Sunk at Sea, R. M. Ballantyne [top 10 novels .TXT] 📗
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «Sunk at Sea, R. M. Ballantyne [top 10 novels .TXT] 📗». Author R. M. Ballantyne
“Right, doctor, you’re right. Come, we’ll put the light to it at once,” cried the captain, rising. “Hand me the match-box, Mr Cupples; it’s in the head o’ the bread cask.”
The whole party rose and went to the pile of timber, which was on the highest part of the islet and towered to a height of nearly twelve feet. Captain Dall applied a match to the tarry pieces of the long-boat, which had been placed at the foundation, and the flames at once leaped up and began to lick greedily round the timber, winding through the interstices and withering up the leaves. Soon a thick smoke began to ascend, for much of the timber in the pile was green, and before the sun had set a dense black cloud was rising straight up like a pillar and spreading out into the sky. As the fire gathered strength, a great tongue of flame flashed up ever and anon into the midst of the rolling cloud and rent it for a single instant; by degrees those tongues waged fierce war with the smoke. They shot through it more and more frequently, licked and twined round it—in and out—until they gained the mastery at last, and rose with a magnificent roar into the heavens. Then it was that Larry O’Hale gave vent to his excitement and admiration in an irrepressible shout, and his comrades burst into a mingled cheer and fit of laughter, as they moved actively round the blazing mass and stirred it into fiercer heat with boat-hooks and oars.
When night had closed in, the brilliancy of the bonfire was intense, and the hopes of the party rose with the flames, for they felt certain that any human beings who chanced to be within fifty miles of them could not fail to see the signal of distress.
So the greater part of the night was passed in wild excitement and energetic action. At last, exhausted yet hopeful, they left the bonfire to burn itself out and sat down to watch. During the first half-hour they gazed earnestly over the sea, and so powerfully had their hopes been raised, that they expected to see a ship or a boat approaching every minute. But ere long their hopes sank as quickly as they had been raised. They ceased to move about and talk of the prospect of speedy deliverance. The hearts of men who have been long exposed to the depressing influence of “hope deferred,” and whose frames are somewhat weakened by suffering and insufficient food, are easily chilled. One after another they silently crept under the sail, which had been spread out in the form of a tent to shelter them, and with a sigh lay down to rest. Weariness and exposure soon closed their eyes in “kind Nature’s sweet restorer—balmy sleep,” and the coral island vanished utterly from their minds as they dreamed of home, and friends, and other days. So, starving men dream of sumptuous fare, and captives dream of freedom.
Will Osten was last to give way to the feeling of disappointment, and last to lie down under the folds of the rude tent. He was young, and strong, and sanguine. It was hard for one in whose veins the hot blood careered so vigorously to believe in the possibility of a few days reducing him to the weakness of infancy—harder still for him to realise the approach of death; yet, when he lay meditating there in the silence of the calm night, a chill crept over his frame, for his judgment told him that if a merciful God did not send deliverance, “the end” was assuredly drawing very nigh.
How long Wandering Will would have lain in the midst of his slumbering comrades, indulging in gloomy reveries, it is impossible to say, for he was suddenly startled out of them by the appearance of a black object on the sea, at a considerable distance from the shore. Will’s couch was near the open entrance to the tent, and from the spot where his head lay pillowed on his coat, he could see the lagoon, the opening in the reef, and the ocean beyond. He rose softly, but quickly, and went out to assure himself that his disturbed fancy had not misled him. No—there could be no doubt about it. Grey dawn was already breaking, and enabled him to see it distinctly—a dark moving speck on the sea far outside the reef. It could not be a gull or sea-bird, he felt persuaded; neither was it a ship, for his eye during the voyage had become a practised one in observing distant vessels. It might be a boat!
Full of this idea, and trembling with hope and anxiety, he returned to the tent, and gently awoke the captain.
“Sh! don’t speak,” he whispered, laying his hand on the captain’s mouth.
“I’m convinced it is a boat,” continued Will, as he stood beside the now smouldering fire, while the captain gazed long and earnestly through his telescope at the object on the sea.
“You’re only half-right,” said the other, with unusual seriousness, as he handed the glass to his companion; “it’s a canoe—a large one, I think, and apparently full of men; but we shan’t be left long in doubt as to that; our fire has evidently attracted them, and now we must prepare for their reception.”
“Do you then doubt their friendliness?” asked Will, returning the glass to the captain, who again examined the approaching canoe carefully.
“Whether they shall turn out to be friends or foes, doctor, depends entirely on whether they are Christians or heathens. If the missionaries have got a footing amongst ’em, we are saved; if not—I wouldn’t give much for our chance of seeing Old England again.”
The captain’s voice dropped as he said this, and his face was overspread with an expression of profound gravity.
“Do you really believe in all the stories we have heard of the blood-thirstiness of these savages, and their taste for human flesh?” asked Will, with some anxiety.
“Believe them!” exclaimed the captain, with a bitter, almost ferocious laugh; “of course I do. I have seen them at their bloody work, lad. It’s all very well for shore-goin’ folk in the old country to make their jokes about ‘Cold missionary on the sideboard,’ and to sing of the ‘King of the Cannibal Islands;’ but, as sure as there is a sky over your head, and a coral island under your feet, so certainly do the South Sea savages kill, roast, and eat their enemies, and so fond are they of human flesh that, when they can’t get hold of enemies, they kill and eat their slaves. Look, you can make out the canoe well enough now without the glass; she’s makin’ straight for the opening in the reef. The sun will be up in half an hour, and they’ll arrive about the same time. Come, let us rouse the men.”
Hastening down to the tent, the captain raised the curtain, and shouted hoarsely—
“Hallo, lads, turn out there—turn out. Here’s a canoe in sight—look alive!”
Had a bomb-shell fallen into the midst of the sleepers, it could scarcely have produced more commotion among them. Every one sprang up violently.
“Hooroo!” shouted Larry O’Hale, “didn’t I say so? Sure it’s mysilf was draimin’ of ould Ireland, an’ the cabin in the bog wi’ that purty little crature—” He stopped abruptly, and added, “Och! captain dear, what’s wrong?”
“Hold you tongue, Larry, for a little, and keep your cheerin’ till you have done fightin’, for it’s my opinion we may have something to do in that way ere long.”
“Faix, it’s mysilf as can enjoy a taste o’ that too,” said Larry, buttoning his jacket and turning up his cuffs.
By this time the canoe was approaching the passage in the reef, and the whole party hastened to the beach, where they held a hasty council of war, for it was now clear that the canoe was one of the largest size—capable of holding nearly a hundred men—and that it was quite full of naked savages. In a few words the captain explained to the men the character of the islanders, as ascertained by himself on previous voyages, and showed how hopeless would be their case if they turned out to be heathens.
“Now,” said he, “we are fifteen in number, all told, with two muskets, one pistol, three or four cutlasses, and a small supply of ammunition. If these men prove to be enemies, shall we attack them, and try to take their canoe, or shall we at once lay down our arms and trust to their generosity? Peace or war, that’s the question?”
Larry at once declared for war, and several of the more fiery spirits joined him, among whom was Will Osten; for the young doctor shrank with horror from the idea of being roasted and eaten!
“I vote for peace,” said the mate gloomily.
“Sure, Mr Cupples,” exclaimed Larry, “I wonder at that, for it’s little pace ye gave us aboord the Foam.”
“It’s not possible,” continued the mate—taking no notice of the cook’s remark, nor of the short laugh which followed it—“it’s not possible for fifteen men, armed as we are, to beat a hundred savages, well supplied with clubs and spears—as I make no doubt they are—so I think we should trust to their friendliness.”
“Bah!” whispered Larry to the man next him; “he knows that he’s too tough and dry for any savage in his siven sinses to ait him, cooked or raw, and so he hopes to escape.”
“Mr Cupples is right, lads,” said the captain; “we’d have no chance in a fair fight, an’ though I make no doubt we should kill double our number in the scrimmage, what good would that do?”
Some of the men here seconded the captain; the others began to waver, and it was finally decided that they should at least begin with pacific advances.
When the council broke up, the sailors went down to the water’s edge and awaited her arrival. As she came nearer, it became apparent that she was a war-canoe fill with warriors. Steadily and swiftly she advanced to within a short distance of the shore. Then the paddlers suddenly ceased, and she was allowed to drift slowly in, while a splendid looking savage stood up in the bow with a shield on his left arm and a javelin in his right hand.
The chief, for such he evidently was, wore no clothing, except a piece of native cloth round his loins; but his whole body was elaborately tatooed with various devices; and this species of decoration, coupled with the darkness of his skin, did away very much with the appearance of nakedness. He seemed as if he had been clothed in a dark skin-tight dress. But the most conspicuous part about him was the top of his head, on which there seemed to be a large turban, which, on closer inspection, turned out to be his own hair curled and fizzed out artificially. Altogether he was an imposing and gigantic fellow.
When about fifty yards from the shore, the savages checked the canoe’s progress and stood up. Now was the time for action, so, according to previous arrangement, the sailors laid their weapons down on the beach, and held up their hands, at the same time making such signs of friendship as they thought would be understood. The savages, who were quick-witted fellows, at once ran the canoe ashore, leaped out, and hastened towards the white men.
As they did so, Captain Dall put his telescope to his eye for a moment, wishing to scan closely the features of the chief. Instantly the whole band turned with a howl, and, making towards the canoe, jumped in and pushed off.
“Ha!” exclaimed the captain, with a smile, “these fellows have been fired at by Europeans before now. They evidently mistook my telescope for a musket.”
The savages paused,
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