Chapter Fifteen.Mutiny—The Coming Storm.Nobody would have credited Williams, the cabin-boy, with very much ’cuteness. We never know the hidden depths of even a young lad’s mind.The Finn Norman had in his two countrymen and in the Spaniards five men willing to do anything. To put it plainly, for gold they would use their knives against their dearest friends, and rejoice in it too.Norman had not only a body of fearful physical strength, but a winning and persuasive tongue, and he wheedled over no less than three Englishmen, or rather Scotsmen, to join his forces.Late one night a half-whispered conversation was held near to the winch. The Finn had been here before—that is, up in the South Pacific—and he could guide them to an island of gold. And what was it that gold could not purchase in this world? he added. “Everyone of you shall be wealthy. We shall then scrape the vessel from stem to stern, alter her name and rigging, and after loading up with gold, sail for distant Australia. There we shall sell the ship and, going to the diggings for a time, to avoid suspicion, will in a few months return to Sidney or Melbourne as lucky miners. Then hurrah for home!”“We will join,” said the Scotsman, “on one condition.”“And that is?”“There must be no murder.”“Your request is granted. We will rise suddenly, batten down the men below, then rushing aft we shall secure the officers in the saloon. The vessel will then be ours. But we shall maroon the men on the nearest land, with biscuits and a few arms. The women will be best on board,” he grinned.“Bah!” said a Spaniard, drawing his ugly knife. “Let us throat them. Dead men tell no tales, you know. Take my advice.”But the marooning was finally decided on, and the mutineers retired to their bunks or to their duty.Little did they know that the cabin-boy, with listening ears, though almost frightened out of his life, was hiding behind the winch and had heard every word they had said.As soon as it was possible he escaped, and going at once aft, he reported in a frightened whisper all the details of the terrible plot.“Horrible!” said Dickson.“Strikes me,” said Hall, “that there must be a Jonah on board, or a murderer. Let us draw for him, putting all names in a hat, and then lynch the fellow!”“If,” said Dickson, “there be a murderer on board, the fellow is that Finn.”“Seize the scoundrel at once, then,” cried Hall, “and throw him to the sharks or put him in irons.”“No, I’ll wait, and Williams shall be our spy.”Nearly all the mutineers were in the same watch, only one good man and true being among them. Norman played his game well. He knew that if suspected at all, they would be watched by night, so he chose broad daylight for the awfuldénouement. While the men were below at dinner, those in the cabin all having luncheon, then Norman suddenly gave the preconcerted signal.The hatches were thrown on in a moment, and screwed down by two men, while the main band rushed aft and secured the saloon door.“If you value your lives in there,” savagely shouted the Finn down through the skylight, as that too was being fastened securely down, “you’ll keep quiet.”Hall had both his revolvers out in a trice, and fired; but the skylights were closed, and no harm or good was done.Next the mutineers threw open the fore-hatch, and at pistol point ordered every man into the half-deck cabin abaft the galley and abaft the sailors’ sleeping bunks.“I’ll shoot the first man dead,” cried Norman, “who does not look active!”The communication door was then secured, and all was deemed safe. They would bear north now, and make for the nearest island.The rum store was near the foot of the stair, or companion, and close to the stewardess’s pantry. The key hung there, so more than a gallon of rum was got up and taken forward.The engineers were told that if they did not crack on, they would be had on deck and made to walk the plank.The Finn had not meant that any orgie should take place; but take place it did, and a fearful one too. The man at the wheel kept on for fear of death, and so did the engineers.By twelve o’clock, or eight bells, in the first watch, the fellows were helplessly drunk and lying about in the galley in all directions.Little Williams, the cabin-boy, had been overlooked. Wise he was indeed, for now he very quietly hauled on the fore-hatch—ay, and screwed it down. Then he went quickly aft and succeeded in releasing the officers. The men were next set free, and the door between secured aft.In ten minutes’ time every mutineer in the ship was in irons. Surely no mutiny was ever before quelled in so speedy and bloodless a manner!“I knew,” said Hall, “that we had a Jonah on board, and that Jonah is the double-dyed villain Christian Norman. Say, Captain Dickson, is it going to be a hanging match?”“I am almost tempted to hang the ringleader,” replied Dickson, “but this would be far too tragical, especially with ladies on board. Remember that, be his heart what it may, there is just one little good spot in his character. He dearly loved little Matty, and she loved him.”“Well, sir, what are you going to do about it? I’d like to know that.”“This. I cannot pardon any single one of these villains. The Scotsmen, indeed, are worse in a manner of speaking than the Finns or cowardly Spaniards. I shall mete out to them the same punishment, though in a lesser degree, that they would have meted out to us. Not on the inhospitable snow-clad shores of the Tierra del Fuego islands shall they be placed, but on the most solitary isle I can find in some of the South Pacific groups.”Now things went on more pleasantly for a time. The prisoners were not only in leg-irons, but manacled, and with sentries placed over them watch and watch by night and by day. These men had orders to shoot at once any man who made the slightest attempt to escape.It was about a week after this, theWolverinehad safely rounded the stormy Cape, and was now in the broad Pacific. A sailor of the name of Robertson had just gone on sentry, when, without a word of warning, Norman the Finn suddenly raised himself to his feet and felled him with his manacled hands. The strength of the fellow was enormous. But the ring of a rifle was heard next minute, and Norman fell on his face, shot through the heart.He was thrown overboard that same evening with scant ceremony.“I feel happier now,” said Hall, “that even our Jonah is no more. Now shall our voyage be more lucky and pleasant.”Ah! but was it?TheWolverinewas purposely kept well out of the ordinary track of ships coming or going from either China or Australia. And luck or not luck, after ten days’ steaming westward and north, they sighted an island unknown to the navigator, unknown to any chart. It was small, but cocoa-nuts waved from the summit of its lofty hills.Here, at all events, there must be fruit in abundance, with probably edible rodents, and fish in the sea. And here the mutineers were marooned. Not without fishing gear were they left, nor without a small supply of biscuits, and just three fowling pieces and ammunition, with some axes and carpenter’s tools.They deserved a worse fate, but Dickson was kind at heart.Well, at any rate, they pass out of our story. On that island they probably are until this day.Everyone on theWolverineseemed to breathe more freely now, and the vessel was once more headed eastwards to regain her direct route to California and San Francisco.For a whole week the breeze blew so pleasantly and steadily that fires were bunked and all sail set. The very ship herself seemed to have regained cheerfulness and confidence, and to go dancing over the sunlit sea, under her white wing-like studding sails, as if she were of a verity a thing of life. Those on board soon forgot all their trials and misery. The mutineers were themselves forgotten. Matty and Oscar (who had recovered from his spear wound) resumed their romps on deck, and surely never did sea-going yacht look more snug and clean than did theWolverineat this time.She was still far out of the usual track of ships, however, though now bearing more to the nor’ard. So far north were they, indeed, that the twilight at morn or even was very short indeed. In the tropics, it is not figurative language, but fact, to say that, the red sun seemed to leap from behind the clear horizon. But a few minutes before this one might have seen, high in the east, purple streaks of clouds, changing quickly to crimson or scarlet, then the sun, like a huge blood orange, dyeing the rippling sea.At night the descent was just as sudden, but my pen would fail did I try to describe the evanescent beauty of those glorious sunsets.Light and sunshine are ever lovely; so is colour; but here was light and colour co-mingled in a transformation scene so grand, so vast, that it struck the heart of the beholder with a species of wonder not unmixed with awe. And the beholders were usually silent. Then all night long in the west played the silent lightning, bringing into shape and form many a rock-like, tower-like cloud. It was behind these clouds of the night that this tropical lightning played and danced and shimmered.Then at times they came into a sea of phosphorescent light. It was seen all around, but brighter where the vessel raised ripples along the quarter. It dropped like fire from her bows, ay, and even great fishes could be seen—sharks in all probability—sinking down, down, down into the sea’s dark depths, like fishes of fire, till at last they were visible only like little balls of light, speedily to be extinguished.About this latitude flying gurnets leapt on board by the score on some nights, and a delightful addition indeed did they prove to the matutinalmenu. Sometimes a huge octopus would be seen in the phosphorescent sea. It is the devil-fish of the tropics, and, with his awful head and arms, so abhorrent and nightmarish was the sight that it could not be beheld without a shudder.The Pacific Ocean! Yes, truly, very often pacific enough; so much so that with ordinary luck one might sail across its waters in a dinghy boat. But there are times when some portions of it are swept by terrific circular storms. Ah! happy is the ship that, overtaken by one of these, can manage to keep well out and away from its vortex.One evening the sun went down amidst a chaos of dark and threatening clouds, from which thunder was occasionally heard like the sound of distant artillery, but muttering, and more prolonged. The glass went tumbling down. Captain Dickson had never seen it so low. The wind too had failed, and before sunset the sea lay all around them, a greasy glitter on its surface like mercury, with here and there the fin of a basking shark appearing on the surface. Even the air was stifling, sickening almost, as if the foetus of the ocean’s slimy depths had been stirred up and risen to the surface.All sail was speedily taken in, and by the aid of oil, the fires were quickly roaring hot beneath the boilers.Higher and higher rose that bank of clouds, darkening the sky. Then—“The upper air burst into life!And a hundred fire flags sheen;To and fro they were hurried about,And to and fro, and in and out,The wan stars danced between.”
Nobody would have credited Williams, the cabin-boy, with very much ’cuteness. We never know the hidden depths of even a young lad’s mind.
The Finn Norman had in his two countrymen and in the Spaniards five men willing to do anything. To put it plainly, for gold they would use their knives against their dearest friends, and rejoice in it too.
Norman had not only a body of fearful physical strength, but a winning and persuasive tongue, and he wheedled over no less than three Englishmen, or rather Scotsmen, to join his forces.
Late one night a half-whispered conversation was held near to the winch. The Finn had been here before—that is, up in the South Pacific—and he could guide them to an island of gold. And what was it that gold could not purchase in this world? he added. “Everyone of you shall be wealthy. We shall then scrape the vessel from stem to stern, alter her name and rigging, and after loading up with gold, sail for distant Australia. There we shall sell the ship and, going to the diggings for a time, to avoid suspicion, will in a few months return to Sidney or Melbourne as lucky miners. Then hurrah for home!”
“We will join,” said the Scotsman, “on one condition.”
“And that is?”
“There must be no murder.”
“Your request is granted. We will rise suddenly, batten down the men below, then rushing aft we shall secure the officers in the saloon. The vessel will then be ours. But we shall maroon the men on the nearest land, with biscuits and a few arms. The women will be best on board,” he grinned.
“Bah!” said a Spaniard, drawing his ugly knife. “Let us throat them. Dead men tell no tales, you know. Take my advice.”
But the marooning was finally decided on, and the mutineers retired to their bunks or to their duty.
Little did they know that the cabin-boy, with listening ears, though almost frightened out of his life, was hiding behind the winch and had heard every word they had said.
As soon as it was possible he escaped, and going at once aft, he reported in a frightened whisper all the details of the terrible plot.
“Horrible!” said Dickson.
“Strikes me,” said Hall, “that there must be a Jonah on board, or a murderer. Let us draw for him, putting all names in a hat, and then lynch the fellow!”
“If,” said Dickson, “there be a murderer on board, the fellow is that Finn.”
“Seize the scoundrel at once, then,” cried Hall, “and throw him to the sharks or put him in irons.”
“No, I’ll wait, and Williams shall be our spy.”
Nearly all the mutineers were in the same watch, only one good man and true being among them. Norman played his game well. He knew that if suspected at all, they would be watched by night, so he chose broad daylight for the awfuldénouement. While the men were below at dinner, those in the cabin all having luncheon, then Norman suddenly gave the preconcerted signal.
The hatches were thrown on in a moment, and screwed down by two men, while the main band rushed aft and secured the saloon door.
“If you value your lives in there,” savagely shouted the Finn down through the skylight, as that too was being fastened securely down, “you’ll keep quiet.”
Hall had both his revolvers out in a trice, and fired; but the skylights were closed, and no harm or good was done.
Next the mutineers threw open the fore-hatch, and at pistol point ordered every man into the half-deck cabin abaft the galley and abaft the sailors’ sleeping bunks.
“I’ll shoot the first man dead,” cried Norman, “who does not look active!”
The communication door was then secured, and all was deemed safe. They would bear north now, and make for the nearest island.
The rum store was near the foot of the stair, or companion, and close to the stewardess’s pantry. The key hung there, so more than a gallon of rum was got up and taken forward.
The engineers were told that if they did not crack on, they would be had on deck and made to walk the plank.
The Finn had not meant that any orgie should take place; but take place it did, and a fearful one too. The man at the wheel kept on for fear of death, and so did the engineers.
By twelve o’clock, or eight bells, in the first watch, the fellows were helplessly drunk and lying about in the galley in all directions.
Little Williams, the cabin-boy, had been overlooked. Wise he was indeed, for now he very quietly hauled on the fore-hatch—ay, and screwed it down. Then he went quickly aft and succeeded in releasing the officers. The men were next set free, and the door between secured aft.
In ten minutes’ time every mutineer in the ship was in irons. Surely no mutiny was ever before quelled in so speedy and bloodless a manner!
“I knew,” said Hall, “that we had a Jonah on board, and that Jonah is the double-dyed villain Christian Norman. Say, Captain Dickson, is it going to be a hanging match?”
“I am almost tempted to hang the ringleader,” replied Dickson, “but this would be far too tragical, especially with ladies on board. Remember that, be his heart what it may, there is just one little good spot in his character. He dearly loved little Matty, and she loved him.”
“Well, sir, what are you going to do about it? I’d like to know that.”
“This. I cannot pardon any single one of these villains. The Scotsmen, indeed, are worse in a manner of speaking than the Finns or cowardly Spaniards. I shall mete out to them the same punishment, though in a lesser degree, that they would have meted out to us. Not on the inhospitable snow-clad shores of the Tierra del Fuego islands shall they be placed, but on the most solitary isle I can find in some of the South Pacific groups.”
Now things went on more pleasantly for a time. The prisoners were not only in leg-irons, but manacled, and with sentries placed over them watch and watch by night and by day. These men had orders to shoot at once any man who made the slightest attempt to escape.
It was about a week after this, theWolverinehad safely rounded the stormy Cape, and was now in the broad Pacific. A sailor of the name of Robertson had just gone on sentry, when, without a word of warning, Norman the Finn suddenly raised himself to his feet and felled him with his manacled hands. The strength of the fellow was enormous. But the ring of a rifle was heard next minute, and Norman fell on his face, shot through the heart.
He was thrown overboard that same evening with scant ceremony.
“I feel happier now,” said Hall, “that even our Jonah is no more. Now shall our voyage be more lucky and pleasant.”
Ah! but was it?
TheWolverinewas purposely kept well out of the ordinary track of ships coming or going from either China or Australia. And luck or not luck, after ten days’ steaming westward and north, they sighted an island unknown to the navigator, unknown to any chart. It was small, but cocoa-nuts waved from the summit of its lofty hills.
Here, at all events, there must be fruit in abundance, with probably edible rodents, and fish in the sea. And here the mutineers were marooned. Not without fishing gear were they left, nor without a small supply of biscuits, and just three fowling pieces and ammunition, with some axes and carpenter’s tools.
They deserved a worse fate, but Dickson was kind at heart.
Well, at any rate, they pass out of our story. On that island they probably are until this day.
Everyone on theWolverineseemed to breathe more freely now, and the vessel was once more headed eastwards to regain her direct route to California and San Francisco.
For a whole week the breeze blew so pleasantly and steadily that fires were bunked and all sail set. The very ship herself seemed to have regained cheerfulness and confidence, and to go dancing over the sunlit sea, under her white wing-like studding sails, as if she were of a verity a thing of life. Those on board soon forgot all their trials and misery. The mutineers were themselves forgotten. Matty and Oscar (who had recovered from his spear wound) resumed their romps on deck, and surely never did sea-going yacht look more snug and clean than did theWolverineat this time.
She was still far out of the usual track of ships, however, though now bearing more to the nor’ard. So far north were they, indeed, that the twilight at morn or even was very short indeed. In the tropics, it is not figurative language, but fact, to say that, the red sun seemed to leap from behind the clear horizon. But a few minutes before this one might have seen, high in the east, purple streaks of clouds, changing quickly to crimson or scarlet, then the sun, like a huge blood orange, dyeing the rippling sea.
At night the descent was just as sudden, but my pen would fail did I try to describe the evanescent beauty of those glorious sunsets.
Light and sunshine are ever lovely; so is colour; but here was light and colour co-mingled in a transformation scene so grand, so vast, that it struck the heart of the beholder with a species of wonder not unmixed with awe. And the beholders were usually silent. Then all night long in the west played the silent lightning, bringing into shape and form many a rock-like, tower-like cloud. It was behind these clouds of the night that this tropical lightning played and danced and shimmered.
Then at times they came into a sea of phosphorescent light. It was seen all around, but brighter where the vessel raised ripples along the quarter. It dropped like fire from her bows, ay, and even great fishes could be seen—sharks in all probability—sinking down, down, down into the sea’s dark depths, like fishes of fire, till at last they were visible only like little balls of light, speedily to be extinguished.
About this latitude flying gurnets leapt on board by the score on some nights, and a delightful addition indeed did they prove to the matutinalmenu. Sometimes a huge octopus would be seen in the phosphorescent sea. It is the devil-fish of the tropics, and, with his awful head and arms, so abhorrent and nightmarish was the sight that it could not be beheld without a shudder.
The Pacific Ocean! Yes, truly, very often pacific enough; so much so that with ordinary luck one might sail across its waters in a dinghy boat. But there are times when some portions of it are swept by terrific circular storms. Ah! happy is the ship that, overtaken by one of these, can manage to keep well out and away from its vortex.
One evening the sun went down amidst a chaos of dark and threatening clouds, from which thunder was occasionally heard like the sound of distant artillery, but muttering, and more prolonged. The glass went tumbling down. Captain Dickson had never seen it so low. The wind too had failed, and before sunset the sea lay all around them, a greasy glitter on its surface like mercury, with here and there the fin of a basking shark appearing on the surface. Even the air was stifling, sickening almost, as if the foetus of the ocean’s slimy depths had been stirred up and risen to the surface.
All sail was speedily taken in, and by the aid of oil, the fires were quickly roaring hot beneath the boilers.
Higher and higher rose that bank of clouds, darkening the sky. Then—
“The upper air burst into life!And a hundred fire flags sheen;To and fro they were hurried about,And to and fro, and in and out,The wan stars danced between.”
“The upper air burst into life!And a hundred fire flags sheen;To and fro they were hurried about,And to and fro, and in and out,The wan stars danced between.”
Chapter Sixteen.Shipwreck—The White Queen of the Isle of Flowers.To and fro, to and fro, on the quarter-deck walked the imperturbable Yankee, Mr Hall, quietly pulling at his huge cigar. He had seen the ladies, and had told them straight that it was to be a fearful storm, and now he would wait to see what Fate had in store for them.But more impatient far was Captain Dickson. Would steam never be got up? He had an idea which way the storm would come, and he wanted to steam southwards, and as much out of its track as possible.At last the steam begins to roar, and now the screw revolves, and the good ship cleaves its way through the darkness of sky and sea. Dickson is somewhat relieved. He puts two men to the wheel, and sailors lash them to it. Well Dickson knows that the storm will be a fearful one.Who is this fluttering up along the deck? A little dot all in white—nothing on but a night-dress. Matty, of course.“I lunned away,” she explained, “and tomed (came up) to see the lightnin’s flash.”“Oh, my darling!” cried Reginald, “you must come with me at once!”He picked the little fairy up, and quickly had her safely below again.The men were busy battening down when he returned to deck. Here and there along the bulwarks loose ropes were left that the men, if needful, might lash themselves to the rigging.But now the rain began to come down, first in scattered drops, then in a hot and awful torrent. Louder and louder roared the thunder, brighter and still more vivid flashed the lightning. The thunder-claps followed the lightning so quickly that Dickson knew it was very near.“Lash yourselves, lads!” the skipper roared through the speaking-trumpet. “She is coming!”Ah! come she did. And no shoreman can ever tell what the vehemence of a circular hurricane like this sweeping across the ocean is like in strength and vehemence.Dickson had just time to shout, “The first shock will be the strongest, boys,” when the terrible storm burst upon the doomed ship with a violence indescribable, and a noise like a hundred great guns fired at once.Thrown at first almost on her beam-ends, she soon righted, and now she was tossed about like a cork. High up on a mighty wave at one moment, down in a dark gulf the next. The foam of the breaking waters and the incessant lightning was the only light they had, and in this glare the faces of the crew looked blue and ghastly.Bravely did the men stick to the wheel. Hall himself had gone early below to comfort the ladies. Yet, although the waves and spray were making a clean breach over the ship, luckily she was well battened down, and it was dry below. The seas that tumbled inboard were hot and seething.Mr Hall prevailed upon his wife and daughter to lie down on the lockers, or couches, and to these he did his best to lash them; but so great was the uncertain motion, that he had to clutch with one hand to the table while he did so.The air down below was as hot as the waters on deck; hot and sulphurous, so that the perspiration stood on the brows of all below. It was indeed a fearful storm.But it lulled at last, though two men had been called to their account—swept overboard in the clutches of a great green sea.It lulled; but the intensity of the pitchy darkness still continued. It was no longer a circular storm, but a gale, settling down to less than half a gale towards the commencement of the morning watch. But the binnacle had been washed away, and the men were steering only by blind chance.Just as daylight, grey and gloomy, began to appear in the east, an awful tell-tale rasping was heard beneath the keel of theWolverine, and almost at once two of her masts went by the board.“Axes, men!” cried Dickson—“axes, and clear away the wreck!”It was a dangerous and difficult task, with every now and then a huge sea rushing in from astern, and all but sweeping the decks.Daylight came in quickly now, though clouds seemingly a mile in depth obscured the sun, and the horizon was close on board of them all around.But yonder, looming through the mist, was a coral shore, with huge rugged, and apparently volcanic, mountains rising behind it. Fearing she would soon break up, Captain Dickson determined to lower a boat at all hazards, manned by four of his strongest and best sailors. In this Hall begged that his wife might go with the maid, and the request was granted. Mr Hall watched that boat as she rose and fell on the troubled waters with the greatest anxiety and dread. Suddenly he staggered and clutched the rigging, and his eyes seemed starting from his head.“Oh, my God! my God!” he cried. “My wife! my wife!”For a bigger wave than any, a huge breaker or bore, in fact came rushing from seawards and engulfed the unfortunate boat.And she was never seen, nor anyone who had gone in her. The crew and poor Mrs Hall, with her maid, now—“Lie where pearls lie deep,Yet none o’er their low bed may weep.”Mr Hall was led below by the kind-hearted captain himself, and threw himself on a couch in an agony of grief. Dickson forced him to take a large stimulant, and put a man to watch him, fearing he might rush on deck and pitch himself into the sea.As to their whereabouts, or the latitude and longitude of that strange, wild island, Dickson knew nothing. He had many times and oft sailed these seas, and was certain he had never seen those lofty peaks and rugged hills before. Although the wind continued, and the keel was breaking up, although she was fast making water below, he determined to hang on to her as long as possible, for there was a probability that the storm might soon die away.Some of the crew, however, grew impatient at last, and, in spite of threats, lowered another boat, into which crowded six men.Alas! they, too, went down before they were many yards from the wreck.But see these figures now flitting up and down on the coral sands! And, strangest sight of all, there is among those dusky, almost naked savages, the tall and commanding figure of a white woman, dressed in skins. The savages are evidently obeying her slightest behest, for a queen she is.With ropes of grass they are stoutly binding together three large canoes, flanked by outriggers, thus forming a kind of wide raft. Then these are launched, and right rapidly do the paddles flash and drip and ply, as the triple craft nears the ship. The raft seems to come through the seas rather than over them, but busy hands are baling, and, by the time this strange construction arrives on the lee bow, the canoes are free of water.TheWolverinehas but few on board her now, only eight men of the crew, with the officers, little Matty, Hall, and Miss Hall. These latter are lowered first, with three men. They are safely landed through the surf, and Dickson can see the strange white woman advance towards them with outstretched arms.The raft comes back again, and all on board are now taken off, Captain Dickson being the last to leave the doomed ship.Oscar, the grand Newfoundland, prefers to swim. No terrors have the waves or surf for him, and he is on shore barking joyfully as he races up and down the beach long before the raft rasps upon the silver sands.The strange, skin-dressed lady met them. She was English, and dubbed herself Queen of the Isle of Flowers.“For ten long years,” she told Captain Dickson, “I have been here, and yours is the first ship I have seen. But come to my house behind the hills, and I will tell you my strange story later on.”Though drenched to the skin, they all most gladly followed the Queen, up glens, and by zigzag paths, and over wild hills, till at last they came to one of the wildest and most beautiful valleys these adventurers had ever beheld. Now they could understand how the Queen had named it the Isle of Flowers.A beautiful stream went meandering through the valley with every species of tropical or semi-tropical flowering trees it is possible to imagine growing on its banks. No wonder that Matty, whom Reginald carried in his strong arms, cried:“Oh, doc, dear, zis (this) is surely fairyland! Oh, doc, I’se dizzy wi’ beauty!”“Hurry on,” said the Queen; “a keen wind is blowing on this hilltop.”In the midst of a forest of magnolias that scented the air all around, they found the road that led to the Queen’s palace. A long, low building it was, and seemingly comfortable; but the path that led to it was bordered on each side with human skulls placed upon poles.Noticing Dickson’s look of horror, she smiled.“These are the skulls of our enemies—a tribe that in war canoes visited our island a few years ago, but never found their way back. My people insisted on placing those horrid relics there. Had I refused my permission, I should have been deposed, probably even slain.”Into one room she showed the ladies, the officers and few remaining men into another. Here were couches all around, with comfortable mats of grass, and on these, tired and weary, everyone lay and many slept, till their garments were dried in the sun by the Queen’s servants.It was afternoon now, but the wind had lulled, and soon it was night, clear and starry. The vessel had gone on shore at low tide, but some time during the middle watch a great wave had lifted her and thrown her on her beam-ends high up on the coral sands.Next morning, when Dickson and Reginald went over the hills, after a hearty breakfast of roast yams and delicious fish, they found that the sea had receded so far that they could walk around the wreck on the dry sand.That day was spent—with the assistance of the Queen’s special servants—in saving from the vessel everything of value, especially stores, and the ship’s instruments.Casks of rum and flour, casks of beans, and even butter, with nearly all the bedding and clothes. These latter were spread on the beach to dry. Inland, to the Queen’s mansion, everything else was borne on litters.But the greatest “save” of all was the arms and ammunition, to say nothing of tools of every description, and canvas wherewith good tents might be built later on.When all was secured that could be secured, and the remainder of the crew had joined them—“Men,” said Dickson, “let us pray.”Down on the coral strand knelt the shipwrecked men, while, with eyes streaming with tears, Captain Dickson prayed as perhaps he had never prayed before, to that Heavenly Father who had spared the lives of those before him.The natives stood aside wonderingly, but they listened intently and earnestly when, led by their captain, the mariners sang a portion of that beautiful psalm:“God is our refuge and our strength,In straits a present aid;Therefore, although the earth remove,We will not be afraid.”
To and fro, to and fro, on the quarter-deck walked the imperturbable Yankee, Mr Hall, quietly pulling at his huge cigar. He had seen the ladies, and had told them straight that it was to be a fearful storm, and now he would wait to see what Fate had in store for them.
But more impatient far was Captain Dickson. Would steam never be got up? He had an idea which way the storm would come, and he wanted to steam southwards, and as much out of its track as possible.
At last the steam begins to roar, and now the screw revolves, and the good ship cleaves its way through the darkness of sky and sea. Dickson is somewhat relieved. He puts two men to the wheel, and sailors lash them to it. Well Dickson knows that the storm will be a fearful one.
Who is this fluttering up along the deck? A little dot all in white—nothing on but a night-dress. Matty, of course.
“I lunned away,” she explained, “and tomed (came up) to see the lightnin’s flash.”
“Oh, my darling!” cried Reginald, “you must come with me at once!”
He picked the little fairy up, and quickly had her safely below again.
The men were busy battening down when he returned to deck. Here and there along the bulwarks loose ropes were left that the men, if needful, might lash themselves to the rigging.
But now the rain began to come down, first in scattered drops, then in a hot and awful torrent. Louder and louder roared the thunder, brighter and still more vivid flashed the lightning. The thunder-claps followed the lightning so quickly that Dickson knew it was very near.
“Lash yourselves, lads!” the skipper roared through the speaking-trumpet. “She is coming!”
Ah! come she did. And no shoreman can ever tell what the vehemence of a circular hurricane like this sweeping across the ocean is like in strength and vehemence.
Dickson had just time to shout, “The first shock will be the strongest, boys,” when the terrible storm burst upon the doomed ship with a violence indescribable, and a noise like a hundred great guns fired at once.
Thrown at first almost on her beam-ends, she soon righted, and now she was tossed about like a cork. High up on a mighty wave at one moment, down in a dark gulf the next. The foam of the breaking waters and the incessant lightning was the only light they had, and in this glare the faces of the crew looked blue and ghastly.
Bravely did the men stick to the wheel. Hall himself had gone early below to comfort the ladies. Yet, although the waves and spray were making a clean breach over the ship, luckily she was well battened down, and it was dry below. The seas that tumbled inboard were hot and seething.
Mr Hall prevailed upon his wife and daughter to lie down on the lockers, or couches, and to these he did his best to lash them; but so great was the uncertain motion, that he had to clutch with one hand to the table while he did so.
The air down below was as hot as the waters on deck; hot and sulphurous, so that the perspiration stood on the brows of all below. It was indeed a fearful storm.
But it lulled at last, though two men had been called to their account—swept overboard in the clutches of a great green sea.
It lulled; but the intensity of the pitchy darkness still continued. It was no longer a circular storm, but a gale, settling down to less than half a gale towards the commencement of the morning watch. But the binnacle had been washed away, and the men were steering only by blind chance.
Just as daylight, grey and gloomy, began to appear in the east, an awful tell-tale rasping was heard beneath the keel of theWolverine, and almost at once two of her masts went by the board.
“Axes, men!” cried Dickson—“axes, and clear away the wreck!”
It was a dangerous and difficult task, with every now and then a huge sea rushing in from astern, and all but sweeping the decks.
Daylight came in quickly now, though clouds seemingly a mile in depth obscured the sun, and the horizon was close on board of them all around.
But yonder, looming through the mist, was a coral shore, with huge rugged, and apparently volcanic, mountains rising behind it. Fearing she would soon break up, Captain Dickson determined to lower a boat at all hazards, manned by four of his strongest and best sailors. In this Hall begged that his wife might go with the maid, and the request was granted. Mr Hall watched that boat as she rose and fell on the troubled waters with the greatest anxiety and dread. Suddenly he staggered and clutched the rigging, and his eyes seemed starting from his head.
“Oh, my God! my God!” he cried. “My wife! my wife!”
For a bigger wave than any, a huge breaker or bore, in fact came rushing from seawards and engulfed the unfortunate boat.
And she was never seen, nor anyone who had gone in her. The crew and poor Mrs Hall, with her maid, now—
“Lie where pearls lie deep,Yet none o’er their low bed may weep.”
“Lie where pearls lie deep,Yet none o’er their low bed may weep.”
Mr Hall was led below by the kind-hearted captain himself, and threw himself on a couch in an agony of grief. Dickson forced him to take a large stimulant, and put a man to watch him, fearing he might rush on deck and pitch himself into the sea.
As to their whereabouts, or the latitude and longitude of that strange, wild island, Dickson knew nothing. He had many times and oft sailed these seas, and was certain he had never seen those lofty peaks and rugged hills before. Although the wind continued, and the keel was breaking up, although she was fast making water below, he determined to hang on to her as long as possible, for there was a probability that the storm might soon die away.
Some of the crew, however, grew impatient at last, and, in spite of threats, lowered another boat, into which crowded six men.
Alas! they, too, went down before they were many yards from the wreck.
But see these figures now flitting up and down on the coral sands! And, strangest sight of all, there is among those dusky, almost naked savages, the tall and commanding figure of a white woman, dressed in skins. The savages are evidently obeying her slightest behest, for a queen she is.
With ropes of grass they are stoutly binding together three large canoes, flanked by outriggers, thus forming a kind of wide raft. Then these are launched, and right rapidly do the paddles flash and drip and ply, as the triple craft nears the ship. The raft seems to come through the seas rather than over them, but busy hands are baling, and, by the time this strange construction arrives on the lee bow, the canoes are free of water.
TheWolverinehas but few on board her now, only eight men of the crew, with the officers, little Matty, Hall, and Miss Hall. These latter are lowered first, with three men. They are safely landed through the surf, and Dickson can see the strange white woman advance towards them with outstretched arms.
The raft comes back again, and all on board are now taken off, Captain Dickson being the last to leave the doomed ship.
Oscar, the grand Newfoundland, prefers to swim. No terrors have the waves or surf for him, and he is on shore barking joyfully as he races up and down the beach long before the raft rasps upon the silver sands.
The strange, skin-dressed lady met them. She was English, and dubbed herself Queen of the Isle of Flowers.
“For ten long years,” she told Captain Dickson, “I have been here, and yours is the first ship I have seen. But come to my house behind the hills, and I will tell you my strange story later on.”
Though drenched to the skin, they all most gladly followed the Queen, up glens, and by zigzag paths, and over wild hills, till at last they came to one of the wildest and most beautiful valleys these adventurers had ever beheld. Now they could understand how the Queen had named it the Isle of Flowers.
A beautiful stream went meandering through the valley with every species of tropical or semi-tropical flowering trees it is possible to imagine growing on its banks. No wonder that Matty, whom Reginald carried in his strong arms, cried:
“Oh, doc, dear, zis (this) is surely fairyland! Oh, doc, I’se dizzy wi’ beauty!”
“Hurry on,” said the Queen; “a keen wind is blowing on this hilltop.”
In the midst of a forest of magnolias that scented the air all around, they found the road that led to the Queen’s palace. A long, low building it was, and seemingly comfortable; but the path that led to it was bordered on each side with human skulls placed upon poles.
Noticing Dickson’s look of horror, she smiled.
“These are the skulls of our enemies—a tribe that in war canoes visited our island a few years ago, but never found their way back. My people insisted on placing those horrid relics there. Had I refused my permission, I should have been deposed, probably even slain.”
Into one room she showed the ladies, the officers and few remaining men into another. Here were couches all around, with comfortable mats of grass, and on these, tired and weary, everyone lay and many slept, till their garments were dried in the sun by the Queen’s servants.
It was afternoon now, but the wind had lulled, and soon it was night, clear and starry. The vessel had gone on shore at low tide, but some time during the middle watch a great wave had lifted her and thrown her on her beam-ends high up on the coral sands.
Next morning, when Dickson and Reginald went over the hills, after a hearty breakfast of roast yams and delicious fish, they found that the sea had receded so far that they could walk around the wreck on the dry sand.
That day was spent—with the assistance of the Queen’s special servants—in saving from the vessel everything of value, especially stores, and the ship’s instruments.
Casks of rum and flour, casks of beans, and even butter, with nearly all the bedding and clothes. These latter were spread on the beach to dry. Inland, to the Queen’s mansion, everything else was borne on litters.
But the greatest “save” of all was the arms and ammunition, to say nothing of tools of every description, and canvas wherewith good tents might be built later on.
When all was secured that could be secured, and the remainder of the crew had joined them—
“Men,” said Dickson, “let us pray.”
Down on the coral strand knelt the shipwrecked men, while, with eyes streaming with tears, Captain Dickson prayed as perhaps he had never prayed before, to that Heavenly Father who had spared the lives of those before him.
The natives stood aside wonderingly, but they listened intently and earnestly when, led by their captain, the mariners sang a portion of that beautiful psalm:
“God is our refuge and our strength,In straits a present aid;Therefore, although the earth remove,We will not be afraid.”
“God is our refuge and our strength,In straits a present aid;Therefore, although the earth remove,We will not be afraid.”
Chapter Seventeen.Crusoes on the Island of Flowers—a Threatened Armada.For weeks and weeks mourned poor Hall for his wife; for weeks and weeks mourned he. He was like Rachel weeping for her children, who would not be comforted “because they were not.”But the anguish of his grief toned down at last. His sorrow was deep still, but he could listen now to the consolations that Dickson never forgot to give him morn, noon, and night.“Ah, well,” he said at last, “I shall meet her again in the Bright Beyond, where farewells are never said, where partings are unknown. That thought must be my solace.”And this thought did console both him and Ilda, his daughter. As for Matty, she was too young to know what grief really was, and romped with Reginald’s dog in the Queen’s beautiful gardens, just as she had done on board the unfortunate yacht—now, alas! a yacht no more.But busy weeks these had been for the shipwrecked mariners. Yet far from unhappy. They were Crusoes now to all intents and purposes, and acting like Crusoes, having saved all the interior stores, etc, that they could, knowing well that the very next storm would not leave a timber of the poorWolverine. So at every low tide they laboured at breaking her up. At high tide they worked equally energetically in building a wooden house on a bit of tableland, that was easy of access, and could not be reached by a tide, however high.The house was very strong, for the very best wood in the ship was used. Moreover, its back was close to the straight and beetling mountain cliff.The six men of the crew that were saved worked like New Hollanders, as sailors say. The house had sturdy doors, and the vessel’s windows were transhipped. But this wooden house did not actually touch the ground, but was built on two-foot high stone supports. Soot could be strewn around them, and the white ants thus kept at bay. Stone, or rather scoria, steps led up to the dwelling, one end of which was to be not only the sleeping-place of the men, but a kind of recreation-room as well, for Dickson had succeeded in saving even the piano and violins. The other room to the right was not so large, but, being furnished from the saloon of theWolverine, was almost elegant, and when complete was always decorated and gay with lovely wildflowers. Indeed, all the flowers here were wild.The Queen had begged that Miss Hall and wee Matty might sleep at the palace. This was agreed to; but to luncheon not only they but the Queen herself came over every fine day, and the days were nearly all fine.One day a big storm blew and howled around the rocky mountain peaks. It increased in violence towards evening, and raged all night. Next day scarcely a timber of the wrecked yacht was to be seen, save a few spars that the tempest had cast up on the white and coralline beach.Captain Dickson was far indeed from being selfish, and quite a quantity of saloon and cabin furniture saved from the wreck was carried on the backs of the natives over the mountain tracks to the beautiful Valley of Flowers, to furnish and decorate the house of the Queen.Her Majesty was delighted, and when her rooms were complete she gave a great dinner-party, or rather banquet. She had much taste, and the table was certainly most tastefully decorated. Themenuwas a small one. There was fish, however, excellently cooked.“I taught my cook myself,” said her Majesty, smiling.This was followed by thepièce de résistance, a roast sucking-pig. Theentréewas strange, namely, fillets of a species of iguana lizard. The huge and terrible-looking iguana lizard, as found on the coast of Africa, crawling on the trees, is very excellent eating, and so were these fillets.But the fruits were the most delicious anyone around the festive board had ever tasted. There were, strangely enough, not only blushing pine-apples, but guavas, which eat like strawberries smothered in cream; mangoes, and many other fragrant fruits no one there could name.Dickson had supplied the wine, but very little was used. Goats’ milk and excellent coffee supplied its place.Poor Hall was still a patient of Reginald’s, and the latter compelled him to take a little wine for his grief’s sake.Just a word or two about Queen Bertha. Though but twenty and five, her dark hair was already mixed with threads of silver. She was tall for a woman, very beautiful and very commanding. She never stirred abroad in her picturesque dress of skins without having in her hand a tall staff, much higher than herself. It was ornamented—resplendent, in fact—with gold, silver, precious stones and pearls.“This is my sceptre,” she said, “and all my people respect it.” She smiled as she added: “I make them do so. I can hypnotise a man with a touch of it; but if a fellow is fractious, I have a strong arm, and he feels the weight of it across his shins. He must fling himself at my feet before I forgive him. My history, gentlemen, is a very brief one, though somewhat sad and romantic. I am the daughter of a wealthy English merchant, who had a strange longing to visit in one of his own ships the shores of Africa and the South Sea Islands. He did so eventually, accompanied by my dear mother and myself, then little more than a child, for I was only fifteen; also an elder brother. Alas! we were driven far out of our way by a gale, or rather hurricane, of wind, and wrecked on this island. My father’s last act was to tie me to a spar. That spar was carried away by the tide, and in thedébrisof the wreck I was washed up on shore. Every soul on board perished except myself. The superstitious natives looked upon the dark-haired maiden as some strange being from another world, and I was revered and made much of from the first. I soon had proof enough that the islanders were cannibals, for they built great fires on the beach and roasted the bodies of the sailors that were washed up. There were, indeed, but few, for the sharks had first choice, and out yonder in that blue and sunlit sea the sharks are often in shoals and schools. Some devoured the human flesh raw, believing that thus they would gain extra strength and bravery in the day of battle.”“Are there many battles, then?” asked Reginald.“Hitherto, doctor, my people have been the invaders of a larger island lying to the east of us. Thither they go in their war canoes, and so far fortune has favoured them. They bring home heads and human flesh. The flesh they eat, the heads they place on the beach till cleaned and whitened by crabs and ants; then they are stuck on poles in my somewhat ghastly avenue. I have tried, but all in vain, to change the cannibalistic ways of my people. They come to hear me preach salvation on Sundays, and they join in the hymns I sing; but human flesh they will have. Yes, on the whole I am very happy, and would not change my lot with Victoria of Britain herself. My people do love me, mind, and I would rather be somebody in this savage though beautiful island than nobody in the vortex of London society.“But I have one thing else to tell you. The Red-stripe savages of the isle we have so often conquered are gathering in force, and are determined to carry the war into our country; with what results I cannot even imagine, for they are far stronger numerically than we are, though not so brave. These savages are also cannibals; not only so, but they put their prisoners to tortures too dreadful even to think of. It will be many months before they arrive, but come they will. I myself shall lead my army. This will inspire my people with pluck and from the hilltops I hope you will see us repel the Armada in beautiful style.”She laughed right merrily as she finished her narrative.“But my dear Queen,” said Dickson, “do you imagine that myself and my brave fellows saved from the wreck will be contented to act as mere spectators from the hills, like the ‘gods’ in a theatre gallery, looking down on a play? Nay, we must be beside you, or near you, actors in the same drama or tragedy. Lucky it is, doctor, that we managed to save our two six-pounders, our rifles, and nearly all our ammunition. Why are they called the Red-stripe savages, your Majesty?”“Because, though almost naked, their bodies when prepared for war are all barred over with red paint. The face is hideous, for an eye is painted on the forehead, and a kind of cap with the pricked ears of the wild fox, which is half a wolf, worn on the head. Their arms are bows, spears, shields of great size, which quite cover them, and terrible black knives.”“Our shrapnel, believe me, lady, will go through all that, and their heads as well.”“Though loth to seek your assistance,” said Queen Bertha, “in this case I shall be glad of it. For if they succeed in conquering us the massacre would be awful. Not a man, woman or child would be left alive on our beautiful island.”“Assuredly we shall conquer them,” said Dickson. “The very sound of our guns and crack of our rifles will astonish and demoralise them. Not a boat shall return of their invincible Armada; perhaps not a savage will be left alive to tell the tale hereafter.”“That would indeed be a blessing to us. And my people have half-promised not to make war on them again. We should therefore live in peace, and fear no more Armadas.”Mr Hall was now brightening up again, and all the survivors of the unfortunateWolverine, having something to engage their attention, became quite jolly and happy. I scarce need mention Matty. The child was happy under all circumstances.Ilda, too, was contented. Perhaps never more so than when taking long walks with Reginald up the lovely valley, gathering wildflowers, or fishing in the winding river.Ilda was really beautiful. Her beauty was almost of the classical type, and her voice was sweet to listen to. So thought Reginald.“How charmingly brown the sun has made you, dear Ilda,” said Reginald, as she leant on his arm by the riverside.He touched her lightly on the cheek as he spoke. Her head fell lightly on his shoulder just then, as if she were tired, and he noticed that there were tears in her eyes.“No, not tired,” she answered, looking up into his face.Redder, sweeter lips surely no girl ever possessed.For just a moment he drew her to his breast and kissed those lips.Ah, well, Reginald Grahame was only a man.I fear that Ilda was only a woman, and that she really loved the handsome, brown-faced and manly doctor.They had now been one year and two months away from Scotland, and at this very moment the Laird Fletcher was paying all the attention in his power to Annie o’ the Banks o’ Dee. He was really a modern “Auld Robin Grey.”“My mither she fell sick,An’ my Jamie at the sea;Then Aold Robin Grey came a-courting me.”
For weeks and weeks mourned poor Hall for his wife; for weeks and weeks mourned he. He was like Rachel weeping for her children, who would not be comforted “because they were not.”
But the anguish of his grief toned down at last. His sorrow was deep still, but he could listen now to the consolations that Dickson never forgot to give him morn, noon, and night.
“Ah, well,” he said at last, “I shall meet her again in the Bright Beyond, where farewells are never said, where partings are unknown. That thought must be my solace.”
And this thought did console both him and Ilda, his daughter. As for Matty, she was too young to know what grief really was, and romped with Reginald’s dog in the Queen’s beautiful gardens, just as she had done on board the unfortunate yacht—now, alas! a yacht no more.
But busy weeks these had been for the shipwrecked mariners. Yet far from unhappy. They were Crusoes now to all intents and purposes, and acting like Crusoes, having saved all the interior stores, etc, that they could, knowing well that the very next storm would not leave a timber of the poorWolverine. So at every low tide they laboured at breaking her up. At high tide they worked equally energetically in building a wooden house on a bit of tableland, that was easy of access, and could not be reached by a tide, however high.
The house was very strong, for the very best wood in the ship was used. Moreover, its back was close to the straight and beetling mountain cliff.
The six men of the crew that were saved worked like New Hollanders, as sailors say. The house had sturdy doors, and the vessel’s windows were transhipped. But this wooden house did not actually touch the ground, but was built on two-foot high stone supports. Soot could be strewn around them, and the white ants thus kept at bay. Stone, or rather scoria, steps led up to the dwelling, one end of which was to be not only the sleeping-place of the men, but a kind of recreation-room as well, for Dickson had succeeded in saving even the piano and violins. The other room to the right was not so large, but, being furnished from the saloon of theWolverine, was almost elegant, and when complete was always decorated and gay with lovely wildflowers. Indeed, all the flowers here were wild.
The Queen had begged that Miss Hall and wee Matty might sleep at the palace. This was agreed to; but to luncheon not only they but the Queen herself came over every fine day, and the days were nearly all fine.
One day a big storm blew and howled around the rocky mountain peaks. It increased in violence towards evening, and raged all night. Next day scarcely a timber of the wrecked yacht was to be seen, save a few spars that the tempest had cast up on the white and coralline beach.
Captain Dickson was far indeed from being selfish, and quite a quantity of saloon and cabin furniture saved from the wreck was carried on the backs of the natives over the mountain tracks to the beautiful Valley of Flowers, to furnish and decorate the house of the Queen.
Her Majesty was delighted, and when her rooms were complete she gave a great dinner-party, or rather banquet. She had much taste, and the table was certainly most tastefully decorated. Themenuwas a small one. There was fish, however, excellently cooked.
“I taught my cook myself,” said her Majesty, smiling.
This was followed by thepièce de résistance, a roast sucking-pig. Theentréewas strange, namely, fillets of a species of iguana lizard. The huge and terrible-looking iguana lizard, as found on the coast of Africa, crawling on the trees, is very excellent eating, and so were these fillets.
But the fruits were the most delicious anyone around the festive board had ever tasted. There were, strangely enough, not only blushing pine-apples, but guavas, which eat like strawberries smothered in cream; mangoes, and many other fragrant fruits no one there could name.
Dickson had supplied the wine, but very little was used. Goats’ milk and excellent coffee supplied its place.
Poor Hall was still a patient of Reginald’s, and the latter compelled him to take a little wine for his grief’s sake.
Just a word or two about Queen Bertha. Though but twenty and five, her dark hair was already mixed with threads of silver. She was tall for a woman, very beautiful and very commanding. She never stirred abroad in her picturesque dress of skins without having in her hand a tall staff, much higher than herself. It was ornamented—resplendent, in fact—with gold, silver, precious stones and pearls.
“This is my sceptre,” she said, “and all my people respect it.” She smiled as she added: “I make them do so. I can hypnotise a man with a touch of it; but if a fellow is fractious, I have a strong arm, and he feels the weight of it across his shins. He must fling himself at my feet before I forgive him. My history, gentlemen, is a very brief one, though somewhat sad and romantic. I am the daughter of a wealthy English merchant, who had a strange longing to visit in one of his own ships the shores of Africa and the South Sea Islands. He did so eventually, accompanied by my dear mother and myself, then little more than a child, for I was only fifteen; also an elder brother. Alas! we were driven far out of our way by a gale, or rather hurricane, of wind, and wrecked on this island. My father’s last act was to tie me to a spar. That spar was carried away by the tide, and in thedébrisof the wreck I was washed up on shore. Every soul on board perished except myself. The superstitious natives looked upon the dark-haired maiden as some strange being from another world, and I was revered and made much of from the first. I soon had proof enough that the islanders were cannibals, for they built great fires on the beach and roasted the bodies of the sailors that were washed up. There were, indeed, but few, for the sharks had first choice, and out yonder in that blue and sunlit sea the sharks are often in shoals and schools. Some devoured the human flesh raw, believing that thus they would gain extra strength and bravery in the day of battle.”
“Are there many battles, then?” asked Reginald.
“Hitherto, doctor, my people have been the invaders of a larger island lying to the east of us. Thither they go in their war canoes, and so far fortune has favoured them. They bring home heads and human flesh. The flesh they eat, the heads they place on the beach till cleaned and whitened by crabs and ants; then they are stuck on poles in my somewhat ghastly avenue. I have tried, but all in vain, to change the cannibalistic ways of my people. They come to hear me preach salvation on Sundays, and they join in the hymns I sing; but human flesh they will have. Yes, on the whole I am very happy, and would not change my lot with Victoria of Britain herself. My people do love me, mind, and I would rather be somebody in this savage though beautiful island than nobody in the vortex of London society.
“But I have one thing else to tell you. The Red-stripe savages of the isle we have so often conquered are gathering in force, and are determined to carry the war into our country; with what results I cannot even imagine, for they are far stronger numerically than we are, though not so brave. These savages are also cannibals; not only so, but they put their prisoners to tortures too dreadful even to think of. It will be many months before they arrive, but come they will. I myself shall lead my army. This will inspire my people with pluck and from the hilltops I hope you will see us repel the Armada in beautiful style.”
She laughed right merrily as she finished her narrative.
“But my dear Queen,” said Dickson, “do you imagine that myself and my brave fellows saved from the wreck will be contented to act as mere spectators from the hills, like the ‘gods’ in a theatre gallery, looking down on a play? Nay, we must be beside you, or near you, actors in the same drama or tragedy. Lucky it is, doctor, that we managed to save our two six-pounders, our rifles, and nearly all our ammunition. Why are they called the Red-stripe savages, your Majesty?”
“Because, though almost naked, their bodies when prepared for war are all barred over with red paint. The face is hideous, for an eye is painted on the forehead, and a kind of cap with the pricked ears of the wild fox, which is half a wolf, worn on the head. Their arms are bows, spears, shields of great size, which quite cover them, and terrible black knives.”
“Our shrapnel, believe me, lady, will go through all that, and their heads as well.”
“Though loth to seek your assistance,” said Queen Bertha, “in this case I shall be glad of it. For if they succeed in conquering us the massacre would be awful. Not a man, woman or child would be left alive on our beautiful island.”
“Assuredly we shall conquer them,” said Dickson. “The very sound of our guns and crack of our rifles will astonish and demoralise them. Not a boat shall return of their invincible Armada; perhaps not a savage will be left alive to tell the tale hereafter.”
“That would indeed be a blessing to us. And my people have half-promised not to make war on them again. We should therefore live in peace, and fear no more Armadas.”
Mr Hall was now brightening up again, and all the survivors of the unfortunateWolverine, having something to engage their attention, became quite jolly and happy. I scarce need mention Matty. The child was happy under all circumstances.
Ilda, too, was contented. Perhaps never more so than when taking long walks with Reginald up the lovely valley, gathering wildflowers, or fishing in the winding river.
Ilda was really beautiful. Her beauty was almost of the classical type, and her voice was sweet to listen to. So thought Reginald.
“How charmingly brown the sun has made you, dear Ilda,” said Reginald, as she leant on his arm by the riverside.
He touched her lightly on the cheek as he spoke. Her head fell lightly on his shoulder just then, as if she were tired, and he noticed that there were tears in her eyes.
“No, not tired,” she answered, looking up into his face.
Redder, sweeter lips surely no girl ever possessed.
For just a moment he drew her to his breast and kissed those lips.
Ah, well, Reginald Grahame was only a man.
I fear that Ilda was only a woman, and that she really loved the handsome, brown-faced and manly doctor.
They had now been one year and two months away from Scotland, and at this very moment the Laird Fletcher was paying all the attention in his power to Annie o’ the Banks o’ Dee. He was really a modern “Auld Robin Grey.”
“My mither she fell sick,An’ my Jamie at the sea;Then Aold Robin Grey came a-courting me.”
“My mither she fell sick,An’ my Jamie at the sea;Then Aold Robin Grey came a-courting me.”
Chapter Eighteen.A Cannibal Brewer and Cannibal Beer.Queen Bertha of the Isle of Flowers had industriously laboured among her people. It gave her pleasure to do so. She even taught them English, which all could now speak after a fashion.Well, while Dickson and Hall were drilling a small company of blacks as soldiers, and trying to make them experts in the use of the rifle—for they had over a score of these to spare—Reginald spent much of his time on the hills with his gun, shooting small wild pigs, rock-rabbits, tuen-tuens, etc. He was always accompanied by Ilda, merry Matty, and Oscar the Newfoundland. No matter where a wild bird fell, in river or lake, or in the bush, Oscar found it, and laid it at his master’s feet.But one day Reginald, while shooting, made a singular discovery indeed. Far up in the hills they came upon the grass hut of a very peculiar old man indeed. Before reaching the place quite, they met three natives, and they were evidently intoxicated, staggering, laughing, singing and dancing.The old man was seated in his doorway. Around his hut were at least a dozen huge clay jars, with clay lids, and these contained beer of some sort. He was the most hideous old wretch that Reginald had yet clapped eyes on. Even Matty was terrified, and hugged the great dog round the neck as she gazed on that awful-looking and repulsive creature.“These jars,” said Reginald, “evidently contain some intoxicating drink. And the old brewer doesn’t look a beauty, nor a saint either!”Nor did he. Here he is, as I myself have seen him more than once. Squatting tailor-fashion outside the door of his dark and windowless hut, a man with a mop of rough silvery hair, thin lips, drawn back into a grin, so that one could see all his awful teeth—tusks they really seemed to be, each one filed into a pointed triangle, the better to tear human flesh. They were stained red. His eyes were red also, and like those of some scared wild beast and cheeks and brow were covered with symmetrical scars. But he was a brewer, and very busy plying his trade. Beside him were open cocoa-nuts and bunches of fragrant herbs.“Go on,” said Reginald; “don’t let us interfere with business, pray.”The horrid creature put a huge lump of cocoa-nut into his mouth, then some herbs, and chewed the lot together; then taking a mouthful of water from a chatty, he spat the whole mass into a jar and proceeded as before. This awful mess of chewed cocoa-nut, herbs, and saliva ferments into a kind of spirit. This is poured off and mixed with water, and lo! the beer of the cannibal islanders!Reginald, noticing a strange-looking chain hanging across the old man’s scarred and tattooed chest, begged to examine it. To his astonishment, it consisted entirely of beautiful pearls and small nuggets of gold.“Where did this come from, my man?”“Ugh! I catchee he plenty twick. Plenty mo’. Ver’ mooch plenty.”Reginald considered for a moment. Money was no good to an old wretch like this, but he wore around his waist a beautiful crimson sash. This he divested himself of, and held it up before the cannibal brewer.“I will give you this for your chain,” he said, “and another as good to-morrow, if you will come now and show us where you find these things.”The old man at once threw the chain at Reginald’s feet, and seized the scarf delightedly.“I come quick—dis moment!” he cried. And he was as good as his word.It was a long walk, and a wild one. Sometimes Reginald carried Matty; sometimes she rode on the great dog. But they arrived at last at the entrance to a gloomy defile, and here in the hillsides were openings innumerable, evidently not made by hands of man. Here, however, was an El Dorado. Caves of gold! for numerous small nuggets were found on the floors and shining in the white walls around them.It was evident enough that it only needed digging and a little hard work to make a pile from any single one of these caves.Next about the pearls. The old savage took the party to the riverside. He waded in, and in five minutes had thrown on shore at least a hundred pearl oysters. These, on coming to bank, he opened one by one, and ten large and beautiful white pearls were found, with ever so many half-faced ones.Strange and wondrous indeed was the story that Reginald Grahame had to relate in private to Mr Hall and Captain Dickson on his return to his home by the sea.At present the trio kept the secret to themselves. That gold was to be had for the gathering was evident enough. But to share it with six men was another question. It might be better, at all events, if they were first and foremost to make their own pile. Anyhow, the men’s services might be required; in that case they could choose their own claims, unless Reginald claimed the whole ravine. This he was entitled to do, but he was very far indeed from being mean and greedy.But so intricate was the way to the ravine of gold that without a guide no one could possibly find it.For six whole weeks no gold digging was thought about. Matters of even greater import occupied the minds of the white men.The company of blacks was beautifully drilled by this time, and made fairly good marksmen with the rifle. They were, indeed, the boldest and bravest on the island, and many of them the Queen’s own bodyguards.Well, the bay enclosed by the reefs on one of which theWolverinehad struck was the only landing-place in the whole island. Every other part of the shore was guarded by precipitous rocks a thousand feet high at least, rising sheer and black out of the ocean. The Armada must come here, then, if anywhere; and, moreover, the bay faced the enemy’s own island, although, with the exception of a mountain peak or two, seen above the horizon, it was far too distant to be visible.A grass watch-tower was built on the brow of a hill, and a sentry occupied this by night as well as by day. Only keen-eyed blacks were chosen for this important duty, and they were told that if any suspicious sign was observed they must communicate immediately with Captain Dickson.And now, facing the sea, a strong palisaded fort was built, and completely clayed over, so as to be almost invisible from the sea. It was roofed over with timber, as a protection against the enemy’s arrows; it was also loop-holed for rifles, and here, moreover, were mounted the two six-pounders. Plenty of ammunition for both rifles and guns was placed at a safe distance from the ports.One evening the sentry ran below to report that, seeing a glare in the sky, he had climbed high up the mountain side, and by aid of the night-glass could see that fires were lighted on the brow of every low hill on the enemy’s island, and that savages in rings were wildly dancing around them. The sentry had no doubt that the attack on the Isle of Flowers would soon follow this. Dickson thanked the man heartily for his attention, gave him coffee and biscuit, and sent him back to the sentry hut. So kind was the captain, and so interested in the welfare of the blacks, that any one of those he had trained would have fought at fearful odds for him. For kindness towards, a savage soon wins his heart, and his respect as well.Three days more passed by—oh, so slowly and wearily! For a cloud hovered over the camp that the white men tried in vain to dispel. There was this fearful Armada to face and to fight, and the anxiety born of thinking about it was harder to bear than the actual battle itself would be.Dickson was a strictly pious man. Never a morning and never an evening passed without his summoning his men to prayers, and in true Scottish fashion reading a portion from the little Bible which, like General Gordon, he never failed to carry in his bosom.I think he did good. I think he made converts. Mind, without any preaching. He simply led these darkened intellects to the Light, the glorious Light of revealed religion.The portion of the fort where the guns were placed was so fashioned as to be able to cover a wide space of sea on both sides, and from this arrangement Dickson expected great results.A whole week had worn away since the first fires had been seen from the hilltop; but every night those fires had blazed.It was evident enough the enemy was endeavouring to propitiate their gods before sailing. For by day, on climbing a mountain, Dickson, by means of his large telescope, could see on the beach that human sacrifices were being offered up.It was fearful to behold. Men, or perhaps women, were chained to stakes on the beach, and pyres of wood built around them. As the fire curled up through the smoke in tongues, he could see the wretches writhing in agony, while round them danced the spear-armed savages.Reginald had little to do at present, and would have but little to do until summoned to tight. So he was often at the Queen’s palace, and a very delightful conversationalist she proved herself to be. She had avowed her intention of being at the great battle herself. Her presence, and the sway of her pole-like sceptre, she assured the doctor, would give her people confidence, and mayhap be the turning point which would lead to victory.Many a ramble together had Reginald and Ilda, nearly always followed by sweet wee Matty and her canine favourite Oscar.One day, however, Matty was at the seaside camp, and Reginald went out with Ilda alone to collect bouquets for the Queen’s table. The day was a hot one, but both were young, and when they zigzagged up a mountain side they found not only shade on a green mound beneath some spreading trees, but coolness as well.All this morning Reginald had been thinking sorrowfully about his lost love, as he now called Annie, and of the country he never expected again to see, because never did ships visit this unknown island unless driven hither by storm or tempest.But now there was the soft and dreamy light of love in Ilda’s eyes, if ever there were in a woman’s.Reginald was very far indeed from being unfaithful at heart to his betrothed, but—well, he could not help thinking how strangely beautiful Ilda was. When she leant towards him and gave one coy glance into his face, it might have been but passion—I cannot say; it might be budding love. At all events, he drew her to his breast and kissed those red lips over and over again, she blushing, but unresisting as before.What he might have said I do not know. But at that moment a half-naked armed savage burst hurriedly in upon the scene.“Come, sah, come; de capatin he sendee me. De bad black mans’ war canoes dey is coming, too. Plenty big boat, plenty spear and bow.”Reginald thought no more of love just then. His Scottish blood was on fire, and when he had seen Ilda safe in the palace he bade her an affectionate but hurried farewell, and hurried away to the front.The Armada was coming in deadly earnest, and no one in the Isle of Flowers could even guess how matters might end.
Queen Bertha of the Isle of Flowers had industriously laboured among her people. It gave her pleasure to do so. She even taught them English, which all could now speak after a fashion.
Well, while Dickson and Hall were drilling a small company of blacks as soldiers, and trying to make them experts in the use of the rifle—for they had over a score of these to spare—Reginald spent much of his time on the hills with his gun, shooting small wild pigs, rock-rabbits, tuen-tuens, etc. He was always accompanied by Ilda, merry Matty, and Oscar the Newfoundland. No matter where a wild bird fell, in river or lake, or in the bush, Oscar found it, and laid it at his master’s feet.
But one day Reginald, while shooting, made a singular discovery indeed. Far up in the hills they came upon the grass hut of a very peculiar old man indeed. Before reaching the place quite, they met three natives, and they were evidently intoxicated, staggering, laughing, singing and dancing.
The old man was seated in his doorway. Around his hut were at least a dozen huge clay jars, with clay lids, and these contained beer of some sort. He was the most hideous old wretch that Reginald had yet clapped eyes on. Even Matty was terrified, and hugged the great dog round the neck as she gazed on that awful-looking and repulsive creature.
“These jars,” said Reginald, “evidently contain some intoxicating drink. And the old brewer doesn’t look a beauty, nor a saint either!”
Nor did he. Here he is, as I myself have seen him more than once. Squatting tailor-fashion outside the door of his dark and windowless hut, a man with a mop of rough silvery hair, thin lips, drawn back into a grin, so that one could see all his awful teeth—tusks they really seemed to be, each one filed into a pointed triangle, the better to tear human flesh. They were stained red. His eyes were red also, and like those of some scared wild beast and cheeks and brow were covered with symmetrical scars. But he was a brewer, and very busy plying his trade. Beside him were open cocoa-nuts and bunches of fragrant herbs.
“Go on,” said Reginald; “don’t let us interfere with business, pray.”
The horrid creature put a huge lump of cocoa-nut into his mouth, then some herbs, and chewed the lot together; then taking a mouthful of water from a chatty, he spat the whole mass into a jar and proceeded as before. This awful mess of chewed cocoa-nut, herbs, and saliva ferments into a kind of spirit. This is poured off and mixed with water, and lo! the beer of the cannibal islanders!
Reginald, noticing a strange-looking chain hanging across the old man’s scarred and tattooed chest, begged to examine it. To his astonishment, it consisted entirely of beautiful pearls and small nuggets of gold.
“Where did this come from, my man?”
“Ugh! I catchee he plenty twick. Plenty mo’. Ver’ mooch plenty.”
Reginald considered for a moment. Money was no good to an old wretch like this, but he wore around his waist a beautiful crimson sash. This he divested himself of, and held it up before the cannibal brewer.
“I will give you this for your chain,” he said, “and another as good to-morrow, if you will come now and show us where you find these things.”
The old man at once threw the chain at Reginald’s feet, and seized the scarf delightedly.
“I come quick—dis moment!” he cried. And he was as good as his word.
It was a long walk, and a wild one. Sometimes Reginald carried Matty; sometimes she rode on the great dog. But they arrived at last at the entrance to a gloomy defile, and here in the hillsides were openings innumerable, evidently not made by hands of man. Here, however, was an El Dorado. Caves of gold! for numerous small nuggets were found on the floors and shining in the white walls around them.
It was evident enough that it only needed digging and a little hard work to make a pile from any single one of these caves.
Next about the pearls. The old savage took the party to the riverside. He waded in, and in five minutes had thrown on shore at least a hundred pearl oysters. These, on coming to bank, he opened one by one, and ten large and beautiful white pearls were found, with ever so many half-faced ones.
Strange and wondrous indeed was the story that Reginald Grahame had to relate in private to Mr Hall and Captain Dickson on his return to his home by the sea.
At present the trio kept the secret to themselves. That gold was to be had for the gathering was evident enough. But to share it with six men was another question. It might be better, at all events, if they were first and foremost to make their own pile. Anyhow, the men’s services might be required; in that case they could choose their own claims, unless Reginald claimed the whole ravine. This he was entitled to do, but he was very far indeed from being mean and greedy.
But so intricate was the way to the ravine of gold that without a guide no one could possibly find it.
For six whole weeks no gold digging was thought about. Matters of even greater import occupied the minds of the white men.
The company of blacks was beautifully drilled by this time, and made fairly good marksmen with the rifle. They were, indeed, the boldest and bravest on the island, and many of them the Queen’s own bodyguards.
Well, the bay enclosed by the reefs on one of which theWolverinehad struck was the only landing-place in the whole island. Every other part of the shore was guarded by precipitous rocks a thousand feet high at least, rising sheer and black out of the ocean. The Armada must come here, then, if anywhere; and, moreover, the bay faced the enemy’s own island, although, with the exception of a mountain peak or two, seen above the horizon, it was far too distant to be visible.
A grass watch-tower was built on the brow of a hill, and a sentry occupied this by night as well as by day. Only keen-eyed blacks were chosen for this important duty, and they were told that if any suspicious sign was observed they must communicate immediately with Captain Dickson.
And now, facing the sea, a strong palisaded fort was built, and completely clayed over, so as to be almost invisible from the sea. It was roofed over with timber, as a protection against the enemy’s arrows; it was also loop-holed for rifles, and here, moreover, were mounted the two six-pounders. Plenty of ammunition for both rifles and guns was placed at a safe distance from the ports.
One evening the sentry ran below to report that, seeing a glare in the sky, he had climbed high up the mountain side, and by aid of the night-glass could see that fires were lighted on the brow of every low hill on the enemy’s island, and that savages in rings were wildly dancing around them. The sentry had no doubt that the attack on the Isle of Flowers would soon follow this. Dickson thanked the man heartily for his attention, gave him coffee and biscuit, and sent him back to the sentry hut. So kind was the captain, and so interested in the welfare of the blacks, that any one of those he had trained would have fought at fearful odds for him. For kindness towards, a savage soon wins his heart, and his respect as well.
Three days more passed by—oh, so slowly and wearily! For a cloud hovered over the camp that the white men tried in vain to dispel. There was this fearful Armada to face and to fight, and the anxiety born of thinking about it was harder to bear than the actual battle itself would be.
Dickson was a strictly pious man. Never a morning and never an evening passed without his summoning his men to prayers, and in true Scottish fashion reading a portion from the little Bible which, like General Gordon, he never failed to carry in his bosom.
I think he did good. I think he made converts. Mind, without any preaching. He simply led these darkened intellects to the Light, the glorious Light of revealed religion.
The portion of the fort where the guns were placed was so fashioned as to be able to cover a wide space of sea on both sides, and from this arrangement Dickson expected great results.
A whole week had worn away since the first fires had been seen from the hilltop; but every night those fires had blazed.
It was evident enough the enemy was endeavouring to propitiate their gods before sailing. For by day, on climbing a mountain, Dickson, by means of his large telescope, could see on the beach that human sacrifices were being offered up.
It was fearful to behold. Men, or perhaps women, were chained to stakes on the beach, and pyres of wood built around them. As the fire curled up through the smoke in tongues, he could see the wretches writhing in agony, while round them danced the spear-armed savages.
Reginald had little to do at present, and would have but little to do until summoned to tight. So he was often at the Queen’s palace, and a very delightful conversationalist she proved herself to be. She had avowed her intention of being at the great battle herself. Her presence, and the sway of her pole-like sceptre, she assured the doctor, would give her people confidence, and mayhap be the turning point which would lead to victory.
Many a ramble together had Reginald and Ilda, nearly always followed by sweet wee Matty and her canine favourite Oscar.
One day, however, Matty was at the seaside camp, and Reginald went out with Ilda alone to collect bouquets for the Queen’s table. The day was a hot one, but both were young, and when they zigzagged up a mountain side they found not only shade on a green mound beneath some spreading trees, but coolness as well.
All this morning Reginald had been thinking sorrowfully about his lost love, as he now called Annie, and of the country he never expected again to see, because never did ships visit this unknown island unless driven hither by storm or tempest.
But now there was the soft and dreamy light of love in Ilda’s eyes, if ever there were in a woman’s.
Reginald was very far indeed from being unfaithful at heart to his betrothed, but—well, he could not help thinking how strangely beautiful Ilda was. When she leant towards him and gave one coy glance into his face, it might have been but passion—I cannot say; it might be budding love. At all events, he drew her to his breast and kissed those red lips over and over again, she blushing, but unresisting as before.
What he might have said I do not know. But at that moment a half-naked armed savage burst hurriedly in upon the scene.
“Come, sah, come; de capatin he sendee me. De bad black mans’ war canoes dey is coming, too. Plenty big boat, plenty spear and bow.”
Reginald thought no more of love just then. His Scottish blood was on fire, and when he had seen Ilda safe in the palace he bade her an affectionate but hurried farewell, and hurried away to the front.
The Armada was coming in deadly earnest, and no one in the Isle of Flowers could even guess how matters might end.
Chapter Nineteen.Gold and Pearls—Jack Carousing.No confusion here in the fort. The men were all in, the other spear-armed corps of at least five hundred were hidden in the bush at the base of the mountain side. Inside everything was being conducted as quietly and regularly as—as—well, as a marriage in church.But looking seaward, even without the aid of a glass, the great Armada could be seen approaching.Huge black many-paddled war canoes, forty in all, and probably with fifty men in each, or nearly a thousand altogether.Nearer and nearer they swept with many a wild or warlike shout that was meant to strike terror into the hearts of the Flower Islanders. They were soon so near that the rattling of their spears as they struck them against their big shields could be distinctly heard.So near now that with a small opera-glass which the doctor carried, he could see their painted skins and faces, and the red and horrible streaks.And now it was time to fire the first gun. A shot or shell would have carried much further, but grape would be ever so much more demoralising. Dickson himself trained that gun on the foremost or leading boat.The surprise of the enemy was indeed great. Never had they seen a gun fired before, nor heard the roar of one. But yonder on shore and in front of the barricaded fort they could see a balloon of white smoke, with a stream of red fire in the centre. Then the roar of that piece of ordnance was appalling. Next moment the crowded boat or war canoe was filled with corpses and the shrieking, bleeding wounded. But she was in splinters, and quickly filled and sank. The other boats lay on their paddles for a minute, uncertain what to do.Meanwhile, and just as Reginald was quickly sponging out the gun previous to reloading, and all was silent for a time, a curious thing occurred.In at the tiny back door of the fort, which had not yet been closed, rushed a tiny, laughing figure, all in white and barefooted. It was Matty, and in jumped honest Oscar next. She was laughing merrily.“Oh!” she cried, clapping her hands with glee. “They put me to bed, but I dot up again and runned away twickly, and I’se come to ’ssist!”“Oh, my darling!” cried Reginald, in great concern, “why did you come?”“I can tally (carry) tartridges and powder.”“No, no, no, dear. You must obey me. Here, there is my coat, and in that corner you must sit till all the fight is over.”Matty said: “Tiss me, then.”He kissed her, and down she sat with the dog beside her, and looked very demure indeed, with that one wee forefinger in her mouth.Strange to say, she soon fell fast asleep, with her head pillowed on the dog’s back, one hand clutching his mane.The battle now became general all along the line. For the riflemen in the back, as well as those within the fort, began to fire.And now slowly down the hill came Bertha, the Island Queen, sceptre-pole in hand, and dressed in skins of dazzling white. A very imposing figure she looked. But her presence gave extra courage to her people.The officers in almost every boat were picked off easily, so short was now the range.It must be admitted that the enemy showed no lack of courage, though boat after boat was sunk to the number of six, and rifles rang out from the bush and fort in a series of independent but incessant firing, and well did the foe understand that their main safety now consisted in landing as soon as they possibly could. They knew that in a hand-to-hand fight the “fire-sticks,” as savages call our rifles, would be of little avail.The guns were worked with splendid results, however, and by the time the war canoes were beached only about four hundred men were left to fight. But these cannibals knew no fear.One more telling volley from the bush, one more shot from a six-pounder, then from behind a bush rushed the white Queen waving aloft her sceptre, and instantly from their cover, spear-armed, now rushed the Flower Islanders, one thousand strong at least The fight was a fearful one. Dickson, Hall, with Reginald and the men in the fort, joined with revolver and cutlass. The Queen was in the front. No, she fought not, but her presence there was like that of Joan of Arc.Many of the invaded fell dead and wounded; but even the fierce foe was forced to yield at last, and the miserable remnant of them tried once more to reach their boats.They never did. It was a war of extermination, and the invaders were utterly and completely wiped out Never a boat, never a man returned home to their distant island to tell the fearful tale.The Flower Islanders expected now a grand feast. Here was flesh—human flesh.The Queen forbade it, and Dickson himself gave orders that every body—the wounded had been stabbed—should be rowed out to sea and thrown overboard to feed the sharks. They demurred. Dickson was determined and stern. If not obeyed instantly, he should turn the guns on the would-be cannibals.Reginald suggested as a kind of compromise that each man who had been fighting should receive a large biscuit and a glass of rum. It was a happy thought, and after this the work was set about merrily. The sea-burial occupied all the afternoon till within an hour of sunset. Then the canoes returned. All was over. The Armada was no more.But around him now Dickson gathered the Flower Island Army, and offered up a prayer of thanks to the God of Battle, who had fought on their side, and the islanders seemed much impressed. The enemy would probably never attempt invasion again—in our heroes’ time, at all events.The Queen gave a banquet that night, she herself presiding. Of course, nothing was talked about except the incidents of the recent terrible battle.Matty came in for a share of praise, but was told she really must not run away again. And she promised, only adding that she thought she could “’ssist the poor dear doc.”The banquet lasted till late. The Queen had not forgotten how to play and sing. Dickson and Reginald were both good musicians, and one or two blacks gave inimitable performances, partly gesture, partly song; which would assuredly have brought down the house if given in a London music-hall.Being freed now for a time from any fear of further invasion, attention was turned to the gold mines and to the pearl-fishing. At a meeting on the hillside it was resolved that the men—they were all honest fellows—should be admitted to the secret. To have shut them out would hardly have been fair, so thought all.Well, naturally enough, Reginald chose what he considered the best two claims; then came Dickson’s choice; then Mr Hall’s, and after these the six white sailors, and they were willing to dig like heroes.They divided the work of the day into two parts. One was spent at the gold mines, the other in fishing for pearls. They were remarkably successful with the latter, but for nine months at least the gold came but slowly in, and this was disheartening. Nevertheless, they continued to dig and dig, assisted by native labour. The savages often found nuggets among thedébristhat had been overlooked by the white men, and these they dutifully presented to the owners of the claims.It must be admitted that the men were most energetic, for while their officers were always at the Queen’s palace by five o’clock, and ready for dinner, the men often worked by moonlight, or even by the glimmer of lanterns. They were slowly accumulating wealth.Success crowned Reginald’s efforts at last, though. For, to his extreme wonderment and delight, he struck a splendid pocket.It was deep down at the far end of the cave, and the mould was of a sandy nature, much of it apparently powdered quartz, broken, perhaps, by the awful pressure of the mountain above. But the very first nugget he pulled from here was as large as a pineapple, and many more followed, though none so large.No wonder his heart palpitated with joy and excitement, or that his comrades crowded round to shake his hand and congratulate him. But that cave had already made Reginald a fairly wealthy man. His success, moreover, encouraged the others to dig all the harder, and not without excellent results. It seemed, indeed, that not only was this island a flowery land, but an isle of gold. And the further they dug into the hill the more gold did they find. The men were very happy.“Oh, Bill,” said one to his pal one night at supper, “if ever we does get a ship home from this blessed isle, won’t my Polly be glad to see me just!”“Ay, Jack, she will; but I ain’t in any particular hurry to go yet, you know.”“Well, it’s two years come Monday since we sailed away from the beautiful Clyde. Heigho! I shouldn’t wonder if Polly has given me up for good and all, and married some counter-jumping land-lubber of a draper or grocer.”“Never mind, Jack; there’s as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it yet. Pass the rum. This is Saturday night, and it was just real good of Captain Dickson to send us an extra drop of the rosy. Fill your glasses, gentlemen, for a toast and a song. That digging has made me a mighty deal too tired to think of dancing to the sweetest jig e’er a fiddler could scrape out.”“Well, give us your toast, Bill. We’re all primed and waiting.”“My toast ain’t a very short one, but here it goes: ‘May the next year be our very last in this ’ere blessed island; may we all go home with bags of gold, and find our sweethearts true and faithful.’”“Hear, hear!” And every glass was drained to the bottom. “Now for the song.”“Oh, only an old ditty o’ Dibdin’s, and I’d rather be on the heavin’ ocean when I sings it. There is no accompaniment to a song so fetching as that which the boom and the wash of the waves make. Them’s my sentiments, boys.“Wives and Sweethearts.“’Tis said we ve’t’rous diehards, when we leave the shore,Our friends should mourn,Lest we returnTo bless their sight no more;But this is all a notionBold Jack can’t understand,Some die upon the ocean,And some die on the land.Then since ’tis clear,Howe’er we steer,No man’s life’s under his command;Let tempests howlAnd billows roll,And dangers press;In spite of these there are some joysUs jolly tars to bless,For Saturday night still comes, my boys,To drink to Poll and Bess.“Hurrah!” But just at this moment a strange and ominous sound, like distant thunder, put a sudden stop to the sailors’ Saturday night. All started to their feet to listen.
No confusion here in the fort. The men were all in, the other spear-armed corps of at least five hundred were hidden in the bush at the base of the mountain side. Inside everything was being conducted as quietly and regularly as—as—well, as a marriage in church.
But looking seaward, even without the aid of a glass, the great Armada could be seen approaching.
Huge black many-paddled war canoes, forty in all, and probably with fifty men in each, or nearly a thousand altogether.
Nearer and nearer they swept with many a wild or warlike shout that was meant to strike terror into the hearts of the Flower Islanders. They were soon so near that the rattling of their spears as they struck them against their big shields could be distinctly heard.
So near now that with a small opera-glass which the doctor carried, he could see their painted skins and faces, and the red and horrible streaks.
And now it was time to fire the first gun. A shot or shell would have carried much further, but grape would be ever so much more demoralising. Dickson himself trained that gun on the foremost or leading boat.
The surprise of the enemy was indeed great. Never had they seen a gun fired before, nor heard the roar of one. But yonder on shore and in front of the barricaded fort they could see a balloon of white smoke, with a stream of red fire in the centre. Then the roar of that piece of ordnance was appalling. Next moment the crowded boat or war canoe was filled with corpses and the shrieking, bleeding wounded. But she was in splinters, and quickly filled and sank. The other boats lay on their paddles for a minute, uncertain what to do.
Meanwhile, and just as Reginald was quickly sponging out the gun previous to reloading, and all was silent for a time, a curious thing occurred.
In at the tiny back door of the fort, which had not yet been closed, rushed a tiny, laughing figure, all in white and barefooted. It was Matty, and in jumped honest Oscar next. She was laughing merrily.
“Oh!” she cried, clapping her hands with glee. “They put me to bed, but I dot up again and runned away twickly, and I’se come to ’ssist!”
“Oh, my darling!” cried Reginald, in great concern, “why did you come?”
“I can tally (carry) tartridges and powder.”
“No, no, no, dear. You must obey me. Here, there is my coat, and in that corner you must sit till all the fight is over.”
Matty said: “Tiss me, then.”
He kissed her, and down she sat with the dog beside her, and looked very demure indeed, with that one wee forefinger in her mouth.
Strange to say, she soon fell fast asleep, with her head pillowed on the dog’s back, one hand clutching his mane.
The battle now became general all along the line. For the riflemen in the back, as well as those within the fort, began to fire.
And now slowly down the hill came Bertha, the Island Queen, sceptre-pole in hand, and dressed in skins of dazzling white. A very imposing figure she looked. But her presence gave extra courage to her people.
The officers in almost every boat were picked off easily, so short was now the range.
It must be admitted that the enemy showed no lack of courage, though boat after boat was sunk to the number of six, and rifles rang out from the bush and fort in a series of independent but incessant firing, and well did the foe understand that their main safety now consisted in landing as soon as they possibly could. They knew that in a hand-to-hand fight the “fire-sticks,” as savages call our rifles, would be of little avail.
The guns were worked with splendid results, however, and by the time the war canoes were beached only about four hundred men were left to fight. But these cannibals knew no fear.
One more telling volley from the bush, one more shot from a six-pounder, then from behind a bush rushed the white Queen waving aloft her sceptre, and instantly from their cover, spear-armed, now rushed the Flower Islanders, one thousand strong at least The fight was a fearful one. Dickson, Hall, with Reginald and the men in the fort, joined with revolver and cutlass. The Queen was in the front. No, she fought not, but her presence there was like that of Joan of Arc.
Many of the invaded fell dead and wounded; but even the fierce foe was forced to yield at last, and the miserable remnant of them tried once more to reach their boats.
They never did. It was a war of extermination, and the invaders were utterly and completely wiped out Never a boat, never a man returned home to their distant island to tell the fearful tale.
The Flower Islanders expected now a grand feast. Here was flesh—human flesh.
The Queen forbade it, and Dickson himself gave orders that every body—the wounded had been stabbed—should be rowed out to sea and thrown overboard to feed the sharks. They demurred. Dickson was determined and stern. If not obeyed instantly, he should turn the guns on the would-be cannibals.
Reginald suggested as a kind of compromise that each man who had been fighting should receive a large biscuit and a glass of rum. It was a happy thought, and after this the work was set about merrily. The sea-burial occupied all the afternoon till within an hour of sunset. Then the canoes returned. All was over. The Armada was no more.
But around him now Dickson gathered the Flower Island Army, and offered up a prayer of thanks to the God of Battle, who had fought on their side, and the islanders seemed much impressed. The enemy would probably never attempt invasion again—in our heroes’ time, at all events.
The Queen gave a banquet that night, she herself presiding. Of course, nothing was talked about except the incidents of the recent terrible battle.
Matty came in for a share of praise, but was told she really must not run away again. And she promised, only adding that she thought she could “’ssist the poor dear doc.”
The banquet lasted till late. The Queen had not forgotten how to play and sing. Dickson and Reginald were both good musicians, and one or two blacks gave inimitable performances, partly gesture, partly song; which would assuredly have brought down the house if given in a London music-hall.
Being freed now for a time from any fear of further invasion, attention was turned to the gold mines and to the pearl-fishing. At a meeting on the hillside it was resolved that the men—they were all honest fellows—should be admitted to the secret. To have shut them out would hardly have been fair, so thought all.
Well, naturally enough, Reginald chose what he considered the best two claims; then came Dickson’s choice; then Mr Hall’s, and after these the six white sailors, and they were willing to dig like heroes.
They divided the work of the day into two parts. One was spent at the gold mines, the other in fishing for pearls. They were remarkably successful with the latter, but for nine months at least the gold came but slowly in, and this was disheartening. Nevertheless, they continued to dig and dig, assisted by native labour. The savages often found nuggets among thedébristhat had been overlooked by the white men, and these they dutifully presented to the owners of the claims.
It must be admitted that the men were most energetic, for while their officers were always at the Queen’s palace by five o’clock, and ready for dinner, the men often worked by moonlight, or even by the glimmer of lanterns. They were slowly accumulating wealth.
Success crowned Reginald’s efforts at last, though. For, to his extreme wonderment and delight, he struck a splendid pocket.
It was deep down at the far end of the cave, and the mould was of a sandy nature, much of it apparently powdered quartz, broken, perhaps, by the awful pressure of the mountain above. But the very first nugget he pulled from here was as large as a pineapple, and many more followed, though none so large.
No wonder his heart palpitated with joy and excitement, or that his comrades crowded round to shake his hand and congratulate him. But that cave had already made Reginald a fairly wealthy man. His success, moreover, encouraged the others to dig all the harder, and not without excellent results. It seemed, indeed, that not only was this island a flowery land, but an isle of gold. And the further they dug into the hill the more gold did they find. The men were very happy.
“Oh, Bill,” said one to his pal one night at supper, “if ever we does get a ship home from this blessed isle, won’t my Polly be glad to see me just!”
“Ay, Jack, she will; but I ain’t in any particular hurry to go yet, you know.”
“Well, it’s two years come Monday since we sailed away from the beautiful Clyde. Heigho! I shouldn’t wonder if Polly has given me up for good and all, and married some counter-jumping land-lubber of a draper or grocer.”
“Never mind, Jack; there’s as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it yet. Pass the rum. This is Saturday night, and it was just real good of Captain Dickson to send us an extra drop of the rosy. Fill your glasses, gentlemen, for a toast and a song. That digging has made me a mighty deal too tired to think of dancing to the sweetest jig e’er a fiddler could scrape out.”
“Well, give us your toast, Bill. We’re all primed and waiting.”
“My toast ain’t a very short one, but here it goes: ‘May the next year be our very last in this ’ere blessed island; may we all go home with bags of gold, and find our sweethearts true and faithful.’”
“Hear, hear!” And every glass was drained to the bottom. “Now for the song.”
“Oh, only an old ditty o’ Dibdin’s, and I’d rather be on the heavin’ ocean when I sings it. There is no accompaniment to a song so fetching as that which the boom and the wash of the waves make. Them’s my sentiments, boys.
“Wives and Sweethearts.“’Tis said we ve’t’rous diehards, when we leave the shore,Our friends should mourn,Lest we returnTo bless their sight no more;But this is all a notionBold Jack can’t understand,Some die upon the ocean,And some die on the land.Then since ’tis clear,Howe’er we steer,No man’s life’s under his command;Let tempests howlAnd billows roll,And dangers press;In spite of these there are some joysUs jolly tars to bless,For Saturday night still comes, my boys,To drink to Poll and Bess.
“Wives and Sweethearts.“’Tis said we ve’t’rous diehards, when we leave the shore,Our friends should mourn,Lest we returnTo bless their sight no more;But this is all a notionBold Jack can’t understand,Some die upon the ocean,And some die on the land.Then since ’tis clear,Howe’er we steer,No man’s life’s under his command;Let tempests howlAnd billows roll,And dangers press;In spite of these there are some joysUs jolly tars to bless,For Saturday night still comes, my boys,To drink to Poll and Bess.
“Hurrah!” But just at this moment a strange and ominous sound, like distant thunder, put a sudden stop to the sailors’ Saturday night. All started to their feet to listen.