"I'M afraid it's a case with poor Barnes," said Dr. Conolly, in a low tone, as the whaler came alongside the yacht and my father climbed over the side. "He's taken a turn for the worse, and I don't think he'll last till tomorrow.
"Poor fellow! Is there no hope?"
The doctor shook his head. "I was doubtful from the first. The spear was a poisoned one; though the poison was undoubtedly stale, and therefore slow in action, it was none the less sure."
"Can he be seen?"
"Yes, he's quite conscious."
I followed my father to the shelter-tent, under which the wounded seaman lay.
"Well, Barnes, how goes it—better?" he asked, with a forced cheerfulness.
"No, sir, though 'tain't no good making a fuss about it. My number's up."
"Nonsense, man! you'll soon be all right again, I hope."
"All right aloft, sir, please God. I'm real glad you've come to see me, Cap'n, for there'll be one or two little things I want squared up."
"I'll do anything I can."
"Well, sir, there's my medal for South Africa, with three clasps: would you mind accepting it as a kind o' keepsake from me? An' there's the good-conduct medal, too. That ain't of much account compared with t'other, but p'r'aps Mister Reginald would 'ave it."
"Thank you, Barnes; but have you no friends to give them to?"
"Never a relation in the world, sir. There's my pension papers in my ditty-box; it's a matter of three quarters due to me. Will you see that my chum, Joe Dirham, draws it? I've signed a paper about it."
"All right; I'll see to that."
"An' my identity-paper. It'll fetch a shilling at the 'Register's' at the first home-port we touch. Joe might just as well 'ave that; 'tain't no good throwin' good money away, and, besides, it will make all square and above-board up at the Admiralty."
"Do you feel much pain?"
"Precious little, Cap'n. As I said afore, it's no good makin' a fuss over it; a seaman with one leg ain't of no use to you, but"—here his voice trembled a little—"promise me, sir, that you'll bury me at sea, an' not on the island; it'll be a snug moorin' for me at the bottom of the lagoon. Now, Cap'n, read somethin' out of the Book, an' say a prayer for me—I, never wasn't much in that line myself."
Somehow I felt unable to remain longer, so, shaking the seaman's thin hand, I went aft, leaving my father with him.
The news of the state of poor Barnes cast a gloom over the ship, and any feeling of enthusiasm over the discovery of the treasure was smothered by the melancholy reflection that one of our comrades was on his deathbed.
Next morning I was awakened by the sound of voices on deck. The sun had risen in a thick haze, and, though not a zephyr disturbed the surface of the lagoon, the air was cool and pleasant. Wondering what the sounds meant, and whether poor Barnes had gone, I slipped on my clothes and went on deck.
Clustered round the tent were most of the crew, listening to the voice within, or whispering to each other in subdued tones. I went forward, and found my father, Dr. Conolly, and the bos'n standing by the side of the temporary bunk on which poor Barnes lay. The dying seaman was fighting his battles o'er again, shouting and talking in clear yet hurried tones. Now he was in the sweltering heat of a West African backwater, advancing with his shipmates to storm the stockade of a rebel chieftain; next he was serving a 4.7 gun with the Naval Brigade, his feeble hands clutching in grim pretence at the handspikes as the huge weapon on its unwieldy carriage was trained on the advancing Boers. Other episodes followed in quick succession, till the scene in the stockade where he received his fatal wound' seemed to exhaust his last flickering strength.
"Can't you see it's getting quite dark?" he exclaimed feebly. "What's wrong with the bos'n's mate? Why, hain't he piped the lamp-trimmers? ...Ah! that's better; the anchor-lamp's burnin' now, so we're brought up at last.... Turn it up a little, lads... That's it... Burning brightly now..."
The words died away in a long-drawn sigh. The doctor bent over the now motionless form' and placed a finger lightly on one eye. Then he shook his head. "Cover him over, poor fellow; he's made his last voyage and reached the port aloft."
* * * * *
* * * * *
Two hours later, the whaler pushed off from the side of the "Fortuna," with almost every man on board, and a still, shrouded form, covered with a Union Jack, lying on a board athwartships, the grand and solemn words of the Burial Service for use at sea mingling with the soft splash of the oars as the men, keeping slow time, pulled the boat towards the deepest part of the lagoon.
"... Suffer us not, at our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from Thee."
"Way enough; toss oars," ordered the bos'n in a low tone.
The men raised their oars to a vertical position, as a last tribute to their shipmate, and the boat gradually began to lose way.
"... We therefore commit his body to the deep, to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body, when the sea shall give up its dead...."
The bos'n gave the signal, and the board was tilted up, and with a slight splash, the shrouded form slid into the water, leaving the Union Jack fluttering in the boat. Instinctively I looked over the side, and followed the course of the weighted canvas that enclosed the mortal remains of poor Barnes, till the grey shroud turned a greenish tinge, and at length was lost in the depth of the lagoon. With heavy hearts we rowed back to the yacht.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Needless to say there was no work done on the wreck for the rest of that day, but, to banish the feeling of depression, all hands were kept busily employed, some on the repairs to the gig, others making and repairing canvas gear, while the two divers made a successful descent and recovered the lost anchor and cable. On coming up they reported that the anchor was actually balanced on the edge of a deep chasm, it being only by the merest chance that the ground tackle had not been irrecoverably lost. So delicate, in fact, was the position of the anchor, that the divers hesitated to approach it for fear that it might make a sudden descent and carry them with it over the abyss.
Just before sunset a strong party went ashore to refill the barricoes. The doctor and I went with them, but no amount of persuasion could induce Yadillah to set foot upon the island again, and during our stay he kept firmly to his resolution. We noticed a curious fact in connection with the journey ashore. The water was tinged in colour, and had a strong, sulphurous smell, so that we argued there must have been a volcanic outlet somewhere in the neighbourhood, or, failing that, there was a tremendous natural agency still bottled up beneath the island, that before long must seek to escape by another violent upheaval.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Soon after daybreak on the following day the working-parties set out on their varied tasks, for, on account of the heat between the sea-soddened timbers of the wreck, it was decided to suspend work during the hottest part of the day.
The whaler's crew, under the orders of my uncle, devoted themselves to the unloading and transporting of the iron pigs from the hold of the "Fortuna," intending to replace them with bars of solid silver from the "San Philipo"; while a party of men, under my father and the bos'n, went away in the now serviceable gig to survey the reef.
I chose to go with the gig, which was certainly a more pleasant amusement than working inside a steaming wreck, for even at that early hour a thick vapour enveloped the "San Philipo."
For some distance the two boats kept company, the lighter boat towing a pair of sheers which were to be set up on the cliff to enable the pigs to be handled the more easily, while the whaler, in addition to being heavily laden with ballast from the yacht, carried a second pair of sheers to set up over the main hatchway of the wreck.
Opposite the landing-place on the reef we cast off our share of the gear and rowed slowly by the ledge of rocks, my father keeping a sharp eye on the formation of the reef to see if any of the gaping crevices actually led to the open sea beyond.
For nearly a mile and a half the rock rose sheer from the water's edge, and although the boat was backed into several winding gaps in the reef, in every case the attempt to find a channel proved fruitless. As we approached the spot where the reef joined the island, the rocks became lower, but the depth of water was so little, and the shoal extended so far from the reef, that it would have been impossible to bring the yacht up to the reef, even if a channel existed.
"Try the other end of the lagoon, sir," advised the bos'n. "We've let that part alone up to the present."
"There's no harm in trying, Mr. Wilkins," replied my father, "though, if I remember rightly, the original coral reef was very irregular at that part, and stretched seawards for a considerable distance."
When, after an hour's steady pulling, we arrived at the other end of the reef, we found that the rock was very similar to the rest, being pierced by many deep channels that, as usual, terminated in what the bos'n termed "blind alleys."
Three of these were explored without success, but the fourth, some twenty feet in width in its narrowest part, ran in a straight direction for nearly a hundred yards, the walls on either side gradually diminishing in height from twenty-five to less than ten feet. Its end terminated in a mass of broken stone, deposited as if by human agency, in a diagonal direction, affording great facilities for climbing.
"It strikes me, sir," remarked Mr. Wilkins, "that the sea is only a few feet beyond the rock. Listen! you can hear the waves bleating against the seaward side."
It certainly struck the bos'n, but in a totally different manner from that which he implied, for, without warning, a terrific blast of air, followed by a column of water, was forced through an orifice in the rock, Mr. Wilkins, who was standing upon one of the thwarts in order to make a more complete survey, being in the direct line of fire, received the full force of the discharge, and was knocked completely over the side of the boat, while the rest of us were drenched to the skin.
The unfortunate bos'n was quickly hauled on board, little the worse for his ducking, and the gig was backed off beyond the danger zone.
"Experience does it!" gasped the bos'n, spitting out a mouthful of water; "which is, I am told, the Latin for 'Experience makes fools wise.' Am I not right, Mr. Reginald?"
"Well, what has experience taught you?" asked my father, laughing.
"Only what I thought was the case before," replied the bos'n. "And that is, that there's a communication through this rock between the lagoon and the open sea."
"I don't see how that can help us," remarked my father.
"May be, may be not, sir," observed Mr. Wilkins oracularly. "But if you don't mind, sir, will you land here for a few minutes. We can manage it quite easily by the broken rocks at the side of the blowing-hole."
We gained the summit of the reef without much difficulty. Here, as the bos'n had expressed his opinion, a ledge, barely six feet in width, separated us from the open sea, while on either hand, at a distance of less than a hundred yards, a long reef ran at right angles to the main ledge, terminating in jagged points of disrupted coral nearly half a mile from where we stood.
By the deep-blue colour of the water it was evident that there was plenty of depth between these two natural groynes, which formed ample protection from the heavy rollers that at every other point along the reef broke with a ceaseless roar.
"You've got your revolver with you, I see, sir," said the bos'n. "I'm going to dive off and see what the rock looks like on the seaward side. There may be sharks about and there may not; but keep a bright look-out, and fire at one if it comes for me. Money," he added to the bowman of the gig, "unreeve the painter and sling it ashore, will you."
"There, sir," he continued, "I'll take a turn round the rock, and drop the free end of the rope in the water so that I can pull myself up; but keep a bright look-out, if you please."
Hastily divesting himself of his sodden garments, and placing them to dry on the hot stones, the bos'n took a magnificent "header," and cleft the water with hardly a splash. Quite two fathoms down he went before he turned and swam towards the rocky wall, keeping below the water at the same depth. Half a minute later he reappeared, and, shaking the water from his hair, he grasped the rope and came up hand over hand.
"That's all right, sir. Deep water both sides, and the rock full of holes."
"What do you mean?" asked my father, unable to grasp the meaning of the bos'n's words.
"Why, sir, the 'Fortuna' can float easily on either side of this little neck of rock."
"On one side, I'll grant."
"Aye, on both sides, once we make a way through."
"Oh, how do you propose to do it'? Remove each piece of rock bit by bit, when the weight of the smallest is two tons at the very least—eh?"
"No, sir," replied the bos'n.
"Then how are you going to set about it?"
"Blast it," said Mr. Wilkins emphatically.
THE bos'n's proposal was hailed with enthusiasm, for, curiously enough, neither my father nor my uncle had given any thought to the blasting powder the use of which is an everyday occurrence in the mining districts of Cornwall.
"How much of the stuff have we?" asked my father.
"Mr. Herbert had over fifty pounds of it carried ashore before the gale," replied the bos'n. "It's all in air-tight cases, so it won't be damaged by being buried."
"It's a wonder the whole lot hadn't exploded during the storm! There's enough rock brought down from the cliff to show that the shock was exceptionally severe, to say nothing of the chance of it being struck by lightning."
"But it hasn't, sir, so that is something to be thankful for. However, it would be well to finish unloading the ballast from the yacht, but not to take the silver aboard till we have blown up the rock and made a clear passage through."
"For what reason, Mr. Wilkins?"
"Simply because we don't know what depth the new cutting will be. It might be twelve feet, it might be only six; so the lighter we can make the vessel the less draught she'll draw, and the greater chance she'll have of slipping through."
"But there will be greater difficulty in loading up outside the reef."
"Granted, sir; but we must take the risk, unless, of course, the blasting-powder cuts a deep and unobstructed channel."
So, directly we returned to the "Fortuna," message was sent to the wreck to defer the removal of the pigs of silver for the present.
On my uncle's return he reported that the twenty sows were correct in number, but only ten chests full of pieces-of-eight were to be found, so it was assumed that the remaining five chests had been broken open and their contents shared out by Humphrey Trevena immediately after the capture of the "San Philipo" by the "Anne."
Nearly five tons of ballast had been removed from the "Fortuna," more than sufficient to compensate for the additional weight of the specie; but, in view of the probable difficulty of taking the yacht between the reefs to the open sea, it was decided to proceed with the unloading of the iron ballast, till the "Fortuna's" draught would be reduced to the least margin of safety.
"We've done very well this forenoon," remarked my father, "so we can reasonably take a spell off till the sun is low down."
"As you like, but, personally speaking, I have a perfect craving for hard work," replied Uncle Herbert, "so I'll beat up volunteers and recover the blasting powder."
"You won't bring it aboard?"
"No, I will take it off to the reef, close to the channel you mentioned."
"I'll go, too," I exclaimed, "for I want very much to have a look at the great cave that we can see from here."
"I don't think so," objected my uncle. "A boatload of explosives, powerful enough to blow, us to infinitesimal particles, is hardly a safe cargo, so you will be safer on board the 'Fortuna.'"
"I know, but you can take the stuff off to the reef and come back for me. It's only a ten minutes' pull, you know. Don't be hard on a fellow, uncle. It's the first time I've had a chance to go ashore in that part of the bay, and I want to explore the cave."
"Very well, then," replied my uncle ungraciously. "But mind, no monkey-tricks, and don't run into mischief."
I ran below to the bos'n's locker, where I abstracted a ball of seaming-twine and a couple of candles, and, putting these articles into my coat pocket in company with a box of matches, I went on deck and clambered into the gig.
The spot where the explosives had been buried was in a grove, a short distance from a little bay, which was enclosed on either hand by tall cliffs, and inaccessible from the rest of the lagoon except by means of a boat, unless a path was cut inland through the dense scrub, which apparently had never yet been penetrated by human beings.
The taller of the two cliffs was almost divided from base to summit by the curiously shaped cave which Old Humphrey had laid particular stress upon in his log, and directly the boat touched the sandy beach I bounded off towards it on my trip of exploration, a final warning from my uncle falling lightly upon my ears.
A heap of loose boulders, which had fallen during the shock, encumbered the mouth of the cave; but these I easily surmounted, and advanced cautiously over the smooth floor, my eyes dim by the sudden change from the brilliant sunshine to the subdued light of the cavern.
The walls were composed of blocks of basalt, the general regularity of the vertical shafts broken here and there by gaping horizontal and diagonal fissures, while at intervals a thin stream of water fell from the roof with a cool and pleasing sound.
As I proceeded the roof gradually became lower, till, just as the daylight failed, its height was less than twenty feet. Taking the ball of twine out of my pocket, I made fast one end to a projecting ledge. The candles, I found, had united into a soft bent stick of wax by reason of the heat of the sun, but, straightening them out and cooling them in a pool of water, I had a double-wicked torch in place of the two candles.
As I went on, making a careful survey of the ground for fear of pitfalls, I noticed that on either hand numerous side passages branched out, some large, some small; but, keeping as straight a direction as I could, I advanced slowly, paying out the twine as I went.
At length the smooth floor gave place to a ridge of rock, about four feet in height, leaving an opening of barely three feet between it and the roof. Here I stopped, debating with myself whether it would be wiser to retrace my way, but a feeling of uncontrollable curiosity urged me to continue my investigations.
Having unrolled a length of twine, I threw the ball over the barrier. Having one hand free, I began to clamber over the ridge, holding the lighted candle carefully in my left hand. Beyond I could see that the floor was even, though higher than on the side which I had left, so I unhesitatingly slipped down the opposite slope of the rock and gained the interior of the inner cave.
The light flickered on innumerable stalactites, which glittered like pinnacles and pendants of dazzling gems, while, for the first time, I became aware of the dismal silence and tomb-like solitude of the cave. I tried to whistle, but no sound came from my parched lips; then I called in a low tone, and to my surprise the echoes surpassed my voice in the volume of sound and then gradually died away, till it seemed as if, from the remote recesses of the cavern, came a mocking laugh.
I repeated the call, and again yet louder, when suddenly there was a rush and a roar, and I found myself lying on my back in utter darkness.
For some considerable time I lay helpless, the utter blackness and the terrifying solitude almost depriving me of my senses. Something heavy was gripping my left foot, and I found that I was held by a mass of fallen stone. The candle had been thrown from my hand, and was extinguished by the fall; but with feverish haste I drew the box of matches from my pocket and struck a light. Close at hand was the candle, and by its renewed light I saw, to my horror, that a fall had occurred from the roof, and my retreat was cut off by a tightly wedged mass of stone.
By a supreme effort I wrenched my foot free and staggered upright, stifling a desire to shout for fear that a further fall might occur. Hastily I tried to find a communication through the barrier, but there was no hope in that direction. Even the twine was held as firmly, as if tied to a post, and, on attempting to pull it, the thread broke off close to the rock.
I broke into a cold sweat, but after a few minutes I recovered my senses to a certain extent, arguing with myself that I should be missed before long, and that plenty of willing hands could remove that mass of rubble which held me prisoner.
The light, however, gave me grave misgivings, for the double-wicked candle was burning away rapidly, so, by the aid of my knife, I split the wax cylinder lengthways, thus giving me two candles, as I had originally. One I blew out and put in my pocket, with the feeling of satisfaction of having a light for six hours at the least.
Slowly the time passed. Surely, I thought, my uncle must have taken the explosives to the reef long before now; why had he not come to look for me? Fearful thoughts flashed through my bewildered brain. Supposing the blasting powder had exploded, blowing my uncle and the boat's crew to atoms. My father would naturally conclude that I had shared their fate, and I would be left to perish miserably in the awful darkness of this lonely cavern. Probably it was the detonation of the explosion and not the vibration of the sound of my voice that had dislodged the roof of the cave.
At length, after hours, as it seemed, of weary waiting, I heard a dull rumble in the direction of the mouth of the cavern, and gradually the sound came nearer and nearer.
"Can't go no 'igher, sir," came a faint voice. "The string stops 'ere, an' the whole place is broken up."
"Reggie! Reggie! Are you there?"
"I'm here, uncle. Don't shout, or you will bring some more rock on your head. I'm shut up and can't get out."
"Are you hurt?
"No."
"Wait a little longer and we'll fetch more help. We can't shift these stones alone."
"Stay with me, uncle!" I cried despairingly. "It's so horrible alone in this place."
"I'll stop here," replied my uncle reassuringly, and I heard the footsteps of the men as they went off to procure help.
"Have you a light?" asked my uncle.
"Yes—have you?"
"No—we had only one box of matches between us; but never mind, it's only a question of an hour or so."
"How long have I been here?"
"Less than an hour."
Less than an hour! It seemed six times that length of time. However, I had a kind of empty satisfaction in knowing that Uncle Herbert was in the darkness, while I, although penned in, had the benefit of a feeble light.
Notwithstanding that my uncle kept up a desultory conversation, the time passed very slowly; but before the rescue party returned I learnt that the explosives had been safely transported to the reef, and that, on my failing to return, the boat's crew had explored the cave, finding the clue of seaming-twine and following it till it disappeared between the debris. I then told him of my adventure, relating the cause of the roof caving-in, and cautioning him to prevent the others making too much noise.
At length the rescuers arrived, and, without delay, they attacked the rocks with crowbars, trying to dislodge and remove the huge boulders. For a long time they worked incessantly and energetically, but finally they desisted, and I could hear a consultation taking place, though the words were inaudible.
"I've sent for some blasting powder, Reggie," said my father. "The rocks are too large and too tightly wedged together to shift otherwise."
"Won't the explosion bring down more of the roof?" I cried out in my anxiety.
"We must take the chance. Wait a little longer and I'll tell you what to do."
There was a lull in the conversation, and I heard a dull, grinding sound, as if some steel instrument was being bored into the rock. Then, after a considerable time, my father spoke again.
"How far does the cave extend?"
"A long way, with passages on each side."
"Very well. Go about a hundred yards from this heap of rock and hide in one of the side-tunnels. Take your coat off, and place it over your head to deaden the sound. I am going to set fire to the fuse, and the explosion will take place in five minutes."
I immediately set off to a place of safety, and walking as rapidly as I could by the dim light of the candle, the floor, fortunately, being even, I counted a hundred and twenty paces; then, turning abruptly to the right, I set the candle on the ground, wrapped my head in my coat, and waited.
Presently came the short sharp crack of the explosion and a dull rumble of falling stones. A sudden rush of air, an appalling echo, and the noise of a shower of rock falling from the roof, instantly followed the detonation, and an acrid smell filled the cave.
Tearing away my coat from my head, I found that the air current had extinguished the candle, and with considerable haste I struck a match. Stones still fell at intervals from the roof, but my range of vision was limited by the feeble glimmer of the light and the thick haze of the smoke and dust caused by the explosion.
Then I heard the sound of returning footsteps, and my name was called. Hastening back to the barrier that held me captive, I saw a shaft of light from the men's lanterns glancing through a narrow hole close to the roof. The aperture was less than eighteen inches in height and slightly more in width, while its upper portion was overhung by a sharp wedge-shaped piece of rock, that reminded me forcibly of the knife of a guillotine.
"Tell him to hurry up, sir," I heard the bos'n exclaim anxiously. "A fall may take place at any moment."
"Reggie," exclaimed my father, "climb up and squeeze through that hole."
"But I can't, father!" I replied, regarding the opening with dismay.
"You must!" he repeated sternly—even harshly, it seemed. "Get up, instantly!"
Carefully I negotiated the ascent of a bank of shattered rock, till I was on a level with the hole, and, looking through, I could see the heads and shoulders of the rescue party on the other side of the barrier. But the sight of that fearful-looking piece of jagged rock overhanging the way to safety caused my courage to ebb, for in my imagination I saw it slowly, yet surely, descending to crush the life out of my body.
"Now, then, hurry up!" repeated my father, in a voice that was sterner than before.
With a despairing effort I tried to creep through the aperture, but, being unable to use my arms or legs, the attempt was useless.
"Look here, Mr. Reginald," exclaimed the bos'n, "we are going to pass a rope through to you. Put both your feet in the bowline, grip the rope like grim death with your right hand as high above your head as you can reach, and keep your left down close to your side. Give the word when you are ready, and we'll haul you through in a jiffy."
The rope was thrust through the hole by means of a long pole, and I did as I was directed, although, I am afraid, I gave the word to haul away in a very undecided tone. A steady strain on the rope, and I began to slide towards the narrow path that led to safety. Grazed by the sharp edges of the jagged rock, my knuckles, hips, and knees bleeding, and my feet jammed together by the strain on the bow-line, I felt that the perilous journey would never end.
With wide-open eyes I stared blankly at the rock above me, at one time less than six inches from my face. The confinement of the narrow passage produced a feeling of suffocation, and with it the impression that the walls of the tunnel were contracting; but at length willing hands seized my outstretched arm, then my shoulders, and I was free.
"Back, all of you!" shouted the bos'n, and in the rush for safety I was boldly carried off by one of the sailors. There was another rumbling sound, and the place through which I had just emerged was choked by a still greater fall of rock. I—nay, the whole party—had escaped by the very skin of our teeth.
No time was lost in gaining the open air. It was night, but by the glimmer of the lanterns I saw that my father's eyes were filled with tears as he kissed me—even in front of all the men.
As we were rowed back to the "Fortuna," and I sat in the stern-sheets with my father and uncle, I whispered, "What made you speak so crossly to me, pater?"
"Necessity, my boy—stern necessity. Had I not compelled you to do what I told you, your hesitation would doubtless have proved fatal, though, believe me, Reggie, you will never be able to realize your father's agony of mind when he spoke thus."
THE next few days were spent in making final preparations for the "Fortuna's" passage to the open sea. By the removal of her ballast, and partial emptying of the water-tanks, her draught was reduced to 8 feet 6 inches.
Fenders and some stout trunks of palm-trees were lashed alongside and underneath her bilges to prevent damage in the event of the yacht touching bottom, and hawsers were prepared to warp her through the narrow opening in the reef.
Meanwhile a party of men under Uncle Herbert's directions had bored and prepared a chamber in the rock to receive nearly the whole of the remaining blasting powder, a small quantity being retained to form a "necklace"—to use the professional term—to assist in the complete dismemberment of the rock.
The work of placing the charge into the receptacle was performed by my uncle, as he preferred to take the risk alone. At dead low water springs the lagoon still remaining tidal, he took the gig, with its dangerous freight, and rowed close to the low cliff that formed the barrier between the lagoon and the open sea. Working quickly, yet cautiously, he transferred the blasting powder to the chamber, and placed a double necklace in two parallel lines in grooves over the tongue of rock. The charge was to be fired by means of a time fuse, the length of the period between the lighting of the fuse and the explosion being timed at twenty minutes. A quarter of a mile off lay the whaler, well equipped with sounding lines and rods to take the depths of the newly formed channel, and the crew anxiously awaited the appearance of the gig.
Three hours after low water the fuse was lit, and my uncle rowed back to the whaler. All eyes were fixed on the spot where the explosion was to take place, and every one who possessed a watch consulted it with feverish attention.
The twenty minutes passed, yet no explosion occurred. Five more minutes, and still no result. We began to get anxious, and my father and his brother exchanged grave looks. At the expiration of half an hour they came to the conclusion that the fuse, by some means or the other, had been extinguished, and Uncle Herbert proposed to row back and find out the cause.
"No, no," replied my father. "Give it an hour at the very least," and reluctantly my uncle agreed to defer his visit to the scene of his failure.
Directly the hour was up he rowed towards the little channel, taking two more fuses with him, but hardly had he completed half the distance when a column of smoke and dust rose into the air, followed by a deep roar. Masses of rock flew in all directions, some falling close to the gig.
"Give way, lads!" shouted the bos'n excitedly, and, bending to their oars with a will, the men urged the whaler through the water at a great pace, the heavy boat overtaking the gig before Uncle Herbert had reached the opening of the little creek, much to his chagrin.
At the head of this creek, where formerly the tongue of hard rock had been, a channel twenty feet in width communicated with the sea, and already the flood tide was swirling through. With a loud cheer, the men pulled towards the gap.
"Easy now," said the bos'n; "there might still be shallow water"; and with the blades of the oars almost touching the walls of rock on either side, the whaler breasted the tide and gained the deep water beyond.
Here we anchored, and, paying out a long grass warp, the boat was allowed to drift back into the channel, where, by careful soundings, a depth of not less than one fathom was found throughout its entire length. The action of the explosive had not only blown away the rock, but had excavated a trench with an almost even bottom.
"Two hours more to slack water," said the bos'n, consulting his watch. "We shan't get her out this tide, sir. Do you propose to try tonight?"
"No, I prefer to see what we are up to, unless it is absolutely necessary. How long will it be before the springs begin to slacken, do you think?"
"Two days at the most, sir."
"Very well; we'll make an attempt to-morrow."
Shortly after low water on the following day, the "Fortuna" weighed anchor, and with a man at the masthead to look out for shoals, and the motor softly humming, she forged slowly ahead through the calm waters of the lagoon, rolling sluggishly with the lessened draught.
On approaching the gully, two warps were laid out from the bows, one on either side, and held ashore by a party of men, and, the motor having stopped running, the yacht was slowly and carefully warped into the natural channel. Directly she was safely inside, two more warps were led from her quarters, so that those on shore had her in perfect control, only the bos'n and four seamen remaining on board.
At a snail's pace the "Fortuna" was headed for the cut that had recently been blasted, and here the yacht was made fast to await high water.
The flood now made slowly through the cutting, but, held securely by the warps, the "Fortuna" breasted the current without yawing in the eddies that swirled on either side, while my father, giving frequent glances to a rough tide-gauge, awaited the critical moment in which to make the attempt.
Gradually the current slackened, till it was barely perceptible, and the signal was given to continue warping. With a cheery "Yo-ho!" all the hands ashore, including the doctor and myself, bent to their task, and the "Fortuna" started on her final bid for freedom.
Suddenly there was a slight jar, and the yacht, trembling like a live creature, brought up. With feverish anxiety, my father jumped into the gig, which had already been brought through the gap, and examined the water around the yacht's bows. A rough sounding gave him five fathoms, while aft, where she had taken ground, there was not one and a half fathoms.
"We must move her," he shouted. "If she's caught on a falling tide on the ledge, she'll break her back."
"Tide's ebbing already, sir," exclaimed the bos'n. "Send every man aboard and start the motor. 'Tis a last chance."
With the utmost haste we jumped into the boats and boarded the "Fortuna," and, leaving one man as boat-keeper, every available member of the crew, gathered on the fo'c'sle, all jumping in time to help to free the yacht from the tenacious ledge.
The motor was set running, at full speed, and the bos'n alone remained aft at the wheel.
"Altogether; shake her up!" was the cry, and we all jumped with renewed energy. There was a dull grating sound, and the "Fortuna," slipping off the rock, glided into deep water and headed with increasing speed towards the open sea.
In obedience to an order the men rushed aft, for the propeller was almost out of the water, while Mr. Wilkins had the greatest difficulty in keeping the yacht on her course; nor did she bring up till she had passed without the natural breakwaters and over the patch of deep water.
As she passed the whaler and the gig, the boat-keeper had dexterously thrown a line on board, and both boats were safely in tow of the yacht.
A sounding gave five fathoms, and the anchors were let go, and the "Fortuna" was safely moored well clear of the dangerous reef.
"There's no time to be lost, sir," said the bos'n. "We are in an exposed berth, and a gale might spring up at an hour's notice."
"That's true," replied my father. "And though the glass is steady, I prefer to take no risks. It's a pity, though, that we are so far from shore."
"It's as near as we can lie in safety, sir. There's foul ground close to the reef, and the deep water between it and the bank on which we've brought up is far too deep to anchor in. There's no bottom at a hundred fathoms.
"Another freak of nature, I suppose. However, we must make the best of things. Pipe away both boats, if you please, Mr. Wilkins, and we'll start loading up at once."
Delighted with their success, the crew worked with a will, and both boats put off for the lagoon to load up the silver pigs and money-chests, only my father, Dr. Conolly, Yadillah, and myself remaining on the yacht.
In a little over two hours' time we saw them returning through the cutting. The whaler, deeply laden with its precious cargo, was leading, the gig, also carrying some of the specie, being towed astern, with only one man to steer.
"I don't like the look of that boat," remarked the doctor, pointing to the whaler. "She's far too deep in the water."
"Oh, it's safe enough," replied my father. "The sea's calm, and, besides, Wilkins knows what he's about."
We continued watching the progress of the boats as they slowly approached the "Fortuna." They had cleared the seaward arms of the natural breakwaters, and were entering the dark-blue patch that indicated the deep water, when about a hundred or two hundred yards off a column of water flew up in the air, and amidst the descending spray a huge black shape appeared above the surface. "A whale!" exclaimed my father and the doctor simultaneously.
"I hope it won't attack the boats," added Dr. Conolly.
"I think not. I've never known or heard of a whale attacking a boat unless when struck by a harpoon."
"You haven't? Begorra!" exclaimed the doctor excitedly, bursting into a Hibernian expression for the first time during his stay on the yacht. "Then ye'll see it now."
As he spoke the whale made directly for the boats as if it recognized in the whaler the shape of an enemy.
With a furious exclamation, my father sprang towards the Q.-F., which happened to be uncovered, and, wrenching open the breech-block, thrust a cartridge into the chamber; then, placing his shoulder against the shoulder-piece, he swung the gun round towards the advancing monster, but before his finger could touch the trigger the doctor grasped his arm and forcibly dragged him away.
"We can do nothing," he muttered grimly. "See, the boats are already in the line of fire." My father, realizing that the discharge of the gun would result in the destruction of the boats in addition to the annihilation of the whale, rushed to the side and awaited the inevitable onslaught.
With great rapidity the huge monster made straight for its prey, and from the boats shouts and cries of terror arose when the men became aware of their peril. Some of the crew stood up, brandishing their oars, to offer a puny resistance to the oncoming mass of animal energy, others jumped overboard, and swam in all directions, while the bos'n, with admirable presence of mind, drew his knife and cut the painter that led from the stern of the whaler to the gig.
The next instant the whale seemed to lift its ponderous carcass clear of the water; then, diving deeply beneath the downed boat, it struck it an irresistible blow with its massive tail.
A shower of splinters and spray rose in the air, and amidst a veritable maelstrom, the whaler, with its priceless freight, disappeared beneath the waves, and the troubled water was dotted with the heads of the swimmers and a jumble of floating oars and pieces of broken wood.
The bulk of the treasure of the "San Philipo" was irrecoverably lost.
Satisfied with the mischief it had wrought, the whale had disappeared. The crew of the lost boat swam towards the gig, and several began climbing over the low sides of the deeply laden little craft.
"Why, if they are not careful, they'll sink her, too," exclaimed my father in blank despair, but, fortunately, the swimmers realised the risk, for, taking hold of the gunwales and lightly supporting themselves, they allowed the men who had already clambered on board to take the oars, and the gig made slowly for the "Fortuna."
Happening to look towards Dr. Conolly, I noticed he had his eyes fixed on the boat and was counting in an audible voice "... eight, nine, ten, eleven," and simultaneously the awful truth flashed in our minds—there was one man missing.
"Surely not!" exclaimed my father in a horrified voice. "Surely not! Count again, Conolly. Perhaps we cannot see every one. Isn't that a man's head just showing above the boat's quarter?"
"... nine, ten, eleven."
There was no mistake in the numbers. Another man had gone to his last account, and who was it? Not my uncle; he was in the water, holding on to the side of the boat; nor the bos'n, nor Lord, the quartermaster. Dailey, Stainer, and Mills were in the boat. Hinks, Money, Lewis, Burbidge, and Alec Johnston, they were safe. Then only Joe Dirham remained to be accounted for.
"Where's Dirham?" shouted my father as the boat crept alongside and was made fast.
"Gone, sir," replied the survivors in a chorus. "Dragged down by the whaler as she sank."
The men came in over the side, and the gig, with four of the boxes of specie, was hauled up in the davits, and despondently, the crew went for'ard to change their saturated garments.
For a while my father remained lost in thought, gazing blankly at the spot where the whaler had sunk, the blue now peaceful and unruffled. At length, overcome by the bitterness of his emotion, he turned on his heel and sought the solitude of his cabin.
But pressing work had to be done. The whole of the iron ballast, including the quantity which we had hoped would be supplanted by the pigs of silver, had to be replaced with the utmost dispatch; the water tanks had to be refilled, and stores procured from the island. Working day and night in relays, the crew accomplished their task within forty hours, and the "Fortuna" was ready for her long homeward voyage.