Over such ground it was impossible
to hurry, but in three-quarters of an hour they reached
the edge of the wood.
“I have been thinking that we
had better take to the water for a bit,” Stephen
said. “They are sure to think that you have
made for the coast, and they will not be long in finding
our footmarks. Though I don’t know much
about the Malays, I expect they can follow a track
like all other savages. The only thing to settle
is whether we shall swim across the river and go along
in that direction, or keep on this side. We have
not seen anything of alligators, and I don’t
think the sharks ever cross the bars and come into
fresh water.”
“All right, sir! If you
think it is best to cross, I am ready,” Wilcox
said. “A dip will do us good, for the heat
in that wood is enough to roast an ox; besides, it
will wash the mud off us. But we must look about
for a log to put the gun and our pistols and the ammunition
on, we must not risk wetting that.”
There were many pieces of drift-wood
by the edge of the water, and choosing one of them
they fastened the weapons and cartridges on the top,
and then, entering the water and pushing it before
them, swam over to the opposite side. Then taking
the arms again they let the log drift down the river,
and keeping in the water ankle-deep they followed the
stream down to the sea, and continued their course
along the sand washed by the surf.
“How long a start do you think
we shall get, Wilcox?” Stephen asked.
“I should say that two hours
is as much as we can hope for.”
“Well, we shall be a good long
way off by that time. I feel a new man after
that swim.”
“So do I,” Joyce said,
speaking more briskly than he had hitherto done.
“Well, we had better set off
at a trot,” the sailor said. “I expect
those beggars can run a good deal faster than we can.
The great thing is for us to get so far away before
it gets dark that they won’t be able to see our
figures. If it is eight bells before they fairly
set off after us, they will only have a little better
than two hours and a half. They are sure to be
thrown out for a bit at the mouth of the river.
They will see our footsteps at the water side, but
won’t know whether we have crossed or have kept
along on that side. Very likely some of them will
go one way and some the other, still they are sure
to have a talk and a delay. They ought not to
travel twice as fast as we have, at any rate, and they
would have to do that to catch us before it is dark.”
They set off at a brisk trot.
The sand was fairly hard below the spot where the
surf rushed up over it, and the walking was easy in
comparison to that in the swamp or on loose sand.
Still it was hot work. The sun blazed down upon
them, there was not a breath of wind, and they were
drenched with perspiration. They kept on steadily,
however, slackening only occasionally into a walk
for two or three minutes, and then going on again
at a sharp pace.
“They won’t catch us before
it gets dark,” the sailor said confidently.
“I reckon we must be making near seven knots
an hour, and even a Malay could not go at fourteen;
besides, they will have to keep a sharp look-out for
footmarks in the sand above water-mark, as we might
at any time come up from the water and take to the
forest. Anyhow, we must keep it up as long as
we can go. We ain’t running for amusement,
it is for a big prize, for our lives depend on our
keeping ahead.”
Anxiously they watched the sun as
it sank down towards the horizon, and there was an
exclamation of satisfaction as it disappeared below
the water.
“Another half-hour and we shall
be able to take it easy,” Stephen said.
“I should not think they would keep up the search
after dark, and then we could safely take to the forest.
The wind is springing up already, and this light drifting
sand will cover all signs of our footsteps before
morning.”
“We had better keep in the water
as long as we can, Master Steve. They can’t
trace our footsteps here, but they might under the
trees. These sort of chaps are like dogs.
I expect they can pretty well follow you by smell,
and the hope of getting heads will keep them at it
as long as there is the slightest chance of their
overtaking us.”
“Well, we may as well be on
the safe side anyhow, Wilcox, and will keep on here
as long as we can drag our feet along. We have
got no boots to pinch our corns, and every time the
surf rushes up it cools our feet, so we ought to be
able to keep on till eight bells in the middle watch,
by that time I should think we shall have gone something
like forty miles from that river.”
“All that,” the sailor
agreed. “It was about four bells when we
swam across, and in the four hours we have certainly
gone twenty-four knots, and I should say a bit further
than that. If we only make three knots for the
next six hours, we shall have logged over forty by
eight bells, and I should say that even the Malays
will hardly come as far as that, especially as the
men who take this side won’t be sure that we
have not gone the other, and have been caught by their
mates.”
They kept steadily on, but their speed
gradually abated, and for the last two hours before
the hands of Stephen’s watch pointed to twelve
o’clock, they stumbled rather than walked.
“I think that will do,”
he said at last, “it is nearly eight bells now.
Let us tread in each other’s footsteps as well
as we can, so that there shall only be one line of
marks.”
The change from the firm sand to the
yielding drift-in which their feet sank
three or four inches-finished them, and
although they had not more than a hundred yards to
walk to the trees, it seemed to them that they would
never get there. At last they reached the edge
of the forest, staggered a few paces in, and then
without a word dropped down and almost instantaneously
fell asleep.
The sun was high when they woke.
Stephen was the first to get on to his feet.
He went to the edge of the trees and looked across.
To his satisfaction he saw that the drifting sand
had obliterated all trace of their passage.
“Then I vote,” Wilcox
said, when he was told the news, “that we go
a bit further into the wood and camp there for the
day. I am just aching from head to foot.”
“I think we must go on a bit
further, Wilcox. You see there are no cocoa-nuts
here, and we must keep on until we come to a grove
of them. The trees are never far apart, and we
may not have a mile to go. We certainly can’t
stay here all day without something to eat and drink.
You see we threw our nuts away when we started.”
“I suppose you are right, sir,”
the sailor said, slowly getting up on to his feet;
“but it is hard, after such a run as we made
yesterday, to have to get up anchor again.”
“Well, we can take it easily,
Wilcox, and we will stop at the first cocoa-nut tree
we come to. Now, Tom, as we go along you shall
tell us about yesterday, we have not heard a word
yet.”
“Well,” began Joyce, “we
paddled up the river, as you know. It was as much
as we could do sometimes to make head against the current.
I suppose we had been gone about an hour when we saw
a troop of monkeys on the boughs of a tree overhanging
the water. They did not seem a bit afraid of us,
but chattered and screamed. We shot three of
them. I did not fire, for I could not bring myself
to kill one of them. It was like shooting at a
child. We picked them out of the water and put
them in the boat, and then paddled on again.
We had just got to a turn in the river when two big
canoes came round the corner. It was of no use
our trying to get away, for they could go six feet
to our one. Mr. Towel stood up in the stern and
held both his arms up to show that we were friendly,
but directly afterwards a shower of spears came whizzing
down at us. One hit Jackson, who was in the bow,
somewhere in the body. He fired at them, and then
fell down in the bottom of the boat. Then the
rest of us fired, and for a moment they sheered off,
but the men had just time to reload their guns when
the Malays came at us. The men fired again, and
a moment later the canoes ran alongside. We took
to our pistols, but the Malays came leaping on board
like demons.
“I don’t know anything
more about that part of the business, for I got a
crack on the head with a club, and did not know anything
more till I was hauled on shore and chucked down.
Then I saw them bring from the canoes the heads of
all the others. It was frightful. Then they
dragged the bodies out from the bottom of the canoes.
They had all been stripped, and I believe I should
have fainted if a big Malay had not given me a tremendous
kick, and made me walk up to the village. As soon
as I got there they tied me up and staked me out.
There was a tremendous noise and shouting and yelling,
but what was done I don’t know, as I could see
nothing but the sky and the wall of the hut. It
was an awful time; first because I knew that sooner
or later they would kill me, and in the next place,
because I was driven pretty nearly mad by the flies
and things that settled on my face. Of course
I could not brush them away, and all that I could
do was to shake my head, and they did not seem to mind
that. It seems ridiculous that, after seeing
one’s friends killed and knowing that one is
going to be killed oneself, one should worry over flies,
but I can tell you I went nearly out of my mind with
irritation at the tickling of their feet. It
seemed to me that I was there for ages, though I knew
by the height of the sun that it was only about noon.
The thirst, too, was fearful, and I made up my mind
that the sooner they came and killed me the better.
I found myself talking all sorts of nonsense, and I
do think that I should have gone out of my mind before
the day was over. When first I heard your voice
I thought it must be a dream, like some of the other
ideas that came into my mind. I had thought of
you both when I was first fastened up, and wondered
whether the Malays would find you. I had even
thought at first that if you only knew where I was
you might try to get me away after dark if I was not
killed before that, and you can guess my feelings
when I became convinced that it was really you.
How did you know what had happened?”
“You must have been insensible
for a good bit, Tom. We heard the firing, and
thought that there was too much of it for shooting
monkeys, and that you must have been attacked, so
we made our way along among the bushes by the bank.
Presently the two canoes came down, and we made out
some heads in the stern of each boat. They went
to the mouth of the river, to see, no doubt, if there
was a ship there. They came back again in half
an hour. We tried to count the heads, and both
of us thought that there were about the same number
in each boat. Of course we could not be sure,
but we determined to come on to the village and find
out for certain. I climbed up a high tree a short
distance from it-the one where we came upon
the cocoa-nuts-and made you out lying beside
a hut. I knew by the white ducks that it was
either you or poor Towel. Then we worked round,
waited until the village had gone off to sleep, and
then came for you. You see the Malays had no
idea that there were any more whites about, and therefore
took no trouble about you. No doubt they thought
that the boat had escaped from a wreck, and that all
who had got away in her had gone up the river together.
Ah! there is a cocoa-nut. I am glad our walk is
over, for I am beginning to feel hot and thirsty.”
“So am I, and stiff and sore all over.”
The cocoa-nut tree was the first of
a grove. Stephen, who was by far the most active
of the party, soon climbed one of the trees, and threw
a score of nuts down. They went a little distance
further back into the forest. Each consumed the
contents of four nuts, then two of them lay down to
sleep again, while the other kept watch. The march
was not resumed until after sunset. They had
another meal of cocoa-nuts before they started, and
each took three nuts for use on the journey. They
again walked at the edge of the water, as they had
done the day before. It was by far the pleasantest
way, and they kept on until daylight appeared, and
then again went into the wood.
“I should think now,”
Stephen said, as after a good sleep they ate a cocoa-nut
breakfast, “that we need not bother any more
about the Malays of that village. It is quite
possible that we passed another last night, though
of course the sand-hills would have prevented our seeing
it. The question is now, what are we to do next?”
“That is what I was thinking
all the time that we were walking last night,”
Joyce said. “We can’t keep on tramping
and living on cocoa-nuts for ever.”
“That is quite certain, Tom,
but there is no reason why we should do so. There
must be some villages on this coast, and when we start
this evening I vote we keep along here instead of
going down to the water. Where there is a village
there must be fishing canoes, and all we have got to
do is to take one, and put to sea. I don’t
mean to say that we can get in and push straight away,
for we must have some provisions; but when we have
found a village we can hide up near it, and get as
many cocoa-nuts as we can carry. Besides, there
are sure to be bananas and other fruit-trees close
by, and after laying our cocoa-nuts down by the edge
of the water, we can go up and cut as many bananas
as we like, and then we shall have enough food to
last us ten days or so. There is one comfort,
wherever we may land there cannot be a worse lot of
Malays than there are about here.”
“That is a capital plan, Master
Stephen,” Wilcox said. “I have not
been thinking of a village, except as to how to get
past it; but, as you say, there is no reason why we
should not make off in a canoe.”
The next night they kept along just
inside the trees, and had walked but two hours when
they found that these ended abruptly, and that they
stood on the edge of a clearing.
“Here is your village, Stephen.”
“Yes; one hardly hoped to find
one so soon. Well, the first thing is to go down
and search in the sand-hills for canoes.”
Four or five were found lying together
in a hollow some twenty yards beyond high-water mark.
They examined them carefully.
“Any of them will do,”
Wilcox said, “but I think this is the best one.
It is a little larger than the others, and the wood
feels newer and sounder. I expect she is meant
for four paddlers, and she will carry us and a fair
cargo well.”
“That is settled, then,”
Stephen said. “I propose that we go back
some little distance from the village, get our cocoa-nuts
at once, and bring them back and hide them in the
bushes not far from where the clearing begins.
It will save time to-morrow.”
“Why should we not go to-night?”
Joyce asked. “It is only about nine o’clock
now, and if we get the cocoa-nuts near here, we can
make two or three journeys down to the boat with them,
and be off before midnight.”
“So we might, Tom. What do you say, Wilcox?”
“The sooner the better, says
I,” the sailor replied. “As Mr. Joyce
says, we can be off by eight bells easy, and we shall
be out of sight of this village long before daybreak.”
“Well, Wilcox, will you and
Mr. Joyce get the cocoa-nuts, and while you are doing
it I will creep round this clearing and get bananas.
I can see lots of their broad leaves over there.
As I get them I will bring them to this corner, and
by the time you have got a store of nuts, I shall have
a pile of bananas. I think you had better go
four or five hundred yards away before you cut the
nuts, for they come down with such a thump that any
native who is awake here might very well hear them.”
“We will go a bit away, sir,”
Wilcox said, “but if we take pains to let them
drop each time just as there is a puff of wind, there
is no fear of their hearing them.”
They separated, and Stephen, entering
the clearing, soon came upon a banana tree with long
bunches of the fruit. Two of these were as much
as he could carry, and his portion of the work was
soon done, and indeed he had carried them down to
the water’s edge before his companions had brought
three loads of cocoa-nuts to the point where he had
left them. He helped to take these down, then
the canoe was lifted and carried to the edge of the
water, being taken in far enough to float each time
the surf ran up. Then the fruit was placed in
it.
“I wish we had poor Mr. Towel
with us to take her through the surf,” Wilcox
said.
“I wish we had; but fortunately it is not very
heavy.”
“No, sir; it is sure not to
be,” the sailor said. “I have noticed
that they always put their villages at points where
the surf is lighter than usual. I suppose the
water is shallower, or deeper, or something. I
don’t know what it is, but there is certainly
a difference. Besides, there has been no wind
to speak of since we landed, and the waves are nothing
to what they were then. Now, gentlemen, as I
am more accustomed to this sort of thing than you
are, I will take the place in the stern, where I can
steer her a bit. The moment she floats as the
surf comes in, and I see the chance is a good one,
I will give the word; then we will all paddle as hard
as we can, and go out as the surf draws back, so as
to meet the next wave before it breaks. Everything
depends on that.”
They took their places in the canoe,
and grasped the paddles that they had found in her.
Two or three waves passed under them, and then they
saw one higher than the others approaching them.
“We will go out on the back
of this one,” Wilcox said. “Paddle
the moment the surf lifts the canoe, and don’t
let her be washed up a foot.”
The wave fell over with a crash, and
a torrent of foam rushed up towards them.
“Now,” Wilcox exclaimed,
as the white line reached the bow, “paddle for
your lives!”
For a moment, in spite of their desperate
efforts, they were carried upwards, then the canoe
seemed to hang in the air, and they were riding forward
with the speed of an arrow on the receding water.
“All you know,” Wilcox
shouted, and as the rush of water ceased they drove
her ahead to meet the next wave. It rose higher
and higher. The canoe reached it, and, as it
passed under them, stood almost upright. Two or
three more desperate strokes, and they heard a crash
behind them.
“Row, row!” Wilcox shouted,
as they felt the boat drawn backwards. It was
but for a few seconds, then they moved ahead again,
passed over the next wave, and were safe. They
now settled to steady paddling, and before they had
gone many hundred yards from shore they no longer felt
the long smooth rollers, over which the canoe glided
insensibly.
By daylight the land they had left
was far behind them, the low-lying coast had sunk
from their view, and the hills behind were almost shrouded
from sight by the mist that rose from the swamps.
“It was well we rescued Mr.
Joyce before it was dark,” the sailor said to
Stephen. “One night in those swamps is enough
to lay any white man up with fever. That was
why I was so anxious to get him away at once.
I did not think that they would kill him straight
off. If they had wanted him for the feast they
would have cut off his head when they caught him.
I expect they would have kept him for some other occasion;
but I wanted to get him out of it before the mists
began to rise from the swamps. Now, sir, as we
are well away, shall I put her head north or south?”
“I don’t think it matters
much, Wilcox. There is some high land just ahead
now, we may as well make in that direction as any other;
but if we get to a small island on the way, I should
think that it would be safest to land there, and wait
for a few days anyhow, as we agreed before, to see
if there are any signs of a sail. At any rate,
we won’t go near, by daylight, any island likely
to be inhabited.”
After paddling for some hours they
saw a low island that seemed to be about a quarter
of a mile in diameter, and headed towards it.
Before they reached it, however, Wilcox said:
“Do you know, Mr. Joyce, I have
been thinking for some time that I knew that hill
we were pointing to, and, now we have opened it out
a bit more, I feel sure of it.”
The lads ceased paddling, and looked
intently at the hill, now some twelve miles away.
It had a flat top that seemed to be split asunder by
a crack running through it.
“I know it now,” Stephen
exclaimed excitedly, “it is the island where
that wreck was.”
“That is it, sure enough, sir.
I have been thinking it was so for some time, but
it is only now that I have caught the light through
that gap at the top. It was more open from the
point where the Tiger lay when we started for
shore, but if we row on for a mile or two and then
make straight for it, I think we shall just about
strike the point where the wreck is lying. No,
I think we had better wait a while, Mr. Joyce,”
he said, as the latter dipped his paddle in the water
and turned the boat’s head towards the island.
“I think we had better wait
till the sun gets pretty low. We know there ain’t
any villages near the wreck, for she must have been
there a good month afore we found her, and it was
certain then that no native had been near her.
Still there may be some higher up on the slopes, and
they might make us out, so it is better that we should
not get within six or eight miles of land before it
begins to be dark. We could not go to a better
place. First of all, there are no natives; secondly,
we may pick up all sorts of useful things about the
shore. We did not see anything but bales and
wreckage where we landed, but it was all rock there.
Now some of the casks and things may have floated
along, and have been cast up upon the sand. Then,
it is about the likeliest point for sighting the Tiger.
The skipper would naturally say to himself, There
is no saying where the boat has gone to, but if it
is anywhere near the island where we lost them, they
would be likely to make for the wreck in hopes of finding
some provisions cast up there; and so he would sail
round to have a look.”
“I think he would,” the
boys both agreed, letting the boat drift quietly.
They made a hearty meal of bananas and cocoa-nut milk,
and then all lay down in the canoe and dozed for some
hours. The two lads were roused by Wilcox saying:
“I think, gentlemen, we can
paddle on quietly now; the sun will be setting in
less than an hour.”
Resuming their seats, they paddled
gently on until the sun disappeared, then quickened
their pace, and in another hour reached the shore.
They had no difficulty in landing, for the side on
which the wreck was lying was sheltered by the island
itself from the rollers, and it was a sandy beach.
“I don’t think that we
are far from the spot,” Wilcox said, “for
we made straight for that crack on the hill, and kept
it open all the while. I reckon we can’t
be more than half a mile from where the wreck was lying.
“I don’t suppose we shall
see anything of that, the cyclone must have finished
it. However, we will walk along the shore till
we get to the spot. We cannot mistake that.
We will keep a bit back from the sea. We may
light upon something as we go, but it will be sure
to be well inland; you know we saw how far the sea
washed things up beside the wreck.”
The night was too dark, however, for
them to distinguish objects ten yards away, and they
soon came down to the water’s edge again, following
it until the character of the shore changed and rocks
took the place of the sand.
“That is all right,” the
sailor said; “now I think we had better go back
to the boat again till we get daylight. It would
never do to walk across these rocks in the dark with
naked feet. It was bad enough when it was light,
but we should cut our feet to pieces if we tried it
now. There is no hurry about it, as we are within
half a mile of the wreck. We know that everything
is pretty well smashed up that went ashore there, so
that we are far more likely to find something on the
sands, and we shall see the Tiger just as well
from where the canoe is as from the wreck. The
first thing to look for is water. I don’t
say that the cocoa-nuts would not supply us for another
week; but if we are going to stay here long-and
for my part I don’t see anything better to do-we
must either find another cocoa-nut grove or water.”
“I don’t think we are
likely to find another cocoa-nut grove,” Stephen
said.
“Why not, sir? They have
them mostly on all these islands.”
“That is true,” Stephen
agreed; “but I should say it is just because
there are none here that there are no villages anywhere
about.”
“I did not think of that, sir;
yes, I expect you are right; and in that case it is
still more necessary to hunt for water. If we
can find it within four or five miles either side
of the wreck we are all right, because the Tiger
could not come here without our seeing her; but I
should not like to be much further away. However,
most of these islands have water, especially when
they are hilly; and as we have been lucky so far,
it will be hard if we don’t find a stream of
some sort along ten miles of shore.”
The next morning they set out on a
tour of exploration. They were not long before
they came upon many relics of the wreck: planks,
spars, and remains of the cargo. They lay nearly
two hundred yards from the shore, and bore no signs
of the rough usage that had marked the wreckage among
the rocks.
“Hurrah! there are some tubs,”
Joyce shouted, as they reached the top of a low sand-hill.
They broke into a run, and were soon standing beside
six casks, lying a short distance apart.
“Salt junk,” Wilcox said,
as they looked at the cask they first came to, “and
no bad thing either; cocoa-nuts are good for drink,
but that soft, pulpy stuff inside don’t go very
far; and after a chap has been eating it for a week
he wants to get his teeth into something more substantial.
This ain’t no good,” he went on, giving
a kick at the next cask, “unless the natives
come up and we open trade with them. These are
goods they shipped at Calcutta. This is better,”
he went on, as he looked at the next; “this
’ere is biscuits; and with biscuits and salt
junk, and a banana now and then, no man need grumble.”
The next two were, like the second,
filled with trade articles; the last was a cask of
flour.
“Well, we can stop here a couple
of months if we like, gentlemen, if we can but hit
upon water; for that, of course, we must look beyond
the line of sand; a river can cut through it, but
a little stream would find its way underneath the
sand to the sea.”
As they approached the rocky ground,
which rose like a ridge, and could be traced far inland,
the sailor said: “This is the most likely
spot. Any water that came down from the hills
would run along at the foot of these rocks to the
sea.”
“I think that you are right,
Wilcox; the foliage looks brighter along by the rocks
than it does anywhere else, and I should not be surprised
if we found a stream there.”
As they approached the rocks within
a hundred yards, the hope became a certainty, for
there was some growth of verdure. They quickened
their steps and ran forward, but, to their disappointment,
there was no stream, however small.
“We have got to dig for it,”
Wilcox said; “there is water not far down, I
will swear.”
The soil was chiefly composed of sand,
and they set to work with their hands to scrape a
hole in it. They had got but a foot down when
the soil became moist, and a foot lower water began
to ooze out of the sides into the hole.
“Thank God for that!”
the sailor said reverently, “that makes it safe.
This evening, when it gets cool, we will bring the
paddles here, and will soon dig a hole for our well.
We can’t do better than roll a tub here and
sink it in the hole, and bring the canoe to the edge
of that rock down by the sea, then we have only got
to chop some boughs and make a sort of hut, and we
shall be as comfortable as if we were back home.”
“It is curious finding a rock
here,” Joyce said presently, as they made their
way over to it. “For all the distance that
we have gone along by the sea, it has been nothing
but sand: it is rum black-looking stuff, too.”
“I expect it is lava,”
Stephen said. “There are lots of volcanoes
among these islands, and I believe that high hill
is one, and that if we were to climb up we should
find there was a crater there. You see we are
just in a line with that gap, and this rock goes exactly
in that direction. I expect that in some eruption
ever so long ago, the crater split there, and the
lava poured down here into the sea.”
“Very likely that is it, Stephen;
it must have been a long time ago anyhow, you see
there are big trees growing on it.”
In ten minutes they arrived at the
spot where the wreck had been; her keel remained there,
but with this exception she had entirely disappeared.
They took another look among the wreckage, cut off
some lengths of rope and coiled them up, and also
a sail, which the sailor pronounced to be a top-gallant
sail. This they rolled up, fastened it by short
pieces of rope, and then, the sailor taking the middle
and the lads the ends on their shoulders, they carried
it to what they already called their “well”.
“We will set to work at once
to rig up a tent under the shade of these trees,”
the sailor said, “it will keep the night mists
off better than branches; and we will bring another
sail over to cover the ground and keep the mist from
rising inside.”
“What are we going to cook our
junk in?” Joyce asked suddenly.
The sailor looked at his companion
in dismay. “Dash my timbers,” he said,
“I never thought of that; that is a go.
Perhaps we can manage it in the native way: they
boil things by putting water into a big shell, and
dropping hot stones into it until it boils. We
have not got any shells, but we might find a hollow
in the rock that will hold water.”
“That is all very well, Wilcox;
but how are we going to heat our stones?”
“You have done me there, Master
Stephen,” the sailor said, in a tone of utter
disgust; “we have not got flint or tinder.”
“We might manage the tinder
easily enough,” Stephen said, “by using
rotten wood; but tinder is of no use without steel.
We shall have to eat our biscuits without meat, Wilcox,
unless we can light a fire by rubbing two sticks together.”
“That ain’t to be done,
sir; I have seen white men try it over and over again,
and I have tried it myself, but it ain’t no manner
of good. The Almighty has given us a lot of knowledge
that he has not given to these black fellows, but
he has balanced it up by giving them the knack of
lighting a fire which he has not given to us.
I never heard of a white man who could make fire in
that way.”
“Well, I will have a try, anyhow,”
Joyce said; “there can’t be anything special
about a Malay that he can make fire more than a white
man.”
“You may try as much as you
like, Master Joyce,” the sailor said, shaking
his head solemnly, “but mark my words, you won’t
be able to do it. It is a pity, too, for with
all this wood that has been drying as if on purpose
for us, we could have had one without being afraid
of the smoke.”
“Well, we must not grumble;
we have got a lot to be thankful for; and we can do
without meat well enough.”
“Yes, Mr. Joyce,” Wilcox
said reluctantly; “only, you know, I wish we
had not come across that cask of salt junk, then one
would never have thought about it; but seeing it there,
and not being able to cook it, is enough to make a
saint grumble, I should say.”
“Not if he were really a saint,
Wilcox. However, don’t make up your mind
that you are not going to get your teeth into that
junk till I give up the hope of making a fire.”
“Well, sir, we will roll the
three barrels over here, and then set about rigging
up the tent. There is nothing like being busy.”
By nightfall they had got the tent
up. They had had some argument over the best
site. All would have preferred to have erected
it on the low ground, near their well, but finally
a point was decided upon, some little distance higher-a
level spot being found on the rock where some trees
offered every convenience for pitching it, and the
surface of the rock was fairly flat. A few armfuls
of coarse grass sufficed to fill up the inequalities,
and render it even enough for sleeping on. Here
they had the advantage of getting the sea-breeze,
and of having a wide view across the water, while
trees growing behind them completely hid the tent from
being seen from the higher ground. Before erecting
it they had deepened the well, and found that the
water was clear and good, and that it flowed in so
abundantly there was no fear whatever of the supply
falling short.
The next morning Wilcox and Joyce
started for an early walk, with a view to seeing whether
there were any things thrown up on the sand beyond
the rock. Stephen was to stay behind at the tent
and keep watch for a sail.
“I will leave the gun behind
with you, Master Stephen,” Wilcox said; “Mr.
Joyce has got his pistols, and I have my cutlass.
If you want us back, or if you make out a sail, you
fire it off; we will come back as quick as we can.
Don’t you fidget if we are some time away; casks
may have floated a good bit along before they got
thrown up, and it is just as well to see the thing
through now, and then we sha’n’t have to
do it again. We will keep a good look-out for
a sail too, for it is like enough that we may be a
long way beyond the sound of the gun. You see
we can make out from here that a mile further on the
trees come down to near the sea again, just as they
did on the other island. We will take some cocoa-nuts
with us, in case we should not light upon any there.
We sha’n’t be uneasy about you, because
we know for certain that there ain’t any natives
near; and, in the same way, you need not trouble yourself
about us.”
“All right, Wilcox! I will
see whether I can’t get some junk cooked for
you, ready for a meal at sunset.”
The sailor smiled grimly. “All
right, sir; if I find some meat cooked for me, I will
guarantee that I will eat it, even if it is as tough
as an alligator.”