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

Brazzier was quick to comprehend the situation, and he refrained.

“Take away the girl, then,” he commanded, “so I can get at him.”

“I will not leave him,” declared Inez, throwing her arms about the neck of the captain, who was rising to his feet. “You mean to hurt him, and you shan’t hurt him without hurting me. He has been kind, and he’s a good man.”

“Take her away,” commanded Brazzier, with difficulty repressing his anger at the repeated delay.

“Oh, Pomp! You won’t let him hurt the captain?” pleaded Inez, turning toward him, and ready to throw her arms about his dusky neck, were it not that she was afraid to leave the captain for the moment–he having risen to his feet, while he held her hand and looked at his enemies, panting from his own great exertion, though he did not speak a word.

Even in the dreadful peril which enveloped him, he was too proud to ask for mercy from such wretches.

But the appeal of Inez to Pomp had produced its effect. When she turned her misty eyes upon him, and pleaded in such piteous tones for mercy, the mouth of the huge African twitched, and any one could see that a hard struggle was going on within.

“If you don’t keep those bad men from hurting Captain Bergen,” she added, in the same impassioned manner, “I’ll never speak to you–never, never, never–there!”

This was accompanied by a stamp of her tiny foot, and then she burst into weeping–sobbing as if her heart would break.

Hyde Brazzier stood irresolute, and seemed on the point of leaping, knife in hand, upon the captain. But the prayer of the innocent child had settled the question, and the sable Hercules sprang in front of the endangered man.

“Dis ’ere thing hab gone fur ’nough; let de cap’in alone. If dere’s any killin’ to be done, why I’m de one dat’s gwine to do it.”

The two mutineers were wild with fury, for this unexpected show of mercy promised to upset the whole scheme they had been hatching for weeks. Both Redvignez and Brazzier protested vehemently, seeking to show that it was imperatively necessary that both the officers should be put out of the way, and that since the mate was gone, it was the sheerest folly to allow the captain to remain.

But the words were thrown away.

The prayer of little Inez Hawthorne had reached the heart of the gigantic African, and the sight of the child standing there weeping was more than he could bear, although it but served to add to the exasperation of the other two savages.

Captain Bergen did not stand mute and motionless during all this rush of events, which really occupied but a few seconds. As soon as he saw the way open, he took the hand of little Inez and began moving in the direction of the schooner, his purpose being to secure refuge upon that if possible. As he moved away he saw Pomp and the two mutineers in conference, for Brazzier and Redvignez at that moment would have given a large share of their prospective wealth for the purpose of disposing finally and forever of the captain.

“We have been in mutinies before, Pomp, and the only safe course–and that ain’t safe by any means–is to follow the rule that dead men tell no tales.”

“Dat may be de rule, but it ain’t gwine to work in dis case; an’ de reason am ’cause de little gal dere don’t want it done. You can talk an’ argufy fo’ fourteen years, but it won’t do no good. De only way you can finish up de job am by killin’ me fust.”

The foregoing is the substance of the protests and replies of the two parties to the angry discussion. It so happened, as we have shown, that the African held the balance of power. He was strong and courageous, and he was armed and ready to fight, and they knew it. They did not dare to attack him openly, where the result was so likely to be disastrous to both, and they were compelled to fall in with his scheme of saving the captain, though it can well be understood that it was the most distasteful thing to which they could consent.

This discussion lasted but a few minutes; but, as we have said, it was improved by Captain Bergen, who saw that the wisest course for him to pursue was to remove the cause as far as practical. He walked backward a few steps until he was some way off, when he turned about, still holding the hand of Inez in his, and they continued until a number of palm-trees intervened, when he sped so rapidly that the child was kept on a run to maintain her place at his side. She had ceased her crying, but her face and eyes were red, and she was in an apprehensive, nervous and almost hysterical condition from the terrible scene she had witnessed–a scene such as should never be looked upon by one of her tender years.

A minute later Captain Bergen caught sight of the trimly-built schooner lying at rest in the lagoon, close to the shore, and his heart gave a throb of hope, that, if he could once secure position on her deck, he would be able to hold his own against the mutineers.

During the next few hurried minutes occupied in the passage to the schooner, the conviction had grown upon him that this mercy which had spared his life for a brief while would not be continued. Pomp Cooper would not continue to be his friend after his spasm of affection for Inez should spend itself, and devoid as the African was of intellect, he was likely to understand that the true course of the party who had entered upon the villainy was to make thorough work of it.

The captain saw the three men still talking and gesticulating angrily when he reached the schooner.

In a twinkling he had lifted Inez upon the deck, and then he sprang after her. He ran into the cabin, reappearing in an instant with the three loaded rifles.

“Now,” said he, with a sigh of relief, “let them come! I am ready.”

CHAPTER XVI

A STRANGE VISITOR

But the mutineers took good care not to show themselves just then; and the captain, deeming such a course prudent, tugged at the anchor until it was lifted, when he managed to shove the craft off, and reaching the middle of the lagoon, the anchor was dropped.

“Now they won’t be likely to approach without my seeing them,” was his conclusion; “and so long as I can keep awake, I can hold them at bay. I hate to shoot a man, but if ever a person had justification for doing so, I have. I am rather inclined to think that if either Brazzier or Redvignez should wander into range, one of these rifles would be likely to go off!”

Seeing no immediate danger, Captain Bergen descended into the cabin for a few minutes. Poor, tired Inez had thrown herself on the hammock and was sound asleep.

“Sleep, little one,” murmured the captain, as he lingered for a minute to look at the sweet, infantile face, in the gathering twilight. “It is a sad fate which orders you to witness so much violence, and sorry I am that it is so; but where would I have been excepting for you?”

Then he softly left the cabin and took his position on deck. The moon was full, which was gratefully noticed by the captain, for he could easily keep awake all night, and thus detect the approach of his enemies. In fact, his nerves were so unstrung that he would not be able to sleep for many hours to come.

“But what is to be done hereafter?”

This was the question he put to himself, and which had to be answered.

The mutineers kept carefully out of sight, and, as night settled over the scene, the captain remained wide awake and vigilant. There was ample food for thought and reflection–the cutting of the hose-pipes of the diving apparatus, the attack by the mutineers, the terrible flight and pursuit, the interference of Inez–all these and more surged through the brain of the captain, while he slowly paced back and forth, with eyes and ears wide open. Inez still slumbered, and all was silent, excepting the boom of the ocean against the coral-reef; while, as the night wore on, the captain maintained his lonely watch.

Captain Bergen scanned the fringe of shore which circled about him, like a great wall thrown up between the lagoon and the Pacific, that steadily broke on the outside. But turn his keen eyes wheresoever he chose, he could detect not the slightest sign of the mutineers. He thought it likely they would start a fire somewhere, but no starlike point of light twinkled from beneath the palm-trees, and he was left to conjecture where they were and what they were doing.

“They will probably wait till they think I am asleep,” was his thought, “and then they will swim quietly out and try to board.”

He believed it would be either that way or they would construct a raft and paddle themselves out to the schooner. Knowing the captain was on the Coral, and knowing how important it was that he should not be allowed to run away and leave them there, they would neglect no precaution to prevent his going off. They, too, would understand what it was he was waiting for, and they were seamen enough to know the hour when he would be able to sail, and, consequently, what they were to do to prevent it.

“They have no way of closing the channel, or they would do so, and it remains–Hello!”

He was standing at the prow, looking carefully about him, and with all his senses alert, and he stood thus fully twenty minutes, expecting something whose precise nature he had already conjectured.

“That splash meant something, and I think–”

Just then he heard a commotion in the water directly under the prow, and, looking over, he saw a strange-looking object, like one of the uncouth monsters of the deep, come to the surface and begin climbing up by aid of the fore-chains.

“I say, cap’n, can’t you give a fellow a lift?”

It was the mate, Abe Storms, who asked the question, and, as the captain extended his hand, he said, in a low, fervent voice:

“Thank heaven! I was about giving you up for lost!”

CHAPTER XVII

ON THE CORAL

Captain Bergen and Abe Storms, as may be supposed, greeted each other ardently when the latter stepped upon the deck of the schooner, clad in his diving-suit.

“I was growing very anxious about you,” said the captain, “for I could not understand what kept you away so long.”

The eccentric New Englander, removing his headgear, but leaving the rest of his armor on, laughed and asked:

“Tell me what took place after I went down.”

The captain hurriedly related his experience, which has been already told the reader.

“We took a good deal of risk, as you know,” said the mate, “and when I went down in the water, I was a great deal more uneasy than I seemed to be. I was expecting a signal from you, and when it did not come I started for the surface. The shore is rough and craggy, you know, so that it was something like climbing up stairs.

“Well, I had got pretty well up when the pipes were cut. I understood what it meant, and, holding my breath, with the water rushing down the two hose-pipes, I scrambled for the top.

“It may have been a perilous thing for you that the rascals pursued you with such enthusiasm, but it was fortunate for me, for, although I had a dry revolver under my armor, it was several minutes before I was in a condition to use it.

“As soon as possible, however, I made ready, believing you were in sore need of help. Crawling forward on my hands and knees, I took a quick look over the bank, and saw you and Inez walking off in the direction of the schooner, with the three scamps sullenly watching you.

“I suspected what you tell me was the truth, and I was on the point of rushing forward and making short work of them with my revolver, but it flashed upon me that they possessed a fearful advantage over us. Redvignez and Brazzier are as cunning as serpents, and one of them, more than likely, would have caught up the little girl and held her in front of him as a screen.

“Inez would have proved an effectual armor, indeed, and, with her in their possession, they would have been masters of the situation, and could have dictated whatever terms they chose to us. Pomp would have been transformed into a bitter enemy at once, and the chances of disaster to us all were so great that I remained quiet, but watchful, ready to dash forward to your assistance should it become necessary.

“I lay down in a secluded place to rest, when–shall I confess it?–I fell asleep, and did not wake up until half an hour ago. After thinking the matter over, I decided still to deceive the rascals. I was quite certain that the water in the lagoon was not very deep, so I fastened the upper ends of the hose to floats, and walked out here on the bottom.”

“Did you see anything of them?”

“No; I don’t know where they are; but you can feel sure they’ll never take their eyes off the schooner.”

After further discussing the exciting events of the day, they considered the all-important question as to what should be their own line of action. The decision which they reached was a most remarkable one, being no less than to make a direct proposition to the mutineers to turn over the schooner to them, with a portion of the oysters, and to allow them to depart, while the captain, mate and little girl were left upon the island.

The captain was not convinced that this was altogether wise, and he said:

“Since your plan is for us to stay on the island, and allow them to leave with the schooner, will you tell me how we are to depart, when ready?”

The mate indicated the inlet, where the mast was still pointing toward the sky.

“We’ve got to run our chances. We may be taken off in a week, and possibly not for years; but, with all these probabilities before us, I am in favor of surrendering the schooner, and allowing them to leave us forever, if they will agree to do so.”

“But, if we make the proposition, will they not suspect our purpose, or take it as a confession of weakness on our part?”

“We must prevent that. But, captain, I’ve had all the sleep I want, and you are in need of it. Better secure it, therefore, while you can. Go below in the cabin and take your rest. I will stand guard here, and you need have no fear of my dropping into slumber again.”

The captain remained some time longer, and even then was loth to leave, but he consented to do so, and finally descended into the cabin, where he threw himself upon his hammock without removing his clothes.

The incidents of the day were exciting enough to keep him awake, and, despite the exhaustion of his body, he lay a long time before he closed his eyes in slumber. Even then his sleep was haunted by horrible dreams, in which he lived over again the scenes through which he had passed, when, but for the piteous pleadings of little Inez, he would have fallen a victim to the ferocity of the mutineers, and he awoke more than once with a gasp and a start, which showed how disturbed his mind was.

He had not slept long when he suddenly awoke again, and looked around in the gloom. The lamp overhead had been extinguished, and he was in utter darkness, though the silvery glow of the moonlight outside was perceptible through the windows and partly-open door. He could hear the dull booming of the breakers on the outside of the atoll, but all else was quiet, except the gentle breathing of Inez, in the berth beneath his.

“God protect her and us all!” he prayed, his heart, in the solemn stillness and solitude, ascending to the only being who could assist him and his friend in their dire extremity; for Captain Bergen was sure that no one could be placed in greater peril than were he and Abe Storms, so long as they remained among the Pearl Islands.

CHAPTER XVIII

A VISIT FROM SHORE

In the meantime Abram Storms was acting the part of a vigilant sentinel at his station on deck.

There was no doubt in his mind that the mutineers were fearful the schooner would sail away and leave them on the lonely coral island, and they were certain, as he viewed it, to make some effort to prevent such a disaster to them. But precisely how this was to be done was a serious question. They knew that the captain, having reached the Coral, had several rifles at command, and would not hesitate to shoot them the instant any attempt was made against him or little Inez, under his charge.

Nothing was more certain than that an unremitting watch would be kept upon the Coral, and, though they might believe there was but the single man there, yet unquestionably he commanded the situation.

“They will try some trick,” muttered the mate; “but I shall have a very small opinion of myself if they win. Pomp Cooper’s affection for Inez led him to interfere, when his interference accomplished a good deal more than he imagined. Ah!”

At that moment the mate heard a ghostly “Halloo!” from the shore, and he recognized the voice as belonging to Pomp.

“Just as I suspected,” said Storms, to himself; “they’re using the negro as a cat’s-paw. Well, I’ll see what they are driving at.”

Imitating the tones of Captain Bergen as closely as possible, the mate shouted:

“What do you want?”

“Am you dere?” was the rather superfluous question.

“Yes.”

“Won’t you let me come on board?”

“What for?”

“I’m sick ob dis business. I hab quarreled wid Redvig an’ Brazzier, an’ I want to jine you an’ git away from dis place.”

Abe Storms was not deceived for a moment by this transparent story. He knew there had been no quarrel, but that the mutineers had planned to get the negro on the schooner with the hope of deceiving the captain and gaining a chance to overpower him when off his guard.

“Come on out here, then,” replied the mate, who quickly determined his course of action.

Almost at the same instant a loud splash was heard, and the head of Pomp was descried in the moonlight, swimming toward the boat. The mate kept himself concealed as much as he could, stepping back when the negro began clambering up the fore-chains. Panting from his exertion, he speedily came over the gunwale upon the deck.

“Yes, cap’in, I’s tired ob dem willains, an’ I’m gwine–Oh! oh! oh!”

At that instant his eyes fell upon the figure of the mate, clad in his diving-armor, with the exception of his face, which was so clearly revealed in the moonlight that there could be no mistaking his identity.

Worse than that, the mate, standing as rigid as iron, had a gleaming revolver pointed straight at him. Pomp sank on his knees in the most abject terror.

“Oh, my heben!” he chattered, clasping his hands, “I t’ought dat you was drowned. Am you sartin dat you ain’t?”

“I am quite well satisfied on that point. But, Pomp, get up; I’ve got a word or two to say to you.”

“I will, I will; but please p’int dat weepon some oder way.”

The mate complied, and the African, somewhat reassured, though still considerably frightened, listened to the words of the man who he supposed was drowned hours before.

“I am alive and well, Pomp, as you can see, and so is the captain, who is taking a short nap in the cabin. We are well armed, as you know–”

“Yas! yas! yas!” chattered the negro.

“And we can sail away in the morning, at the turning of the tide, and leave you here–”

“Dat’s what I want you to do, an’ I’ll go wid you.”

“You can’t go! I know well enough what you came out here for. You thought you would find a chance to get the upper hand of the captain, and would let the other villains on board. There! you needn’t deny it. I understand the matter too well to be deceived.”

“Didn’t I sabe de cap’in’s life?” quavered Pomp, still fearful of the cold, measured tones of the mate.

“You befriended him at a critical moment, and therefore I won’t shoot you, when I have such a good chance to do so. But you have regretted your interference more than once, and you are seeking now to undo all the good you have done. We have it in our power not only to go away, but to bring back a force which shall hang every one of you three, as you deserve to be, but–”

“Oh! oh-o-o-o!”

“But we don’t propose to do it. We are not going away to leave you here. To-morrow we shall have a proposal to offer to your mates, which they will be glad to accept. That is about all I have to say to you.”

CHAPTER XIX

THE DEPARTURE

As Mate Storms said, he had but little more communication to make with the negro.

“You may now swim back to your friends and say that we will be ready to negotiate to-morrow morning. If they will come down to the shore, we will have a talk and arrange the whole business. Now, perhaps, you had better go back.”

Pomp Cooper was quick-witted enough to understand that this utterance was in the nature of a hint for him to depart, and he stood not on the order of his going.

“Good-by, sah,” he called out. “Much obleege fo’ your kindness, dat I shall remember a good while.”

Mate Storms stood motionless, watching him until he was perhaps a hundred feet from the craft, when he said, just loud enough to be heard:

“Sharks are mighty plenty hereabout, and I saw a big one yesterday. Shouldn’t wonder if he has a leg bit off before he gets back.”

Pomp heard the words, and they “disturbed” him, to put it mildly. Evidently he had forgotten the peril to which all persons are exposed in tropical waters, and, as the truth was impressed upon him with such suddenness, he uttered a “whiff” like a porpoise and began swimming with fierce energy toward the shore. In fact, he never put forth so much effort in all his life. The expectation of feeling a huge man-eating monster gliding beneath you when in the water is enough to shake the nerves of the strongest swimmer. He kept diving and swimming as far as he could below the surface, and then came up and continued his desperate efforts until he reached the land, where he joined his companions.

Abe Storms stood looking and listening, his face expanded in a broad smile, when he heard a light laugh at his elbow. Turning his head, he found the captain there.

“I heard your summons to him,” said the captain, by way of explanation, “and I came up to hear what it meant. I must admit, you managed the case well.”

“It might have been worse. My only fear is that the imps won’t believe we honestly intend to hold the conference with them, and offer a compromise.”

“They will find it out at daylight, and meanwhile they can’t help themselves. It is useless for me to stay below, Abe,” added the nervous captain. “There’s too much on my mind to sleep.”

Therefore, the two remained on watch until the sun rose, at which time there was nothing to be seen of the mutineers.

“They’re suspicious,” concluded the mate, who called out, in a loud voice that reached every portion of the island:

“Hello, men! come and show yourselves. We want to have a talk with you!”

A few minutes later Hyde Brazzier appeared on the shore and answered back again. It was deemed best to give the mutineers a proof of their sincerity, and instead, therefore, of holding the conversation from the deck of the schooner, the small boat was lowered, and both the captain and mate entered it and rowed ashore, where all three awaited them, as may be supposed, with some degree of astonishment.

Storms and Captain Bergen were not without some misgivings, and they did not venture unprepared into the lion’s den. Both carried a loaded revolver at command, and in case of an attack the business would have been lively. But it was unreasonable to suppose that our friends would be assailed under the peculiar circumstances. Furthermore, as the parties understood each other, there was no time wasted in reproaches or recriminations, but Captain Bergen came directly to the point.

“This state of things can’t last,” said he; “we are deadly enemies, and we would kill each other on the slightest pretext. The island is too small to contain us all. Either you three or we two must leave before the sun reaches meridian, or we shall go to fighting like caged tigers. Neither can we go away together, for I would not trust any of you again, nor would you trust either of us; therefore, one party must go, and the other must stay–which shall it be? We were prepared to leave, when we reflected that if we should be caught in some of the storms which sweep over this region, the mate and I would hardly be able to manage the schooner, and we are anxious to take care of the little girl, to whom we are greatly attached. There are three of you, all able-bodied seamen, and in case of a tempest you would be able to navigate the Coral. It would be safer, therefore, for you to take the vessel and go to some of the ports, secure assistance and send them after us. We make, therefore, this proposition: We will turn over the schooner to you, on condition that you leave with us such stores as we may choose to take, and that you proceed at once to the nearest of the inhabited Paumotu Islands and send assistance to us. Furthermore, as you know all about the pearl-oysters, we will agree to divide with you. You can take up half of what are on the bed out yonder, and you may carry them away with you, leaving a moiety to us. You are to sail just as soon as the oysters are placed on board. That’s our proposition–what do you say?”