Chapter Ten.How Bruff sounded the Alarm.It was turning-in time, and after a couple of sleepy yawns Mark went to the cabin to find that nearly everyone had retired for the night.As soon as he had climbed upon his shelf he found that it was going to be one of those hot uncomfortable nights when pillow and sheet get ticklish and make the skin feel itchy. The air he breathed was stifling, and for a long time he lay awake listening to the rippling of the water against the sides of the ship. But at last he slept deeply and dreamlessly, to be awakened by a hand laid upon his shoulder.“Mark, my lad. Hist! don’t make a noise.”“What’s the matter, Mr Gregory?”“Nothing much, my lad; only that dog of yours is somewhere below howling dreadfully. I want you to come and quiet him.”“Won’t he lie down when you speak, sir?” said Mark drowsily.“No. Come: wake up my lad!”“All right, sir!”“Nonsense, boy! you’re going to sleep again. Come, now, rouse up!”“All—yes, sir, I’m awake,” said Mark, springing out of his berth. “I’ll slip on something and come.”“I’ll wait for you,” said the mate dryly.It was a wise decision, for Mark was so confused with drowsiness that he dressed mechanically, and suffered himself to be led out on to the deck where the comparative coolness made him a little more aware of what was going on.“Now, are you awake?”“Yes, sir. Quite awake now, sir,” said Mark wonderingly. “What do you want? Is the ship going down?”“Nonsense, boy!” said the mate laughing. “Why, you sleepy-headed fellow, didn’t you understand what I said?”“That I was to get up?” said Mark.“Yes, and quiet your dog. There, do you hear that?”A long piteous howl now fell upon Mark’s ears, and recalling how the dog had gone below, he concluded that the animal was eager to escape on deck, but after his experience in falling down the steps he did not care to attack them again.“What a noise!” cried Mark, as the long persistent howl came up. “Has he got stuck somewhere in the cargo?”“No; he could not be, I think. Hark, there’s the monkey too.”An angry chattering sound came up, followed by another howl and an angry bark.“There, go down and quiet him. The men in the forecastle can’t sleep.”Mark, now thoroughly awake, went sharply to the hatchway and descended, wondering why one of the sailors had not been sent down to quiet Bruff, and of course ignorant of the fact that they had one and all declined to go and face him, for certain reasons associated with the sharpness of his teeth and strength of his jaws, while the mate felt that it would be an easier way of solving the difficulty to send down the dog’s master than to go himself.It was very dark below, and the dog’s howl came once more as Mark took a lantern from where it was swinging.“Why, where can he be? Here, Bruff, Bruff!”Mark dropped the lantern with a crash, and the candle within it flickered for a moment and went out, as a horrible thought struck him, and turning back to the ladder he sprang up, and was about to shout, but his better sense prevailed, and he ran to where the first-mate stood by the bulwarks talking to one of the men.“Well, have you quieted him?”“Mr Gregory! Here! I want to speak to you,” said Mark huskily.“What, has he bitten you?”Mark dragged at his arm, and as soon as they were on the other side, panted out in a low whisper:“There’s something on fire down below.”“What!” shouted the mate in his surprise and horror. Then recovering himself, and knowing the risks attending a scare, “Poor boy!” he cried aloud. “Well, we shall be obliged to have that dog shot.”This quieted the men, who were advancing, and they went back to their places, while Mr Gregory walked Mark slowly by him to the cabin-door.“Are you sure you smelt fire?” he whispered.“Yes, sir, and there is smoke coming out from between those lower hatches.”“If I go down to make sure the men will take alarm and there may be a rush,” said the mate coolly. “Here, go and rouse up Morgan quietly. Don’t say what’s wrong. I want him.”“And my father?” panted Mark.“Be cool, boy; everything depends on coolness now. I’m going there.”In two minutes the captain and second-mate were out on deck, and Mark caught a glimpse of a pistol in his father’s breast, and saw him slip two into the officers’ hands.“Gregory, Morgan,” he said, “you stop with the men. You, Gregory, with the watch; you, Morgan, keep guard over the forecastle hatch.”“Ay, ay, sir.”The next minute the captain was below, Mark following him, and he heard him utter a deep sigh, almost a groan.“Is it fire, father?” whispered Mark.“Yes, my lad, somewhere down in the hold. Heaven help us! we are in a sore strait now. Who first noticed the fire?”“It was Bruff, father; he is howling now.”“Poor dog! he must not be burned to death. Go and try and find him; but if you find there is any smoke or strange smelling vapour, come back at once.”“Yes, father.”“No, stop; I’ll go with you. Where is the dog?”“Somewhere below.”“Then he must wait. I have the ship and people to try and save.”“Then let me go, father.”“Well, go, my boy, and Heaven be with you.”The necessity for risking his life was put aside, for there was a scuffling of feet over the deck, and the dog came up whining and then tried to go back. Mark called to him, but it was of no use, and he rushed back a little way, barking now fiercely.“I can’t let him go,” said Mark hoarsely, and he dashed after the dog; but before he had gone a dozen yards he kicked against something soft, and fell down, but only to scramble up again, for the mystery of the dog’s behaviour was explained. His companion the monkey was half overcome by the vapour arising from the fire in the hold, and had crawled, it seemed, part of the way toward the hatch and then sank down, the dog refusing to leave him till he heard voices.Mark dragged the poor, half inanimate animal to the hatch and carried him on deck, Bruff barking loudly till they were on deck, where a scene of excitement was rapidly growing.“Silence!” the captain roared as Mark reached his side. “No man is to go near a boat save those who are picked out. Listen, my lads, and you gentlemen as well. I will have discipline observed. And mind this: I’m going to extinguish this fire and save the ship if possible. If it proves to be impossible we’ll take to the boats.”“When it’s too late,” shouted one of the crew.“No; when it is necessary. Mr Morgan, take three men and the passengers, and put provisions and water in the boats with compasses, and lower them down ready. As soon as each boat is ready place one of the gentlemen armed by her, and he is to shoot down any man who turns coward and rushes for the boats before orders are given. Now, sir, you have your orders. Go on.”“Ay, ay, sir,” cried the second-mate. “Widgeon, Small, Smith, this way. Now, gentlemen, quick!”There was a rush to follow the mate, while the rest of the men on deck stood in a knot whispering and excited, for the smell of burning now grew plainer and plainer, and a dense fume rose from the hatch.“Now, Gregory, have up the men from the forecastle. Did they hear what was said?”“Ay, ay, sir,” came in a chorus as the men came scrambling up.“But, captain—the ladies,” cried Major O’Halloran excitedly.“Well, sir, they will behave like English ladies should,” said the captain loudly. “My wife will have charge of them, and they will be ready to go down to the boats slowly and in order. Mark, my boy, go to your mother’s side and help her in every way you can.”Mark ran to where his mother was standing with Mrs O’Halloran and Mary, all half-dressed and trembling.“I heard what your father said, Mark, my boy, and we are going to be calm. You can go back and help.”Mark ran back, to find his father giving orders sharply, but in as cool and matter-of-fact a manner as if there was no danger on the way. The pump handiest was rigged with the fire hose attached, and another was being got ready for supplying the buckets with which the men were preparing to deluge the flame.“Now, Gregory, I must stay on deck. Go down and haul off the hatches. Find as near as you can where the fire seems to be before you begin to work. Remember one gallon well placed is worth five hundred thrown at random.”“You may trust me, Captain Strong,” said the mate quietly. “Now then, two men—volunteers. Go down on your hands and knees as soon as we are below, and you will not feel the smoke.”The mate disappeared down the main hatch, and the men stood panting to begin, buckets filled, the hose distended, and one of the sailors holding his thumb tightly over the hole in the branch.As the men went down the captain drew a long breath, for he realised how difficult it would be to apply the water effectively. The lower deck was growing more dense with smoke moment by moment, and the men who were to direct the water upon the flames would be compelled to stand below in that stifling heat.It was an awful time, and every soul there realised the horror of the position—a hundred miles from the nearest land, the vessel all of wood and laden with a fairly inflammable cargo, which must be well alight by now to judge from the tremendous fume.The captain’s manner and his orders, however, gave some confidence to the men, who, as they waited, saw one boat lowered and heard it kiss the water, while directly after preparations were being made for the lowering of another.“That’s right,” said the captain cheerily. “We have plenty of boats, so there is nothing to fear. Now, Mr Gregory, how is it below?”There was a faint reply, evidently from a distance, and then a rush was heard, and the two men came up blinded, choking, and coughing violently.“Where’s Mr Gregory?” cried the captain.“Here!” was the reply, and the first-mate’s head appeared above the coamings of the hatchway.“Well?”“I can make out nothing, sir,” said the mate, setting down his lantern, “only that the smoke is rising all over.”“Can’t you localise the place?”“No.”“Up with the hatches, then, and let’s have the water in,” cried the captain. “You take the deck now, and I’ll go down. Three fresh men here.”Half a dozen stepped forward and part were selected, for the discipline of the ship told, and not a man so much as glanced at the boats now.“Axes,” said the captain, “and as soon as we haul off some hatches pass down that hose, Gregory, and begin handing down the buckets.”“Are you going to stay below, sir?”“Yes, for a spell,” said the captain; and Mark felt a swelling sensation at his breast as he saw his father go down into that suffocating fume to risk his life.At that moment a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and turning sharply it was to see that the major was just passing him, laden with provisions for the next boat.“What a soldier he would have made, my lad!” said the major, and passed on.“He could not have done anything more brave,” said Mark to himself, “if he had been a soldier;” and he ran close to the hatchway as the buckets of water were being handed steadily down, while the pumps clanked heavily with the labour given by willing hands.“Bravo, my lads!” cried Mr Gregory excitedly. “Cheerily ho! Now then.”The men uttered a tremendous cheer, and another and another, and for the next half-hour there was the clanking of the pumps, and the loud slushing noise of the water being thrown below, and the hiss and rush of the constant stream from the hose.The next hatches were thrown open, risky as the proceeding was; but without a current of air through the ship it would have been impossible for those below to have kept on with their suffocating task.For the first quarter of an hour the captain and those with him worked like giants, and then came up, to be relieved by the mate and others, those who had been below now passing the water.But it was blind and helpless work, and when this had been going on for about three-quarters of an hour, and the toilers were getting exhausted by the heat and smoke, Mr Morgan came up and announced that the boats were all ready, and this set four strong men at liberty to help with the water.The second-mate went down at once, and in a quarter of an hour was relieved by the captain, who came up in turn, looking more stern than Mark had ever seen before.“I can’t help feeling that we are wasting our energy,” he said to Mr Morgan. “We are not making the slightest impression.”“I’m afraid not,” said the officer addressed. “The fire is increasing.”“Yes; and at any moment it may burst forth with a roar, Morgan,” whispered the captain; “but for heaven’s sake don’t show that we think so.”Another anxious quarter of an hour passed, and matters were evidently growing worse. The water was passed down into the hold with unabated vigour, the men working desperately, but the pillar of smoke which rose from the hold grew thicker and thicker and half hid some of the flapping sails, for now it had fallen quite a calm. From time to time Mark had been to his mother, who was trying, with the major’s wife, to whisper hope and encouragement to Mary, the poor girl being horrified at the idea of having to leave the ship in an open boat. But at last there seemed to be no hope to whisper from one to the other. Men grew more stern as they worked with savage energy; and in spite of the time which had elapsed since the first alarm there had not been a murmur nor a whisper of going to the boats, which floated on either side and astern.But the captain and the two mates knew that before long there must be a rush of fire up through the great hatch, that the sails would immediately catch, and then the masts and rigging would rapidly be a blaze from stem to stern.Mark had just returned from one of his visits to the front of the cabin, where the helpless women stood gazing at the dimly-seen crowd about the hatch, going and coming, and blotting out the dim light of the lanterns placed here and there. He was close to his father as once Mr Gregory came up, blinded with the smoke, and half suffocated.“I can’t hit upon the place,” he said angrily. “We’re wasting time, Captain Strong, for the smoke comes up all over, and we have never yet touched its source.”“No,” said the captain gloomily; “but we must persevere.”“Oh, yes, sir, we’ll persevere; never fear for that.”“If I could only think of what would be likely to light by spontaneous combustion, it might help us.”“I can help you to that,” said the mate.“The fire’s gaining fast, sir,” said Small, the boatswain, coming up; “Mr Morgan says we must have more hands below.”A thrill ran through the men, and one of them threw down his bucket.“It’s labour in vain, captain,” he said. “Better keep our strength for the oars.”“Take up that bucket, sir,” roared the captain furiously, “or—”He did not finish his sentence but took a couple of strides forward, and the man resumed his work.“I give orders here,” said the captain in a loud deep voice. “Now, Mr Gregory, what is it?”“Matches. A chest or two must have been sent by some scoundrel described as something else, and the pressure or crushing in of the case has ignited them.”“That does not help us, sir,” said the captain bitterly. “I want to know where they are.”“Matches—did you say matches?” cried a highly-pitched voice; and Jimpny dropped his bucket and started forward.“Back to your work!” cried one of the men, but the captain stopped him.“Yes, matches, my man,” he said, for there was a faint hope that Jimpny might know something.“There were chests of ’em down below where I lay,” said Jimpny eagerly. “I could smell ’em strong all the time.”“Smell them?” cried Mr Gregory.“Yes, sir, onion phosphory smell, you know.”“Hurrah!” cried the first-mate excitedly. “Axes, my lad, and lanterns. We know now.”Three men started forward, but the captain caught the axe from one and a lantern from another, and was about to follow the first-mate when an uneasy movement among the crew arrested him, and he handed the axe and light to Mr Morgan.“You go down,” he said. “I may be wanted here.”It was a wise resolve, for it stayed a rush to the boats just at the moment when a chance was left of saving the vessel.The captain’s stern presence was, however, sufficient to keep the men back; and as the pumping and carrying of water ceased, all stood irresolute, listening to the blows of hatchets and the breaking of wood below.All doubt as to the right place being found was ended the next minute, for a lurid light shot up from the hatch, and a shout arose from the men, who would have rushed away in panic but for the captain’s words.“Pump! pump!” he roared; “now then, pass on that water.”The hiss and splash of water arose directly from below, showing that the well-directed stream was now striking the fire.There was a cheer from below, too, which sent a thrill through them; and for the next half-hour the water was sent down with the energy of despair. Then despair began to give way to hope, for the glare from below was fainter; then it grew paler still, and at last nothing but a dense white blinding smoke came up; and directly after the two mates, Small, and a couple of men came staggering up, to fall on the deck exhausted.“Major O’Halloran!” shouted the captain, handing him his revolver, “take charge here, sir, till these men recover. Now, my lads, we’ve nearly won. Two men to go with me below.”The captain sprang down, followed by Billy Widgeon and Jimpny, while, as the men cheered and went on pumping, Mark ran to the cabin to return with spirits to revive the exhausted men.It was a good idea, followed out by Mrs Strong and the major’s wife, who handed refreshments to all the men in turn.Mr Morgan was the first to rise to his feet and try to go down again, but he was too weak, and staggered away from the hatchway.One of the men started forward, but Mark was before him.“If my father can live down there, I can,” he thought; and he dropped down to crawl through the smoke beside the leather hose of the fire pump, and this led him directly to where his father was directing the nozzle of the branch down through the broken deck, a dim lantern beside showing that a pillar of smoke was slowly rising up and away from the captain.“That you, Mark? Go and tell them to stop sending down buckets; the hose will do now. The fire is mastered, and—”He did not finish his sentence, for his voice was choking and husky as Mark ran to the other hatch and climbed up with his message.It was received with a tremendous burst of cheering, the men who had been handing the buckets dashing them down and seizing each other’s hands, while others indulged in a hearty hug.For the danger was indeed past, and at the end of an hour the men, who had been working in relays, were able to leave off pumping just as the dawn was beginning to appear in the east, while an hour later, when it was broad daylight, the sun rose upon a thin blue thread of steam rising from the hold, and disclosed a group of haggard-looking, smoke-blackened, red-eyed men, utterly worn out by their efforts.But the ship was saved, and the captain said, “Thank God!”
It was turning-in time, and after a couple of sleepy yawns Mark went to the cabin to find that nearly everyone had retired for the night.
As soon as he had climbed upon his shelf he found that it was going to be one of those hot uncomfortable nights when pillow and sheet get ticklish and make the skin feel itchy. The air he breathed was stifling, and for a long time he lay awake listening to the rippling of the water against the sides of the ship. But at last he slept deeply and dreamlessly, to be awakened by a hand laid upon his shoulder.
“Mark, my lad. Hist! don’t make a noise.”
“What’s the matter, Mr Gregory?”
“Nothing much, my lad; only that dog of yours is somewhere below howling dreadfully. I want you to come and quiet him.”
“Won’t he lie down when you speak, sir?” said Mark drowsily.
“No. Come: wake up my lad!”
“All right, sir!”
“Nonsense, boy! you’re going to sleep again. Come, now, rouse up!”
“All—yes, sir, I’m awake,” said Mark, springing out of his berth. “I’ll slip on something and come.”
“I’ll wait for you,” said the mate dryly.
It was a wise decision, for Mark was so confused with drowsiness that he dressed mechanically, and suffered himself to be led out on to the deck where the comparative coolness made him a little more aware of what was going on.
“Now, are you awake?”
“Yes, sir. Quite awake now, sir,” said Mark wonderingly. “What do you want? Is the ship going down?”
“Nonsense, boy!” said the mate laughing. “Why, you sleepy-headed fellow, didn’t you understand what I said?”
“That I was to get up?” said Mark.
“Yes, and quiet your dog. There, do you hear that?”
A long piteous howl now fell upon Mark’s ears, and recalling how the dog had gone below, he concluded that the animal was eager to escape on deck, but after his experience in falling down the steps he did not care to attack them again.
“What a noise!” cried Mark, as the long persistent howl came up. “Has he got stuck somewhere in the cargo?”
“No; he could not be, I think. Hark, there’s the monkey too.”
An angry chattering sound came up, followed by another howl and an angry bark.
“There, go down and quiet him. The men in the forecastle can’t sleep.”
Mark, now thoroughly awake, went sharply to the hatchway and descended, wondering why one of the sailors had not been sent down to quiet Bruff, and of course ignorant of the fact that they had one and all declined to go and face him, for certain reasons associated with the sharpness of his teeth and strength of his jaws, while the mate felt that it would be an easier way of solving the difficulty to send down the dog’s master than to go himself.
It was very dark below, and the dog’s howl came once more as Mark took a lantern from where it was swinging.
“Why, where can he be? Here, Bruff, Bruff!”
Mark dropped the lantern with a crash, and the candle within it flickered for a moment and went out, as a horrible thought struck him, and turning back to the ladder he sprang up, and was about to shout, but his better sense prevailed, and he ran to where the first-mate stood by the bulwarks talking to one of the men.
“Well, have you quieted him?”
“Mr Gregory! Here! I want to speak to you,” said Mark huskily.
“What, has he bitten you?”
Mark dragged at his arm, and as soon as they were on the other side, panted out in a low whisper:
“There’s something on fire down below.”
“What!” shouted the mate in his surprise and horror. Then recovering himself, and knowing the risks attending a scare, “Poor boy!” he cried aloud. “Well, we shall be obliged to have that dog shot.”
This quieted the men, who were advancing, and they went back to their places, while Mr Gregory walked Mark slowly by him to the cabin-door.
“Are you sure you smelt fire?” he whispered.
“Yes, sir, and there is smoke coming out from between those lower hatches.”
“If I go down to make sure the men will take alarm and there may be a rush,” said the mate coolly. “Here, go and rouse up Morgan quietly. Don’t say what’s wrong. I want him.”
“And my father?” panted Mark.
“Be cool, boy; everything depends on coolness now. I’m going there.”
In two minutes the captain and second-mate were out on deck, and Mark caught a glimpse of a pistol in his father’s breast, and saw him slip two into the officers’ hands.
“Gregory, Morgan,” he said, “you stop with the men. You, Gregory, with the watch; you, Morgan, keep guard over the forecastle hatch.”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
The next minute the captain was below, Mark following him, and he heard him utter a deep sigh, almost a groan.
“Is it fire, father?” whispered Mark.
“Yes, my lad, somewhere down in the hold. Heaven help us! we are in a sore strait now. Who first noticed the fire?”
“It was Bruff, father; he is howling now.”
“Poor dog! he must not be burned to death. Go and try and find him; but if you find there is any smoke or strange smelling vapour, come back at once.”
“Yes, father.”
“No, stop; I’ll go with you. Where is the dog?”
“Somewhere below.”
“Then he must wait. I have the ship and people to try and save.”
“Then let me go, father.”
“Well, go, my boy, and Heaven be with you.”
The necessity for risking his life was put aside, for there was a scuffling of feet over the deck, and the dog came up whining and then tried to go back. Mark called to him, but it was of no use, and he rushed back a little way, barking now fiercely.
“I can’t let him go,” said Mark hoarsely, and he dashed after the dog; but before he had gone a dozen yards he kicked against something soft, and fell down, but only to scramble up again, for the mystery of the dog’s behaviour was explained. His companion the monkey was half overcome by the vapour arising from the fire in the hold, and had crawled, it seemed, part of the way toward the hatch and then sank down, the dog refusing to leave him till he heard voices.
Mark dragged the poor, half inanimate animal to the hatch and carried him on deck, Bruff barking loudly till they were on deck, where a scene of excitement was rapidly growing.
“Silence!” the captain roared as Mark reached his side. “No man is to go near a boat save those who are picked out. Listen, my lads, and you gentlemen as well. I will have discipline observed. And mind this: I’m going to extinguish this fire and save the ship if possible. If it proves to be impossible we’ll take to the boats.”
“When it’s too late,” shouted one of the crew.
“No; when it is necessary. Mr Morgan, take three men and the passengers, and put provisions and water in the boats with compasses, and lower them down ready. As soon as each boat is ready place one of the gentlemen armed by her, and he is to shoot down any man who turns coward and rushes for the boats before orders are given. Now, sir, you have your orders. Go on.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” cried the second-mate. “Widgeon, Small, Smith, this way. Now, gentlemen, quick!”
There was a rush to follow the mate, while the rest of the men on deck stood in a knot whispering and excited, for the smell of burning now grew plainer and plainer, and a dense fume rose from the hatch.
“Now, Gregory, have up the men from the forecastle. Did they hear what was said?”
“Ay, ay, sir,” came in a chorus as the men came scrambling up.
“But, captain—the ladies,” cried Major O’Halloran excitedly.
“Well, sir, they will behave like English ladies should,” said the captain loudly. “My wife will have charge of them, and they will be ready to go down to the boats slowly and in order. Mark, my boy, go to your mother’s side and help her in every way you can.”
Mark ran to where his mother was standing with Mrs O’Halloran and Mary, all half-dressed and trembling.
“I heard what your father said, Mark, my boy, and we are going to be calm. You can go back and help.”
Mark ran back, to find his father giving orders sharply, but in as cool and matter-of-fact a manner as if there was no danger on the way. The pump handiest was rigged with the fire hose attached, and another was being got ready for supplying the buckets with which the men were preparing to deluge the flame.
“Now, Gregory, I must stay on deck. Go down and haul off the hatches. Find as near as you can where the fire seems to be before you begin to work. Remember one gallon well placed is worth five hundred thrown at random.”
“You may trust me, Captain Strong,” said the mate quietly. “Now then, two men—volunteers. Go down on your hands and knees as soon as we are below, and you will not feel the smoke.”
The mate disappeared down the main hatch, and the men stood panting to begin, buckets filled, the hose distended, and one of the sailors holding his thumb tightly over the hole in the branch.
As the men went down the captain drew a long breath, for he realised how difficult it would be to apply the water effectively. The lower deck was growing more dense with smoke moment by moment, and the men who were to direct the water upon the flames would be compelled to stand below in that stifling heat.
It was an awful time, and every soul there realised the horror of the position—a hundred miles from the nearest land, the vessel all of wood and laden with a fairly inflammable cargo, which must be well alight by now to judge from the tremendous fume.
The captain’s manner and his orders, however, gave some confidence to the men, who, as they waited, saw one boat lowered and heard it kiss the water, while directly after preparations were being made for the lowering of another.
“That’s right,” said the captain cheerily. “We have plenty of boats, so there is nothing to fear. Now, Mr Gregory, how is it below?”
There was a faint reply, evidently from a distance, and then a rush was heard, and the two men came up blinded, choking, and coughing violently.
“Where’s Mr Gregory?” cried the captain.
“Here!” was the reply, and the first-mate’s head appeared above the coamings of the hatchway.
“Well?”
“I can make out nothing, sir,” said the mate, setting down his lantern, “only that the smoke is rising all over.”
“Can’t you localise the place?”
“No.”
“Up with the hatches, then, and let’s have the water in,” cried the captain. “You take the deck now, and I’ll go down. Three fresh men here.”
Half a dozen stepped forward and part were selected, for the discipline of the ship told, and not a man so much as glanced at the boats now.
“Axes,” said the captain, “and as soon as we haul off some hatches pass down that hose, Gregory, and begin handing down the buckets.”
“Are you going to stay below, sir?”
“Yes, for a spell,” said the captain; and Mark felt a swelling sensation at his breast as he saw his father go down into that suffocating fume to risk his life.
At that moment a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and turning sharply it was to see that the major was just passing him, laden with provisions for the next boat.
“What a soldier he would have made, my lad!” said the major, and passed on.
“He could not have done anything more brave,” said Mark to himself, “if he had been a soldier;” and he ran close to the hatchway as the buckets of water were being handed steadily down, while the pumps clanked heavily with the labour given by willing hands.
“Bravo, my lads!” cried Mr Gregory excitedly. “Cheerily ho! Now then.”
The men uttered a tremendous cheer, and another and another, and for the next half-hour there was the clanking of the pumps, and the loud slushing noise of the water being thrown below, and the hiss and rush of the constant stream from the hose.
The next hatches were thrown open, risky as the proceeding was; but without a current of air through the ship it would have been impossible for those below to have kept on with their suffocating task.
For the first quarter of an hour the captain and those with him worked like giants, and then came up, to be relieved by the mate and others, those who had been below now passing the water.
But it was blind and helpless work, and when this had been going on for about three-quarters of an hour, and the toilers were getting exhausted by the heat and smoke, Mr Morgan came up and announced that the boats were all ready, and this set four strong men at liberty to help with the water.
The second-mate went down at once, and in a quarter of an hour was relieved by the captain, who came up in turn, looking more stern than Mark had ever seen before.
“I can’t help feeling that we are wasting our energy,” he said to Mr Morgan. “We are not making the slightest impression.”
“I’m afraid not,” said the officer addressed. “The fire is increasing.”
“Yes; and at any moment it may burst forth with a roar, Morgan,” whispered the captain; “but for heaven’s sake don’t show that we think so.”
Another anxious quarter of an hour passed, and matters were evidently growing worse. The water was passed down into the hold with unabated vigour, the men working desperately, but the pillar of smoke which rose from the hold grew thicker and thicker and half hid some of the flapping sails, for now it had fallen quite a calm. From time to time Mark had been to his mother, who was trying, with the major’s wife, to whisper hope and encouragement to Mary, the poor girl being horrified at the idea of having to leave the ship in an open boat. But at last there seemed to be no hope to whisper from one to the other. Men grew more stern as they worked with savage energy; and in spite of the time which had elapsed since the first alarm there had not been a murmur nor a whisper of going to the boats, which floated on either side and astern.
But the captain and the two mates knew that before long there must be a rush of fire up through the great hatch, that the sails would immediately catch, and then the masts and rigging would rapidly be a blaze from stem to stern.
Mark had just returned from one of his visits to the front of the cabin, where the helpless women stood gazing at the dimly-seen crowd about the hatch, going and coming, and blotting out the dim light of the lanterns placed here and there. He was close to his father as once Mr Gregory came up, blinded with the smoke, and half suffocated.
“I can’t hit upon the place,” he said angrily. “We’re wasting time, Captain Strong, for the smoke comes up all over, and we have never yet touched its source.”
“No,” said the captain gloomily; “but we must persevere.”
“Oh, yes, sir, we’ll persevere; never fear for that.”
“If I could only think of what would be likely to light by spontaneous combustion, it might help us.”
“I can help you to that,” said the mate.
“The fire’s gaining fast, sir,” said Small, the boatswain, coming up; “Mr Morgan says we must have more hands below.”
A thrill ran through the men, and one of them threw down his bucket.
“It’s labour in vain, captain,” he said. “Better keep our strength for the oars.”
“Take up that bucket, sir,” roared the captain furiously, “or—”
He did not finish his sentence but took a couple of strides forward, and the man resumed his work.
“I give orders here,” said the captain in a loud deep voice. “Now, Mr Gregory, what is it?”
“Matches. A chest or two must have been sent by some scoundrel described as something else, and the pressure or crushing in of the case has ignited them.”
“That does not help us, sir,” said the captain bitterly. “I want to know where they are.”
“Matches—did you say matches?” cried a highly-pitched voice; and Jimpny dropped his bucket and started forward.
“Back to your work!” cried one of the men, but the captain stopped him.
“Yes, matches, my man,” he said, for there was a faint hope that Jimpny might know something.
“There were chests of ’em down below where I lay,” said Jimpny eagerly. “I could smell ’em strong all the time.”
“Smell them?” cried Mr Gregory.
“Yes, sir, onion phosphory smell, you know.”
“Hurrah!” cried the first-mate excitedly. “Axes, my lad, and lanterns. We know now.”
Three men started forward, but the captain caught the axe from one and a lantern from another, and was about to follow the first-mate when an uneasy movement among the crew arrested him, and he handed the axe and light to Mr Morgan.
“You go down,” he said. “I may be wanted here.”
It was a wise resolve, for it stayed a rush to the boats just at the moment when a chance was left of saving the vessel.
The captain’s stern presence was, however, sufficient to keep the men back; and as the pumping and carrying of water ceased, all stood irresolute, listening to the blows of hatchets and the breaking of wood below.
All doubt as to the right place being found was ended the next minute, for a lurid light shot up from the hatch, and a shout arose from the men, who would have rushed away in panic but for the captain’s words.
“Pump! pump!” he roared; “now then, pass on that water.”
The hiss and splash of water arose directly from below, showing that the well-directed stream was now striking the fire.
There was a cheer from below, too, which sent a thrill through them; and for the next half-hour the water was sent down with the energy of despair. Then despair began to give way to hope, for the glare from below was fainter; then it grew paler still, and at last nothing but a dense white blinding smoke came up; and directly after the two mates, Small, and a couple of men came staggering up, to fall on the deck exhausted.
“Major O’Halloran!” shouted the captain, handing him his revolver, “take charge here, sir, till these men recover. Now, my lads, we’ve nearly won. Two men to go with me below.”
The captain sprang down, followed by Billy Widgeon and Jimpny, while, as the men cheered and went on pumping, Mark ran to the cabin to return with spirits to revive the exhausted men.
It was a good idea, followed out by Mrs Strong and the major’s wife, who handed refreshments to all the men in turn.
Mr Morgan was the first to rise to his feet and try to go down again, but he was too weak, and staggered away from the hatchway.
One of the men started forward, but Mark was before him.
“If my father can live down there, I can,” he thought; and he dropped down to crawl through the smoke beside the leather hose of the fire pump, and this led him directly to where his father was directing the nozzle of the branch down through the broken deck, a dim lantern beside showing that a pillar of smoke was slowly rising up and away from the captain.
“That you, Mark? Go and tell them to stop sending down buckets; the hose will do now. The fire is mastered, and—”
He did not finish his sentence, for his voice was choking and husky as Mark ran to the other hatch and climbed up with his message.
It was received with a tremendous burst of cheering, the men who had been handing the buckets dashing them down and seizing each other’s hands, while others indulged in a hearty hug.
For the danger was indeed past, and at the end of an hour the men, who had been working in relays, were able to leave off pumping just as the dawn was beginning to appear in the east, while an hour later, when it was broad daylight, the sun rose upon a thin blue thread of steam rising from the hold, and disclosed a group of haggard-looking, smoke-blackened, red-eyed men, utterly worn out by their efforts.
But the ship was saved, and the captain said, “Thank God!”
Chapter Eleven.How Jack proved to be an Impostor.The damage could not be thoroughly ascertained, for a vast deal of mischief must have been done by the water poured into the hold, water which exercised the men’s patience a good, deal before it was all cleared out; but the amount destroyed by fire when they worked down to the seat of the mishap was comparatively small, for the smouldering had produced a vast amount of smoke.One little matter which took place toward the next evening, when order was once more restored, the boats in their places, and everyone assured that there was no chance of a fresh outbreak, deserves recording.It was close upon dusk when, as Jimpny came slouching along the deck, he encountered the first-mate, and was about to turn aside; but Mr Gregory, who had been chatting with Mark, and patting Bruff, who had won the distinction of giving first warning of the fire, stopped him.“I’m rather rough sometimes with the men, Jimpny, and I have been particularly hard on you. I can’t say a good word for you as a sailor, but you have saved this ship by coming aboard, and if Captain Strong—”“What about him?” said the captain. “Oh, I see; you were talking to Jimpny here. Ah! he has his strong points, you see, Gregory. I shall not forget what took place last night.”“Don’t talk about it, sir,” said the stowaway in a shamefaced fashion. “Only too glad to have recollected about the matches.”“Ah,” said the mate; “and if you could only recollect the scoundrel who sent them, he should pay for the damage, eh, Captain Strong?”“Yes,” said the captain; “it was a cruel trick, for the sake of saving a few pounds. But, as I said before, Jimpny, I shall not forget last night’s work.”“I thank you kindly, sir,” said the man, “but I don’t want nothing, only a chance to get on a bit.”“And that,” said the captain, “you have found.”The damaged cargo was thrown overboard, the hold pumped dry, and exposed to the air as much as possible, and the risk they had all run began to be looked upon as a thing of the past. But there was one personage, if he could be so styled, who did not recover quite so quickly from the troubles of that night, and that was Jacko, who suffered so severely from the overpowering nature of the smoke in the hold that he became quite an invalid, and had to be brought up on deck by Billy Widgeon, and laid upon a wool mat in the sun.The poor animal was very ill, but his ludicrous aspect and caricature-like imitation of sick humanity excited laughter among passengers and men. He used to lie perfectly still, with his face contracted into comical wrinkles; but his eyes were bright and always on the move, while, if Bruff were away from his side for five minutes, he would begin to chatter uneasily, and then howl till the dog returned, to take hold of his arm, and pretend to bite him, ending by lying down and watching him with half-closed eyes.After a while Bruff would utter a remonstrant growl, for Jack would set to work trying to solve the problem why the dog’s curly coat would not lie down smooth and straight; and in his efforts to produce that smoothness that he was accustomed to see upon his own skin, he sometimes tugged vigorously enough to cause pain.Mark was watching the pair one day, when Billy Widgeon came up.“Why don’t he get better?” said Mark. “He ought to be all right by now.”Billy Widgeon looked at the monkey, which seemed to be watching them both intently, and mysteriously drew Mark aside.“That there settles it, Mr Mark, sir,” he said.“Settles what?”“’Bout his being so ill, sir. I see it all just then in his wicked old eyes.”“I don’t understand you, Billy.”“Don’t you? He’s a-gammoning on us, sir.”“Gammoning us?”“Yes, sir. That’s his artfulness. He likes to be carried down to his snug warm bed, and carried up again, and set here in the sun, and being fed with figs and sweet biscuits and lumps of sugar. It’s my ’pinion that he’s as well as you and me.”“No, no,” said Mark. “I believe the poor thing is very ill.”“I don’t, sir, and if you’ll let me, I’ll cure him in a minute.”“But you’d hurt him.”“Well, sir, I might hurt his feelings, but I wouldn’t hurt him nowheres else.”“What will you do, then?”“Here, hold hard,” said Billy in a whisper. “Don’t talk so loud; he’s a-watching of us.”Mark glanced in the direction of the monkey, and sure enough the animal had drawn himself up a little, and was peering at them over the dog’s back, as the latter lay down at full length in the sunshine.“That’s his artfulness, Mr Mark, sir,” whispered Billy. “I’ve had the keer of that there monkey ever since he come aboard, and have stood by him many’s the time when the men was up to their larks, and wanted to make him pick up red-hot ha’pennies, and to give him pepper pills to eat. Why, there was one chap used to spend hours setting traps for him. What d’yer think he used to do?”“I don’t know,” replied Mark.“Well, I’ll just tell you, sir: he used to shove a little thin old file through a cotton reel, and make a drill of it. You know what a drill is, sir?”“Yes, I’ve seen it used,” said Mark; “worked to and fro with a steel bow and catgut.”“That’s him, sir; only my messmate hadn’t no steel bow and no catgut, but he made hisself a sort of bow out of a bit o’ cane and some string, and then he used to get a few nuts and stick ’em one at a time in a crack, and drill holes in the sides. When he’d done this, he used to sit o’ nights and pick all the kernels out, a bit at a time, with a pin, just the same as you used to do with the periwinkles, sir.”“That I never did,” said Mark, laughing, as he seated himself outside the bulwark, and gazed down in the clear water while he listened.“Well, I used to, sir, and werry nice they is.”“I daresay, but go on.”“Well, sir, he used to pick all the kernels out, and when they was empty, fill ’em up with snuff, and plug the holes with a bit o’ tar.”“What for?”“That’s just what I’m a-coming to, sir, only you keeps a-interrupting so. Then he used to put these here nuts full o’ snuff in one pocket, and some good uns in the other, and wait till he see Jack. Fust time he did it, I didn’t know there was any game on, and I see him give Jack a nut. He cracked it, and ate the kernel, and then my mate give him another, and he cracked and ate that, and held out his hand for more. This time he give him one full o’ snuff, but Jack tasted the tar as stopped up the hole, and was too many for him. He wouldn’t crack it, but chucked it away. I thought it was only a bad one, for I never smelt the snuff; but what does my mate do but begs a bit o’ wheeling sacks o’ the steward.”“A bit of what?” said Mark.“Wheeling sacks, sir; what they fastens up letters with.”“Oh, sealing wax,” cried Mark.“Yes, sir, I said so—sealing wax, and stops up the holes with that. Jack didn’t taste that, and first time he cracks one o’ them bad uns he gets his mouth full o’ snuff, and there he was a-coughing and sneezing for ’bout half an hour, while as soon as he see as it was a trick, he jumps on my back and bites me in the neck, and runs away to get up in the rigging and swear—oh my eye, but he did swear!”“Nonsense, Billy! a monkey can’t swear.”“But he did, sir. He went on calling us all the names he could lay his tongue to in monkey, and whenever my mate give him nuts again, he used to crack ’em on the deck with a marline-spike. Then my mate used to try it on with other tricks, but I wouldn’t have it, and I’ve had no end o’ rows with my messmates on account o’ that little chap, for I’ve got to love him like a brother a’most—ah, more than you do your dog; but he’s that howdacious artful that I get ashamed on him. He aren’t got no more morals than a lobster, as would pinch his best friend’s finger off as soon as look at him.”“And Jack bites you, then, same as he would anyone else?”“More, sir; ever so much more. Why, I’m all over his bites.”“And so you think he’s shamming?” said Mark.“I’m sure of it, and I’m a-going to cure him.”“What will you do?”“Well, I shall try him easy-like at first, sir, and if that don’t do I shall try rope’s end.”“No, no, do it by kindness, Billy,” said Mark.“Well, that would be kindness, sir. Monkey’s only a monkey, but even a monkey ought to be taught to have some morals. You come along o’ me.”Mark leaped down, and followed the little sailor back to where Jack was lying watching them; and as soon as they reached the spot, Billy bent down, placed his hands upon his knees, and poured forth a stream of the most voluble vituperation ever invented by man. He called the monkey all the lazy, idle, good-for-nothing swabs, lubbers, and humbugs possible, while the effect was droll in the extreme.At first the little animal chattered at him, then he shook his head, then he grew angry, and at last curled himself up, covering his head with his long arms, and howled piteously.“That’s a-touching of him up, sir,” said Billy. “He knows it, you see. Why, you miserable little black-faced, bandy-legged sneak,” he continued, addressing the monkey, “what’s in my mind is to—”Woof!Billy Widgeon made a bound, and caught a rope, by whose help he swung himself up into the rigging.“Lay hold o’ that dog, Mr Mark, sir,” he cried.For Bruff, who had been lying down when this tirade began, slowly raised his head, then placed himself in a sitting posture, and ended by staring at Billy, till Jack gave a more piteous howl than any he had before uttered, when the dog gave vent to one low growling bark, and sprang at the sailor.“Ah!” said Billy, as soon as Bruff was quieted down, “you see he takes his part. Being a dog he don’t know no better, sir. I must try another way.”Billy slowly swung himself down, displaying wonderful muscular strength of arm as he did so, and beckoning Mark aside he continued:“I’m going to show you now, sir. Can you make your dog howl?”“Oh, yes, Billy, easily.”“How will you do it?”“Shut him up somewhere, or chain him, and then call him. As soon as he finds he can’t get to me, he’ll make noise enough.”“That’s your sort,” said Billy. “You bring him along, then.”Mark called the dog, who leaped up and bounded to him, and five minutes later he was chained up under the main hatch and left, while Billy led the way back to the deck, and helped Mark up to a place of vantage, where they could see the monkey without being seen, and at the same time make the dog hear.“Now then, Mr Mark, sir. You call old Bruff.”Mark obeyed, and there was a sharp bark in reply, then a volley of barks, a rattling of the chain, and, on the call being repeated, quite a howl.At the first bark Jack turned his head and listened, then, as the barking continued more angrily, he raised his head and looked in the direction from whence the sounds came. At the first howl he went upon his hands and knees, and uttered an uneasy kind of noise, but threw himself down again, and laid his head close to the deck, shuffling about uneasily.Then there was peace for a few moments.“Call him again, Mr Mark, sir,” whispered Billy.Mark obeyed, and, leaning down, uttered the dog’s name in a suppressed way, which sounded as if it came from a great distance.The result was a burst of barking, followed by a series of the most piteous howls, wild and prolonged, such as an animal might utter who was suffering from some terrible torture.“That’ll fetch him,” whispered Billy; and he seemed to be right, for, as the howling continued, Jack grew restless. He sat up, listened, threw himself down, turned over, then on the other side, and ended by bursting out into a fit of chattering, and going at full speed along the deck to the hatchway, down which he disappeared at a bound, old practice teaching him that he would drop upon the steps, and his experience being right.“Come along,” said Billy chuckling. “I told you so, Mr Mark, sir; I told you so. I thought it was his games.”Billy Widgeon took up the sheepskin rug, and carried it down below in the forecastle, while, when Bruff was let loose, and the two animals returned on deck, Jack walked slowly to his sunny corner, and stood staring about him as if unable to make out what it all meant, ending by lying down on the bare deck.But this did not seem to afford any satisfaction, and as if realising that his companion was quite well once more, Bruff charged at him, and rolled him over. Jack retaliated by getting hold of his curly coat with both hands, and making a playful bite at his neck, when the game went on, and for the next half-hour they were frisking and bounding about the deck till they were tired, and Bruff found a sunny spot for a nap, as Jack had sought refuge among the sails.
The damage could not be thoroughly ascertained, for a vast deal of mischief must have been done by the water poured into the hold, water which exercised the men’s patience a good, deal before it was all cleared out; but the amount destroyed by fire when they worked down to the seat of the mishap was comparatively small, for the smouldering had produced a vast amount of smoke.
One little matter which took place toward the next evening, when order was once more restored, the boats in their places, and everyone assured that there was no chance of a fresh outbreak, deserves recording.
It was close upon dusk when, as Jimpny came slouching along the deck, he encountered the first-mate, and was about to turn aside; but Mr Gregory, who had been chatting with Mark, and patting Bruff, who had won the distinction of giving first warning of the fire, stopped him.
“I’m rather rough sometimes with the men, Jimpny, and I have been particularly hard on you. I can’t say a good word for you as a sailor, but you have saved this ship by coming aboard, and if Captain Strong—”
“What about him?” said the captain. “Oh, I see; you were talking to Jimpny here. Ah! he has his strong points, you see, Gregory. I shall not forget what took place last night.”
“Don’t talk about it, sir,” said the stowaway in a shamefaced fashion. “Only too glad to have recollected about the matches.”
“Ah,” said the mate; “and if you could only recollect the scoundrel who sent them, he should pay for the damage, eh, Captain Strong?”
“Yes,” said the captain; “it was a cruel trick, for the sake of saving a few pounds. But, as I said before, Jimpny, I shall not forget last night’s work.”
“I thank you kindly, sir,” said the man, “but I don’t want nothing, only a chance to get on a bit.”
“And that,” said the captain, “you have found.”
The damaged cargo was thrown overboard, the hold pumped dry, and exposed to the air as much as possible, and the risk they had all run began to be looked upon as a thing of the past. But there was one personage, if he could be so styled, who did not recover quite so quickly from the troubles of that night, and that was Jacko, who suffered so severely from the overpowering nature of the smoke in the hold that he became quite an invalid, and had to be brought up on deck by Billy Widgeon, and laid upon a wool mat in the sun.
The poor animal was very ill, but his ludicrous aspect and caricature-like imitation of sick humanity excited laughter among passengers and men. He used to lie perfectly still, with his face contracted into comical wrinkles; but his eyes were bright and always on the move, while, if Bruff were away from his side for five minutes, he would begin to chatter uneasily, and then howl till the dog returned, to take hold of his arm, and pretend to bite him, ending by lying down and watching him with half-closed eyes.
After a while Bruff would utter a remonstrant growl, for Jack would set to work trying to solve the problem why the dog’s curly coat would not lie down smooth and straight; and in his efforts to produce that smoothness that he was accustomed to see upon his own skin, he sometimes tugged vigorously enough to cause pain.
Mark was watching the pair one day, when Billy Widgeon came up.
“Why don’t he get better?” said Mark. “He ought to be all right by now.”
Billy Widgeon looked at the monkey, which seemed to be watching them both intently, and mysteriously drew Mark aside.
“That there settles it, Mr Mark, sir,” he said.
“Settles what?”
“’Bout his being so ill, sir. I see it all just then in his wicked old eyes.”
“I don’t understand you, Billy.”
“Don’t you? He’s a-gammoning on us, sir.”
“Gammoning us?”
“Yes, sir. That’s his artfulness. He likes to be carried down to his snug warm bed, and carried up again, and set here in the sun, and being fed with figs and sweet biscuits and lumps of sugar. It’s my ’pinion that he’s as well as you and me.”
“No, no,” said Mark. “I believe the poor thing is very ill.”
“I don’t, sir, and if you’ll let me, I’ll cure him in a minute.”
“But you’d hurt him.”
“Well, sir, I might hurt his feelings, but I wouldn’t hurt him nowheres else.”
“What will you do, then?”
“Here, hold hard,” said Billy in a whisper. “Don’t talk so loud; he’s a-watching of us.”
Mark glanced in the direction of the monkey, and sure enough the animal had drawn himself up a little, and was peering at them over the dog’s back, as the latter lay down at full length in the sunshine.
“That’s his artfulness, Mr Mark, sir,” whispered Billy. “I’ve had the keer of that there monkey ever since he come aboard, and have stood by him many’s the time when the men was up to their larks, and wanted to make him pick up red-hot ha’pennies, and to give him pepper pills to eat. Why, there was one chap used to spend hours setting traps for him. What d’yer think he used to do?”
“I don’t know,” replied Mark.
“Well, I’ll just tell you, sir: he used to shove a little thin old file through a cotton reel, and make a drill of it. You know what a drill is, sir?”
“Yes, I’ve seen it used,” said Mark; “worked to and fro with a steel bow and catgut.”
“That’s him, sir; only my messmate hadn’t no steel bow and no catgut, but he made hisself a sort of bow out of a bit o’ cane and some string, and then he used to get a few nuts and stick ’em one at a time in a crack, and drill holes in the sides. When he’d done this, he used to sit o’ nights and pick all the kernels out, a bit at a time, with a pin, just the same as you used to do with the periwinkles, sir.”
“That I never did,” said Mark, laughing, as he seated himself outside the bulwark, and gazed down in the clear water while he listened.
“Well, I used to, sir, and werry nice they is.”
“I daresay, but go on.”
“Well, sir, he used to pick all the kernels out, and when they was empty, fill ’em up with snuff, and plug the holes with a bit o’ tar.”
“What for?”
“That’s just what I’m a-coming to, sir, only you keeps a-interrupting so. Then he used to put these here nuts full o’ snuff in one pocket, and some good uns in the other, and wait till he see Jack. Fust time he did it, I didn’t know there was any game on, and I see him give Jack a nut. He cracked it, and ate the kernel, and then my mate give him another, and he cracked and ate that, and held out his hand for more. This time he give him one full o’ snuff, but Jack tasted the tar as stopped up the hole, and was too many for him. He wouldn’t crack it, but chucked it away. I thought it was only a bad one, for I never smelt the snuff; but what does my mate do but begs a bit o’ wheeling sacks o’ the steward.”
“A bit of what?” said Mark.
“Wheeling sacks, sir; what they fastens up letters with.”
“Oh, sealing wax,” cried Mark.
“Yes, sir, I said so—sealing wax, and stops up the holes with that. Jack didn’t taste that, and first time he cracks one o’ them bad uns he gets his mouth full o’ snuff, and there he was a-coughing and sneezing for ’bout half an hour, while as soon as he see as it was a trick, he jumps on my back and bites me in the neck, and runs away to get up in the rigging and swear—oh my eye, but he did swear!”
“Nonsense, Billy! a monkey can’t swear.”
“But he did, sir. He went on calling us all the names he could lay his tongue to in monkey, and whenever my mate give him nuts again, he used to crack ’em on the deck with a marline-spike. Then my mate used to try it on with other tricks, but I wouldn’t have it, and I’ve had no end o’ rows with my messmates on account o’ that little chap, for I’ve got to love him like a brother a’most—ah, more than you do your dog; but he’s that howdacious artful that I get ashamed on him. He aren’t got no more morals than a lobster, as would pinch his best friend’s finger off as soon as look at him.”
“And Jack bites you, then, same as he would anyone else?”
“More, sir; ever so much more. Why, I’m all over his bites.”
“And so you think he’s shamming?” said Mark.
“I’m sure of it, and I’m a-going to cure him.”
“What will you do?”
“Well, I shall try him easy-like at first, sir, and if that don’t do I shall try rope’s end.”
“No, no, do it by kindness, Billy,” said Mark.
“Well, that would be kindness, sir. Monkey’s only a monkey, but even a monkey ought to be taught to have some morals. You come along o’ me.”
Mark leaped down, and followed the little sailor back to where Jack was lying watching them; and as soon as they reached the spot, Billy bent down, placed his hands upon his knees, and poured forth a stream of the most voluble vituperation ever invented by man. He called the monkey all the lazy, idle, good-for-nothing swabs, lubbers, and humbugs possible, while the effect was droll in the extreme.
At first the little animal chattered at him, then he shook his head, then he grew angry, and at last curled himself up, covering his head with his long arms, and howled piteously.
“That’s a-touching of him up, sir,” said Billy. “He knows it, you see. Why, you miserable little black-faced, bandy-legged sneak,” he continued, addressing the monkey, “what’s in my mind is to—”
Woof!
Billy Widgeon made a bound, and caught a rope, by whose help he swung himself up into the rigging.
“Lay hold o’ that dog, Mr Mark, sir,” he cried.
For Bruff, who had been lying down when this tirade began, slowly raised his head, then placed himself in a sitting posture, and ended by staring at Billy, till Jack gave a more piteous howl than any he had before uttered, when the dog gave vent to one low growling bark, and sprang at the sailor.
“Ah!” said Billy, as soon as Bruff was quieted down, “you see he takes his part. Being a dog he don’t know no better, sir. I must try another way.”
Billy slowly swung himself down, displaying wonderful muscular strength of arm as he did so, and beckoning Mark aside he continued:
“I’m going to show you now, sir. Can you make your dog howl?”
“Oh, yes, Billy, easily.”
“How will you do it?”
“Shut him up somewhere, or chain him, and then call him. As soon as he finds he can’t get to me, he’ll make noise enough.”
“That’s your sort,” said Billy. “You bring him along, then.”
Mark called the dog, who leaped up and bounded to him, and five minutes later he was chained up under the main hatch and left, while Billy led the way back to the deck, and helped Mark up to a place of vantage, where they could see the monkey without being seen, and at the same time make the dog hear.
“Now then, Mr Mark, sir. You call old Bruff.”
Mark obeyed, and there was a sharp bark in reply, then a volley of barks, a rattling of the chain, and, on the call being repeated, quite a howl.
At the first bark Jack turned his head and listened, then, as the barking continued more angrily, he raised his head and looked in the direction from whence the sounds came. At the first howl he went upon his hands and knees, and uttered an uneasy kind of noise, but threw himself down again, and laid his head close to the deck, shuffling about uneasily.
Then there was peace for a few moments.
“Call him again, Mr Mark, sir,” whispered Billy.
Mark obeyed, and, leaning down, uttered the dog’s name in a suppressed way, which sounded as if it came from a great distance.
The result was a burst of barking, followed by a series of the most piteous howls, wild and prolonged, such as an animal might utter who was suffering from some terrible torture.
“That’ll fetch him,” whispered Billy; and he seemed to be right, for, as the howling continued, Jack grew restless. He sat up, listened, threw himself down, turned over, then on the other side, and ended by bursting out into a fit of chattering, and going at full speed along the deck to the hatchway, down which he disappeared at a bound, old practice teaching him that he would drop upon the steps, and his experience being right.
“Come along,” said Billy chuckling. “I told you so, Mr Mark, sir; I told you so. I thought it was his games.”
Billy Widgeon took up the sheepskin rug, and carried it down below in the forecastle, while, when Bruff was let loose, and the two animals returned on deck, Jack walked slowly to his sunny corner, and stood staring about him as if unable to make out what it all meant, ending by lying down on the bare deck.
But this did not seem to afford any satisfaction, and as if realising that his companion was quite well once more, Bruff charged at him, and rolled him over. Jack retaliated by getting hold of his curly coat with both hands, and making a playful bite at his neck, when the game went on, and for the next half-hour they were frisking and bounding about the deck till they were tired, and Bruff found a sunny spot for a nap, as Jack had sought refuge among the sails.
Chapter Twelve.How Mark first tasted Jungle.A hot but uneventful voyage succeeded, during which the passengers were well roasted in the Suez Canal, and saturated with the steamy moisture of Ceylon, where Mark stared with wonder at the grandees, whose costume strongly resembled that of some gorgeously-decked little girl of fifty years ago dressed up for a party.Then there was a glimpse of Sumatra, and a stay at busy bazaar-like Singapore, with its shipping of all nations from great steamers down to Malay praus, with their bamboo sides and decks, and copper-coloured wide-nostrilled Malays in little flat military caps, and each wearing the national check sarong, so much after the fashion of a Highlander’s tartan, baju jacket, and deadly-looking kris.“Yes, these are Malays, Mark,” said Mr Morgan as they stood gazing over the side at the hundreds of vessels of all sizes. “Clever sailors they are too.”“And pirates?” said Mark.“Yes, whenever they can get the chance with some one weaker than themselves, but our cruisers have made their trade less profitable than it used to be.”“Should you think these are pirates?” said Mark, pointing towards one particularly swift-looking prau just gliding out of the harbour.“Very likely,” said the second-mate. “They are traders and fishermen, and sometimes all’s fish that comes to their net. Not very formidable looking enemies, though.”“They’ve no guns,” said Mark, looking rather contemptuously at the quaint craft.“Not visible,” said the second-mate, “but I daresay they may have two or three down below ready for mounting as soon as they get to sea.”“Very large guns?”“No; small brass pieces which they call lelahs, and which send a ball weighing perhaps a pound.”“But pirates would not dare to attack a great ship like this,” said Mark.“Oh, yes, they would, for these Malays are fighting men, who always go armed, while they know that our merchantmen, as a rule, are not. But there is not much to fear. They generally attack weak or helpless vessels, and most of their strongholds have been rooted out.”Mark watched the departing prau with no little eagerness as he recalled accounts which he had read of attacks by pirates, poisoned krises, and goodly vessels plundered by the bloodthirsty men of Moslem creed, who looked upon the slaying of a Christian as a meritorious act.As he gazed after the retiring prau, with its dusky crew, a vessel, similar in shape and size, and which had been lying close alongside of thePetrel, heaved up her anchor and set sail.“Where are they likely to be going?” Mark asked.“Trading among the islands. They are rare fellows for pushing their way in a slow fashion, but are not such business people as the Chinese.”“One might have thought that this was China,” said Mark, as he gazed ashore at the celestial quarter, and noted the great junks manned by Chinamen lying anchored here and there.The stay at Singapore was not long. The three German students bade the passengers good-bye politely, and took their departure, beaming upon everyone through their spectacles, making quite a gap at the saloon table, though they were not much missed, for they had all been remarkably quiet, only talking to each other in a subdued manner, and always being busy with a book a piece, whose contents were tremendous dissertations on agricultural chemistry, all of which they were going to apply out in Queensland as soon as they got there.Then one bright morning, well supplied with fresh provisions, and, to Mark’s great delight, with an ample store of fruit—from bananas, of three or four kinds, to pine-apples, the delicious mangosteen, and the ill-odoured durian, with its wooden husk, delicate custard, and large seeds—the ship continued her course.The sea was like crystal, and with the sun hot, but not to discomfort, and a soft breeze blowing, the great vessel glided gently eastward. It was a trifle monotonous, but this troubled Mark in only small degree, for there was always something fresh to take his attention. Sea-birds were seen; then some fish or another reared itself out of the limpid sea, and fell back with a splash. Then a shoal of some smaller kind rippled the surface as they played about, silvering the blue water with their armoured sides.Small the boatswain and Billy Widgeon rigged up tackle for the lad to fish; and he fished, but caught nothing.“But then, you know, you might have ketched real big fish,” said the little sailor encouragingly, “because, you see, you know they are there.”It was a consolation, but not much, to one who has tried for days to capture something or another worthy of being placed by the cook upon the captain’s table.And so three days of slow progress passed on, after which the progress grew more slow, and ended in a complete calm, just as they were a few miles north of a verdant-looking island, whose waving palms, seen above and beyond a broad belt of dingy mangroves, looked particularly tempting to those who had been cooped up so long on shipboard, where, now that the breeze had sunk, it seemed insufferably hot.“I suppose it can’t be hotter than this, Mr Gregory, can it?” asked Mark, soon after noontide on the second day of the calm.“Hotter than this?” said the first-mate with an assumed look of astonishment. “Do you hear him, Morgan? He calls it hot!”“I say, captain,” said the major, “how long’s this calm going to last?”“Impossible to say,” said the captain. “I am hoping for a fresh breeze at sundown, but I dare not prophesy.”“Well, then, let’s have the boat out and manned, and two or three of us go ashore with our guns, to see if we can’t shoot something.”The captain hesitated, looked at the sky, at the offing, studied his glass, and then said that there was no prospect of wind before night, and if the major liked, they would make up a little party and go.“We can get some handsome birds for specimens if we get none for food,” said the major, “and perhaps we may get hold of a snake, or a big lizard, to make into a stew.”“Stewed lizard! Ugh!” ejaculated Mark.“And why not, young fellow?” cried the major. “Once upon a time, as the geologists tell us, the lizard and the fowl were very much alike, only they divided, and while one went on growing more like a bird, the other lost his wings and the feathers in his tail, and ran more upon the ground. Now, I’ll be bound to say, sir, that if I shot a lizard, an iguana, or something of that kind, and made it into a curry, you would not be able to tell the difference. Come, captain.”“Oh, I’m not coming,” said the captain. “I shall stay aboard and look after my two wives—Mark’s mother and the ship. You youngsters can go and enjoy yourselves. You’ll go with them, Gregory.”“No, no, I’ll stop with the ship,” said the first-mate.“Then it will be to keep me company,” said the captain, “for I shall not stir.”“Oh, well then, sir, I will take a run,” said Mr Gregory.“You’ll go too, Morgan?”“I should enjoy it much, sir,” said the second-mate.“All right, then. I’ll have the gig lowered and manned. The sooner you are off the better.”“We shall want a man or two to carry the bags,” said Mr Gregory. “I’ll have Small.”“And I’ll have Widgeon,” said Mr Morgan, “in case we find ducks.”“I’ll have Bruff,” said Mark to himself.“Look here,” said the captain; “this island seems to be uninhabited, and it may be a foolish precaution, but I should take it. The crew will have pistols, and I should advise you all to take your revolvers.”“Hot enough carrying our guns,” said the first-mate.“Never mind, sir,” said the major. “I remember once in the neighbourhood of Malacca, how a party of us officers landed to get a shot at the snipe, and we were surprised by a party of copper-coloured scoundrels. By George, sir, there we were with nothing better than snipe-shot, sir, to defend ourselves against as murderous-looking a set of haythens as ever stepped.”“What did you do, Major O’Halloran?” said Mark.“Bolted, sir—I mean we retreated through the bog. Murder! that was a retreat. Take your weapons, gentlemen, and young Strong here shall carry my revolver.”“No,” said the captain, “carry your own, major. I’m going to lend him mine.”The preparations did not take long, and soon after the little party were being rowed over the deep dark blue water toward the lonely island, whose shores were right and left of a rocky nature, save in the direction they had chosen, where a slight indentation that could hardly be called a bay offered a splendid landing-place, being a curved stretch of soft white sand.All at once the water seemed to change colour from dark blue to pale green, and on looking over the side the little party found that, instead of gazing down into the black depths, they were gliding over rocky shallows illumined by the sun, which showed them sea gardens full of growths of the most wondrous shapes, among which startled shoals of fish glided, while others, unmoved by the coming of the boat, played about, showing their armoured sides dazzling with orange and scarlet, blue and gold.Mark could have stopped for hours, content to gaze down into the lovely transparent waters, but the boat glided on and soon afterwards touched the shore.“There, my lads,” said the first-mate, taking out a big india-rubber pouch of tobacco and pitching it to one of the men, “there is not a great deal of tide, but take care to keep the boat afloat. You can smoke and sleep, but take it in turns, so as to have some one on the watch.”The party sprang out, and the men left in the boat looked rather glum till the major supplemented the first-mate’s gift by handing his cigar-case to another of the men.“One minute,” he said. “I think there are eight cigars in there, and I should like one for myself. I’ll have that, and then you four men will have a cigar and three-quarters apiece, and you must divide them according to taste.”As this was going on, Mark stood gazing toward the ship, and as he looked he saw a white handkerchief waved.It was too far off to be sure who waved that handkerchief, but it was either Mrs Strong, the major’s wife, or Mary O’Halloran.“It doesn’t matter which,” thought Mark, and taking off his cap he waved it in return.“Now, gentlemen,” said the first-mate, “load away, and then we had better decide where to go.”“Not necessary,” said the major, closing the breech of his piece and giving the stock an affectionate slap.“Not necessary?” said Morgan.“No, sir. This is an uninhabited island, where there are no roads and nature has it all her own way. We shall have to go which way we can.”They struck inland, and the major’s words, the result of old experience, proved to be true, for as they reached the belt of jungle, which came within some fifty yards of the shore, it was to find their course stayed by a dense wall of verdure that was literally impassable, the great trees being woven together with creepers, notable among which there was the rattan cane, which wound in and out and climbed up and down in a way that was almost marvellous.“This is pleasant,” said the major.“Oh, we can get through, sir,” said Mark. “Let me go first.”“Do,” said the major, with a smile at Gregory, and as the lad pressed forward, “Experientia docet,” he whispered. “I’ve been in a jungle before now.”“You can’t get through here without an axe to cut your way,” said Mark at the end of five minutes, as he stood perspiring and panting, gazing half angrily at the dense thicket.“Thank you for the information, my lad,” said the major smiling; “we knew that before.”“But the island can’t be all like this?” said Gregory.“Oh, yes, it can, my dear sir,” said the major. “Islands can be anything out here in the tropics, especially near the Ayquator. Now look here: if we want to get inland—as we do, we must find the mouth of the first river and follow the sides of the stream.”“Sure, sor,” said Billy Widgeon, “we passed that same about a hundred yards back, and the bosun and I knelt down and had a dhrink.”The major turned upon little Billy, who had spoken with a broad Irish accent, and stared at him, sticking his glass in one eye so as to have a better look.“Look here, sir,” he said; “you’re not an Irishman, and that’s a bad imitation of the brogue. Do you hear? You are not an Irishman, I say?”“Sorra a bit, sor.”“Then is it making fun of me you are?” cried the major, suddenly growing broad in turn.“No, sir, not I,” said Billy, looking as serious as a judge and scratching his head the while.“Then why did you talk like that?”“I dunno, sor.”“You don’t know, you scoundrel?”“No, sir. I once lived in Ireland for a whole year, and we used to talk like that; and I suppose it was hearing you say Ayquator, sir, turned on the tap.”Gregory turned away so as to ask the second-mate a question just then, and they both looked very red in the face as the major coughed, blew out his cheeks, and ended by clearing his throat and speaking as a drill-sergeant does.“You’d better be careful, sir. Now, gentlemen,” he added, “suppose we go on.”“I say, bosun,” said Billy, rubbing one ear until it was quite red, “what have I been a-doing of?”“Getting your tongue in a knot, my lad. Come on.”He led the way and Billy Widgeon followed, talking to himself and evidently thoroughly puzzled as to the meaning of the major’s attack.But now the attention of all was attracted by the little trickling stream which made its way from beneath some low growth, and lost itself directly in the sand; but though the way was blocked up it was evident that here was a road into the island, for the dense wall of verdure took somewhat the form of an arch; and as soon as a way had been forced through, Bruff dashed on ahead, splashing about and barking excitedly.“That’s not the way to get sport, is it?” said Morgan. “Hadn’t we better call the dog back?”“Yes, call him,” said the major.Mark called, but the dog had evidently gone beyond hearing, so they followed, finding themselves in an opening about sixty feet wide as soon as they had passed the arch, and with the sky above them, while they were walking in the gravelly zigzagging and winding bed of a little river, with a wall of mighty trees to right and left.It was evident that at times there was a tremendous current here, and that the whole place was flooded after the heavy rains, for the first-mate pointed out, some five feet from the ground, a patch of dry grass and broken twigs, matted together just as they had been washed down the river and left there from the last flood, while now the stream was reduced to a trickling rivulet, with a pool here and a pool there, some of which were deep and, from the swirling motion of the water, evidently contained big fish.There was plenty of room for walking at the sides of the gravelly stream, and after progressing some little distance inland, at the bottom of what was like a channel, whose walls were huge tree-trunks towering to a great height, the party began to look out for birds.“Phew! it’s hot work,” said Morgan, wiping his face, for the heat in that airless chasm was terrific. “I don’t think we shall get many birds.”“I’m not going to try,” said Gregory, “for it’s neck-breaking work staring up in the tops of these trees.”“We’ll find some ducks soon,” said the major, “or some ground pigeons. You leave it to me. But where’s that dog?”There was no answer, for evidently no one knew. One thing was certain, however, Bruff had ceased barking, and therefore was not likely to disturb any game that might be on the way.But though they progressed nearly a mile inland not a bird was visible. There was the loud whizzing whirr of innumerable cicadas, and once or twice they heard a piping cry, after that all was stifling heat and silence.Their progress was very slow, for after finding there was not much chance of getting a shot the various members of the party began to inspect the objects around them. The major lit his cigar, Mr Gregory examined the sand to see if it contained gold, Mr Morgan tried to find crystals among the pebbles, Mark gazed up at the patches of ferns and orchids among the branches of the trees, and Small and Billy Widgeon took a great deal of interest in the various pools they passed, but found no fish, for at their coming the occupants of the pools took fright and stirred up the sand and mud so that the water became discoloured.“And I lays as they’re eels,” said Billy Widgeon, as he carried on a discussion with Small.“And I says they’re big jacks or pikes,” replied the boatswain; “but I want to know wheer they’re going to feed the beasts.”“Feed what beasts?” said Mark, who was listening to their dispute and gazing down into a good-sized pool where the water was still in motion.“These here beasts, sir,” said Small with a grin. “All on us. These canvas bags is heavy, and I want to see the weight o’ the wittles distributed. Much easier to carry that way, and the bottles pitched overboard.”“Hist!” whispered Billy Widgeon, who was peering through some bushes where the little river made a curve.“Whatch yer found, Billy?”“Don’t make a row, and come and look here, Mr Mark, sir. Here’s such a whacking great effet, same as used to be in our pond at home.”Mark hurried to his side, followed by Small.“Why, it’s a ’gator,” the latter said as he reached the spot where there was an extensive pool, quite undisturbed, for the screen of bushes had hidden it from the passers-by.“A crocodile!” said Mark as he gazed excitedly into the clear water at the plainly defined shape of the little saurian, for it was not above four feet long.“Wait a minute,” whispered Billy; “I’ll give him such a wonner in the skull,” and picking up a heavy piece of stone from the many lying in the half-dry river-bed he pitched it with fairly good aim just above the basking reptile.There was a dull plunge; the water seemed to be all alive for a few minutes, swirling and eddying, and sending rings to the edge, and then it began to subside, but it was discoloured now, and evident that the one crocodile they had seen was not without companions.“Now, it’s my ’pinion,” said Billy, “that if you’d come fishing instead o’ shooting, and rigged up rods and lines and tried for these here things in these ponds, you’d have had some sport.”“But what would you have baited with?” said Mark, laughing.“I d’know,” said Billy Widgeon. “Yes, I do,” he continued, “dog. They say as ’gators and crockydiles is rare and fond o’ dog.”At that moment, by an odd coincidence, there was a piteous howling heard, followed directly after by a shot and then by another.“Major’s shot your dog, Mr Mark,” said the boatswain, with a comical look at the captain’s son, as they hurried on.“Bruff wouldn’t have howled before he was hurt,” said Mark excitedly. “They’ve shot some wild beast. Why didn’t we keep up with them?”“Hope it ar’n’t lions or tigers,” said Billy, as he panted on under the load of a bag which contained certain bottles of beer.“No lions or tigers in an island like this,” said Small oracularly. “Oh, there they are.”A turn in the river-bed had brought Mark and his companions in sight of the major and the two mates about a hundred and fifty yards away. Mr Morgan was kneeling down by a pool doing something to the dog, while the major and Gregory looked on.“I was right,” said Small; “they have shot your dog, Mr Mark.”At that moment Bruff caught sight of his master, and uttering a loud bark, he started off from where he stood and came limping on three legs towards Mark, holding his right fore-paw in the air and whimpering piteously.“Why, Bruff, old chap, what is it?” cried Mark, as the dog came up holding out his leg as if for sympathy; “have they shot you? Why, no; he has been in a trap.”“No,” said the boatswain, examining the dog’s leg, “he’s been fighting and something has bitten him. Wild pig, for a penny.”“Here, Mark, my lad,” cried the major, “you nearly lost your dog.”“What’s been the matter?” cried Mark.“A crocodile got hold of him by this pool.”“How, how!” cried Bruff, throwing up his head and giving vent to a most dismal yell, as if overpowered by the recollection.“Ah, I said as they likes dog,” said Billy Widgeon sententiously.Bang, bang!Then, as the smoke rose up slowly after the discharge of both barrels of his piece, Morgan exclaimed:“See that?”“See it! I nearly felt it,” cried the major, drawing back from the edge of the disturbed pool, from which a good-sized crocodile, evidently pressed by hunger, had charged out at his legs. “Did you hit him?”“Yes, I must have hit him both times, for he swerved at the first shot, and turned back at the second; but small-shot can’t do much harm to one of these scaly-hided ruffians.”“Well, I should like to kill that brute,” said the major, looking ruffled, and speaking as if he thought that a great insult had been offered to an officer in Her Majesty’s service. “Think it was the one which laid hold of the dog?”“How, how!” cried Bruff piteously, and then, trotting on three legs to the water’s edge, he began to bark furiously.“Call him away,” cried Morgan excitedly, cocking his gun and following the dog; “that pool swarms with the beasts.”“Here, Bruff, Bruff, Bruff!” cried Mark.But his cry would have been too late, even if the dog had obeyed, for at that moment the water was parted and a hideous head with dull gleaming eyes appeared, as one of the monsters made a rush at Bruff.Morgan was ready for him, though, and quick as thought, from a distance of not more than four yards, he poured the contents of his gun right in the reptile’s face, following it up with the second barrel.To the delight of all, the monster gave a bound and made a clumsy leap out on to the dry ground, where it lay beating the water with its tail, giving it resounding blows, and only lying still to begin again.“Shall I give him another shot?” said Gregory.“No; half his skull is blown away,” said the major. “Let him die.”“Put the game in the bag, sir?” said Billy respectfully.“Ask Mr Morgan,” said the major haughtily. “I did not fire the shot.”Small took out his great pocket-knife, and cut a rattan to a length of about twenty feet, and after trimming off the leaves readily contrived a running noose at the end, then cleverly contrived to noose one leg as well. A sharp snatch drew the noose tight, and at the boatswain’s suggestion everyone took hold of the cane and the struggling reptile was hauled right away from the water to die, proving a goodly weight though it was not above nine feet long.“There, Bruff, old man,” said the boatswain, “suppose you give one of his paws a nip to serve him out. It would be only fair. Shall I give him the knife, sir?”“No,” said Mr Gregory, “the brute is dying. Good heavens! what’s that?”It was unmistakably a shot, and not fired with a fowling-piece, but evidently from some good-sized gun.
A hot but uneventful voyage succeeded, during which the passengers were well roasted in the Suez Canal, and saturated with the steamy moisture of Ceylon, where Mark stared with wonder at the grandees, whose costume strongly resembled that of some gorgeously-decked little girl of fifty years ago dressed up for a party.
Then there was a glimpse of Sumatra, and a stay at busy bazaar-like Singapore, with its shipping of all nations from great steamers down to Malay praus, with their bamboo sides and decks, and copper-coloured wide-nostrilled Malays in little flat military caps, and each wearing the national check sarong, so much after the fashion of a Highlander’s tartan, baju jacket, and deadly-looking kris.
“Yes, these are Malays, Mark,” said Mr Morgan as they stood gazing over the side at the hundreds of vessels of all sizes. “Clever sailors they are too.”
“And pirates?” said Mark.
“Yes, whenever they can get the chance with some one weaker than themselves, but our cruisers have made their trade less profitable than it used to be.”
“Should you think these are pirates?” said Mark, pointing towards one particularly swift-looking prau just gliding out of the harbour.
“Very likely,” said the second-mate. “They are traders and fishermen, and sometimes all’s fish that comes to their net. Not very formidable looking enemies, though.”
“They’ve no guns,” said Mark, looking rather contemptuously at the quaint craft.
“Not visible,” said the second-mate, “but I daresay they may have two or three down below ready for mounting as soon as they get to sea.”
“Very large guns?”
“No; small brass pieces which they call lelahs, and which send a ball weighing perhaps a pound.”
“But pirates would not dare to attack a great ship like this,” said Mark.
“Oh, yes, they would, for these Malays are fighting men, who always go armed, while they know that our merchantmen, as a rule, are not. But there is not much to fear. They generally attack weak or helpless vessels, and most of their strongholds have been rooted out.”
Mark watched the departing prau with no little eagerness as he recalled accounts which he had read of attacks by pirates, poisoned krises, and goodly vessels plundered by the bloodthirsty men of Moslem creed, who looked upon the slaying of a Christian as a meritorious act.
As he gazed after the retiring prau, with its dusky crew, a vessel, similar in shape and size, and which had been lying close alongside of thePetrel, heaved up her anchor and set sail.
“Where are they likely to be going?” Mark asked.
“Trading among the islands. They are rare fellows for pushing their way in a slow fashion, but are not such business people as the Chinese.”
“One might have thought that this was China,” said Mark, as he gazed ashore at the celestial quarter, and noted the great junks manned by Chinamen lying anchored here and there.
The stay at Singapore was not long. The three German students bade the passengers good-bye politely, and took their departure, beaming upon everyone through their spectacles, making quite a gap at the saloon table, though they were not much missed, for they had all been remarkably quiet, only talking to each other in a subdued manner, and always being busy with a book a piece, whose contents were tremendous dissertations on agricultural chemistry, all of which they were going to apply out in Queensland as soon as they got there.
Then one bright morning, well supplied with fresh provisions, and, to Mark’s great delight, with an ample store of fruit—from bananas, of three or four kinds, to pine-apples, the delicious mangosteen, and the ill-odoured durian, with its wooden husk, delicate custard, and large seeds—the ship continued her course.
The sea was like crystal, and with the sun hot, but not to discomfort, and a soft breeze blowing, the great vessel glided gently eastward. It was a trifle monotonous, but this troubled Mark in only small degree, for there was always something fresh to take his attention. Sea-birds were seen; then some fish or another reared itself out of the limpid sea, and fell back with a splash. Then a shoal of some smaller kind rippled the surface as they played about, silvering the blue water with their armoured sides.
Small the boatswain and Billy Widgeon rigged up tackle for the lad to fish; and he fished, but caught nothing.
“But then, you know, you might have ketched real big fish,” said the little sailor encouragingly, “because, you see, you know they are there.”
It was a consolation, but not much, to one who has tried for days to capture something or another worthy of being placed by the cook upon the captain’s table.
And so three days of slow progress passed on, after which the progress grew more slow, and ended in a complete calm, just as they were a few miles north of a verdant-looking island, whose waving palms, seen above and beyond a broad belt of dingy mangroves, looked particularly tempting to those who had been cooped up so long on shipboard, where, now that the breeze had sunk, it seemed insufferably hot.
“I suppose it can’t be hotter than this, Mr Gregory, can it?” asked Mark, soon after noontide on the second day of the calm.
“Hotter than this?” said the first-mate with an assumed look of astonishment. “Do you hear him, Morgan? He calls it hot!”
“I say, captain,” said the major, “how long’s this calm going to last?”
“Impossible to say,” said the captain. “I am hoping for a fresh breeze at sundown, but I dare not prophesy.”
“Well, then, let’s have the boat out and manned, and two or three of us go ashore with our guns, to see if we can’t shoot something.”
The captain hesitated, looked at the sky, at the offing, studied his glass, and then said that there was no prospect of wind before night, and if the major liked, they would make up a little party and go.
“We can get some handsome birds for specimens if we get none for food,” said the major, “and perhaps we may get hold of a snake, or a big lizard, to make into a stew.”
“Stewed lizard! Ugh!” ejaculated Mark.
“And why not, young fellow?” cried the major. “Once upon a time, as the geologists tell us, the lizard and the fowl were very much alike, only they divided, and while one went on growing more like a bird, the other lost his wings and the feathers in his tail, and ran more upon the ground. Now, I’ll be bound to say, sir, that if I shot a lizard, an iguana, or something of that kind, and made it into a curry, you would not be able to tell the difference. Come, captain.”
“Oh, I’m not coming,” said the captain. “I shall stay aboard and look after my two wives—Mark’s mother and the ship. You youngsters can go and enjoy yourselves. You’ll go with them, Gregory.”
“No, no, I’ll stop with the ship,” said the first-mate.
“Then it will be to keep me company,” said the captain, “for I shall not stir.”
“Oh, well then, sir, I will take a run,” said Mr Gregory.
“You’ll go too, Morgan?”
“I should enjoy it much, sir,” said the second-mate.
“All right, then. I’ll have the gig lowered and manned. The sooner you are off the better.”
“We shall want a man or two to carry the bags,” said Mr Gregory. “I’ll have Small.”
“And I’ll have Widgeon,” said Mr Morgan, “in case we find ducks.”
“I’ll have Bruff,” said Mark to himself.
“Look here,” said the captain; “this island seems to be uninhabited, and it may be a foolish precaution, but I should take it. The crew will have pistols, and I should advise you all to take your revolvers.”
“Hot enough carrying our guns,” said the first-mate.
“Never mind, sir,” said the major. “I remember once in the neighbourhood of Malacca, how a party of us officers landed to get a shot at the snipe, and we were surprised by a party of copper-coloured scoundrels. By George, sir, there we were with nothing better than snipe-shot, sir, to defend ourselves against as murderous-looking a set of haythens as ever stepped.”
“What did you do, Major O’Halloran?” said Mark.
“Bolted, sir—I mean we retreated through the bog. Murder! that was a retreat. Take your weapons, gentlemen, and young Strong here shall carry my revolver.”
“No,” said the captain, “carry your own, major. I’m going to lend him mine.”
The preparations did not take long, and soon after the little party were being rowed over the deep dark blue water toward the lonely island, whose shores were right and left of a rocky nature, save in the direction they had chosen, where a slight indentation that could hardly be called a bay offered a splendid landing-place, being a curved stretch of soft white sand.
All at once the water seemed to change colour from dark blue to pale green, and on looking over the side the little party found that, instead of gazing down into the black depths, they were gliding over rocky shallows illumined by the sun, which showed them sea gardens full of growths of the most wondrous shapes, among which startled shoals of fish glided, while others, unmoved by the coming of the boat, played about, showing their armoured sides dazzling with orange and scarlet, blue and gold.
Mark could have stopped for hours, content to gaze down into the lovely transparent waters, but the boat glided on and soon afterwards touched the shore.
“There, my lads,” said the first-mate, taking out a big india-rubber pouch of tobacco and pitching it to one of the men, “there is not a great deal of tide, but take care to keep the boat afloat. You can smoke and sleep, but take it in turns, so as to have some one on the watch.”
The party sprang out, and the men left in the boat looked rather glum till the major supplemented the first-mate’s gift by handing his cigar-case to another of the men.
“One minute,” he said. “I think there are eight cigars in there, and I should like one for myself. I’ll have that, and then you four men will have a cigar and three-quarters apiece, and you must divide them according to taste.”
As this was going on, Mark stood gazing toward the ship, and as he looked he saw a white handkerchief waved.
It was too far off to be sure who waved that handkerchief, but it was either Mrs Strong, the major’s wife, or Mary O’Halloran.
“It doesn’t matter which,” thought Mark, and taking off his cap he waved it in return.
“Now, gentlemen,” said the first-mate, “load away, and then we had better decide where to go.”
“Not necessary,” said the major, closing the breech of his piece and giving the stock an affectionate slap.
“Not necessary?” said Morgan.
“No, sir. This is an uninhabited island, where there are no roads and nature has it all her own way. We shall have to go which way we can.”
They struck inland, and the major’s words, the result of old experience, proved to be true, for as they reached the belt of jungle, which came within some fifty yards of the shore, it was to find their course stayed by a dense wall of verdure that was literally impassable, the great trees being woven together with creepers, notable among which there was the rattan cane, which wound in and out and climbed up and down in a way that was almost marvellous.
“This is pleasant,” said the major.
“Oh, we can get through, sir,” said Mark. “Let me go first.”
“Do,” said the major, with a smile at Gregory, and as the lad pressed forward, “Experientia docet,” he whispered. “I’ve been in a jungle before now.”
“You can’t get through here without an axe to cut your way,” said Mark at the end of five minutes, as he stood perspiring and panting, gazing half angrily at the dense thicket.
“Thank you for the information, my lad,” said the major smiling; “we knew that before.”
“But the island can’t be all like this?” said Gregory.
“Oh, yes, it can, my dear sir,” said the major. “Islands can be anything out here in the tropics, especially near the Ayquator. Now look here: if we want to get inland—as we do, we must find the mouth of the first river and follow the sides of the stream.”
“Sure, sor,” said Billy Widgeon, “we passed that same about a hundred yards back, and the bosun and I knelt down and had a dhrink.”
The major turned upon little Billy, who had spoken with a broad Irish accent, and stared at him, sticking his glass in one eye so as to have a better look.
“Look here, sir,” he said; “you’re not an Irishman, and that’s a bad imitation of the brogue. Do you hear? You are not an Irishman, I say?”
“Sorra a bit, sor.”
“Then is it making fun of me you are?” cried the major, suddenly growing broad in turn.
“No, sir, not I,” said Billy, looking as serious as a judge and scratching his head the while.
“Then why did you talk like that?”
“I dunno, sor.”
“You don’t know, you scoundrel?”
“No, sir. I once lived in Ireland for a whole year, and we used to talk like that; and I suppose it was hearing you say Ayquator, sir, turned on the tap.”
Gregory turned away so as to ask the second-mate a question just then, and they both looked very red in the face as the major coughed, blew out his cheeks, and ended by clearing his throat and speaking as a drill-sergeant does.
“You’d better be careful, sir. Now, gentlemen,” he added, “suppose we go on.”
“I say, bosun,” said Billy, rubbing one ear until it was quite red, “what have I been a-doing of?”
“Getting your tongue in a knot, my lad. Come on.”
He led the way and Billy Widgeon followed, talking to himself and evidently thoroughly puzzled as to the meaning of the major’s attack.
But now the attention of all was attracted by the little trickling stream which made its way from beneath some low growth, and lost itself directly in the sand; but though the way was blocked up it was evident that here was a road into the island, for the dense wall of verdure took somewhat the form of an arch; and as soon as a way had been forced through, Bruff dashed on ahead, splashing about and barking excitedly.
“That’s not the way to get sport, is it?” said Morgan. “Hadn’t we better call the dog back?”
“Yes, call him,” said the major.
Mark called, but the dog had evidently gone beyond hearing, so they followed, finding themselves in an opening about sixty feet wide as soon as they had passed the arch, and with the sky above them, while they were walking in the gravelly zigzagging and winding bed of a little river, with a wall of mighty trees to right and left.
It was evident that at times there was a tremendous current here, and that the whole place was flooded after the heavy rains, for the first-mate pointed out, some five feet from the ground, a patch of dry grass and broken twigs, matted together just as they had been washed down the river and left there from the last flood, while now the stream was reduced to a trickling rivulet, with a pool here and a pool there, some of which were deep and, from the swirling motion of the water, evidently contained big fish.
There was plenty of room for walking at the sides of the gravelly stream, and after progressing some little distance inland, at the bottom of what was like a channel, whose walls were huge tree-trunks towering to a great height, the party began to look out for birds.
“Phew! it’s hot work,” said Morgan, wiping his face, for the heat in that airless chasm was terrific. “I don’t think we shall get many birds.”
“I’m not going to try,” said Gregory, “for it’s neck-breaking work staring up in the tops of these trees.”
“We’ll find some ducks soon,” said the major, “or some ground pigeons. You leave it to me. But where’s that dog?”
There was no answer, for evidently no one knew. One thing was certain, however, Bruff had ceased barking, and therefore was not likely to disturb any game that might be on the way.
But though they progressed nearly a mile inland not a bird was visible. There was the loud whizzing whirr of innumerable cicadas, and once or twice they heard a piping cry, after that all was stifling heat and silence.
Their progress was very slow, for after finding there was not much chance of getting a shot the various members of the party began to inspect the objects around them. The major lit his cigar, Mr Gregory examined the sand to see if it contained gold, Mr Morgan tried to find crystals among the pebbles, Mark gazed up at the patches of ferns and orchids among the branches of the trees, and Small and Billy Widgeon took a great deal of interest in the various pools they passed, but found no fish, for at their coming the occupants of the pools took fright and stirred up the sand and mud so that the water became discoloured.
“And I lays as they’re eels,” said Billy Widgeon, as he carried on a discussion with Small.
“And I says they’re big jacks or pikes,” replied the boatswain; “but I want to know wheer they’re going to feed the beasts.”
“Feed what beasts?” said Mark, who was listening to their dispute and gazing down into a good-sized pool where the water was still in motion.
“These here beasts, sir,” said Small with a grin. “All on us. These canvas bags is heavy, and I want to see the weight o’ the wittles distributed. Much easier to carry that way, and the bottles pitched overboard.”
“Hist!” whispered Billy Widgeon, who was peering through some bushes where the little river made a curve.
“Whatch yer found, Billy?”
“Don’t make a row, and come and look here, Mr Mark, sir. Here’s such a whacking great effet, same as used to be in our pond at home.”
Mark hurried to his side, followed by Small.
“Why, it’s a ’gator,” the latter said as he reached the spot where there was an extensive pool, quite undisturbed, for the screen of bushes had hidden it from the passers-by.
“A crocodile!” said Mark as he gazed excitedly into the clear water at the plainly defined shape of the little saurian, for it was not above four feet long.
“Wait a minute,” whispered Billy; “I’ll give him such a wonner in the skull,” and picking up a heavy piece of stone from the many lying in the half-dry river-bed he pitched it with fairly good aim just above the basking reptile.
There was a dull plunge; the water seemed to be all alive for a few minutes, swirling and eddying, and sending rings to the edge, and then it began to subside, but it was discoloured now, and evident that the one crocodile they had seen was not without companions.
“Now, it’s my ’pinion,” said Billy, “that if you’d come fishing instead o’ shooting, and rigged up rods and lines and tried for these here things in these ponds, you’d have had some sport.”
“But what would you have baited with?” said Mark, laughing.
“I d’know,” said Billy Widgeon. “Yes, I do,” he continued, “dog. They say as ’gators and crockydiles is rare and fond o’ dog.”
At that moment, by an odd coincidence, there was a piteous howling heard, followed directly after by a shot and then by another.
“Major’s shot your dog, Mr Mark,” said the boatswain, with a comical look at the captain’s son, as they hurried on.
“Bruff wouldn’t have howled before he was hurt,” said Mark excitedly. “They’ve shot some wild beast. Why didn’t we keep up with them?”
“Hope it ar’n’t lions or tigers,” said Billy, as he panted on under the load of a bag which contained certain bottles of beer.
“No lions or tigers in an island like this,” said Small oracularly. “Oh, there they are.”
A turn in the river-bed had brought Mark and his companions in sight of the major and the two mates about a hundred and fifty yards away. Mr Morgan was kneeling down by a pool doing something to the dog, while the major and Gregory looked on.
“I was right,” said Small; “they have shot your dog, Mr Mark.”
At that moment Bruff caught sight of his master, and uttering a loud bark, he started off from where he stood and came limping on three legs towards Mark, holding his right fore-paw in the air and whimpering piteously.
“Why, Bruff, old chap, what is it?” cried Mark, as the dog came up holding out his leg as if for sympathy; “have they shot you? Why, no; he has been in a trap.”
“No,” said the boatswain, examining the dog’s leg, “he’s been fighting and something has bitten him. Wild pig, for a penny.”
“Here, Mark, my lad,” cried the major, “you nearly lost your dog.”
“What’s been the matter?” cried Mark.
“A crocodile got hold of him by this pool.”
“How, how!” cried Bruff, throwing up his head and giving vent to a most dismal yell, as if overpowered by the recollection.
“Ah, I said as they likes dog,” said Billy Widgeon sententiously.
Bang, bang!
Then, as the smoke rose up slowly after the discharge of both barrels of his piece, Morgan exclaimed:
“See that?”
“See it! I nearly felt it,” cried the major, drawing back from the edge of the disturbed pool, from which a good-sized crocodile, evidently pressed by hunger, had charged out at his legs. “Did you hit him?”
“Yes, I must have hit him both times, for he swerved at the first shot, and turned back at the second; but small-shot can’t do much harm to one of these scaly-hided ruffians.”
“Well, I should like to kill that brute,” said the major, looking ruffled, and speaking as if he thought that a great insult had been offered to an officer in Her Majesty’s service. “Think it was the one which laid hold of the dog?”
“How, how!” cried Bruff piteously, and then, trotting on three legs to the water’s edge, he began to bark furiously.
“Call him away,” cried Morgan excitedly, cocking his gun and following the dog; “that pool swarms with the beasts.”
“Here, Bruff, Bruff, Bruff!” cried Mark.
But his cry would have been too late, even if the dog had obeyed, for at that moment the water was parted and a hideous head with dull gleaming eyes appeared, as one of the monsters made a rush at Bruff.
Morgan was ready for him, though, and quick as thought, from a distance of not more than four yards, he poured the contents of his gun right in the reptile’s face, following it up with the second barrel.
To the delight of all, the monster gave a bound and made a clumsy leap out on to the dry ground, where it lay beating the water with its tail, giving it resounding blows, and only lying still to begin again.
“Shall I give him another shot?” said Gregory.
“No; half his skull is blown away,” said the major. “Let him die.”
“Put the game in the bag, sir?” said Billy respectfully.
“Ask Mr Morgan,” said the major haughtily. “I did not fire the shot.”
Small took out his great pocket-knife, and cut a rattan to a length of about twenty feet, and after trimming off the leaves readily contrived a running noose at the end, then cleverly contrived to noose one leg as well. A sharp snatch drew the noose tight, and at the boatswain’s suggestion everyone took hold of the cane and the struggling reptile was hauled right away from the water to die, proving a goodly weight though it was not above nine feet long.
“There, Bruff, old man,” said the boatswain, “suppose you give one of his paws a nip to serve him out. It would be only fair. Shall I give him the knife, sir?”
“No,” said Mr Gregory, “the brute is dying. Good heavens! what’s that?”
It was unmistakably a shot, and not fired with a fowling-piece, but evidently from some good-sized gun.