CHAPTER VIN THE TOILSTrentham looked round. Mushroom Hill reared its strange form into the sky on their left hand--forty miles away, Haan had said. Between it and them stretched unbroken forest, an undulating sea of green. There was forest on their right, in front, behind.'It's like looking for the proverbial needle in the bundle of hay,' he said.'But we might track him through the undergrowth,' suggested Hoole. 'He couldn't pass without leaving traces--a big fellow, with big boots.''Yes; a solid-looking fellow, too; not the kind of man to do anything so mad as Grinson suggests.''Ah, sir, 'tis them as are the worst when the feeling gets a hold,' said Grinson. 'There was once a messmate o' mine, Job Grindle by name----''Really we must lose no time,' Trentham interrupted. 'The sun will be down in two hours or less. He was on that side, Hoole? Then let us start from there, and all keep together.'They examined the slight eminence where Hoole had last seen the Dutchman. The plants were beaten down over a space of a few yards, where the man had walked to and fro; but beyond this narrow area there was no sign of footsteps in any direction.'Very odd,' said Trentham. 'He must have gone back the way we came.'They retraced their steps towards the clearly marked track of their course through the forest.''Tis my belief the cannibals come up and cotched him again,' said Meek.'But they must have passed us before they reached him,' said Trentham. 'He would have sung out.''And even if they took him by surprise a big fellow like him wouldn't have been overpowered without a struggle,' added Hoole. 'There 's no sign of it. And they would hardly have been satisfied with one victim when they might have had five. I guess Grinson is right, after all. Now let us look at the proposition from that point of view. Say that Haan was seized with the roaming fever--that is, was more or less mad. There's a deal of cunning in madmen, and he 'd naturally try to cover up his tracks. He would expect us to go back over our course, so that's the very way he wouldn't go. What do you say?''It sounds reasonable, but where are his tracks? How could he cover them?''Let's go back to where I last saw him. I have an idea.'Retracing their steps to the rising ground, they examined once more the few yards which Haan had trodden. Beyond this clear space trees of various species grew somewhat thickly together. Hoole went up to them and began to look closely at the trunks.'Ah, maybe he 's sitting up aloft a-grinning at us,' said Grinson, peering up into the foliage--'for a joke, like.''I never could understand a joke,' murmured Meek.'Here you are,' cried Hoole, laying his hand on a twisted and knobby trunk. 'He shinned up here.'There were on the bark scratches that might have been made by nails in a heavy sole. But Haan was not discoverable amid the leaves above.'The madman!' exclaimed Trentham.'With a madman's cunning,' said Hoole. 'Clearly he wanted to throw us off, and he deserves to be left to his fate. But, of course, we can't leave him to his fate. I suppose he went from tree to tree, and then dropped to earth again when he thought he had done us. It would be a hopeless job to attempt to track him through the foliage; but we know the direction in which he went, and I dare say we 'll find his traces not far away. Let us go on; scatter a little; the forest isn't thick hereabouts, and we can see each other a few yards apart. If we don't find him by nightfall, we shall simply have to give it up, camp for the night, and then make tracks for Mushroom Hill.'Following his suggestion, they went forward in a line, looking up into the foliage, and closely examining the undergrowth for signs of its having been trampled down. Every now and then they stopped to listen; they dared not shout, but Hoole sometimes ventured upon a low whistle.After they had progressed slowly for about half an hour, Meek suddenly sniffed, and caught Grinson by the arm.'Summat burning, Mr. Grinson,' he said.'Well, you 've a long nose, Ephraim. You 're right, me lad; I smell it myself.' He coughed lightly to attract the attention of Trentham, a few yards on his right. The four men grouped themselves. Hoole took out his revolver. They stood in silence, listening, looking in the direction from which the smell of burning came. There was no sound of crackling, no sign of smoke, and after a minute or two they went forward cautiously.Soon they halted in astonishment. They had come upon a stretch of blackened undergrowth, upon which lay a few trees that bore the mark of an axe; others, still erect, were black for many feet from their base. The air was full of the smell of burnt wood.'Surely the madman didn't set fire to the trees?' said Trentham.'This wasn't done to-day,' said Hoole, touching a blackened trunk. 'It's not hot. But it wasn't long ago. Look here; the remains of a ladder.'He had picked up at the foot of a tree what was clearly the charred remnant of a ladder of bamboo.'Bless my eyes, sir, 'tis a village,' said Grinson. 'When I was at Moresby some years ago they showed me a photograph of one--a tree village, the little houses perched up aloft, and ladders to get to 'em. There 's been a fire, that's clear.''And no fire-engine,' said Meek. 'A terrible calamity, to be sure.'Hoole had gone a few steps ahead.'Here 's the sea,' he called. 'We 're on the edge of a cliff. And by Jove! Trentham, look here!'The others went forward and joined him. They looked down upon a narrow ravine--a steep valley such as is called a chine in the South of England. At the foot of the thickly wooded banks a stream flowed out into a small bay almost landlocked by high cliffs. And in the middle of the bay lay a vessel--a long blue shape with a single funnel.'The Raider!' ejaculated Grinson with an oath.[image]'THE RAIDER!''I guess you 're right,' said Hoole quietly. 'And there 's that cloud of smoke we saw in the distance this morning.'A slight dark cloud was rising above the cliff near the vessel. It did not proceed from the Raider's funnel. Was it possible that a consort of hers lay beyond the point?The four men, standing just within the forest verge, gazed for a few moments in silence at this unexpected scene. Then Trentham turned.'We had better get back--to where we can see Mushroom Hill,' he said, a grave note in his voice.'And give up Haan?' said Hoole.'And give up Haan. Haan may go hang. Let us go at once; it 'll be dark soon.'They retraced their steps through the burnt village, Hoole and Trentham walking side by side, the two seamen following.'I wondered why the fellow spelt his name to us; you remember? H-a-a-n,' said Trentham. 'It's clear as daylight now. He 's a German; was on that raider; a petty officer, I suppose; his name 's Hahn.'Hoole whistled under his breath.'They played some devilry with the natives, I suppose,' Trentham went on; 'burnt their village, very likely; Hahn strayed and got collared--and we saved one of the ruffians who sunk us!''And he 's got away and rejoined--with my watch!' cried Hoole. 'What an almighty fool I was! And I gave him five minutes' extra sleep! That stings, Trentham, and will till my dying day.''He beat us: in slimness the Hun always will. I haven't a doubt he was playing tricks with us all the time. His Mushroom Hill--faugh!''You mean?''I mean that I don't believe that's our way at all. He reckoned on our getting hopelessly lost--starving--falling into the hands of the savages.''Well, for my part, I 'd as soon fall into their hands as the Germans'. You don't think he 'll send the Huns after us, then?''Not he! I don't suppose he 'll mention us, thinking us well out of the way. He 'll probably pitch some tall yarn about his clever escape from the cannibals--very likely write a book about it. Upon my word, Hoole, after what we know----''Well, I reckon we 're done pretty brown, but I 'm not inclined to give him best. We 'll get to Friedrich What-do-you-call-it in spite of him, and not by Mushroom Hill either. We 'll stick to the coast--confound him! He was so precious careful to keep us away from it.''We can only try; it's a ticklish affair, Hoole.''I know it is, old son. The food question.''Don't worry about that. Where there are men there must be food.''That's true; but I 'd rather find the food where there weren't men, if the men are like those dancing hoodlums on the beach. One thing; the Hun's frightfulness has probably scared away all the natives from these parts, so we 'll be able to rest in peace to-night and start afresh in the morning.''I hope so. We had better camp where Hahn left us; I 'll tell the men there.'They went on over their former tracks. A wind was rising, and the foliage overhead rustled like the hissing of breakers on a shingly beach. Conversation ceased; each was busy with his own uneasy thoughts. The rays of the setting sun filtered through the trees from behind them, and presently they came in sight of the open space where Hahn had deserted them. And then the two young men suddenly halted; Trentham wheeled round and put his fingers over his lips in sight of the seamen.In the middle of the clearing, just where Grinson had lain, a dark, naked figure was stooping and closely examining the ground. He had his back to them, but a moment after they had stopped he sprang up suddenly and turned towards them, his head raised like that of a wild animal that scents danger. For a few moments he stood motionless in the full glow of the sunlight--a tall lithe figure, like a statue in bronze. His right hand clutched a spear.The watchers had time to notice his well-proportioned form; his colour, lighter than that of the natives they had already seen; a grace of bearing that gave him an indefinable distinction; then he was gone, as if by magic. Where he had been he was no longer; it was as if he had dissolved like Pepper's ghost.After waiting a little, Hoole stole forward to reconnoitre. The space was vacant; there was no sign of savages lurking among the surrounding trees. He returned to the others.'No one there,' he said under his breath.'D' you think he saw us?' asked Trentham.'No. I couldn't see you from the edge. But he was uneasy.''So am I! We had better avoid that spot. I 'd rather not meet any more natives just yet! We had better go rather deeply into the forest, and perch up in trees for the night. There 's only about half an hour of daylight left; we shall probably be pretty safe in the dark. In daylight--well, we shall have to look out.'They had spoken in whispers. The seamen had watched them anxiously; Grinson, usually talkative enough, had not uttered a word for some time. Trentham in a few sentences explained his plan; then led the way with Hoole into the forest, in a direction at right angles to their former course.The dying sunlight scarcely penetrated the thick canopy above them. The greenish gloom lent pallor to their cheeks. They stumbled, on through the brushwood, which grew more densely where the overhead leafage was thin. The wind had dropped as suddenly as it had arisen. They heard nothing but the swish of their feet through the vegetation and the fitful calls of night birds just awaking. Presently, however, Hoole stopped and whispered:'Did you hear that?''What?''Some sound--I don't know what.''I heard nothing.'They went on.'There again!' said Hoole, a few seconds later. He looked round apprehensively. A slight groan came from Meek.'What's the matter?' asked Trentham in a whisper, sharply. His nerves were a little on edge.'I seed a face, sir,' murmured the man, staring into the gloom.'Nonsense! It's too dark to see anything. We 'll stop in a few minutes, when it's quite dark; but we must get as far as we can from where we saw that native.'They had not advanced more than a dozen yards when Hoole made a sudden dash among the bushes. The rest halted, drawing quick breaths. He came back after half a minute's absence.'I distinctly heard a sound there,' he explained. 'No; it's not jumpiness. But I couldn't see any one or anything. I vote we stop, Trentham. We shall lose our bearings utterly if we go too far into the forest, where we can't see the sun to-morrow.''I think you 're right. Now to find trees we can climb, and big enough to give us safe perches. Grinson, put down your bag and have a look round.'The boatswain had just risen from stooping to the ground; the others were standing by, looking up for broad forks which promised security, when with a suddenwhishthat took them all aback the brushwood around them parted and a score or more of dusky natives burst into the ring. Before they could raise a finger in self-defence they were thrown headlong, and sinewy hands were knotting pliant tendrils about their arms and legs, while others held them down. In a few minutes the binding was finished. The captors collected, and jabbered away among themselves. One of them had opened the bag, and was munching a biscuit. The bag was wrenched from his hands; and the four prisoners, lying on their backs, watched the gleeful savages consume their whole stock of provisions to the last crumb.[image]A SCORE OF DUSKY NATIVES BURST INTO THE RING.CHAPTER VITHE TOTEM'They won't eat us now, will they, Mr. Grinson?' said Meek in a whisper, hopefully.Grinson swore.'Not after them biscuits, Mr. Grinson?' Meek persisted.'Stow it, can't you?' growled Grinson. 'This ain't a time for jokes.'Meek was so much astonished at being accused of joking that his jaw dropped, and he eyed the boatswain sadly. His expression turned to anguish as he listened to the low-toned conversation between Hoole and Trentham.'We 're fairly in the cart,' said the former. 'See any way out?''No. We 're still alive. They might have killed us--those spears!''Better if they had, perhaps. Waiting is the deuce!''If we could only speak to them!''Try right now. Perhaps some of them know pidgin.''You boys belongina this place?' began Trentham in loud tones. 'You savvy English fella? English he like him black fella man too much, come this place look out black fella man, no fighting black fella man.'The natives had stopped jabbering.'You savvy all same what English fella man he say?' Trentham asked.There was no answer. The Papuans, squatting in a line, gave an inarticulate grunt, then resumed their talk.'No good!' said Trentham. 'They evidently haven't been to the ports. Very little chance for us with savages of the interior.''What are they waiting for, then? Look, that's the fellow we saw a while ago.'The young native whom they had seen examining their tracks came out of the gloom, stood before the squatting men, and spoke to them. They stared at the four prisoners and grunted; the speaker disappeared among the trees.'He 's left them on guard, and gone to report at headquarters,' said Trentham. 'A brief respite.''Till the rising of the moon, I suppose. Well, old boy, I hope it 'll be short--and both together.'Trentham was silent. He had had many anxious moments since the Raider's first shell had flown screaming over the deck; but it was with a shock of a totally different kind that he now found himself looking with open eyes upon the imminence of death. To a man in health death is unrealisable. But he remembered those hideous figures on the beach, the pig's squeal, and he shuddered.There was barely light enough to distinguish the savages from their surroundings; but it seemed to him, from their general appearance, that they were of the same tribe as the dancers--possibly they were the dancers themselves. In that case, baulked of one victim, they were only too likely to make the most of the four who had now fallen into their hands. It was not to be hoped that they would relax their watchfulness. Would their leader return at the rising of the moon?Complete darkness enwrapped them. The blacks talked on endlessly, breaking at times into boisterous laughter.'Have you tried the knots, Grinson?' Trentham asked.'Did that first go off, sir,' replied the boatswain in doleful accents. 'I couldn't have tied 'em better myself.'Each of the prisoners had in fact already wriggled and strained at his bonds, with total unsuccess.They lay silent again. Presently Grinson let out a torrent of expletives with something like his old vigour. The others questioned him.'Skeeters!' he cried furiously. 'They 're all over me, and I can't rub my nose.'Hitherto insects had troubled them little, and the advent of mosquitoes was likely to enhance their physical discomfort.'I guess we 're near water,' remarked Hoole; 'perhaps that stream we saw running into the bay. Have the mosquitoes bit you, Trentham?''Not yet.''Nor me. They 've taken a fancy for Grinson.''I 'm willing they should have a bite at me,' said Meek, 'if so be they 'd let Mr. Grinson alone.'Grinson swore again; in his present mood Meek's devotion was only less irritating than the stabs of the insects.A glint of moonlight stole through the trees, and revealed the faces of some of the natives--ugly faces of rusty black, daubed with red and white. The prisoners felt their heart-beats quicken. But though the moonbeams lengthened the savages made no move, nor did their leader return.The hours dragged on. One after another the four men slumbered uneasily, waking with sudden starts and tremors, always to hear the harsh voices of their guards. Towards morning they slept heavily, and were only awakened by the touch of hands upon their legs. In the dim greenish light they saw that the savages had been rejoined by the young man who had left them in the evening, and by another native resembling him, but a good deal older, wearing a high plume of feathers. The bonds about the prisoners' legs were released; they were hauled to their feet, and the two leaders made signs that they were to march. So cramped that they could scarcely move their limbs, they followed their leaders; the Papuan guards, all armed with spears, tramping in single file behind them.'Your poor face is all swollen, Mr. Grinson,' said Meek, with a look of commiseration.'Shutyourface!' growled the boatswain ill-temperedly.With their arms still bound firmly to their sides, the prisoners, faint with hunger, stumbled through the forest, at the heels of the two leaders, along a well-worn track. It crossed deeply wooded ravines, shallow streams; wound round steep bluffs on which no trees grew. Presently they came to a wide clearing where naked children were running about, and women were busy with cooking. At their appearance, men came scrambling down ladders from the trees beyond, exchanged a few excited words with their escort, and, shouting with delight, joined themselves to the party.'Quite a Roman triumph,' said Hoole with a sickly smile.'Roman?' said Trentham, roused from the listlessness into which he had fallen. 'Those fellows in front might almost be Romans, bar the colour.''They 're a better breed than the crowd behind. Don't look like cannibals.''D' ye hear that?' Meek whispered to Grinson. 'Mr. Hoole says they ain't cannibals.''Mr. Hoole won't be the fust,' growled the boatswain.Meek was half a minute or so in seeing the connection between Grinson's reply and his own statement. When light dawned, he contemplated the boatswain's rotundity with mournful composure.The procession was swelled by accretions from two more villages during the next hour. Some of the new-comers pressed close to the prisoners, now almost overcome by heat, hunger, and weariness, and discussed them excitedly. Hoole and Trentham walked on with nonchalant disregard; Meek wore a deprecating look; Grinson turned upon them a truculent countenance, disfigured by the mosquitoes' attentions.Another hour had passed; the captives were on the verge of collapse, even Grinson's face had lost its ruddy hue, when, emerging from the forest, they found themselves in a clearing several acres in extent, divided off into plots on which crops of various kinds were growing. Beyond stood a line of neatly thatched huts, and in the distance was what appeared to be a closely built stockade. A broad road ran through the midst of the settlement. At the approach of the procession, now some sixty strong, women and children flocked from the fields and gathered, wondering spectators, on the road, and men sprang up from the ground in front of the huts, and hastened to meet the new-comers.The elder of the two leaders turned round and shouted a few words. All but ten of the Papuans halted. The ten continued their march behind the prisoners, through a lane between two of the huts, until they arrived at a narrow gateway in the stockade. This, on nearer view, proved to be a formidable wall of pandanus trunks cemented with earth, and with an earthen parapet that bore a strange resemblance to the machicolations of a mediæval castle.The gate was thrown open; the two leaders, the prisoners, and their escort passed through, and the scene that met the white men's eyes filled them with astonishment. On either side stood a row of neat wooden houses with gabled roofs and long window openings. The woodwork showed crude attempts at decoration in red and white. In the centre was a larger, loftier building than the rest, also of wood, but constructed like a rough imitation of a castle keep.Within this inner enclosure there were none but men, all of good stature, well proportioned, and with the arched nose and straight hair which the prisoners had remarked in the two leaders of the procession. In colour they were a bright bronze, contrasting forcibly with the lustreless black of the Papuan escort.A few yards from the central building the prisoners were halted, and the young leader went forward alone, disappearing within an arched doorway. In a few minutes he returned, accompanied by a tall old man with white hair and wrinkled brow, naked like the others, except for a broader loin-cloth and a heavy gold chain, curiously wrought, about his neck.'"The noblest Roman of them all!"' quoted Hoole, under his breath. 'Where on earth are we?'The apprehensions of all the prisoners, were for the moment smothered by surprise and wonderment.At the appearance of the old man in the doorway, the ten Papuans fell on one knee, like courtiers before a king. The chief gazed fixedly at the white men, appraising them one after another. A cruel smile dawned upon his face--a smile that in an instant revived in the prisoners the worst of their fears. During the march Trentham had buoyed himself with the hope that these natives of a higher type might turn out to be friendly; the hope died within him now. The chief had evidently heard all about the prisoners from the young man who had visited him during the night. He had now come to pronounce their doom.'Rhadamanthus,' murmured Hoole. 'Try him with pidgin, Trentham. He hasn't heard our defence.''Chief, we English fella,' cried Trentham. 'Come this side look out black fella man; no fighting this time.'The old man beckoned to one of the men who had come from the houses right and left, and now stood spectators of the scene. The man came forward, and after the chief had addressed a few words to him in his own tongue, he said to Trentham:'White fella man no belongina this place. White fella man come this place, make fire houses belongina black fella man, fight black fella man all same too much; white man he belongina die.'Trentham understood from this that he and his friends were supposed to be connected with the white men who had recently burnt the tree village and ill-treated the natives.'We no belongina bad fella man,' he hastened to explain. 'Like you fella, no like bad fella come ship stop this place; ship no belongina me.'The interpreter translated to the chief, who listened with a derisive air, shrugged his shoulders, and threw out his hands, and made answer:'Chief he say all belongina gammon: you come all same place other white fella man, no look out good alonga him. He finish talk alonga you.''The Huns have queered our pitch,' said Trentham to Hoole, with a wry smile. 'We are at their mercy.''Wish I had my hands free,' said Hoole. 'What's the end to be?'One of the Papuans, with every sign of humility, was addressing the chief. Into the old man's eyes crept the cruel smile which had already caused the prisoners to shiver. He spoke a few words; the Papuans sprang up gleefully, crowded about the white men, and jabbered with excitement. They gave scarcely a glance at Meek, who stood in his usual drooping attitude, open-eyed with fright. They stared critically at the two younger men, seemed to dispute for a few moments, then turned to Grinson and began to poke him in the ribs. The boatswain glared, cursed, kicked, only to be caught by the leg and thrown to the ground. Hoole and Trentham made a movement towards him, but were instantly seized by the natives standing by. After a vain struggle, Grinson lay inert. The Papuans hauled him to his feet, and marched him away towards the gate.'Good-bye, Mr. Trentham; good-bye, Mr. Hoole!' he shouted. 'So long, Ephraim, me lad! The anchor's weighed. Remember me.'Pale to the lips, the three others watched the chief as he followed the indomitable seaman with his eyes. When the gate was shut he turned to the young native who had first discovered the white men, and spoke to him, using, as it appeared to Trentham, a dialect differing somewhat from that in which he had addressed the Papuan and the interpreter. Now and then it had a nasal quality that reminded Trentham of French, and presently he caught a word or two that sounded like debased forms of French words he knew.A drowning man will catch at a straw, and Trentham, incredible though it appeared that the natives hereabout should be familiar with French, as a last hope determined to try the effect of a word or two in that language.'Monsieur parle français?' he said, using the first phrase that occurred to him, and anxiously watching the chief.Both the old man and the young looked at him with astonishment.'Monsieur parle français?' he repeated.'Oui, flançais,' said the chief, and went on speaking in a gibberish which, though it had a French intonation, was utterly incomprehensible to Trentham.'Nous sommes amis des Français,' he said.'Oui, amis,' echoed the chief, and talked on. Then, apparently seeing that Trentham was bewildered, he called up the interpreter, and spoke to him in the Papuan dialect he had formerly used.'Chief he say you savvy him talk, say you come this place belongina ship. What for come this place?'Trentham almost despaired of finding his resources of pidgin English suffice to explain the situation of himself and his companions. But conscious how much depended on him, he did his best.'Me belongina English ship; bad fella belongina another ship, he fighting me, no more ship. He no like white fella man; come fight this time black fella belongina all place. English fella man like Flansai fella, no like Toitsche fella--you savvy all same?'He clenched his fist, and shook it in the direction where he supposed the Raider to lie. The explanation, translated, seemed to excite the chief, who turned to his young compatriot and entered into an animated discussion with him.While they were still talking, the gate in the wall was once more thrown open, and to the white men's utter amazement, Grinson marched in at the head of a procession of his captors. His arms were unbound, his face was wreathed in smiles, his body was bare to the waist.[image]GRINSON MARCHED IN AT THE HEAD OF A PROCESSION.'Ahoy, messmates!' he cried at the top of his voice, rather hoarsely. 'Beg pardon, young gents, but I mean to say--oh, cripes! Ephraim, me lad, I never thought I 'd see you again, 'cept as a ghost. Am I drunk? No, but I 'm darned merry, which I mean to say--I say, old cock,' turning to a Papuan, 'get me a drink--get us all a drink, and we 'll drink your health and say no more about it.' He raised his arm, and kissed a spot just below his shoulder. 'Kiss it too, ugly mug! Come on, all you lubbers, kiss it, or I 'll never love you no more!'And to his friends' amazement the Papuans came to him one by one, and reverently kissed the spot, Grinson beaming on them.'That's right! It tickles, and I don't like your ugly nose bones, but you 've good 'earts. No, you don't--once is enough,' he cried to a man who offered the salute a second time.'"When I was young and had no sense!"--no, blamed if it wasn't the most sensiblest thing ever I did, and that's saying something.' He had now come up to his amazed companions. 'There it is--that's what done it. "A sweet little cherub what sits up aloft,"--beg pardon, sir, I feels like singing all the time. That's what done it!' He displayed his arm, on which was the blue tattooed effigy of a bird of paradise. 'They peeled off my shirt, and there was I looking for 'em to plunge the knife into my bare bussum, when dash me if they didn't start back with horror like as if I 'd the smallpox--and me vaccinated, too, twice, on this very arm. 'Twas the bird what done it, like the strawberry mark what proved to the Marchioness of Mayfair that the dustman was her long-lost son and heir, stole from his cradle by the lady's maid she 'd sacked for swilling of her eau de colony. The ugly mugs take me for a long-lost brother, and dash me if I ain't the best-looking of the family, Ephraim, me lad.'While the hilarious mariner was reeling off his yarn, the Papuans had explained to the chief that, having discovered on his arm the image of the totem of their tribe, they had brought him back, to exchange him for one of the other prisoners, unless they too should prove to be sacrosanct. To their intense discontent, the chief had refused to allow them even to examine the arms of the three men; and while Trentham and his companions were still digesting the astounding story told by Grinson, the crestfallen savages stole out of the gate in sullen ill-humour.CHAPTER VIIREMINISCENCES'A most fortunate coincidence, Grinson, that you happened to be tattooed with the totem mark of these strange people,' said Trentham. 'But for that we might all have gone into the pot in turn.'The four men were seated in a hut placed at their disposal by the chief, appeasing their famishment with a variety of more or less unfamiliar foods.'Ay, ay, sir!' returned the boatswain; 'though I never heard it called a totem mark afore. True, my head was spinning like a teetotum when 'twas done, and if I 'd been a teetotaller--upon my word, sir, 'tis the remarkablest thing I ever heard on. Ephraim, me lad, you can bear me out: wasn't that the only time you ever saw me squiffed?''Which time was that, Mr. Grinson?' asked Meek.'Why, the time I had this 'ere teetotum mark pricked into my biceps.''I 'm bound to say as how that was one of the times you was a trifle overcome, though nothing to what you might have been.''True, if I 'd been overripe they couldn't 'a done it, nor if I 'd had nothing at all, which it shows the good o' moderation, gentlemen. I was just comfortable; you know--when you 're pleased with everything and everybody. 'Twas like this. I was never like most sailormen, as gets tattooed their first voyage, and ever after has the sins o' their youth staring 'em in the face--like Ephraim, poor lad.'Meek looked guiltily at his long bony wrists and tried to draw his sleeves down over the blue anchors tattooed on them.'No,' Grinson went on, 'I was never a man for show. Well, some messmates of mine didn't understand my modest spirit, and laid their heads together for to give me the hall-mark as proves a seaman sterling, you may say. Ben Trouncer was at the bottom of it: the slyest sea-dog of a fellow you ever set eyes on. He come to me one night when I happened to be alone, all but Ephraim, in the bar-parlour of the "Jolly Sailors," and says, "Going to the meeting on Wednesday, Josy?" says he. "What meeting?" says I. "You don't mean to tell me you don't know!" says he. "I 'd never have believed it. All the others are going; meeting to form a sailors' goose club," says he. "Fust I heard of it," says I. "What's a goose club?" "Why," says he, "you pay so much a week, and at Christmas every sailor-man gets a goose, wherever he is--Melbourne, Shanghai, Buenos Ayres, anywhere you like. Fancy you not knowing of it! Why, they all expect you to be made treasurer of the club. Let's have another pot, and I 'll tell you all I knows."'Well, Ben went on talking like a gramophone as won't run down--about subscriptions and foreign agents, and what a heap of money there 'd be to take charge of, and he hoped I 'd be made treasurer, because some of 'em wanted a scag called Joe Pettigrew, a fellow you wouldn't trust with the price of a pot of four-half, which I agreed with, and said if Joe was made treasurer he 'd get no subscriptions out of me. "Well," says Ben, "Joe 's the only man I 'm afraid of, and I 'll tell you why. Them as wants him are going to propose that no one as ain't tattooed is to be edible for membership--see? Just to keep you out, 'cos they know there ain't a speck of blue about you." "Ho!" says I. "That 's their game. Well, they can make Joe treasurer, and he 'll pinch all your money, but not mine, 'cos I can't join, not if I want to."'Well, he calls for another pot and goes on talking, and by long and short he worked me up to believe as how the whole thing would bust up if I wasn't treasurer, and the picture he drored of the sailorman going without his Christmas goose was worse than onions for tickling your eyeballs. Then he told me how I 'd take the wind out o' Joe's sails if I had a nice fat goose tattooed on my shoulder out of sight, and spring it on 'em when they was cocksure I wasn't edible for membership. Having had three or four pots, the notion tickled my fancy, and I had it done by a Jap as was the cleverest hand at tattooing you ever set eyes on. Ben had left him in the bar till he talked me over.'Well, I went to the meeting, and Joe and his mates sniggered when they saw me. Ben proposed the club; carried unanimous. Some one else proposed about the tattooing; carried unanimous. Then Ben proposed me for treasurer. Up jumps one of Joe's friends and said I couldn't be treasurer, 'cos I couldn't even be a member, not being tattooed. "Ho!" says I, "who says I ain't tattooed?" They laughed. "Who don't know that?" says they. "Ho!" says I, "you knows a lot," and I stripped and showed 'em the finest goose as ever hung in Leadenhall Market.[image]'WHO SAYS I AIN'T TATTOOED?''Well, after that they made me treasurer, unanimous, even Joe voting for me, which it surprised me at the time. Then Ben said that, me being treasurer, 'twas for me to propose what the subscription should be. "Right," says I. "Then I propose three-pence a week." I was fair flabbergasted when Ben got up and spun a long yarn which I couldn't make head or tail on, and ended by proposing they didn't have no subscription at all. Carried unanimous. It was a plant, you see, gentlemen. I was fair done. There never was no goose club, and only one goose, and that was me, my mother said when I told her all about it.''And your goose is a bird of paradise,' said Trentham.'A bird of---- Ho, here 's ugly mug! What might he want now?'In the open doorway stood the interpreter.'Chief he say white man fella come alonga him,' said the man, looking at Trentham.'A royal command,' remarked Trentham, rising. 'I 'll try to get him to provide us with guides to Wilhelmshafen.'Some ten minutes after Trentham's departure the rest were startled by a long-drawn howl, like the sound of hundreds of men hooting an unpopular speaker.'Blue murder!' exclaimed Grinson, as he hurried with the others to the doorway. The noise came from beyond the stockade. The gate was shut, and the natives within the enclosure were strolling about with no appearance of concern. Trentham was not visible.'I 'm afeard they 've took Mr. Trentham instead,' said Meek lugubriously.'Nonsense!' cried Hoole. 'That wasn't a cry of delight. But I 'll just run across to the chief's house; Mr. Trentham is probably there.'At the entrance of the house he was stopped by two natives, armed with spears, who stood there on guard.'You there, Trentham?' he called into the interior.'Yes; I 'll be with you shortly,' came the answer.Reassured, Hoole returned to the hut.'It's all right, Meek,' he said. 'Don't get the wind up.''No, Ephraim, me lad,' said Grinson, 'don't strain at your anchor. 'Tis your great fault.'It was half an hour or so before Trentham rejoined them.'The strangest story I 've ever heard,' he said. 'It wasn't easy to make out that fellow's pidgin English, but I 'll tell you what I understand of it. Long ago, soon after the beginning of the world, a big ship came ashore after a great storm. (That's our wreck, of course.) The ship's white chief, a great medicine-man, had come to assist the forefathers of this tribe, then at war with many powerful neighbours. By the power of his fire magic--blunderbusses, no doubt--their enemies were defeated; but I suppose his ammunition gave out, for, as the chief put it, the fire magic was lost.'The ship's captain was evidently a Frenchman. Finding it impossible to leave the island, he and his crew settled down and took wives among the tribe, and became the ruling caste. The present chief is probably the great-grandson of the Frenchman; he has no idea how old he is, or how many generations come between him and his ancestor. From the portrait of Louis XVI. we saw in the cabin, it's pretty clear that this happened a hundred and twenty odd years ago. In that time, of course, the French stock has degenerated; as you heard, they 've retained a word or two of the French language, and they 've tried to keep themselves select by banishing from their inner enclosure all who take after the aborigines in feature, retaining only those who have something of the European cast of face. That, as I understood the story, has led to trouble. It's a case of plebs and patricians over again. The patricians are gradually weakening, the plebs becoming stronger; and the chief seems to be decidedly jumpy; his authority is waning. You heard that howl just now?''We did,' replied Hoole. 'Meek made sure you 'd been thrown to the dogs.'Trentham smiled.'The fact is, the plebs were disappointed of their feast. They are cannibals; the patricians are not. A big fellow came up as spokesman of the plebs, and declared they must have one of us four. Grinson is protected by his goose, and the chief wouldn't give them you, Hoole, or me, because we know French. But he suggested that we might dispense with Meek.''Me, sir!' cried Meek.'Yes. I gathered that the chief was anxious to conciliate his rather unruly subjects, and I had a good deal of difficulty in begging you off, pointing out (I hope you don't mind) that you are rather lean and scraggy----''Danged if that ain't too bad!' cried Meek with unwonted vehemence.'Well, really, I thought it the best way to get you off.'''Tis not that I mind, sir--not at all, and I 'm obliged to you. I was always skin and bone, no matter what I eat----''Like the lean cattle in the Bible, Ephraim,' said Grinson, 'what ate up the fat uns and you 'd never have knowed it.''True, so I was born,' Meek went on, 'and so I must be. But the idea of eating me, just because I never had no goose pricked on my arm nor can't parly-voo! Danged if there 's any justice in this world--not a morsel.''Well, you 're safe now, anyway,' said Hoole, smiling. 'Did you hear anything about Hahn, Trentham?''Yes. It appears that the numbers here have recently been increased by the influx of people from one or two small coast villages that have been destroyed by the Germans. This place, being farther from the sea, has escaped as yet; but the chief is rather alarmed, and has scouting parties constantly out to give warning if the white men from the ship approach. Apparently Hahn fell into the hands of one of those parties. The chief told me that a white man had been taken down to the shore to be sacrificed in the hope of averting disaster. The sacrificial party has not returned yet, and I thought it wiser to say nothing about the rescue of the victim; it wouldn't tend to make us popular with the plebs. The worst of it is, the chief seems to think we 'll be useful to him. When I talked about his helping us to get away he suddenly became deaf, and I couldn't help judging from his manner that he wants to keep us, either to prop him up against his troublesome people, or to protect him from the Germans. We had better humour him for the moment. At any rate we shall get food. By and by we can take our bearings, possibly make or get hold of a canoe. It's no good our attempting to make our way overland to Wilhelmshafen through a country infested by cannibals.''And precious little good our staying to help him against the Germans with nothing but a revolver and our knives,' said Hoole. 'Still, there 's nothing else for it. If we can gain the people's confidence they may help us in the end--especially if the Raider clears off, and I guess it won't remain in these waters for ever. But it's deuced unpleasant.''Ay, and there 's neither justice nor mercy in this world,' sighed Meek. 'Eat me! Br-r-r!'
CHAPTER V
IN THE TOILS
Trentham looked round. Mushroom Hill reared its strange form into the sky on their left hand--forty miles away, Haan had said. Between it and them stretched unbroken forest, an undulating sea of green. There was forest on their right, in front, behind.
'It's like looking for the proverbial needle in the bundle of hay,' he said.
'But we might track him through the undergrowth,' suggested Hoole. 'He couldn't pass without leaving traces--a big fellow, with big boots.'
'Yes; a solid-looking fellow, too; not the kind of man to do anything so mad as Grinson suggests.'
'Ah, sir, 'tis them as are the worst when the feeling gets a hold,' said Grinson. 'There was once a messmate o' mine, Job Grindle by name----'
'Really we must lose no time,' Trentham interrupted. 'The sun will be down in two hours or less. He was on that side, Hoole? Then let us start from there, and all keep together.'
They examined the slight eminence where Hoole had last seen the Dutchman. The plants were beaten down over a space of a few yards, where the man had walked to and fro; but beyond this narrow area there was no sign of footsteps in any direction.
'Very odd,' said Trentham. 'He must have gone back the way we came.'
They retraced their steps towards the clearly marked track of their course through the forest.
''Tis my belief the cannibals come up and cotched him again,' said Meek.
'But they must have passed us before they reached him,' said Trentham. 'He would have sung out.'
'And even if they took him by surprise a big fellow like him wouldn't have been overpowered without a struggle,' added Hoole. 'There 's no sign of it. And they would hardly have been satisfied with one victim when they might have had five. I guess Grinson is right, after all. Now let us look at the proposition from that point of view. Say that Haan was seized with the roaming fever--that is, was more or less mad. There's a deal of cunning in madmen, and he 'd naturally try to cover up his tracks. He would expect us to go back over our course, so that's the very way he wouldn't go. What do you say?'
'It sounds reasonable, but where are his tracks? How could he cover them?'
'Let's go back to where I last saw him. I have an idea.'
Retracing their steps to the rising ground, they examined once more the few yards which Haan had trodden. Beyond this clear space trees of various species grew somewhat thickly together. Hoole went up to them and began to look closely at the trunks.
'Ah, maybe he 's sitting up aloft a-grinning at us,' said Grinson, peering up into the foliage--'for a joke, like.'
'I never could understand a joke,' murmured Meek.
'Here you are,' cried Hoole, laying his hand on a twisted and knobby trunk. 'He shinned up here.'
There were on the bark scratches that might have been made by nails in a heavy sole. But Haan was not discoverable amid the leaves above.
'The madman!' exclaimed Trentham.
'With a madman's cunning,' said Hoole. 'Clearly he wanted to throw us off, and he deserves to be left to his fate. But, of course, we can't leave him to his fate. I suppose he went from tree to tree, and then dropped to earth again when he thought he had done us. It would be a hopeless job to attempt to track him through the foliage; but we know the direction in which he went, and I dare say we 'll find his traces not far away. Let us go on; scatter a little; the forest isn't thick hereabouts, and we can see each other a few yards apart. If we don't find him by nightfall, we shall simply have to give it up, camp for the night, and then make tracks for Mushroom Hill.'
Following his suggestion, they went forward in a line, looking up into the foliage, and closely examining the undergrowth for signs of its having been trampled down. Every now and then they stopped to listen; they dared not shout, but Hoole sometimes ventured upon a low whistle.
After they had progressed slowly for about half an hour, Meek suddenly sniffed, and caught Grinson by the arm.
'Summat burning, Mr. Grinson,' he said.
'Well, you 've a long nose, Ephraim. You 're right, me lad; I smell it myself.' He coughed lightly to attract the attention of Trentham, a few yards on his right. The four men grouped themselves. Hoole took out his revolver. They stood in silence, listening, looking in the direction from which the smell of burning came. There was no sound of crackling, no sign of smoke, and after a minute or two they went forward cautiously.
Soon they halted in astonishment. They had come upon a stretch of blackened undergrowth, upon which lay a few trees that bore the mark of an axe; others, still erect, were black for many feet from their base. The air was full of the smell of burnt wood.
'Surely the madman didn't set fire to the trees?' said Trentham.
'This wasn't done to-day,' said Hoole, touching a blackened trunk. 'It's not hot. But it wasn't long ago. Look here; the remains of a ladder.'
He had picked up at the foot of a tree what was clearly the charred remnant of a ladder of bamboo.
'Bless my eyes, sir, 'tis a village,' said Grinson. 'When I was at Moresby some years ago they showed me a photograph of one--a tree village, the little houses perched up aloft, and ladders to get to 'em. There 's been a fire, that's clear.'
'And no fire-engine,' said Meek. 'A terrible calamity, to be sure.'
Hoole had gone a few steps ahead.
'Here 's the sea,' he called. 'We 're on the edge of a cliff. And by Jove! Trentham, look here!'
The others went forward and joined him. They looked down upon a narrow ravine--a steep valley such as is called a chine in the South of England. At the foot of the thickly wooded banks a stream flowed out into a small bay almost landlocked by high cliffs. And in the middle of the bay lay a vessel--a long blue shape with a single funnel.
'The Raider!' ejaculated Grinson with an oath.
[image]'THE RAIDER!'
[image]
[image]
'THE RAIDER!'
'I guess you 're right,' said Hoole quietly. 'And there 's that cloud of smoke we saw in the distance this morning.'
A slight dark cloud was rising above the cliff near the vessel. It did not proceed from the Raider's funnel. Was it possible that a consort of hers lay beyond the point?
The four men, standing just within the forest verge, gazed for a few moments in silence at this unexpected scene. Then Trentham turned.
'We had better get back--to where we can see Mushroom Hill,' he said, a grave note in his voice.
'And give up Haan?' said Hoole.
'And give up Haan. Haan may go hang. Let us go at once; it 'll be dark soon.'
They retraced their steps through the burnt village, Hoole and Trentham walking side by side, the two seamen following.
'I wondered why the fellow spelt his name to us; you remember? H-a-a-n,' said Trentham. 'It's clear as daylight now. He 's a German; was on that raider; a petty officer, I suppose; his name 's Hahn.'
Hoole whistled under his breath.
'They played some devilry with the natives, I suppose,' Trentham went on; 'burnt their village, very likely; Hahn strayed and got collared--and we saved one of the ruffians who sunk us!'
'And he 's got away and rejoined--with my watch!' cried Hoole. 'What an almighty fool I was! And I gave him five minutes' extra sleep! That stings, Trentham, and will till my dying day.'
'He beat us: in slimness the Hun always will. I haven't a doubt he was playing tricks with us all the time. His Mushroom Hill--faugh!'
'You mean?'
'I mean that I don't believe that's our way at all. He reckoned on our getting hopelessly lost--starving--falling into the hands of the savages.'
'Well, for my part, I 'd as soon fall into their hands as the Germans'. You don't think he 'll send the Huns after us, then?'
'Not he! I don't suppose he 'll mention us, thinking us well out of the way. He 'll probably pitch some tall yarn about his clever escape from the cannibals--very likely write a book about it. Upon my word, Hoole, after what we know----'
'Well, I reckon we 're done pretty brown, but I 'm not inclined to give him best. We 'll get to Friedrich What-do-you-call-it in spite of him, and not by Mushroom Hill either. We 'll stick to the coast--confound him! He was so precious careful to keep us away from it.'
'We can only try; it's a ticklish affair, Hoole.'
'I know it is, old son. The food question.'
'Don't worry about that. Where there are men there must be food.'
'That's true; but I 'd rather find the food where there weren't men, if the men are like those dancing hoodlums on the beach. One thing; the Hun's frightfulness has probably scared away all the natives from these parts, so we 'll be able to rest in peace to-night and start afresh in the morning.'
'I hope so. We had better camp where Hahn left us; I 'll tell the men there.'
They went on over their former tracks. A wind was rising, and the foliage overhead rustled like the hissing of breakers on a shingly beach. Conversation ceased; each was busy with his own uneasy thoughts. The rays of the setting sun filtered through the trees from behind them, and presently they came in sight of the open space where Hahn had deserted them. And then the two young men suddenly halted; Trentham wheeled round and put his fingers over his lips in sight of the seamen.
In the middle of the clearing, just where Grinson had lain, a dark, naked figure was stooping and closely examining the ground. He had his back to them, but a moment after they had stopped he sprang up suddenly and turned towards them, his head raised like that of a wild animal that scents danger. For a few moments he stood motionless in the full glow of the sunlight--a tall lithe figure, like a statue in bronze. His right hand clutched a spear.
The watchers had time to notice his well-proportioned form; his colour, lighter than that of the natives they had already seen; a grace of bearing that gave him an indefinable distinction; then he was gone, as if by magic. Where he had been he was no longer; it was as if he had dissolved like Pepper's ghost.
After waiting a little, Hoole stole forward to reconnoitre. The space was vacant; there was no sign of savages lurking among the surrounding trees. He returned to the others.
'No one there,' he said under his breath.
'D' you think he saw us?' asked Trentham.
'No. I couldn't see you from the edge. But he was uneasy.'
'So am I! We had better avoid that spot. I 'd rather not meet any more natives just yet! We had better go rather deeply into the forest, and perch up in trees for the night. There 's only about half an hour of daylight left; we shall probably be pretty safe in the dark. In daylight--well, we shall have to look out.'
They had spoken in whispers. The seamen had watched them anxiously; Grinson, usually talkative enough, had not uttered a word for some time. Trentham in a few sentences explained his plan; then led the way with Hoole into the forest, in a direction at right angles to their former course.
The dying sunlight scarcely penetrated the thick canopy above them. The greenish gloom lent pallor to their cheeks. They stumbled, on through the brushwood, which grew more densely where the overhead leafage was thin. The wind had dropped as suddenly as it had arisen. They heard nothing but the swish of their feet through the vegetation and the fitful calls of night birds just awaking. Presently, however, Hoole stopped and whispered:
'Did you hear that?'
'What?'
'Some sound--I don't know what.'
'I heard nothing.'
They went on.
'There again!' said Hoole, a few seconds later. He looked round apprehensively. A slight groan came from Meek.
'What's the matter?' asked Trentham in a whisper, sharply. His nerves were a little on edge.
'I seed a face, sir,' murmured the man, staring into the gloom.
'Nonsense! It's too dark to see anything. We 'll stop in a few minutes, when it's quite dark; but we must get as far as we can from where we saw that native.'
They had not advanced more than a dozen yards when Hoole made a sudden dash among the bushes. The rest halted, drawing quick breaths. He came back after half a minute's absence.
'I distinctly heard a sound there,' he explained. 'No; it's not jumpiness. But I couldn't see any one or anything. I vote we stop, Trentham. We shall lose our bearings utterly if we go too far into the forest, where we can't see the sun to-morrow.'
'I think you 're right. Now to find trees we can climb, and big enough to give us safe perches. Grinson, put down your bag and have a look round.'
The boatswain had just risen from stooping to the ground; the others were standing by, looking up for broad forks which promised security, when with a suddenwhishthat took them all aback the brushwood around them parted and a score or more of dusky natives burst into the ring. Before they could raise a finger in self-defence they were thrown headlong, and sinewy hands were knotting pliant tendrils about their arms and legs, while others held them down. In a few minutes the binding was finished. The captors collected, and jabbered away among themselves. One of them had opened the bag, and was munching a biscuit. The bag was wrenched from his hands; and the four prisoners, lying on their backs, watched the gleeful savages consume their whole stock of provisions to the last crumb.
[image]A SCORE OF DUSKY NATIVES BURST INTO THE RING.
[image]
[image]
A SCORE OF DUSKY NATIVES BURST INTO THE RING.
CHAPTER VI
THE TOTEM
'They won't eat us now, will they, Mr. Grinson?' said Meek in a whisper, hopefully.
Grinson swore.
'Not after them biscuits, Mr. Grinson?' Meek persisted.
'Stow it, can't you?' growled Grinson. 'This ain't a time for jokes.'
Meek was so much astonished at being accused of joking that his jaw dropped, and he eyed the boatswain sadly. His expression turned to anguish as he listened to the low-toned conversation between Hoole and Trentham.
'We 're fairly in the cart,' said the former. 'See any way out?'
'No. We 're still alive. They might have killed us--those spears!'
'Better if they had, perhaps. Waiting is the deuce!'
'If we could only speak to them!'
'Try right now. Perhaps some of them know pidgin.'
'You boys belongina this place?' began Trentham in loud tones. 'You savvy English fella? English he like him black fella man too much, come this place look out black fella man, no fighting black fella man.'
The natives had stopped jabbering.
'You savvy all same what English fella man he say?' Trentham asked.
There was no answer. The Papuans, squatting in a line, gave an inarticulate grunt, then resumed their talk.
'No good!' said Trentham. 'They evidently haven't been to the ports. Very little chance for us with savages of the interior.'
'What are they waiting for, then? Look, that's the fellow we saw a while ago.'
The young native whom they had seen examining their tracks came out of the gloom, stood before the squatting men, and spoke to them. They stared at the four prisoners and grunted; the speaker disappeared among the trees.
'He 's left them on guard, and gone to report at headquarters,' said Trentham. 'A brief respite.'
'Till the rising of the moon, I suppose. Well, old boy, I hope it 'll be short--and both together.'
Trentham was silent. He had had many anxious moments since the Raider's first shell had flown screaming over the deck; but it was with a shock of a totally different kind that he now found himself looking with open eyes upon the imminence of death. To a man in health death is unrealisable. But he remembered those hideous figures on the beach, the pig's squeal, and he shuddered.
There was barely light enough to distinguish the savages from their surroundings; but it seemed to him, from their general appearance, that they were of the same tribe as the dancers--possibly they were the dancers themselves. In that case, baulked of one victim, they were only too likely to make the most of the four who had now fallen into their hands. It was not to be hoped that they would relax their watchfulness. Would their leader return at the rising of the moon?
Complete darkness enwrapped them. The blacks talked on endlessly, breaking at times into boisterous laughter.
'Have you tried the knots, Grinson?' Trentham asked.
'Did that first go off, sir,' replied the boatswain in doleful accents. 'I couldn't have tied 'em better myself.'
Each of the prisoners had in fact already wriggled and strained at his bonds, with total unsuccess.
They lay silent again. Presently Grinson let out a torrent of expletives with something like his old vigour. The others questioned him.
'Skeeters!' he cried furiously. 'They 're all over me, and I can't rub my nose.'
Hitherto insects had troubled them little, and the advent of mosquitoes was likely to enhance their physical discomfort.
'I guess we 're near water,' remarked Hoole; 'perhaps that stream we saw running into the bay. Have the mosquitoes bit you, Trentham?'
'Not yet.'
'Nor me. They 've taken a fancy for Grinson.'
'I 'm willing they should have a bite at me,' said Meek, 'if so be they 'd let Mr. Grinson alone.'
Grinson swore again; in his present mood Meek's devotion was only less irritating than the stabs of the insects.
A glint of moonlight stole through the trees, and revealed the faces of some of the natives--ugly faces of rusty black, daubed with red and white. The prisoners felt their heart-beats quicken. But though the moonbeams lengthened the savages made no move, nor did their leader return.
The hours dragged on. One after another the four men slumbered uneasily, waking with sudden starts and tremors, always to hear the harsh voices of their guards. Towards morning they slept heavily, and were only awakened by the touch of hands upon their legs. In the dim greenish light they saw that the savages had been rejoined by the young man who had left them in the evening, and by another native resembling him, but a good deal older, wearing a high plume of feathers. The bonds about the prisoners' legs were released; they were hauled to their feet, and the two leaders made signs that they were to march. So cramped that they could scarcely move their limbs, they followed their leaders; the Papuan guards, all armed with spears, tramping in single file behind them.
'Your poor face is all swollen, Mr. Grinson,' said Meek, with a look of commiseration.
'Shutyourface!' growled the boatswain ill-temperedly.
With their arms still bound firmly to their sides, the prisoners, faint with hunger, stumbled through the forest, at the heels of the two leaders, along a well-worn track. It crossed deeply wooded ravines, shallow streams; wound round steep bluffs on which no trees grew. Presently they came to a wide clearing where naked children were running about, and women were busy with cooking. At their appearance, men came scrambling down ladders from the trees beyond, exchanged a few excited words with their escort, and, shouting with delight, joined themselves to the party.
'Quite a Roman triumph,' said Hoole with a sickly smile.
'Roman?' said Trentham, roused from the listlessness into which he had fallen. 'Those fellows in front might almost be Romans, bar the colour.'
'They 're a better breed than the crowd behind. Don't look like cannibals.'
'D' ye hear that?' Meek whispered to Grinson. 'Mr. Hoole says they ain't cannibals.'
'Mr. Hoole won't be the fust,' growled the boatswain.
Meek was half a minute or so in seeing the connection between Grinson's reply and his own statement. When light dawned, he contemplated the boatswain's rotundity with mournful composure.
The procession was swelled by accretions from two more villages during the next hour. Some of the new-comers pressed close to the prisoners, now almost overcome by heat, hunger, and weariness, and discussed them excitedly. Hoole and Trentham walked on with nonchalant disregard; Meek wore a deprecating look; Grinson turned upon them a truculent countenance, disfigured by the mosquitoes' attentions.
Another hour had passed; the captives were on the verge of collapse, even Grinson's face had lost its ruddy hue, when, emerging from the forest, they found themselves in a clearing several acres in extent, divided off into plots on which crops of various kinds were growing. Beyond stood a line of neatly thatched huts, and in the distance was what appeared to be a closely built stockade. A broad road ran through the midst of the settlement. At the approach of the procession, now some sixty strong, women and children flocked from the fields and gathered, wondering spectators, on the road, and men sprang up from the ground in front of the huts, and hastened to meet the new-comers.
The elder of the two leaders turned round and shouted a few words. All but ten of the Papuans halted. The ten continued their march behind the prisoners, through a lane between two of the huts, until they arrived at a narrow gateway in the stockade. This, on nearer view, proved to be a formidable wall of pandanus trunks cemented with earth, and with an earthen parapet that bore a strange resemblance to the machicolations of a mediæval castle.
The gate was thrown open; the two leaders, the prisoners, and their escort passed through, and the scene that met the white men's eyes filled them with astonishment. On either side stood a row of neat wooden houses with gabled roofs and long window openings. The woodwork showed crude attempts at decoration in red and white. In the centre was a larger, loftier building than the rest, also of wood, but constructed like a rough imitation of a castle keep.
Within this inner enclosure there were none but men, all of good stature, well proportioned, and with the arched nose and straight hair which the prisoners had remarked in the two leaders of the procession. In colour they were a bright bronze, contrasting forcibly with the lustreless black of the Papuan escort.
A few yards from the central building the prisoners were halted, and the young leader went forward alone, disappearing within an arched doorway. In a few minutes he returned, accompanied by a tall old man with white hair and wrinkled brow, naked like the others, except for a broader loin-cloth and a heavy gold chain, curiously wrought, about his neck.
'"The noblest Roman of them all!"' quoted Hoole, under his breath. 'Where on earth are we?'
The apprehensions of all the prisoners, were for the moment smothered by surprise and wonderment.
At the appearance of the old man in the doorway, the ten Papuans fell on one knee, like courtiers before a king. The chief gazed fixedly at the white men, appraising them one after another. A cruel smile dawned upon his face--a smile that in an instant revived in the prisoners the worst of their fears. During the march Trentham had buoyed himself with the hope that these natives of a higher type might turn out to be friendly; the hope died within him now. The chief had evidently heard all about the prisoners from the young man who had visited him during the night. He had now come to pronounce their doom.
'Rhadamanthus,' murmured Hoole. 'Try him with pidgin, Trentham. He hasn't heard our defence.'
'Chief, we English fella,' cried Trentham. 'Come this side look out black fella man; no fighting this time.'
The old man beckoned to one of the men who had come from the houses right and left, and now stood spectators of the scene. The man came forward, and after the chief had addressed a few words to him in his own tongue, he said to Trentham:
'White fella man no belongina this place. White fella man come this place, make fire houses belongina black fella man, fight black fella man all same too much; white man he belongina die.'
Trentham understood from this that he and his friends were supposed to be connected with the white men who had recently burnt the tree village and ill-treated the natives.
'We no belongina bad fella man,' he hastened to explain. 'Like you fella, no like bad fella come ship stop this place; ship no belongina me.'
The interpreter translated to the chief, who listened with a derisive air, shrugged his shoulders, and threw out his hands, and made answer:
'Chief he say all belongina gammon: you come all same place other white fella man, no look out good alonga him. He finish talk alonga you.'
'The Huns have queered our pitch,' said Trentham to Hoole, with a wry smile. 'We are at their mercy.'
'Wish I had my hands free,' said Hoole. 'What's the end to be?'
One of the Papuans, with every sign of humility, was addressing the chief. Into the old man's eyes crept the cruel smile which had already caused the prisoners to shiver. He spoke a few words; the Papuans sprang up gleefully, crowded about the white men, and jabbered with excitement. They gave scarcely a glance at Meek, who stood in his usual drooping attitude, open-eyed with fright. They stared critically at the two younger men, seemed to dispute for a few moments, then turned to Grinson and began to poke him in the ribs. The boatswain glared, cursed, kicked, only to be caught by the leg and thrown to the ground. Hoole and Trentham made a movement towards him, but were instantly seized by the natives standing by. After a vain struggle, Grinson lay inert. The Papuans hauled him to his feet, and marched him away towards the gate.
'Good-bye, Mr. Trentham; good-bye, Mr. Hoole!' he shouted. 'So long, Ephraim, me lad! The anchor's weighed. Remember me.'
Pale to the lips, the three others watched the chief as he followed the indomitable seaman with his eyes. When the gate was shut he turned to the young native who had first discovered the white men, and spoke to him, using, as it appeared to Trentham, a dialect differing somewhat from that in which he had addressed the Papuan and the interpreter. Now and then it had a nasal quality that reminded Trentham of French, and presently he caught a word or two that sounded like debased forms of French words he knew.
A drowning man will catch at a straw, and Trentham, incredible though it appeared that the natives hereabout should be familiar with French, as a last hope determined to try the effect of a word or two in that language.
'Monsieur parle français?' he said, using the first phrase that occurred to him, and anxiously watching the chief.
Both the old man and the young looked at him with astonishment.
'Monsieur parle français?' he repeated.
'Oui, flançais,' said the chief, and went on speaking in a gibberish which, though it had a French intonation, was utterly incomprehensible to Trentham.
'Nous sommes amis des Français,' he said.
'Oui, amis,' echoed the chief, and talked on. Then, apparently seeing that Trentham was bewildered, he called up the interpreter, and spoke to him in the Papuan dialect he had formerly used.
'Chief he say you savvy him talk, say you come this place belongina ship. What for come this place?'
Trentham almost despaired of finding his resources of pidgin English suffice to explain the situation of himself and his companions. But conscious how much depended on him, he did his best.
'Me belongina English ship; bad fella belongina another ship, he fighting me, no more ship. He no like white fella man; come fight this time black fella belongina all place. English fella man like Flansai fella, no like Toitsche fella--you savvy all same?'
He clenched his fist, and shook it in the direction where he supposed the Raider to lie. The explanation, translated, seemed to excite the chief, who turned to his young compatriot and entered into an animated discussion with him.
While they were still talking, the gate in the wall was once more thrown open, and to the white men's utter amazement, Grinson marched in at the head of a procession of his captors. His arms were unbound, his face was wreathed in smiles, his body was bare to the waist.
[image]GRINSON MARCHED IN AT THE HEAD OF A PROCESSION.
[image]
[image]
GRINSON MARCHED IN AT THE HEAD OF A PROCESSION.
'Ahoy, messmates!' he cried at the top of his voice, rather hoarsely. 'Beg pardon, young gents, but I mean to say--oh, cripes! Ephraim, me lad, I never thought I 'd see you again, 'cept as a ghost. Am I drunk? No, but I 'm darned merry, which I mean to say--I say, old cock,' turning to a Papuan, 'get me a drink--get us all a drink, and we 'll drink your health and say no more about it.' He raised his arm, and kissed a spot just below his shoulder. 'Kiss it too, ugly mug! Come on, all you lubbers, kiss it, or I 'll never love you no more!'
And to his friends' amazement the Papuans came to him one by one, and reverently kissed the spot, Grinson beaming on them.
'That's right! It tickles, and I don't like your ugly nose bones, but you 've good 'earts. No, you don't--once is enough,' he cried to a man who offered the salute a second time.
'"When I was young and had no sense!"--no, blamed if it wasn't the most sensiblest thing ever I did, and that's saying something.' He had now come up to his amazed companions. 'There it is--that's what done it. "A sweet little cherub what sits up aloft,"--beg pardon, sir, I feels like singing all the time. That's what done it!' He displayed his arm, on which was the blue tattooed effigy of a bird of paradise. 'They peeled off my shirt, and there was I looking for 'em to plunge the knife into my bare bussum, when dash me if they didn't start back with horror like as if I 'd the smallpox--and me vaccinated, too, twice, on this very arm. 'Twas the bird what done it, like the strawberry mark what proved to the Marchioness of Mayfair that the dustman was her long-lost son and heir, stole from his cradle by the lady's maid she 'd sacked for swilling of her eau de colony. The ugly mugs take me for a long-lost brother, and dash me if I ain't the best-looking of the family, Ephraim, me lad.'
While the hilarious mariner was reeling off his yarn, the Papuans had explained to the chief that, having discovered on his arm the image of the totem of their tribe, they had brought him back, to exchange him for one of the other prisoners, unless they too should prove to be sacrosanct. To their intense discontent, the chief had refused to allow them even to examine the arms of the three men; and while Trentham and his companions were still digesting the astounding story told by Grinson, the crestfallen savages stole out of the gate in sullen ill-humour.
CHAPTER VII
REMINISCENCES
'A most fortunate coincidence, Grinson, that you happened to be tattooed with the totem mark of these strange people,' said Trentham. 'But for that we might all have gone into the pot in turn.'
The four men were seated in a hut placed at their disposal by the chief, appeasing their famishment with a variety of more or less unfamiliar foods.
'Ay, ay, sir!' returned the boatswain; 'though I never heard it called a totem mark afore. True, my head was spinning like a teetotum when 'twas done, and if I 'd been a teetotaller--upon my word, sir, 'tis the remarkablest thing I ever heard on. Ephraim, me lad, you can bear me out: wasn't that the only time you ever saw me squiffed?'
'Which time was that, Mr. Grinson?' asked Meek.
'Why, the time I had this 'ere teetotum mark pricked into my biceps.'
'I 'm bound to say as how that was one of the times you was a trifle overcome, though nothing to what you might have been.'
'True, if I 'd been overripe they couldn't 'a done it, nor if I 'd had nothing at all, which it shows the good o' moderation, gentlemen. I was just comfortable; you know--when you 're pleased with everything and everybody. 'Twas like this. I was never like most sailormen, as gets tattooed their first voyage, and ever after has the sins o' their youth staring 'em in the face--like Ephraim, poor lad.'
Meek looked guiltily at his long bony wrists and tried to draw his sleeves down over the blue anchors tattooed on them.
'No,' Grinson went on, 'I was never a man for show. Well, some messmates of mine didn't understand my modest spirit, and laid their heads together for to give me the hall-mark as proves a seaman sterling, you may say. Ben Trouncer was at the bottom of it: the slyest sea-dog of a fellow you ever set eyes on. He come to me one night when I happened to be alone, all but Ephraim, in the bar-parlour of the "Jolly Sailors," and says, "Going to the meeting on Wednesday, Josy?" says he. "What meeting?" says I. "You don't mean to tell me you don't know!" says he. "I 'd never have believed it. All the others are going; meeting to form a sailors' goose club," says he. "Fust I heard of it," says I. "What's a goose club?" "Why," says he, "you pay so much a week, and at Christmas every sailor-man gets a goose, wherever he is--Melbourne, Shanghai, Buenos Ayres, anywhere you like. Fancy you not knowing of it! Why, they all expect you to be made treasurer of the club. Let's have another pot, and I 'll tell you all I knows."
'Well, Ben went on talking like a gramophone as won't run down--about subscriptions and foreign agents, and what a heap of money there 'd be to take charge of, and he hoped I 'd be made treasurer, because some of 'em wanted a scag called Joe Pettigrew, a fellow you wouldn't trust with the price of a pot of four-half, which I agreed with, and said if Joe was made treasurer he 'd get no subscriptions out of me. "Well," says Ben, "Joe 's the only man I 'm afraid of, and I 'll tell you why. Them as wants him are going to propose that no one as ain't tattooed is to be edible for membership--see? Just to keep you out, 'cos they know there ain't a speck of blue about you." "Ho!" says I. "That 's their game. Well, they can make Joe treasurer, and he 'll pinch all your money, but not mine, 'cos I can't join, not if I want to."
'Well, he calls for another pot and goes on talking, and by long and short he worked me up to believe as how the whole thing would bust up if I wasn't treasurer, and the picture he drored of the sailorman going without his Christmas goose was worse than onions for tickling your eyeballs. Then he told me how I 'd take the wind out o' Joe's sails if I had a nice fat goose tattooed on my shoulder out of sight, and spring it on 'em when they was cocksure I wasn't edible for membership. Having had three or four pots, the notion tickled my fancy, and I had it done by a Jap as was the cleverest hand at tattooing you ever set eyes on. Ben had left him in the bar till he talked me over.
'Well, I went to the meeting, and Joe and his mates sniggered when they saw me. Ben proposed the club; carried unanimous. Some one else proposed about the tattooing; carried unanimous. Then Ben proposed me for treasurer. Up jumps one of Joe's friends and said I couldn't be treasurer, 'cos I couldn't even be a member, not being tattooed. "Ho!" says I, "who says I ain't tattooed?" They laughed. "Who don't know that?" says they. "Ho!" says I, "you knows a lot," and I stripped and showed 'em the finest goose as ever hung in Leadenhall Market.
[image]'WHO SAYS I AIN'T TATTOOED?'
[image]
[image]
'WHO SAYS I AIN'T TATTOOED?'
'Well, after that they made me treasurer, unanimous, even Joe voting for me, which it surprised me at the time. Then Ben said that, me being treasurer, 'twas for me to propose what the subscription should be. "Right," says I. "Then I propose three-pence a week." I was fair flabbergasted when Ben got up and spun a long yarn which I couldn't make head or tail on, and ended by proposing they didn't have no subscription at all. Carried unanimous. It was a plant, you see, gentlemen. I was fair done. There never was no goose club, and only one goose, and that was me, my mother said when I told her all about it.'
'And your goose is a bird of paradise,' said Trentham.
'A bird of---- Ho, here 's ugly mug! What might he want now?'
In the open doorway stood the interpreter.
'Chief he say white man fella come alonga him,' said the man, looking at Trentham.
'A royal command,' remarked Trentham, rising. 'I 'll try to get him to provide us with guides to Wilhelmshafen.'
Some ten minutes after Trentham's departure the rest were startled by a long-drawn howl, like the sound of hundreds of men hooting an unpopular speaker.
'Blue murder!' exclaimed Grinson, as he hurried with the others to the doorway. The noise came from beyond the stockade. The gate was shut, and the natives within the enclosure were strolling about with no appearance of concern. Trentham was not visible.
'I 'm afeard they 've took Mr. Trentham instead,' said Meek lugubriously.
'Nonsense!' cried Hoole. 'That wasn't a cry of delight. But I 'll just run across to the chief's house; Mr. Trentham is probably there.'
At the entrance of the house he was stopped by two natives, armed with spears, who stood there on guard.
'You there, Trentham?' he called into the interior.
'Yes; I 'll be with you shortly,' came the answer.
Reassured, Hoole returned to the hut.
'It's all right, Meek,' he said. 'Don't get the wind up.'
'No, Ephraim, me lad,' said Grinson, 'don't strain at your anchor. 'Tis your great fault.'
It was half an hour or so before Trentham rejoined them.
'The strangest story I 've ever heard,' he said. 'It wasn't easy to make out that fellow's pidgin English, but I 'll tell you what I understand of it. Long ago, soon after the beginning of the world, a big ship came ashore after a great storm. (That's our wreck, of course.) The ship's white chief, a great medicine-man, had come to assist the forefathers of this tribe, then at war with many powerful neighbours. By the power of his fire magic--blunderbusses, no doubt--their enemies were defeated; but I suppose his ammunition gave out, for, as the chief put it, the fire magic was lost.
'The ship's captain was evidently a Frenchman. Finding it impossible to leave the island, he and his crew settled down and took wives among the tribe, and became the ruling caste. The present chief is probably the great-grandson of the Frenchman; he has no idea how old he is, or how many generations come between him and his ancestor. From the portrait of Louis XVI. we saw in the cabin, it's pretty clear that this happened a hundred and twenty odd years ago. In that time, of course, the French stock has degenerated; as you heard, they 've retained a word or two of the French language, and they 've tried to keep themselves select by banishing from their inner enclosure all who take after the aborigines in feature, retaining only those who have something of the European cast of face. That, as I understood the story, has led to trouble. It's a case of plebs and patricians over again. The patricians are gradually weakening, the plebs becoming stronger; and the chief seems to be decidedly jumpy; his authority is waning. You heard that howl just now?'
'We did,' replied Hoole. 'Meek made sure you 'd been thrown to the dogs.'
Trentham smiled.
'The fact is, the plebs were disappointed of their feast. They are cannibals; the patricians are not. A big fellow came up as spokesman of the plebs, and declared they must have one of us four. Grinson is protected by his goose, and the chief wouldn't give them you, Hoole, or me, because we know French. But he suggested that we might dispense with Meek.'
'Me, sir!' cried Meek.
'Yes. I gathered that the chief was anxious to conciliate his rather unruly subjects, and I had a good deal of difficulty in begging you off, pointing out (I hope you don't mind) that you are rather lean and scraggy----'
'Danged if that ain't too bad!' cried Meek with unwonted vehemence.
'Well, really, I thought it the best way to get you off.'
''Tis not that I mind, sir--not at all, and I 'm obliged to you. I was always skin and bone, no matter what I eat----'
'Like the lean cattle in the Bible, Ephraim,' said Grinson, 'what ate up the fat uns and you 'd never have knowed it.'
'True, so I was born,' Meek went on, 'and so I must be. But the idea of eating me, just because I never had no goose pricked on my arm nor can't parly-voo! Danged if there 's any justice in this world--not a morsel.'
'Well, you 're safe now, anyway,' said Hoole, smiling. 'Did you hear anything about Hahn, Trentham?'
'Yes. It appears that the numbers here have recently been increased by the influx of people from one or two small coast villages that have been destroyed by the Germans. This place, being farther from the sea, has escaped as yet; but the chief is rather alarmed, and has scouting parties constantly out to give warning if the white men from the ship approach. Apparently Hahn fell into the hands of one of those parties. The chief told me that a white man had been taken down to the shore to be sacrificed in the hope of averting disaster. The sacrificial party has not returned yet, and I thought it wiser to say nothing about the rescue of the victim; it wouldn't tend to make us popular with the plebs. The worst of it is, the chief seems to think we 'll be useful to him. When I talked about his helping us to get away he suddenly became deaf, and I couldn't help judging from his manner that he wants to keep us, either to prop him up against his troublesome people, or to protect him from the Germans. We had better humour him for the moment. At any rate we shall get food. By and by we can take our bearings, possibly make or get hold of a canoe. It's no good our attempting to make our way overland to Wilhelmshafen through a country infested by cannibals.'
'And precious little good our staying to help him against the Germans with nothing but a revolver and our knives,' said Hoole. 'Still, there 's nothing else for it. If we can gain the people's confidence they may help us in the end--especially if the Raider clears off, and I guess it won't remain in these waters for ever. But it's deuced unpleasant.'
'Ay, and there 's neither justice nor mercy in this world,' sighed Meek. 'Eat me! Br-r-r!'