with ever-increasing vigour and volume, they came to a sudden end in a short series of strident barks, half smothered by the clamour of the drums.
The four men had risen, and leaning on the rocks, with their faces towards the sounds, had listened to the strange chorus.
'It's extraordinarily thrilling,' said Trentham. 'I 'd never have believed that drums could make such music.'
'It trickles down my spine,' Hoole confessed. 'And they 're pretty nearly a mile away. What must it be on the spot? Say, if they start again, shall we creep along and see?'
'I 'm game. Look! They 've lit a fire. There's some ceremony on hand--not a thing to be missed.'
'Which means a feast, sir,' said Grinson. 'If you ask me, I say don't go. It 'll turn your blood.'
'Special if 'tis a man they eat,' said Meek.
'You two stay home; Mr. Trentham and I will go,' said Hoole. 'The rocks and scrub will give plenty of cover; besides, the feasters will be busy. We 'll be unseen spectators in the gallery.'
Heedless of the further expostulations of the seamen, Trentham and Hoole set off, and keeping well under the shadow of the cliffs, tramped rapidly towards the growing blaze. As they drew nearer to it, they moved with greater caution, careful not to come directly within the glow. The drums recommenced their slow tapping, and when the white men arrived at a spot where, screened by the bushes, they could see unseen, the dance had just begun.
The fire was kindled on a clear space between the wreck and the vegetation that clothed the foot of the cliffs. Beyond it, nearer the vessel, about twenty natives were stamping in time with the two drums, placed at one end of the line. They were men of average height, well built, but rather thin in the legs, wearing fantastic head-dresses, bone or coral necklaces and armlets, and scanty loin-cloths. The watchers were at once struck by certain differences in the types of feature. All the savages were a dull black in colour, except where they had painted their skins white or red, but while the majority had wide bridgeless noses and frizzy hair, there were some whose noses were arched, and whose hair, though curled, was neither stiff nor bushy. Every face was disfigured by a long skewer of bone passed through the nose.
The dance was disappointing. The men did little more than stamp up and down, swaying a little now and then, stepping a pace or two forward or backward, shaking their spears, and emitting a grunt. There was no excitement, no crescendo of martial fury.
'A very tame performance!' whispered Hoole.
But Trentham was no longer watching the dance. Beyond the dancers, only occasionally visible as they moved, there was something that had fixed his attention. He could not quite determine what it was, but a suspicion was troubling him. Between the swaying figures there appeared, now and again, a whitish object partially obscured by bush, and barely within the circle of light from the fire. It was motionless, but the fugitive glimpses that Trentham caught of it made him more and more uneasy.
'You see that white thing?' he whispered, taking Hoole by the arm.
'Yep! What of it?'
Trentham pressed his arm more closely. The dancers had moved a little farther apart, and for the first time the object behind them was completely outlined.
'By gum, it's a man!' murmured Hoole.
'And a white man!' added Trentham. 'I was afraid so.'
CHAPTER III
THE CHIMNEY
Noiselessly the two spectators slipped away through the bushes. Startled by the discovery of a white man, whose very stillness declared him a prisoner in bonds among these dancing savages, they felt the need of talking freely, unrestrained by precautions against being overheard. They hurried along at the base of the cliffs until they were out of earshot, then sat on a low rock where they could still see all that went on around the fire.
'Can it be that planter fellow on the Berenisa? What was his name?' said Trentham.
'You mean Grimshaw; he was the only man besides ourselves who wore ducks. I don't know. Grimshaw was a small man; the prisoner seemed a big fellow. I couldn't see his face.'
'Nor I. Whoever it is, I 'm afraid his number 's up.'
'I didn't take much stock of Grinson's yarns about cannibals, but it appears he 's right. The niggers would hardly bring their prisoner down the chimney for the fun of it, or the trouble of taking him up again.'
'Did you see a cooking-pot?'
'No, I was too busy watching the dancers to look around.'
'We 'll have to get him away.'
'Whew! That's a tall proposition, Trentham.'
'Confoundedly; but we can't stand off and see a white man cut up! Hang it all, Hoole, it's too horrible to think about!'
'Ghastly. Yet remember where we are. We might get him loose, but what then? They 'd hunt us over this strip of beach, and we 've proved pretty well there 's nowhere to hide.'
'Our only chance is to get him up the chimney.'
'My dear man!'
'It may be out of the frying-pan into the fire, if there are more of the savages on top, but down below his fate is certain, whereas----'
'But there 's the climbing. I 've done some in the Rockies, but I guess you 're a tenderfoot at mountaineering, and as for the seamen----'
'If they can scramble up rigging, they ought to be able to manage that chimney. I 'm sure I could. And really, there 's no time to lose. They 're still drumming and dancing, but who knows when they 'll feel hungry? We had better bring up the others at once.'
They got up, and hastened towards their camping-place.
'It's the first step that costs,' remarked Hoole. 'How to get him away with the firelight full on him. It's a ticklish stunt.'
'We can but try--we must try! Hullo! Here 's Grinson.'
The two seamen stepped towards them from the shelter of a bush.
'We came to meet you, sir,' Grinson began.
'Hush, Grinson!' said Trentham. 'Muffle that organ-pipe of yours. The savages have got a white man.'
'Never!' exclaimed Meek, in husky astonishment.
'He 's lying tied to a bush there, apparently,' Trentham went on. 'A man dressed in white.'
'Mr. Grimshaw! How did they get him?' said Grinson. 'He must have been cast ashore.'
'We don't think it's he, but it may be. Anyhow, we must try to rescue him.'
'Save us, sir! We 'll only go into the pot too. It will be like taking a bone from a dog, only worse.'
'Worse ain't the word for it,' said Meek. 'And you 'd go first, Mr. Grinson, being a man of flesh.'
'Tough, Ephraim--uncommon tough, me lad. Any nigger of sense would rather have something young and juicy, like Mr. Trentham. I remember once----'
'Not now, Grinson,' Trentham interposed. 'We must make up our minds; there 's no time for recollections.'
'Plenty of time, sir. These 'ere cannibals never start cooking till the moon 's high aloft, and she 's only just peeping above the skyline.'
'That's a relief, if you 're right----'
'I can bear him out, sir,' said Meek.
'It gives us more time to make our plans. Our idea is, Grinson, if we get the prisoner away, to climb up that crack in the cliff; there's no safety below. There may be danger above, of course; it's a choice between two evils. We meant to try our luck to-morrow, you know; we only anticipate by a few hours, and though climbing will be more difficult in the darkness than it would be in the light, you and Meek are used to clambering up the rigging at all hours and in all weathers----'
'Say no more about that, sir. We 'd back ourselves against cats.'
'Or monkeys,' suggested Meek.
'You 've got no tail, Ephraim. 'Tis not the climbing as I 've any fear about, sir; 'tis first the bonfire, second what's up top, third and last--there ain't no third, now I come to think of it.'
'The second we 've agreed to chance. The first--well, the only thing is to work round the savages and get between them and the chimney; then one of us must creep or crawl as close to them as he can, and watch his opportunity. There's no need for more than one.'
'That's my stunt,' said Hoole.
'Not at all. It's between you and me; we 're younger and quicker on our pins than the others; but why you should have the most risky part of the job----'
'The reason 's as clear as daylight. The quickest climber ought to go last. I allow that Grinson and Meek are probably more spry than I am in climbing; but in any case they 're ruled out. You 've never climbed a chimney--I have. I think that fixes it.'
'But the prisoner. It's unlikely he can climb quickly, and the last man couldn't go faster than he.'
'You ought to have been a lawyer, Trentham. But I have you yet. The last man may have to hold the savages off while the prisoner, slow by hypothesis, does his climb. Then speed will be vital when he climbs himself--see?'
'Axing your pardon, sir, and speaking like a father, as you may say,' said Grinson, 'there 's only one way of settling a little difference so 's to satisfy both parties. I 've seed many a quarrel nipped in the bud----'
'A quarrel, you juggins!' cried Trentham. 'There 's no quarrel!'
'Just so, sir--that's what I said. It's a difference, and a difference can't never grow to be a quarrel if you just toss for it.'
'There 's our Solomon!' said Hoole. 'Spin up, Trentham!'
The rising moon gave light enough. Trentham spun a shilling.
'Heads!' Hoole called.
'Tails it is! That's settled!'
''Tis fate: you can't go agen it,' murmured Meek.
'Those fellows must be pretty tired, drumming away like that,' said Trentham. 'But we had better make a start, Grinson. I think we ought to take our biscuits and water: they 'll last us a day or two, and we don't know what chances of getting food there 'll be on the cliff. You and Meek fetch them along. We 'll wait for you here.'
'They took it well,' said Hoole, when the men had gone. 'I was afraid Meek would jib.'
'Meek 's all right,' responded Trentham. 'The British sailor-man has his weak points, but he 's not a funk.'
He began to stride up and down with his hands in his pockets. Hoole watched him for half a minute or so, then said:
'You 'd better take my revolver.'
'Why in the world?' said Trentham, swinging round on him.
'It may be useful--last resource, you know.'
'If we can't do without that---- Why, man, a shot would absolutely dish us, would be heard for miles, and bring up every cannibal there is. This job has got to be done quietly.'
'I reckon there 'll be a pretty big row when they miss their supper. Well, if you won't take it, remember I 've got it, anyway.'
Some fifteen minutes later the four men, in single file, were stealing along the inner edge of the beach, close against the cliffs. Trentham, who was leading, took a zigzag course for the sake of cover from the scattered rocks and patches of vegetation. The seamen in the rear had slung the provisions about their shoulders with lashings from the boat, and on their account Trentham set a slower pace than his anxiety to be in time would otherwise have commended. The fire was burning more brightly, whiffs of acrid smoke were borne on the breeze, and the moon, about ten days old, appeared to have reached its greatest altitude, and was accentuating every irregularity on the face of the cliffs.
As they drew nearer to the fire, Trentham moved still more slowly, picking his way with care. Now and then some small animal, with a whisk and a rustle, scurried away in the undergrowth. Once Meek, who bore the keg, tripped over what he declared was a monster crab, and fell forward, the keg hitting a rock with a sharp crack. The rest halted and held their breath; had the sound been heard by the savages? The monotonous drumming continued unbroken, and they went on.
Between the fire and the cleft that was their destination, grew the tangled vegetation in which Hoole had discovered the track of footsteps. It grew higher than their heads, and they were able to enter it without much risk of being observed. A few whispered words were exchanged between Trentham and Hoole, then the latter led the seamen towards the chimney, which stretched upwards like a black streak in the moonlit precipice, while Trentham struck to the left, and crept cautiously towards the outer edge of the bushes, where he could look out upon the festive scene.
His heart seemed to be making more noise than the drums. His lips were dry. The skin of his face felt tight. 'Nerves!' he thought, with angry impatience. It was strange how, without the slightest consciousness of fear, his mental realisation of all that was at stake thus affected his body. Taking a grip of himself, he went forward and peered through the stiff crinkled foliage. For a few moments he saw nothing but the glare of the fire; then, as he gathered self-command, he was able to take in details which he had missed at his view a short while before.
The dancers were still swaying to and fro. At one side, crouched on the sand, were two men holding in one hand an object like a huge dice-box, and with the other beating a skin, as he supposed, stretched across the circular end. At the other side, near the fire, stood two iron cooking-pots. Beyond, in the same place, lay the motionless white figure. Everything was clearly illuminated by the flames, and Trentham wondered, with a feeling of despair, how it would be possible to approach the prisoner unseen.
A few minutes after his arrival, the dance and the drumming came to an abrupt end. In the ensuing silence he heard the wash of the waves beyond the wreck, and a strange squealing grunt which, until then, had been drowned by the deep tones of the drums and the barking cries of the men. One of the savages, who wore a tall feathered headdress, glanced up at the moon, and said a few words to the others. All of them squatted on the sand except two, who went to the bush, some twenty yards away, to which the prisoner was bound. Trentham's blood ran cold. He wished he had brought Hoole's revolver, for it seemed that nothing else could save the helpless man, and he was on the point of shouting for Hoole, when a piercing squeal, such as no human being ever uttered, gave him at once a shock and a sense of relief. Next moment the savages returned towards the fire, one of them carrying the body of a small pig.
Trentham almost laughed as the tension of the last few moments was relaxed. The men were not cannibals after all! He looked on as in a dream while one of the men cut up the animal, and the other raked over the fire with a spear. But with reflection his former anxiety came back. Why had the savages brought their prisoner here? To leave him to be drowned? But he was far above high-water mark. Were they reserving him as the bonne bouche of their feast?
One of the cooking-pots was placed over the fire, and the dismembered pig was thrown into it. Beyond, the savages squatted in a half-circle, talking. Their leader raised an arm towards the moon, and then jerked it in the direction of the prisoner. The gestures made things clear to Trentham. The moon had not gained an altitude which cannibal superstition required for the slaying of a man.
Trentham felt himself flush with hope. The savages had their faces towards him, their backs towards the prisoner. The raking of the fire had dulled the flames, and the cooking-pot partly obscured the glowing embers. There was still time.
He crept through the bushes until he had almost encircled the space upon which the savages had built their fire. Then, however, a gap of clear sand, twenty or thirty yards wide, separated him from the bush where the prisoner lay. Was it possible to cross that gap undiscovered? No friendly cloud obscured the moon; if one of the savages chanced to turn, he could not fail to see the moving figure.
Trentham looked around him. There was no cover on that stretch of sand--no bush, no bank of seaweed, no wave-cast log. But the surface was a little uneven; the winds had blown up slight mounds and hollowed shallow troughs. White-clad as he was, the white was stained and toned by water and exposure, he might perhaps crawl through the depressions without attracting attention. But it must be at a snail's pace, inch by inch, flat as a worm.
He lay on all-fours, waited a moment or two, then started on his laborious progress. The mounds seemed higher, the troughs deeper, now that he was on their level, and the yielding sand helped to cover him, though at the same time it made movement difficult. Inch by inch he crawled on, stopping at every yard to listen; he dared not raise his head to look. The savages were still jabbering. Every now and then the dull glow of the fire was brightened by a flicker, at which he lay still as a log, moving on again when the transient flame had died down.
Thus, after exertion more exhausting than if he had run a mile, he came round to the rear of the bush to which the prisoner was bound. The foliage was thin and withered. Raising himself on his knees, he saw that he could easily reach through the branches and cut the man's bonds. Would his sudden action alarm the prisoner--perhaps cause him to cry out? The man, as he could see now, had been placed face downwards, and was tied to the central stem. He was very still. Perhaps rescue was already too late. But no! As Trentham gazed, he discerned a slight movement of the head; it was as though the prisoner sought easier breathing. The moonlight revealed a bald crown and heavily bearded cheeks; it was certainly not Grimshaw, the planter who had been Trentham's fellow-passenger on the Berenisa.
Trentham was still undecided whether to risk a preliminary warning, when the movements of the savages showed that the critical moment had come. The cooking-pot had been removed from the embers and set before the leader, who plunged his hand into it, took out a small joint, and with a hollow, wailing cry flung it into the air in the direction of the moon, the other men chanting a weird chorus. Then they sprang up, gathered about the pot, and began to eat, with horrid sounds of gobbling.
'Now 's the time!' thought Trentham. Stretching forward the hand in which he held his open knife, he cut through the tendrils about the prisoner's arms and feet, and the longer strands which attached him to the bush, whispering a single word of caution. For a few moments the man lay almost as still as before, but Trentham saw that he was stretching his limbs and raising his head to look towards the fire, from which there came now only the faintest gleam. Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, he crawled backward through the bush. Trentham rose to his feet. When the man reached him, he took him by the hand and helped him to rise, then led him with cautious steps, under cover of the bush, down the beach towards the spot where the wreck in its sandy bed stood up slightly from its surroundings.
'NOW 'S THE TIME!'
Edging round this, the two men crouched below the level of the savages' heads, and in silence, one step at a time, moved along parallel with the sea-line, until they arrived at the outlying edge of the bushes which stretched up towards the foot of the chimney. Here they rose erect and quickened their pace. They were half-way to the cliffs when there was a sound of crackling. Looking over his shoulder, Trentham saw one of the savages in the act of throwing more fuel upon the fire, which suddenly broke into a bright flame. Immediately afterwards the air rang with a blood-curdling yell, and the whole troop of savages rushed towards the bush where they had left their prisoner, and swept round it in the direction of the sea.
Trentham hurried on. Panting heavily, the prisoner followed on his heels. At the foot of the chimney Hoole was waiting.