IN WHICH ANOTHER FIGHT IS RECORDED AND AN ESCAPE IS MADE -
But whether fortunate or the reverse remains to be seen
The supply of fresh meat thus secured
was very acceptable to the crew of the Rover,
and their circumstances were further improved by the
addition of a number of fresh cocoa-nuts which were
collected on the island by Bunco, that individual
being the only one on board who could perform, with
ease, the difficult feat of climbing the cocoa-nut
palms. After a couple of days spent at this island,
the Rover weighed anchor and stood away for
the coast of South America, which she sighted about
two weeks afterwards.
Here, one evening, they were becalmed
not far from land, and Griffin ordered a boat to be
lowered, with a crew to go ashore. The captain
had been in low spirits that day, from what cause
was not known, and no one ever found out the reason,
but certain it is that he was unusually morose and
gruff. He was also rather absent, and did not
observe the fact that Larry O’Hale, Muggins,
and Will Osten were among the crew of the boat.
The mate observed it, however, and having a shrewd
suspicion of their intentions, ordered them to leave
it.
“What said you?” asked
Griffin of the mate, as he was about to go over the
side.
“I was about to change some
of the crew,” he replied confidentially.
“It would be as well to keep O’Hale and ”
“Oh, never mind,” said Griffin roughly,
“let ’em go.”
The mate, of course, stepped back,
and Griffin got into the boat, which was soon on its
way to the land. On nearing the shore, it was
found that a tremendous surf broke upon the beach owing
to its exposure to the long rolling swell of the Pacific.
When the boat, which was a small one, entered this
surf, it became apparent that the attempt to land was
full of danger. Each wave that bore them on its
crest for a second, and then left them behind, was
so gigantic that nothing but careful steering could
save them from turning broadside on, and being rolled
over like a cask. Griffin was a skilful steersman,
but he evidently was not at that time equal to the
occasion. He steered wildly. When they
were close to the beach the boat upset. Every
man swam towards a place where a small point of land
caused a sort of eddy and checked the force of the
undertow. They all reached it in a few minutes,
with the exception of Griffin, who had found bottom
on a sand-bank, and stood, waist deep, laughing, apparently,
at the struggles of his comrades.
“You’d better come ashore,” shouted
one of the men.
Griffin replied by another laugh,
in the midst of which he sank suddenly and disappeared.
It might have been a quicksand it might
have been a shark no one ever could tell,
but the unhappy man had gone to his account he
was never more seen!
The accident had been observed from
the ship, and the mate at once lowered a boat and
hastened to the rescue. Those on shore observed
this, and awaited its approach. Before it was
half way from the beach, however, Peter Grant said
to his comrades
“I’ll tell ’e wot
it is, boys; seems to me that Providence has given
us a chance of gittin’ away from that ship.
I never was a pirate, an’ I don’t mean
for to become one, so, all who are of my way of thinkin’
come over here.”
Will Osten and his friends were so
glad to find that a shipmate had, unknown to them,
harboured thoughts of escaping, that they at once
leaped to his side, but none of the others followed.
They were all determined, reckless men, and had no
intention of giving up their wild course. Moreover,
they were not prepared to allow their comrades to go
off quietly. One of them, in particular, a very
savage by nature, as well as a giant, stoutly declared
that he not only meant to stick by the ship himself,
but would compel the others to do so too, and for this
purpose placed himself between them and the woods,
which, at that part of the coast, approached close
to the sea. Those who took his part joined him,
and for a few moments the two parties stood gazing
at each other in silence. There was good ground
for hesitation on both sides, for, on the one hand,
Will Osten and his three friends were resolute and
powerful fellows, while, on the other, the giant and
his comrades, besides being stout men, were eight
in number. Now, it chanced that our hero had,
in early boyhood, learned an art which, we humbly submit,
has been unfairly brought into disrepute we
refer to the art of boxing. Good reader, allow
us to state that we do not advocate pugilism.
We never saw a prize-fight, and have an utter abhorrence
of the “ring.” We not only dislike
the idea of seeing two men pommel each other’s
faces into a jelly, but we think the looking at such
a sight tends to demoralise. There is a vast
difference, however, between this and the use of “the
gloves,” by means of which a man may learn the
useful art of “self-defence,” and may,
perhaps, in the course of his life, have the happiness
of applying his knowledge to the defence of a mother,
a sister, or a wife, as well as “self.”
If it be objectionable to use the gloves because
they represent the fist, then is it equally objectionable
to use the foil because it represents the sword?
But, pray, forgive this digression. Ten to
one, in your case, reader, it is unnecessary,
because sensible people are more numerous than foolish!
Howbeit, whether right or wrong, Will Osten had,
as we have said, acquired the by no means unimportant
knowledge of where to hit and how to
hit. He had also the good sense to discern when
to hit, and he invariably acted on the principal that “whatever
is worth doing, is worth doing well.”
On the present occasion Will walked
suddenly up to the giant, and, without uttering a
word, planted upon his body two blows, which are, we
believe, briefly termed by the “fancy”
one two! We do not pretend
to much knowledge on this point, but we are quite
certain that number one lit upon the giant’s
chest and took away his breath, while number two
fell upon his forehead and removed his senses.
Before he had time to recover either breath or senses,
number three ended the affair by flattening
his nose and stretching his body on the sand.
At this sudden and quite unexpected
proceeding Larry O’Hale burst into a mingled
laugh and cheer, which he appropriately concluded by
springing on and flooring the man who stood opposite
to him. Muggins and the old salt were about
to follow his example, but their opponents turned and
fled, doubling on their tracks and making for the boat.
Larry, Muggins, and Old Peter, being thoroughly roused,
would have followed them regardless of consequences,
and undoubtedly would have been overpowered by numbers
(for the boat had just reached the shore), had not
Will Osten bounded ahead of them, and, turning round,
shouted energetically
“Follow me, lads, if you would be free.
Now or never!”
Luckily the tone in which Will said
this impressed them so much that they stopped in their
wild career; and when they looked back and saw their
young friend running away towards the woods as fast
as his legs could carry him, and heard the shout of
the reinforced seamen as they started from the water’s
edge to give chase, they hesitated no longer.
Turning round, they also fled. It is, however,
due to Larry O’Hale to say that he shook his
fist at the enemy, and uttered a complex howl of defiance
before turning tail!
Well was it for all of them that day
that the woods were near, and that they were dense
and intricate. Old Peter, although a sturdy man,
and active for his years, was not accustomed to running,
and had no wind for a race with young men.
His comrades would never have deserted
him, so that all would have certainly been captured
but for a fortunate accident. They had not run
more than half a mile, and their pursuers were gaining
on them at every stride as they could tell
by the sound of their voices when Will
Osten, who led, fell headlong into a deep hole that
had been concealed by rank undergrowth. Old
Peter, who was close at his heels, fell after him,
and Larry, who followed Peter to encourage and spur
him on, also tumbled in. Muggins alone was able
to stop short in time.
“Hallo, boys!” he cried
in a hoarse whisper, “are yer timbers damaged?”
“Broke to smithereens,” groaned Larry
from the abyss.
Will Osten, who had scrambled out
in a moment, cried hastily, “Jump in, Muggins.
I’ll lead ’em off the scent. Stop
till I return, boys, d’ye hear?”
“Ay, ay,” said Larry.
Away went Will at right angles to
their former course, uttering a shout of defiance,
only just in time, for the mate of the Rover,
who led the chase, was close on him. Soon the
sounds told those in hiding that the ruse had
been successful. The sounds died away in the
distance and the deep silence of the forest succeeded broken
only now and then by the cry of some wild animal.
Meanwhile, our hero used his legs
so well that he not only left his pursuers out of
sight and hearing behind, but circled gradually around
until he returned to the hole where his comrades lay.
Here they all remained for nearly an hour, and then,
deeming themselves safe, issued forth none the worse
of their tumble. They commenced to return to
the coast, having settled that this was their wisest
course, and that they could easily avoid their late
comrades by keeping well to the northward. This
deviation, however, was unfortunate. Those who
have tried it, know well how difficult it is to find
one’s way in a dense forest. The more
they attempted to get out of the wood the deeper they
got into it, and at length, when night began to close
in, they were forced to come to the conclusion that
they were utterly lost lost in the forest “a
livin’ example,” as Larry O’Hale
expressed it, “of the babes in the wood!”