Gascoyne, the Sandal-Wood Trader, Robert Michael Ballantyne [english novels to improve english .TXT] 📗

sails faster than you may suppose with a light wind."

"I doubt not the sailing qualities of your good ship, though I could name a small schooner that would beat them in light wind or storm; but you forget that we have to land our stout ally Mr Thorwald with his men at the Goat's Pass, and that will compel us to lose time, too much of which has been lost already."

Without reply, the lieutenant turned on his heel and gave the necessary orders to hoist the additional sails, while the captain hastened on deck, leaving Thorwald to finish his pipe in peace, and ruminate on the suspicions which had been raised in his mind.

In less than half an hour the light wind which Gascoyne had predicted came off the land, first in a series of what sailors term "cats' paws," and then in a steady breeze which lasted several hours, and caused the vessel to slip rapidly through the still water. As he looked anxiously over the bow, Captain Montague felt that he had placed himself completely in the power of the suspected skipper of the _Foam_, for coral reefs surrounded him on all sides, and many of them passed so close to the ship's side that he expected every moment to feel the shock that would wreck his vessel and his hopes at the same time. He blamed himself for trusting a man whom he supposed he had such good reason to doubt, but consoled himself by thrusting his hand into his bosom and grasping the handle of a pistol, with which, in the event of the ship striking, he had made up his mind to blow out Gascoyne's brains.

About an hour later the _Talisman_ was hove-to off the Goat's Pass, and Ole Thorwald was landed with his party at the base of a cliff which rose sheer up from the sea like a wall.

"Are we to go up there?" inquired Ole in a rueful tone of voice, as he surveyed a narrow chasm to which Gascoyne guided him.

"That is the way. It's not so bad as it looks. When you get to the top, follow the little path that leads along the cliffs northward, and you will reach the brow of a hill from which the native village will be visible. Descend and attack it at once, if you find men to fight with-- if not, take possession quietly. Mind you don't take the wrong turn; it leads to places where a wild-cat would not venture even in daylight. If you attend to what I have said, you can't go wrong. Good night. Shove off."

The oars splashed in the sea at the word, and Gascoyne retained to the ship, leaving Ole to lead his men up the Pass as he best might.

It seemed as if the pilot had resolved to make sure of the destruction of the ship that night; for, not content with running her within a foot or two of innumerable reefs, he at last steered in so close to the shore that the beetling cliffs actually seemed to overhang the deck. When the sun rose, the breeze died away; but sufficient wind continued to fill the upper sails and to urge the vessel gently onward for some time after the surface of the sea was calm.

Montague endeavoured to conceal and repress his anxiety as long as possible, but when at length a line of breakers without any apparent opening presented themselves right ahead, he went up to Gascoyne and said in a stern under tone--

"Are you aware that you forfeit your life if my vessel strikes?"

"I know it," replied Gascoyne, coolly throwing away the stump of his cigar and lighting a fresh one, "but I have no desire either to destroy your vessel or to lose my life; although, to say truth, I should have no objection, in other circumstances, to attempt the one and to risk the other."

"Say you so?" said Montague, with a sharp glance at the countenance of the other, where, however, he could perceive nothing but placid good humour "that speech sounds marvellously warlike, methinks, in the mouth of a sandal-wood trader."

"Think you, then," said Gascoyne, with a smile of contempt, "that it is only your fire-eating men of war who experience bold impulses and heroic desires?"

"Nay, but traders are not wont to aspire to the honour of fighting the ships that are commissioned to protect them."

"Truly, if I had sought protection from the warships of the king of England, I must have sailed long and far to find it," returned Gascoyne. "It is no child's play to navigate these seas, where bloodthirsty savages swarm in their canoes like locusts. Moreover I sail, as I have told you before, in the China Seas where pirates are more common than honest traders. What would you say if I were to take it into my head to protect myself?"

"That you were well able to do so," answered Montague, with a smile; "but when I examined the _Foam_ I found no arms save a few cutlasses and rusty muskets that did not seem to have been in recent use."

"A few bold men can defend themselves with any kind of weapons. My men are stout fellows not used to flinch at the sound of a round shot passing over their heads."

The conversation was interrupted here by the ship rounding a point and suddenly opening up a view of a fine bay, at the head of which, embosomed in trees and dense underwood, stood the native village of which they were in search.

Just in front of this village lay a small but high and thickly wooded island, which, as it were, filled up the head of the bay, sheltering it completely from the ocean, and making the part of the sea which washed the shores in front of the houses resemble a deep and broad canal. This stripe of water was wide and deep enough to permit of a vessel of the largest size passing through it; but to any one approaching the place for the first time there seemed to be no passage for any sort of craft larger than a native canoe. The island itself was high enough to conceal the _Talisman_ completely from the natives until she was within half gunshot of the shore.

Gascoyne still stood on the fore part of the ship as she neared this spot, which was so beset with reefs and rocks that her escape seemed miraculous.

"I think we are near enough for the work that we have to do," suggested Montague in some anxiety.

"Just about it, Mr Montague," said Gascoyne, as he turned towards the stern and shouted--

"Port your helm."

"Port it is," answered the man at the wheel.

"Steady."

"Back the topsails, Mr Mulroy."

The sails were backed at once, and the ship became motionless with her broadside to the village.

"What are we to do now, Mr Gascoyne," inquired Montague, smiling in spite of himself at the strange position in which he found himself.

"Fire away at the village as hard as you can," replied Gascoyne, returning the smile.

"What! do you really advise me to bombard a defenceless place in which, as far as I can see, there are none but women and children?"

"Even so!" returned the other, carelessly, "at the same time I would advise you to give it them with blank cartridge."

"And to what purpose such waste of powder?" inquired Montague.

"The furthering of the plans which I have been appointed to carry out," answered Gascoyne somewhat stiffly, as he turned on his heel and walked away.

The young captain reddened and bit his lip, as he gave the order to load the guns with blank cartridge, and made preparation to fire this harmless broadside on the village. The word to "fire" had barely crossed his lips when the rocks around seemed to tremble with the crash of a shot that came apparently from the other side of the island, for its smoke was visible, although the vessel that discharged it was concealed behind the point. The _Talisman's_ broadside followed so quickly, that the two discharges were blended in one.


CHAPTER THIRTEEN.


DOINGS ON BOARD THE "FOAM."

The nature of this part of our story requires that we should turn back, repeatedly, in order to trace the movements of the different parties which co-operated with each other.

While the warlike demonstrations we have described were being made by the British cruiser, the crew of the _Foam_ were not idle.

In consequence of the capture of Bumpus by the savages, Gascoyne's message was, of course, not delivered to Manton, and the first mate of the sandalwood trader would have known nothing about the fight that raged on the other side of the island on the Sunday, but for the three shots, fired by the first lieutenant of the _Talisman_, which decided the fate of the day.

Being curious to know the cause of the firing, Manton climbed the mountains until he gained the dividing ridge--which, however, he did not succeed in doing till late in the afternoon, the way being rugged as well as long. Here he almost walked into the midst of a flying party of the beaten savages; but dropping suddenly behind a rock, he escaped their notice. The haste with which they ran, and the wounds visible on the persons of many of them, were sufficient to acquaint the mate of the _Foam_ with the fact that a fight had taken place in which the savages had been beaten; and his knowledge of the state of affairs on the island enabled him to jump at once to the correct conclusion that the Christian village had been attacked.

A satanic smile played on the countenance of the mate as he watched the savages until they were out of sight; then, quitting his place of concealment, he hurried back to the schooner, which he reached some time after nightfall.

Immediately on gaining the deck he gave orders to haul the chain of the anchor short, to shake out the sails, and to make other preparations to avail himself without delay of the light breeze off the land which his knowledge of the weather and the locality taught him to look for before morning.

While his orders were being executed, a boat came alongside with that part of the crew which had been sent ashore by Gascoyne to escape the eye of the British commander. It was in charge of the second mate--a short, but thick-set and extremely powerful man, of the name of Scraggs--who walked up to his superior the moment he came on board, and, in a tone somewhat disrespectful, asked what was going to be done.

"Don't you see," growled Manton; "we're getting ready to sail."

"Of course I see that," retorted Scraggs, between whom and his superior officer there existed a feeling of jealousy as well as of mutual antipathy, for reasons which will be seen hereafter; "but I should like to know where we are going, and why we are going anywhere without the captain. I suppose I am entitled to ask that much."

"It's your business to obey orders," said Manton, angrily.

"Not if they are in opposition to the captain's orders," replied Scraggs, firmly, but in a more respectful tone; for in proportion as he became more mutinous, he felt that he could afford to become more deferential. "The captain's