After waiting on the shore, until all hope that any more of their shipmates survived was at an end, the party ­by the mate’s orders ­detached a sail from a yard that had drifted ashore, and carried it well into the wood; where they were sheltered, to some extent, from the force of the gale.  A stout pole was then cut, and lashed between two trees.  The sail was thrown over this, and pegged down at both sides.  A fire was lit, with some difficulty.  Then a quantity of ferns and branches of trees were cut.  These made a soft and elastic bed, and the whole party slept heavily until the morning.

Then they went back to the shore.  It was littered thickly with fragments of wreck, casks, boxes, and other articles.  Here, too, were nearly a score of the corpses of their shipmates.  The first duty was to dig a long shallow trench in the sand, beyond high water mark; and in this the bodies of their drowned comrades were laid.

The storm was now breaking.  Glimpses of blue sky were visible overhead, and the wind had greatly abated.  The sea upon the reef was, however, as high as ever.  Setting to work, they hauled a large number of boxes and bales beyond the reach of the waves.  One of the casks contained biscuits and, knocking in the head, they helped themselves to its contents, and sat down to talk over their position.

“I am not sure,” the mate said, “that our poor comrades there ­” and he nodded towards the grave, “ ­have not the best of it.  The inhabitants of most of these islands are bloodthirsty pirates who, if they find us, will either cut our throats at once, or keep us as slaves.  Our only hope is that we may not be discovered, until we have time to build a boat in which to sail away to Singapore, or back to Java.

“Had we been wrecked further south, things would have been more hopeful; for the Papuans are friendly, and inoffensive people.  These islands here are inhabited by Malays, the most bloodthirsty pirates in the world.  However, we must hope that we may not be found, before we have finished a boat.

“My chest is among those which have been washed up, and there are a few tools in it.  I always had a fancy for carpentry; and it’s hard if, in a fortnight, we cannot make some sort of craft which will carry us.  Indeed, if we content ourselves with a strong framework, covered with canvas, we may be ready in four or five days.”

The men set cheerfully to work, under his directions.  In his chest was a hatchet, saw, and chisels.  With these, young trees of flexible wood were cut down and split.  A keel was laid, 25 feet in length.  Cross pieces, 12 feet long, were pegged to this by trenails ­nails formed of tough and hard wood.  The cross pieces were then bent upwards, and fastened to the strips which were to form the gunwale.  Strengthening pieces were placed along, at distances of 7 or 8 inches apart, and firmly lashed.  When the whole was finished, after three days’ labor, the framework of a boat 25 feet long, 3 feet deep, and 7 feet in beam stood upon the beach.  A barrel of oil had been thrown ashore and, with this, the mate intended thoroughly to soak the canvas with which the frame was to be covered.  The boat would, he calculated, carry the whole of the men, with an ample store of food and water for the voyage.

Upon the morning of the fourth day as, on their way to work, they emerged from the wood upon the open beach, the mate gave a low cry, and pointed along the shore.  There, between the reef and the island, was a large Malay prahu.  The party instantly fell back among the trees.  The Malays were apparently cruising along the reef, to see if the late storm had thrown up the wreckage ­which might be useful to them ­and a loud shout proclaimed their satisfaction, as they saw the shore strewn with the remains of the Dutch ship.  The prahu was rowed to the shore, and fifty or sixty Malays sprang from the bows on to the sand.

Scarcely had they done so when a shout, from one of them, called the attention of the others to the framework of the boat.  There was a minute’s loud and excited chatter among them.  Then they dashed forward to the wood, the deep footsteps in the sand showing, plainly enough, the direction from which the builders of the boat had come and gone.  The latter, as the Malay boat neared the shore, had retired further into the wood but, from the screen of leaves, they were able to see what was going on.  As they saw the Malays rush, in an excited and yelling throng, towards the wood, the little party took to their heels.

“Scatter,” the mate said.  “Together, they are sure to overtake us; singly, we may escape.”

“Let us keep together, Hans,” Will said, as they dashed along through the wild jungle.  Torn by thorns, often thrown down by projecting roots and low creepers, they kept on; their pace at times quickening, as shouts and screams told them that some of their comrades had fallen into the hands of the Malays.  Presently they came upon the little stream which flowed into the sea, close to where they had been cast ashore.

“Let us follow this up,” Will said.  “They can track us, through the forest; but the water will set them off our scent.”

For a quarter of a mile, they followed the course of the stream; stopping breathlessly, many times, as they heard voices in the wood, not far off.  Presently Will pointed to a tree, rising from a clump of bushes, close to the bank.

“Let us get through those bushes,” he said.  “Be careful, Hans, not to break a twig, as you go.  We can climb that tree.  There are plants, with stems like cords, winding round it.  The top is so thick and bushy that I don’t think they can see us, there.”

Very carefully they parted the bushes that overhung the stream, and entered the thicket.  Then they made their way, with great difficulty, to the foot of the tree.  It was a very large one, with a trunk fully 15 feet in diameter, rising some forty feet without a branch.  Then a number of great arms grew out, at right angles.  These were covered thickly with parasitic vegetation.  Round the trunk, like a snake embracing its victim, a great climber had wound itself.  Its main stem was as thick as a man’s arm, and there were dozens of smaller, cord-like climbers.  Thus, the lads had no difficulty in climbing to the point where the branches grew out.  Above these was a mass of foliage, completely covered by the climbers; whose drooping sprays, and clusters, gave the tree the appearance of a solid mass of verdure.  The boys continued to climb until they were nearly at the top of the tree.

“There!” Will said, wiping away the perspiration which streamed from his face, “if they do not track us through the bushes to the very foot of this tree, I defy them to find us.”

For some hours, the wood was alive with noises.  The Malays were evidently beating every foot of it, and were determined that none of their victims should escape.  Several times parties of men came up the stream, searching the banks on both sides but, happily, even their sharp eyes did not detect the spot where the boys had entered the bushes and, gradually, the noises ceased and, at night, a great glare by the seashore told the lads that their enemies had gathered again there; and were continuing, by fire light, the work of breaking open and examining the treasures which the sea had cast up for them.

“What do you zay, Will?  Zhall we get down and go furder into wood, or zhall we wait here?”

“I think, anyhow, we had better wait till tomorrow night,” Will answered.  “They may search again, tomorrow, and might come upon our tracks.  If they don’t find us, they may suppose that they have caught us all, or that we have escaped right into the interior.  If they find no traces of us they will, likely enough, set sail before night.”

There was no difficulty in finding a place in which they could sleep; for the cord-like climbers from bough to bough formed natural cradles, in which they lay as securely as if in a hammock, on board a ship.  In the morning they were woke, at daybreak, by the cries of the many birds which throng the forests of the Eastern Archipelago.  No one approached them during the day, and they doubted not that the Malays were all hard at work, on the shore.

That night there was no reflection of a fire on the beach.  In the morning they descended from their perches and made their way carefully, and as noiselessly as possible, through the wood; to a point upon the shore, a mile distant from the point where they landed.  Going to the edge of the trees, they were enabled to take a view along the shore.  It was deserted.  The Malay prahu was gone.

Confident that none of their enemies would have remained behind, they walked boldly along the shore to the spot where the Malays had landed.  Every box and barrel had been broken open, and the contents carried away.  Planks and beams had been split asunder, to obtain the copper bolts and fastenings.  The framework of the boat had been destroyed, and every portion of canvas and rope carried away.  The lads sat down on the shore.

“What shall we do next, Hans?”

Hans shook his head.

“Perhaps some of the others may have got away, and may join us here, today or tomorrow.  If any are alive, they would be certain to come back here, when they thought the Malays had left.”

Hans grunted an assent.

“Anyhow, the first thing to do,” Will went on, “is to gather up the pieces of biscuits.  They have wasted lots, in breaking open the barrels, and I am famishing.”

Hans rose with alacrity, and they soon were at work collecting pieces of biscuits.

“Let us gather up all the pieces, carefully.  There are a good lot, altogether; and we may want them, badly, before we have done.”

In half an hour they had collected about 30 pounds of biscuits and, having gone to the stream and taken a drink, they made for the spot where their tent had stood.  As they expected, they found the canvas was gone.  They set to work with their knives and, cutting a number of boughs, erected a shelter sufficient to shield them from the night air.

All day they hoped, but in vain, that some of their comrades would return, and listened eagerly to every sound in the forest; but no call, or footstep, met their ears.  They had no means of lighting a fire, the first having been lit by the mate who ­being a smoker ­had had a small tin box of matches in his pocket.  This had fitted closely, and kept out the water.

“What had we better do, if no one comes back?” Will said, as they sat in their little hut.

“Build anoder boat,” Hans answered.

“But how are we to do that, Hans?  We might make the framework, but we have no canvas to cover it with.  Besides, even if we had, I have no idea of the direction of Singapore, and I doubt if we could find our way back to Java.”

Hans had no further suggestion to offer.

“I suppose we could live in the forest for some time,” Will said.  “I read a book called Robinson Crusoe, and a sailor there lived on a desert island for years; but then he had a gun, and all sorts of things.  There are plenty of birds but, even if we could make bows and arrows, I suppose we should be months before we could shoot straight enough to hit them.”

Several days passed.  The lads found plenty of fruit; but the season was advancing, and Will said one day to Hans -  

“What on earth are we to do, when the fruit and biscuits are all finished?”

Wandering in the woods, they found the bodies of the whole of their companions.  All were headless, the Malays having carried off these coveted trophies.  They did not attempt to bury the bodies for, in such a climate, decomposition sets in rapidly, and swarms of insects complete the work.  In the grass near the hut they found one treasure ­the mate’s ax ­which had evidently fallen from his belt, in his flight, and had been overlooked by the Malays.

“I tell you what, Hans,” Will said, one day, “fruit is getting scarcer and scarcer, and there are not more than five or six pounds of biscuits left.  I vote that we make through the forest into the interior of the island.  There must be some villages scattered about.  If we enter one boldly, they may not kill us.  I don’t know whether they have any respect for the laws of hospitality, as some savages have but, even if they did kill us, it’s better than being starved to death, here.  It’s a chance, anyhow.

“What do you say, Hans?”

“I don’t zay noding,” Hans answered.  “I don’t have no obinion, at all.  If you dink zat is ze best plan, let us do it.”

So saying, Hans collected the biscuit, tied it up in his handkerchief, and was ready to start at once.

“There is no hurry, Hans,” Will said, laughing; “still, if we are to make a start, we may as well go at once.”

Turning their backs upon the sea, they struck into the wood.  They had never before gone farther than a mile from the shore.  After an hour’s walking, they found that the character of the forest was changing - the ground rose rapidly, the thick, tangled undergrowth disappeared, and they were able to walk briskly forward, under the shade of the large trees.  The hill became steeper and steeper, as they advanced; and Will knew that they were ascending the hill that they had seen from the ship, when she was coming towards the shore.

Three hours after leaving the coast, they were upon its top.  The ground was rocky here and, in some places, bare of trees.  Inland, they saw hill rising behind hill, and knew that the island must be a large one.

Illustration - Will and Hans in Search of a Shelter.

“Look, Hans, there is smoke curling up at the foot of that hill, over there.  Don’t you see it?  It is very faint, but it is certainly smoke.  There must be a house there and, most likely, a village.

“Come on, we shall get there before the sun sets.  I don’t think it can be more than a mile and a half away.”

Hans, as usual, assented and, in about half an hour, they arrived at a Malay village.  The aspect was curious, each hut being built in a tree.  At the point where the lower branches started, a platform was made.  The tree above this was cut down, and on the platform the hut was erected ­access being obtained to it by a ladder.  Several of the inhabitants were walking about.  These, upon seeing the lads, uttered cries of warning and, instantly flying to the ladders, which were constructed of light bamboo, climbed to the huts and raised the ladders after them.  Then, at every door, men appeared with bent bows and pointed arrows, threatening the invaders.

Will had cut a green bough, and this he waved as a token of peace; while Hans threw up his hands, to show that he was unarmed.  Then they bowed several times, almost to the ground; held out their arms with outstretched hands and, finally, sat down upon the ground.

The Malays apparently understood that their visitors came in peace.  They held a long conversation among themselves and, at last, the ladder of one of the huts ­which appeared larger and better finished than the others ­was lowered, and four men descended.  One of these carried a kriss in his hand.  His bow was slung behind his back.  The others kept their bows bent in readiness for instant action.

The chief was a tall and well-built man, of about forty years of age.  He, like his followers, was dressed only in a loincloth; he had copper bracelets round his wrists.  As he approached, the lads rose and bowed deeply; then Will held out to him the ax and, placing it in his hand, motioned to him that it was a present.

The chief looked pleased at the gift, placed his hands on Will’s shoulder and nodded, and performed the same gesture to Hans.  Then he led them towards his hut, and motioned to them to sit down at the foot of the tree.

Curious faces were watching from every hut and, as soon as it was seen that peace was established, the ladders were lowered and a swarm of men, women, and children soon surrounded the visitors.  At the chief’s order a woman approached them, bringing a dish of food.  This was composed, the boys found, principally of birds; cut up and stewed, with some sort of vegetable.  The dish was by no means bad and, after living for nearly a fortnight upon biscuit and fruit, they much enjoyed it.

Presently, women brought bundles of dried fern and spread them at the foot of the tree and, soon after it was dark, the boys lay down upon them.  It was long, however, before they went to sleep; for the din and chatter in the village continued, until far into the night.  The lads guessed that the reason and manner of their coming was warmly debated; and judged by their reception that the prevailing opinions were favorable, and that the visit from the two white men was considered to be a fortunate omen.

The next day they were again amply supplied with food, and were constantly surrounded by a little group of women and children, to whom their white skins appeared a source of constant wonder.  Their movements were entirely unchecked, and they were evidently considered in the light of guests rather than prisoners.

The next night the village retired to rest early.  The boys sat talking together, for a long time, and then lay down to sleep.  Presently, Will thought that he heard a noise and, looking up, saw in the moonlight a number of savages, stealthily approaching.  They carried with them ladders; and intended, he had no doubt, to surprise the sleeping villagers.  They were already close at hand.

Will shook Hans ­who had already gone off to sleep ­and pointed out to him the advancing foes.  These were already in the village and, separating, fixed a ladder against each of the huts.  So far the boys, who lay in the shadow of the hut, had not been noticed.  The Malays ­who belonged to a hostile village ­began to climb the ladders; when the lads, grasping the heavy sticks which they always carried, and springing to their feet with loud shouts, ran to the ladders, before the Malays could recover from their astonishment at the approach of the white-faced men, rushing upon them.

Half a dozen of the ladders were upset, the men who had mounted them coming heavily to the ground.  Some of these, as they rose, at once took to their heels; others, drawing their krisses, rushed at their assailants.  But the lads were no longer alone.  At the first shout, the doors of the huts had opened; and the inhabitants rushed out, with their arms.  The remaining ladders were instantly overthrown, and a shower of arrows poured upon their assailants.

Will and Hans knocked down the foremost of their assailants; and the whole body, foiled in their attempted surprise, discomfited at the appearance of the strange white-faced men, and exposed to the arrows of the defenders, at once darted away ­several of their number having already fallen, under the shafts from above.  With exulting shouts, the warriors of the village poured down their ladders from the huts, and took up the pursuit; and soon no one remained in the village, save the white lads and the women and children.

Towards morning the warriors returned, several of them bringing with them gory heads, showing that their pursuit had not been in vain.  The village was now the scene of great rejoicings.  Huge fires were lighted, and a feast held in honor of the victory.  The chief solemnly placed the white men, one on each side of him, and made them a speech; in which, by his bowing and placing his hand on their heads, they judged he was thanking them for having preserved their village from massacre.  Indeed, it was clear, from the respectful manner of all towards them, that they were regarded in the light of genii, who had come specially to protect the village from the assaults of its enemies.

After the feast was over the chief, after a consultation with the rest, pointed to a tree close to that in which his own hut was situated.  The whole village set to work, ladders were fixed against it; and the men, ascending, hacked away with krisses and stone hatchets at the trunk.  Hans ­seeing their object ­made signs to the chief to lend him his ax and, ascending to the tree, set to work with it; doing, in five minutes, more work than the whole of the natives employed could have accomplished in an hour.  After working for some time, he handed the ax to one of the natives, who continued the work.  The tree was not a large one ­the trunk, at this point, being about 18 inches in diameter.  Half an hour’s work sufficed to cut it through; and the upper part of the tree fell, with a crash.

In the meantime the women had brought in, from the forest, a quantity of bamboos and, with these, the men set to work and speedily formed a platform.  Upon this a hut was erected, the roof and sides being covered with palm leaves laid closely together, forming a roof impervious to rain.  Two large bundles of fern, for beds, were then taken up; and the chief, ascending, solemnly invited the boys to come up and take possession.

A woman was told off to prepare food for them, and attend to their wants and, by nightfall, the lads found themselves in a comfortable abode of their own.  Pulling up the ladder, after the manner of the natives, they sat down to chat over their altered prospects.  They were now clearly regarded as adopted into the village community, and need have no further fear as to their personal security, or means of living.

“For the time we are safe,” Will said; “but ­as I don’t want to turn Malay, and live all my life with no other amusement than keeping my own head on, and hunting for those of the enemies of the village ­we must think of making our escape, somehow; though at present, I own I don’t see how.”