The Island of Gold: A Sailor's Yarn

“So long as Lord Fitzmantle kept his mouth shut, and didn’t show those flashing teeth of his, he was as invisible as Jack the Giant Killer on a dark night.

“Seeing our independence, the savages for hours held aloof. At last a white-headed, fearful-looking old man paddled alongside in a dug-out. From the fact that he had a huge snake coiled around his chest and neck, I took him to be the medicine-man, or sorcerer, of the tribe, and I was not mistaken.

“He was certainly no beauty as he sat there grinning in his dark dug-out. His face was covered with scars in circles and figures, so, too, was his chest; his eyes were the colour of brass; his teeth crimson, and filed into the form of triangles. But he climbed boldly on board when beckoned to, and we loaded him with gifts of pretty beads, and engirdled his loins with red cloth, then sent him grinning away.

“This treatment had the desired effect, and in half an hour’s time the bay was alive with the boats and canoes of the head-hunters. Each of their tall, gondola-like prows bore a grinning skull, the cheek bones daubed with a kind of crimson clay, and the sockets filled with awful clay eyes – not a pretty sight.

“Presently the king himself came off, and we received him with great ceremony, and gave him many gifts. To show our strength, James drew up his men in battle array, and to the terror of all in the boats, they fired their guns, taking aim at some brown and ugly kites that flew around. When several of these fell dead, the alarm of the king knew no bounds. But he soon recovered; and when, a little later on, I with a dozen of my best men went on shore, the king placed a poor slave girl on the beach and made signs for us to shoot. I would sooner have shot the king himself.

“Lord Augustus came with us, and we soon found that he understood much that the king said, and could therefore act as our interpreter.

“It is needless to say that the men of the lost yacht were kept out of sight.

“Our walk that day was but a brief one. The king did not seem to want us ever to cross the bridge. On climbing a hill, however, I could see all over the wild and beautiful country. I pointed to the lake and little island, and was given to understand that the medicine-men dwelt there. But from the shiftiness of the savage’s eyes, I concluded at once that, if they were alive, that was the prison isle of the unhappy ladies. The king dined with us next day, and we considered it policy to let him have a modicum of fire-water. His heart warmed, and not only did he permit our party to cross the bridge, but to visit his palace. The sights of horror around it I will not dare to depict, but, much to my joy, I noticed from the king’s veranda the flutter of white dresses on the little prison isle.

“My mind was made up, and that night I dispatched Lord Augustus on shore with a note. It was a most hazardous expedition, and none save the boy could have undertaken it with any hope of success. In my letter I had told the ladies to be of good cheer; there would be a glimmer of moonlight in a week’s time, and that then we should attempt their rescue; anyhow they were to be prepared.

“Three whole days elapsed, and yet no Lord Augustus appeared, but on the night of the fourth, when we had given him up for lost, he swam off to the ship. Poor boy, he had hardly eaten food, save fruit, since he had left, and his adventure had been a thrilling one. Yet he was laughing all over just the same.

“Yes, he had managed to give the note, and had brought back a message. The ladies had not, strange to say, been subjected to either insult or injury by the king. They were well fed on fruit and milk and cooked fowls, but were guarded day and night by priests.

“The most startling portion of the message, however, was this: in a fortnight’s time a great feast and sacrifice were to take place, and during that they knew not what might occur. They begged that the boy might be sent again, and with him a sleeping-powder, which they might administer to the priests on the night of the attempted rescue. I confess my heart beat high with anxiety when the boy told us all this, for not one word of his message had he forgotten.

“I consulted now with James and Smithson. Would it not be as well, I advanced, to attempt to rescue the ladies by force?

“This was at once vetoed. Both James and the captain of the yacht knew more of savage nature than I did, and they most strongly affirmed that any show of force would assuredly result in the putting to death of the two unhappy ladies we had come to rescue.

“So it was finally agreed that stratagem, not force, must be resorted to, in the first place, at all events. So a night was chosen, and on the previous evening faithful Lord Fitzmantle was dispatched once more, taking with him a powder for the medicine-men, or priests.

“To our great joy and relief, the messenger returned before daylight with the news that all would be ready, and that they, the ladies, would be found at midnight in a cave by the banks of the lake, if they were successful in escaping in a canoe from the island.

“‘And you know this cave, Fitz?’ I asked.

“Fitz’s eyes snapped and twinkled right merrily.

“‘I done know him, him foh true, sah!’ he said, which signified that he had a perfect knowledge of the position of the cave.

“As I speak to you even now, gentlemen, a portion of the anxiety I felt on that terrible night when, with muffled oars, our boat left the ship, comes stealing over my senses. I could not tell then why my feelings should be worked up to so high a pitch, for I’d been in many a danger and difficulty before. But so it was.

“The king had dined with us, and we sent home with him a supply of fire-water, which has worked such ruin among many savage races. But surely on this occasion we were partially justified in doing so. We knew, therefore, that the king and some of his principal officers were safe enough for one night.

“The largest boat was cautiously lowered about an hour before midnight, when everything was still as the grave on the island; a long and plaintive howl, however, being borne on the gentle breeze towards us every now and then, telling us that sentries were here and there in the woods.

“We were fifteen men in all, including James and myself, and excluding our little black guide, Lord Fitzmantle. During the nights of terror he had spent in hill and forest he had surveyed the country well, and so we could safely trust to him.

“We rowed with muffled oars to the beach near the haunted forest, and drew up our boat under some banana-trees; then, silent as the red men of the North American forests, we made our way towards the bridge.

“The moon was about five days old, and served to give us all the light we desired. We took advantage of every bush and thicket, and finally, when within seventy yards of the river – the hustling and roaring of which we could distinctly hear – we dispatched little Fitz to reconnoitre.

“He returned in a few minutes and reported all safe, and no one on watch upon the bridge.

“We marched now in Indian file, taking care not even to snap a twig, lest we should arouse the slumbering foe. I do not know how long we took to reach the cave. To me, in my terror and anxiety, it seemed a year. They were there, and safe.

“We waited not a moment to speak. I lifted the young lady in my arms. How light she was! James escorted the elder, sometimes carrying her, sometimes permitting her to walk.

“Then the journey back was commenced.

“But in the open a glimmer of moonlight fell on the face of the beautiful burden I bore. She had fainted. That I could see at a glance.

“But something more I saw, and, seeing, tottered and nearly fell; for hers was the same lovely and childlike face I had seen that evening, which now appeared so long ago, in the Liverpool theatre.

“I felt now as if walking in the air. But I cannot describe or express my feelings, being only a sailor, and so must not attempt to.

“We might have still been a hundred yards from the bridge and river, when suddenly there rang out behind and on each side of us the most awful yells I had ever listened to, while the beating of tom-toms, or war-drums, sounded all over the eastern part of the island.

“‘On, men, on to the bridge!’ shouted brave James. No need for concealment now.

“It was a short but fearful race, but now we are on it, on the bridge!

“On and over!

“All but James!

“Where is he? The moon escapes from behind a cloud and shines full upon his sturdy form, still on the other side, and at the same time we can hear the sharp ring of his revolver. Then, oh! we see him tearing up the planks of the bridge, and dropping them one by one into the gulf beneath. We pour in a volley to keep the savages back.

“‘Fly for your lives!’ shouts brave James. ‘Save the ladies; I’ll swim.’

“Next minute he dives into the chasm! For one brief moment we see his face and form in the pale moonlight. Then he disappears. He is gone.

“‘O my friend, my brother!’ I cry, stretching out my arms as if I would plunge madly into the pool that lies far beneath yonder, part in shade and part in shine.

“But they dragged me away by main force. They led me to the boat. The savages could not follow. But I seemed to see nothing now, to know nothing, to feel nothing, except that I had lost the dearest friend on earth. He had sacrificed himself to save us!”

Book Two – Chapter Seven.

“I Think You’re Going on a Wild-Goose Chase.”

Halcott paused, and gazed seawards over the great stretch of wet beach.

So wet was it that the sun’s parting rays lit it up in great stripes of crimson chequered with gold.

And yonder are the children coming slowly home across these painted sands.

A strange group, most certainly, but united in one bond of union – oh, would that all the world were so! – the bond of love.

The brother’s arm is placed gently around his sister’s waist; the Admiral is stepping drolly by Ransey’s side, with his head and neck thrust through the lad’s arm.

Something seems to tell the bird that fate, which took away his master before, might take him once again.

Bob brings up the rear. His head is low towards the sands, but he feels very happy and satisfied with his afternoon’s outing.

Halcott once more lit his pipe.

The two others were silent, and Mr Tandy nodded when Halcott smiled and looked towards him.

“Yes,” he said, “there is a little more of my story yet untold; there is a portion of it still in the future, I trust. With this, however, destiny alone has to do. Suffice it to say, that as far as Doris and myself – my simple sailor-self – are concerned, we shall be married when I return from my next cruise, if all goes well, and, like two vessels leaving the harbour on just such a beautiful night as this, sail away to begin our voyage of life on just such a beautiful sea.

“You must both know Doris before I start. But where, think you, do I mean to sail to next? No, do not answer till I tell you one thing. Neither Doris nor her mother received, while in that little lake island, the slightest injury or insult.”

“Then there is some good in the breast of even the wildest savage,” put in Weathereye. “I always thought so; bother me if I didn’t. Ahem!”

“Ah, wait, Captain Weathereye, wait! I fear my experience is different from yours. Those fiendish savages on that Isle of Misfortune were reserving my dear Doris and her mother for a fate far more terrible than anything ever described in books of imagination.

“We rescued them, by God’s mercy, just in time. They were then under the protection of the awful priests, or medicine-men, and were being fed on fruits and on the petals of rare and beautiful flowers. Their hut itself was composed of flowers and foliage.

“The king, no, not even he, could come near them, until the medicine-men had propitiated the demons that live, according to their belief, in every wood and in every ravine and gully in the island.

“Then, at the full of the moon, on that tiny islet I have marked on the map, the king and his warriors would assemble at midnight, and the awful orgies would commence.

“I shudder even now when I think of it. I happily cannot describe to you the tortures these poor ladies would have been put to before the final, fearful act. But the king would drink ‘white blood.’ He would then be invulnerable. No foe could any more prevail against him.

“While the blood was still flowing, the stake-fires would-be lit, and —

“But I’ll say no more; a cannibal feast would have concluded the ceremonies.”

“You mean to say,” cried Weathereye, bringing his fist, and a good-sized one it was, down with a bang on the sill of the open window by which he sat – “do you mean to tell me that these devils incarnate would have burned the poor dear ladies alive, then? Oh, horrible!”

“I said that they meant to; but look at this!”

He handed Weathereye a small yellow dagger.

“What a strange little knife! But why, I say, Halcott, Tandy, this knife is made of gold – solid, hammered gold!”

“Yes,” said Halcott; “and it is this dagger of hammered gold that would have saved my poor Doris and her mother from the torture and the stake.

“But,” he added, “not this dagger only, but every implement in the cave of those fearsome priests was fashioned from the purest gold.”

“This is indeed a strange story,” said Tandy.

“And now, gentlemen,” added Halcott, “can you guess to what seas my barque shall sail next?”

Tandy rose from his seat and took two or three turns up and down the floor.

He was a man who made up his mind quickly enough, and it is such men as these, and only such, who get well on in the world.

Weathereye and Halcott both kept silence. They were watching Tandy.

“Halcott,” said the latter, approaching the captain of the Sea Flower– “Halcott, have you kept your secret?”

“Secret?”

“Yes. I mean, do many save yourself know of the existence of gold on that island of blood?”

“None save me. No one has even seen the knife but myself and you.”

“Good. You love the Sea Flower?”

“I love the Sea Flower as every sailor loves, or ought to love, his ship. I wish I could afford to buy her out and out.”

“The other shares are in the market then?”

Tandy was seated now cross-legged on a chair, and leaning over the back of it, bending towards Halcott with an earnest light, in his eyes, such as few had ever seen therein.

“The other shares are for sale,” said Halcott.

It was just at this moment that Ransey Tansey and little Nelda came, or rather burst into the room. Both were breathless, both were rosy; and Bob, who came in behind them, was panting, with half a yard of tongue – well, perhaps, not quite so much – hanging red over his alabaster teeth.

“O daddy,” cried Babs, as father still called her, “we’ve had such fun! And the ’Ral,” (a pet name that the crane had somehow obtained possession of) “dug up plenty of pretty things for us, and he wanted Bob to eat a big white worm, only Bob wouldn’t.”

One of his children stood on each side of him, and he had placed one arm round each.

Thus Tandy faced Halcott once more, smiling, perhaps, a little sadly now.

“I can buy those shares, Halcott. Do not think me ambitious. A money-grabber I never was. But, you see these little tots. Ransey here can make his way in the world. – Can’t you, Ransey?”

“Rather, father,” said Ransey.

“But, Halcott, though I am not in the flower of my youth, I’m in the prime of my manhood, and I’d do everything I know to build up a shelter for my little Babs against the cold winds of adversity before I – But I must not speak of anything sad before the child.”

“You have a long life before you, I trust,” said Weathereye.

Tandy seemed to hear him not.

“I’d go as your mate.”

The two sailors shook hands.

“You’ll go as my friend, and keep watch if you choose.”

“Agreed!”

“Bravo!” cried Weathereye. “Shiver my jib, as sailors say in books, if I wouldn’t like to go along with both of you!”

“Why not, Captain Weathereye?”

The staff-commander laughed. “Not this cruise, lads, though I’m not afraid for my life, or the little that may be left of it, and you must take care of yours. I think myself you are going on a kind of wild-goose chase, and that the goose – that is, the gold – will have the best of it, by keeping out of your way. Well, anyhow, I’ll come and see you both over the bar. Where do you sail from?”

“Southampton.”

“Good! and the last person you’ll see as you drop out to sea will be old Weathereye in a boat waving his red bandana to wish you luck. Good-night!

“Good-night, little Babs! How provokingly pretty she is, Tandy! better leave her at Scragley Hall, and the crane too. She’ll be well looked after, you may figure upon that. Come and give the old man a kiss, dear.”

But Nelda hung her head.

“Not if you say that, Captain Weathereye. Wherever ever daddy goes, I go with him. I’m not going to let my brother run away to sea and leave me again.”

“And you won’t give me Bob?” said Weathereye.

“Oh, no!”

“Nor the Admiral?”

Nelda looked up in the old captain’s face now.

“I’m just real sorry for you,” she said; “but the Hal’s going and all —you may figure on that.”

Weathereye laughed heartily.

Then he drew the child gently towards him and kissed her little sun-browned hand.

“May God be with you, darling, where’er on earth you roam! And with you all. Good-night again.”

And away went honest Captain Weathereye.

Book Two – Chapter Eight.

At Sea – Mermaids and Mermen

So long as the wind blew free, even though it did not always blow fair, there was joy, and jollity, too, in every heart that beat on board the saucy Sea Flower, fore as well as aft.

She looked a bonnie barque now, in every sense of the word.

Tandy and Halcott had spared neither expense nor pains in rigging her well out. Had not her timbers been stanch and sound they certainly would not have done so.

She had new sails, a new jibboom, and several new spars; and before she got clear and away out of the English Channel the crew of many a homeward-bound ship manned their riggings and gave her a hearty cheer.

Halcott had left the whole rig-out of the Sea Flower to Mr Tandy, and had not come near her for six long weeks.

He was better employed, perhaps, and more happy on shore. But pleased enough he was on his return.

“Why, Tandy, my dear fellow, this isn’t a ship any more; it’s a yacht?”

“A pot of paint and a bucket of tar go a long way,” Tandy replied smiling.

“Ah! there’s a good deal more than tar here; but how you’ve managed to get her decks and spars so white and beautiful, bother me if I can tell. And her ebony is ebony no longer, it is polished jet, while her brass work is gold.”

Down below the two had now gone together.

Tandy could not have made the cabin a bit bigger if he had tried, but he had removed every morsel of her lumbering old lockers and tables, and refurnished it with all he could think of that was graceful and beautiful.

Mirrors, too, were everywhere along the bulk-heads, and these made the saloon look larger. The only wonder is that, in a lit of absent-mindedness, some one did not walk right through a mirror.

Hanging tables, beautiful crystal, brackets, and artificial flowers gave a look that was both lightsome and gay.

On the port side, when you touched a knob, a mirrored door opened into the captain’s cabin – small but pretty, and lighted by an airy port that could be carried open in good weather, and all along in the trades.

The other state-room was larger. This Halcott had insisted upon Tandy taking; and it contained not only his own bunk, but a lower one for Nelda, and was better decorated and furnished than even the captain’s.

“Oh, gaily goes the ship when the wind blows free.”

And right gaily she had gone too, as yet.

Halcott was a splendid sailor and navigator. It might have been thought, however, that Tandy, from his long residence on shore, had turned a little rusty in his seamanship.

If he had, the rust had not taken long to rub off; and as he trod the ivory-white quarterdeck in his duck trousers, neat cap, and jacket of navy blue, he really looked ten years younger than in the days when he sailed the Merry Maiden up and down the canal.

The crew were well-dressed, and looked happy and jolly enough for anything.

I need hardly say that Nelda was the pet of the Sea Flower, fore and aft. There was no keeping the child to any one part of the ship. In fine weather – and, with the exception of a “howther” in the Bay, it had up till now been mostly fine – she was here, there, and everywhere: in the men’s quarters; down below in the forecastle; at the forecastle-head itself, when the men leaned over the bows there, smoking, yarning, and laughing; and in the cook’s galley, helping to make the soup. But she ventured even further than this, and more than once her father started to find her in the foretop, and standing beside her that tall, imperturbable Admiral.

The bird was pet number two; but Bob made an equal second.

At first the ’Ral was inclined to mope. Perhaps he was sea-sick. It is a well-known fact that if a Cape pigeon, as a certain gull is called, is taken on board, it can fly no more, but walks slowly and stupidly round the deck.

Sea-sickness had not troubled Bob in the slightest. When he saw the ’Ral standing in the lee-scuppers, with his neck hitched right round till the head lay right on the top of his tail, Bob looked at him comically with his head cocked funnily to one side.

Then he seemed to laugh right away down both sides, so to speak. Bob was a droll dog.

“My eyes, Admiral,” he said, “what a ridiculous figure you do cut, to be sure! Why, at first I couldn’t tell which was the one end of you and which was the other.”

“I don’t care what becomes of me,” the Admiral replied, talking over his tail. “It is a very ordinary world. I’ll never dance again.”

But, nevertheless, in three days’ time the Hal did dance, and so droll and comical were his capers on the heaving deck that the crew lay aft in a body and laughed till they nearly burst their belts. The Admiral took kindly to his meal-worms after that, and didn’t despise potted salmon and morsels of mutton.

Now it must not be supposed that the Sea Flower was going out in ballast, on the mere chance of filling up with gold. They might never see the Isle of Misfortune, and all their dreams of gold might yet turn out as dreams so often do.

Halcott and Tandy were good sailors, and but little likely to trust overmuch to blind chance. They took out with them, therefore, a good-paying cargo of knick-knacks and notions to barter with the natives along the coast of Africa. Having made a good voyage – and they knew they should – and having filled up with copal, nutmegs, arrowroot, spices, ivory, and perhaps even gold-dust and ostrich feathers from the far interior, they would stretch away out and over the broad Atlantic, and rounding the Horn, make search for the Isle of Misfortune, which they hoped to find an island of gold.

If unsuccessful, they should then bear up for the northern Pacific Islands, taking their chance of doing something with pearls or mother-of-pearl, and so on and away to San Francisco, where they were sure of a market, even if they wished to sell the Sea Flower herself.

But the best of sailors get disheartened far sooner in calms than even in tempests.

In the latter, one has all the excitement of a battle with the elements; in the former, one can but wait and think and long for the winds to blow.

“The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,The furrow followed free.”

Yes; but although in the region of calms some ships seem to have luck, the Sea Flower had none.

“Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,’Twas sad as sad could be;And they did speak only to breakThe silence of the sea.”

A week, a fortnight, nearly three weary weeks went past like this.

There was no singing now forward among the men. Even little Fitz the nigger, who generally was trolling a song, at times high over the roar of the wind, was silent now. So, too, was Ransey Tansey. He and Nelda had been before the life of the good ship. It seemed as if they should never be so again. Bob took to lying beside the man at the wheel. As far as the latter was concerned, there might just as well have been no man there at all. The sea all round was a sea of heaving oil. The waves were houses high – not long rollers, but a series of hills and valleys, in which the Sea Flower wallowed and tumbled; while the fierce heat of the sun caused the pitch to melt and bubble where the decks were not protected by an awning.