Adrift on the Pacific: A Boys [sic] Story of the Sea and its Perils

“How do you know that’s what I came for, Abe?”

“I’m only saying I suspect it’s your business. I know it’s mine.”

Captain Bergen was a little bewildered by the sharp manner in which the good-natured mate caught him up, and, while he seemed to be debating with himself what to say, Storms took his arm and led him a short distance off, and, seating him on the beach, said:

“There’s no hurry about the business, Jack, for we won’t start until to-morrow morning at daylight, so as to have as few nights on the voyage as possible, and we had better decide on the proper course for us to take.”

“That is correct,” replied the captain, assenting so quietly that his friend hoped he would remain easily manageable.

“You remember, Jack, that when we buried the pearls there, we divided them–your half is in a strong canvas bag, so packed that they won’t rub together, or make any noise; and mine are in another sack. The single pearl which belongs to Inez is also carefully covered; and now we must manage to get away with them, without letting Sanders know they are in our possession.”

“What do you want to do that for?” demanded the captain, turning fiercely upon the mate. “I like that fellow. He’s going to put me on a ship and send me back to Boston; and any one who does that does me a service worth more than all the pearls in the world. I am going to give him all mine, and I hope Inez will do the same. I shall do my best to persuade her, and if you don’t, Abe, you and I are deadly enemies, and I’ll kill you the first chance!”

Storms showed his shrewdness by the manner in which he managed the poor fellow.

“That’s all right, Jack,” he replied, assuming a look and expression of anger, as he glared upon the lunatic, well aware that he must make him afraid of him. “If it’s any fun for you to talk in that style, I’ll let you do it once, but don’t you try it again. Did I ever tell you about those sixteen persons that I killed up in New Hampshire before we started out with the Coral?”

“No!” gasped the captain, looking at him with awe.

“Well, I won’t tell you now,” said the mate, with the same frightful earnestness, “for it would make you feel too bad. If they hadn’t made me mad, I wouldn’t have killed them, and I’ll let up on you if you do not say anything of the kind again. If you do, I’ll get mad, Jack.”

“By the great horn spoon!” exclaimed the alarmed captain, “I’ll let the matter drop, if you will.”

“All right,” said the mate, relenting somewhat. “And, mind you, don’t you go to talking to Sanders about it. Don’t you tell him another thing, and never mention the word pearls.”

“I won’t–I won’t!” was the meek rejoinder of poor Captain Bergen, who had been completely cowed by the fierceness of his mate.

“I’m an awful man when my wrath is roused!” Abe Storms thought it best to add; “and it was just rising to the boiling-point when you were lucky enough to take back your foolish expression.”

“What are we going to do now?” asked the captain, apparently anxious to turn the current of conversation into a more agreeable channel.

“We’ll go back and make ready to leave on the proa. We have considerable to do before we depart. There are a number of things in the cabin that we must carry with us.”

“Yes, that’s so; I forgot that. But, Abe–don’t you get mad!–what about them?”

“Just never you mind,” replied the mate with an important wave of the hand. “I’ll attend to them.”

“All right. I was afraid you would forget ’em!”

It pained Storms to tyrannize over his superior officer in this fashion, but stern necessity compelled him to become the real captain. The intention of the mate when he first followed his friend was to dig up the pearls and give him his share, but he saw that that would never do. It would precipitate a tragedy to allow the lunatic any option in the matter. So, without any further reference to the pearls, the two rose to their feet and walked slowly back in the direction of the proa, talking on no particular subject, since the mate was desirous of diverting the mind of the captain as much as possible.

The discoveries of the next few minutes did not serve to lighten the apprehension of Storms, for when he reached the proa the two islanders seemed to be enjoying a siesta, while neither Fred Sanders nor Inez was in sight.

Suspecting what was wanted, one of the natives roused up and pointed toward the sea, jabbering some odd words, which could not be understood, but which Storms concluded were meant to indicate the direction taken by the couple.

“That’s almost the path to the spot where we were,” he thought, as he turned and walked away, holding the arm of the captain within his own.

Sure enough, they had not gone far when they caught sight of Fred and Inez sitting on the beach, just as if they were at some fashionable seaside resort in summer time, and were chattering no particular sense at all. Storms noticed that the place was such as to command a view of that where he and the captain had held their conversation, and where their precious possessions were buried.

“I wonder whether that was done on purpose?” he thought. “It may be he meant nothing, but I fear he took Inez along merely to hide the fact that he was playing the spy upon us.”

It was not pleasant to believe this, and yet the suspicion was rooted pretty firmly in the mind of the mate, who, perhaps, was becoming over-suspicious.

“Ah, how are you?” asked Sanders, with a laugh, changing his lounging to the sitting position. “I conducted Miss Inez over the proa, so as to make her acquainted with the craft, as you may say, and since that didn’t take long, we thought we would try a little stroll down here, where we could have a talk without those natives staring at us. How is your friend?” asked the young man, suddenly lowering his voice to such a sympathetic key that Storms felt guilty for the moment for ever having suspected him capable of wrong.

“I’m a little uneasy about him,” was the reply, as both glanced at the captain, who sat down beside Inez and began talking to her, “for he seems to have broken up all at once. He was such a strong man, just in the prime of vigorous manhood, that it would hardly be supposed he would give away so suddenly.”

“I think he will soon recover, for the change will be so radical, and the awakened hope so strong, that he will be sure to rally in the course of a few days.”

“I hope so,” was the response, “but he must be watched very carefully.”

CHAPTER XXIX

FAREWELL TO THE ISLAND

The weather remained enchanting. The tropical heat was tempered by the ocean breeze, which stole among the palms, and across the island, and where the crew, and those who had lived there so long, lounged in the shadow, or sauntered in the sunshine, when the orb sank low in the western sky.

It was curious that now, after the coming of the proa, when no other help was needed, the signal at the masthead, as it may be called, seemed to have acquired an unusual potency; for, on two separate occasions during the afternoon, the island was approached by vessels, who were given to understand that the parties on shore were provided for. Mate Storms, now the captain, very much doubted whether he did a wise thing in declining this proffered assistance, but the main reason for doing so was the fact that the pearls were still buried, and he knew of no way of getting them without discovery.

One of the ships was a Dutch one, from Java, and the other was British, bound for Ceylon–neither very desirable, as they would have compelled a long, roundabout voyage home. But Storms would have accepted the offer of one on account of his distrust of the young man, Fred Sanders, but for the reason given.

Captain Bergen, after the “setting back” given him by Storms, became quiet and tractable, and stayed almost entirely with Inez, for whom he showed the greatest affection. Since she was tenderly attached to him, and sympathized in his affliction, this kept the two together almost continually–an arrangement which it was plain to see was not agreeable to Fred Sanders, though he was too courteous to make any mention of it.

During the afternoon such goods as were deemed necessary were transferred to the proa, which lay at anchor in the lagoon. These were not very numerous or valuable, and consisted mostly of garments which Storms had manufactured for Inez.

When night came, after a meal had been eaten on shore close to where the proa lay, it was arranged that Sanders should sleep on board with his crew–if two men might be termed such–while the others should stay in their cabin, as was their wont.

Storms contrived this on the plea that his companion, the captain, would be more tractable. His real purpose was to gain a chance to secure the pearls unnoticed. The young man made not the slightest objection to the plan, for he had too good sense to do so; nor did his silence in that respect lull the suspicions of Storms himself.

“I wish there was not such a bright moon,” said the mate to himself, not far from midnight, “for I need all the quiet and darkness I can get; and I don’t see any use of waiting longer,” he added.

Captain Bergen had been sleeping quietly for several hours, while the silence in the apartment of Inez showed that she, too, was wrapped in slumber, and possibly dreaming of far-away scenes, of which her memory was so misty and indistinct.

As to those upon the proa, everything must necessarily be conjecture; but, in the middle of the night, with his senses on the alert, and his imagination excited, Abe Storms conjured up all sorts of fancies and suspicions. There were many times when he believed that these men, including the boyish leader, were the worst kind of pirates, who were only waiting the chance to secure the pearls, when they would either desert or treacherously slay them. But, since meditation and idleness could avail nothing, he rose from his couch upon the floor, and, making sure that his loaded revolver was in place, he stole out from among the palm trees, and began moving in the direction of the spot where his treasures lay hid.

He did this with the utmost precaution, glancing in every direction at each step, frequently pausing and changing the course he was pursuing, and, in short, doing everything he could think of to prevent detection. The full moon rode high in an almost unclouded sky, and the air was as charming as that of Italy. The solemn roar of the ocean and the irregular boom of the long, immense swells breaking against the shore and sending the thin sheets of foam sliding swiftly up the bank, were the only sounds that greeted his ears.

“That is wonderful!” exclaimed the searcher, for all at once he descried a ship, under full sail, seemingly within two hundred yards of shore. “If these parties hadn’t arrived to-day this craft wouldn’t have come within a score of miles of us.”

The ship looked like a vast bird, when with all sail set and her black hull careening to one side under the wind, she drove the foaming water away from her bows, and sped forward as if pursuing or fleeing from some enemy.

Whether the watch saw the signal of distress in the moonlight, cannot be known, but the vessel speedily passed on, and vanished in the night, while Mate Storms, recalling his thoughts, and seeing no one near him, moved directly to where he had deposited his riches such a long time before, and to which he only made an occasional visit.

He had advanced too far to retreat, whether he was seen or not, and he stooped down and began digging with his hands and sheath-knife. It was only a short distance, when he struck something, and a moment after drew up a small, strong canvas bag. Soon came another, and then a smaller one, which contained the wonderful pearl that belonged to Inez Hawthorne. They were all there, and had not been disturbed.

“Now, it only remains to keep these in my possession,” was his thought, as he straightened up and started to return. “I would give half of them if they were at home and safe in the bank–Hello!”

Perhaps the vision of the sailor was unusually keen just then, for when he paused with a start he caught sight of a shadowy figure, which seemed to glide, without any effort of its own, over the sand, and immediately disappeared among the palm trees. There was something so peculiar in its movements that Abe was chilled with awe as he stood still and watched it for the few seconds it remained in view. But there could be no doubt of its identity. It was Fred Sanders, who had been on the watch, and who must have seen the mate dig up the treasures, and knew they were now in his possession.

Storms was in anything but a comfortable frame of mind while walking thoughtfully back to the cabin, which he entered.

“What more likely than that he will steal up here in the night, believing I am asleep, and try to shoot me? Well, if he does so, he shall find me prepared for him, anyway.”

The first proceeding of the mate was to deposit the pearls contained in the three diminutive canvas sacks in a small valise, which he had carefully preserved all through the years, and which now held a few necessities that he meant to take away with him. The addition of these precious contents taxed the receptacle to its fullest capacity, but, after all, this was the best thing to do, and he believed he would be able to keep it under his eye during the comparatively short time they would be on the voyage to Wauparmur Island.

It may be said, indeed, that there was nothing else to be done, which rendered it unfortunate that he could not secure a few hours’ sleep before venturing away in the proa. But the nerves of the mate were too unstrung by his position to feel easy, and he placed himself by the opening of the cabin, with his hand upon the weapon, prepared to watch until daylight.

As might have been supposed, in spite of his uneasiness, he gradually became drowsy, and it was not long before his head sank on his breast, and he, too, was asleep. It was well he did so, for he gained the rest so necessary, and as it was, he might have slept longer had he not been awakened by outside causes.

Captain Bergen slept on, but Inez was on her feet at an early hour, and seeing that Storms was unconscious, she passed out without disturbing him, and made her way to the spring, where she always performed her morning ablutions.

It was natural that the mate, going to sleep as he did, with his mind filled with the most dismal of fancies, should find his slumbers visited by horrible phantasies. He was struggling with the figure of a man, who had the face of Fred Sanders, and they were bearing each other over an immense cliff, when his opponent got the upper hand, and, holding him suspended for the moment, began to laugh at his calamity. The laugh grew louder, until it awoke the startled sleeper, who, opening wide his eyes, saw the veritable figure of Fred Sanders before him, laughing as heartily as he had been doing in the struggle in sleep.

“Mercy! where’s the valise?” gasped the bewildered Storms, clutching at the receptacle which lay at his side. “I thought you had stolen it–”

Just then the quick-witted sailor recalled his situation, and he, too, broke into mirth, in which there was not much heartiness.

“What a curious dream I had, Sanders! I really believe I have been asleep!”

“And what is strange about that, since a full night has passed since we last met? I hope you have had a good rest, even though your awaking was not so pleasant.”

Abe Storms was excessively chagrined, for his very action, when aroused so unexpectedly, would, of itself, have turned suspicion to the satchel, which he snatched up like a startled miser. This action, united with what Captain Bergen had said, and with what the young man himself had witnessed the preceding night, could not have failed to tell him that that rusty-looking valise–about which the owner was so careful–contained a great amount of wealth in some form.

But what of it?

This was the question Storms put to himself as he sprang up and called to Inez–who immediately appeared–and began the preparation for the last meal they expected to eat upon the detested island.

Captain Bergen was quiet and thoughtful, but the others were in high spirits.

The two natives made their meal on board the proa, where they stolidly awaited the coming of the passengers, the “baggage” having been transferred the day before. And the sun was no more than fairly above the horizon when the proa started on her eventful voyage to Wauparmur Island–a voyage destined to be marked by events of which no one on board dreamed.

CHAPTER XXX

ON THE FLYING PROA

At last the friends who had been left on Pearl Island three years before, and whose hearts had been bowed with despair more than once, saw the atoll gradually fade from view, until the top of the tallest palm-tree dipped out of sight in the blue Pacific and vanished from view forever.

“It seems hardly possible,” said Abe Storms, when at last his straining vision could detect no shadow of the spot, “that we have been rescued. I’m so full of joy and hope at the prospect before me that it is hard work to restrain myself from shouting and jumping overboard.”

“What is your idea in jumping overboard?” asked Sanders, with a laugh, in which Inez Hawthorne joined.

“Merely to give expression to my exuberance of joy; after I should cool off, I would be cooler, of course.”

Captain Bergen, to the grief of his friends, showed no signs of mental improvement, though his hallucination took a different form. Instead of being talkative, like he was the day before, he became reserved, saying nothing to any one, not even to answer a simple question when it was put to him. He ensconced himself at the stern in such a position that he was out of the way of the man with the steering oar, where he curled up like one who wished neither to be seen nor heard.

“Humor his fancies,” said Sanders, “for it will only aggravate him to notice them. It was the same with Redvignez and Brazzier that I was speaking about last night.”

“Redvignez and Brazzier?” repeated Inez; “where did you ever see them?”

“I sailed a voyage with them once from Liverpool, and I was telling Mr. Storms last night that I saw them both so frightened without cause that their minds were upset for a while. And may I ask whether you know them?” asked the young man, with a flush of surprise, addressing the girl.

“Why, they and a negro, Pomp, were the three mutineers who were the means of our staying on the island. They tried to kill the captain and mate, but–”

“She saved us,” broke in Storms, who thereupon gave the narrative told long ago to the reader, omitting the attempt that was made upon his own life by cutting the hose-pipes which let the air down to him, inasmuch as that would have caused the telling of the pearl fishing also.

Fred Sanders listened with great interest, for he had known the men well, and it may as well be stated that the danger to which the scoundrels were exposed, as referred to by him, was that of being executed for mutiny; and, as it was, the part of Sanders himself was such that he would have been strung up at the yard-arm in short order had it not been his extreme youth, which pleaded in his favor.

Since Storms and his companions had revealed some things that might have been better concealed, so Fred Sanders himself felt he had hinted at a little story which was likely to injure his standing in the eyes of those toward whom he was playing the part of the good Samaritan.

The proa was arranged as comfortably as possible, Inez Hawthorne being given a place in front, where a sort of compartment was made for her, by means of stretching awnings of cocoa-matting and a portion of the reserve fund of lateen on hand. The others disposed themselves so that she was left undisturbed whenever she chose to withdraw to her “state room,” as Captain Fred Sanders facetiously termed it.

The two natives had little to say, and they obeyed orders like the veritable slaves they were. There could be no doubt they understood the management of the proa to perfection, and the strange craft spun through the water with astonishing speed.

Mr. Storms deposited his valise, with its valuable contents, forward, where he seemed to bestow little attention on it, though, as may well be supposed, it was ever present in his thoughts, and quite often in his eye.

Several times in the course of the day they caught sight of sails in the distance, but approached none; for, as Sanders said, the all-important thing now was to make the most speed possible, while the opportunity remained to them. There was a freshening of the breeze and a haziness which spread through the northern horizon that caused some misgiving on the part of all, for the proa would be a poor shelter in case they were overtaken by one of those terrific tempests they had seen more than once.

Toward the middle of the afternoon something like a low bank of clouds appeared to the left, or in the west, which, being scrutinized through the glasses, proved to be a low-lying island. Sanders knew of it, and said they passed it still closer on their way to the atoll.

It was also an atoll like that, but much smaller in size, and, of course, uninhabited. It might do for a refuge in case of the coming of a violent storm, while in the vicinity; but otherwise it would only be a loss of time to pause at it. The fact that such a place existed so near them caused something like a feeling of security upon the part of Mate Storms, such as comes over one on learning he has a good friend at his elbow in face of some coming trouble.

As the afternoon advanced, and the proa bounded forward before a strong, steady breeze, Storms thought the occasion a good one to obtain some sleep, with a view of keeping awake during the coming night, and he assumed an easy position, where, his mind being comparatively free from apprehension, he soon sank into slumber.

This left Inez Hawthorne with no one to talk to excepting Fred Sanders, who seemed in better spirits than usual. When they had discussed the voyage, and he had given her as good an account as he could of the island toward which they were hastening, and after she had answered all his questions as best she could, she turned upon him and asked:

“How long did you say you had spent in these islands?”

“As nearly as I can recollect, it is about five years.”

“And, as you are now seventeen, you must have been only twelve years old when you first came here.”

“That agrees with my figuring,” said Sanders, with a nod of his head. “You can’t be far out of the way.”

“Where did you live before that?”

“Well, I lived in a good many places–that is, for two years. I was on the Atlantic and on the Pacific and–well, it would take me a good long while to tell of all that I passed through. I may as well own up to you, Inez, that it was a wild, rough life for a man, even without taking into account the fact that I was a boy.”

“Then you went to sea when you were only ten years old?”

“That also coincides with my mathematical calculations,” replied Sanders, somewhat embarrassed, for he saw they were approaching delicate ground.

“Then before you were ten years of age?”

“I lived at home, of course.”

“And where was that?”

“You will excuse me, Inez, from answering that question. I have reasons for doing so. Let me say that I stayed at home for the first ten years of my existence, and was as bad a boy as can be imagined. I fell into the worst kind of habits, and it was through the two men–Redvignez and Brazzier–whom I’ve heard you speak of, that I was persuaded to go to sea with them, when I ought to have been at home with my father.”

“Is your mother living, Mr. Sanders?”

The youth turned his head away, so she could not see his face, and when he moved it back and spoke again there was a tear on his cheek, and he replied, in a voice of sadness:

“My mother is in heaven, where her son will never be.”

Inez was inexpressibly shocked.

“Why, Mr. Sanders, what do you mean by that?”

“A better woman than she never lived, nor a worse boy than I. You can’t understand, Inez. You are too young and too good yourself to realize what a wretch I was. I deliberately ran away from home seven years ago, and have never been within a thousand miles of it since, and I never expected to do so, until within the last day or so; somehow or other, I’ve fallen to thinking more than before.”