The Second String

The black showed his teeth in a broad grin; then he opened his mouth wide, showing a huge cavity. He closed it with a snap, made a show of swallowing something, and then rubbed his stomach.

"Quite so," said Amos. "You have swallowed pearls before, and can do it again, but on this trip you will have to adopt some other method of hiding them."

Miah grunted curiously, and then said —

"We can hide pearls, you can be sure of that."

"If they find you out you will have a bad time, so you had better be careful," said Amos. "Anyway, I suppose you will go?"

They both assented, and he said —

"If you find good pearls and bring them to me, I can get a price for them. You cannot do so, therefore it will be to your interests to hand them over to me."

They nodded, and understood perfectly well what he required of them. There were many ways of hiding pearls on a schooner, and expert divers had but little difficulty in concealing them.

The pearl fishing in Shark's Bay proved so unsatisfactory that Phil Danks strongly advised a move to the north-west.

"Hooker was about right," he said. "The place is worked out; we shall have no luck here, and it is a waste of time."

It was eventually decided, after a consultation, to clear out of Shark's Bay and make tracks for Jacob Rank's bay, where they hoped to find him, and many pearls as well.

This decision was communicated to Amos Hooker, who made it an excuse for not getting more than two divers to go with them.

"They are splendid fellows," he said, "you'll not find two better anywhere. Of course, they require watching, most of them do, but they work well, and are on the whole honest."

He brought Kylis and Miah on board the "Heron," and Phil Danks liked the look of them, but was curious as to how they came to be at Shark's Bay with Hooker. He knew very well they were natives, who had seen a good deal of travelling, and was surprised at their knowledge of English.

Amos, in answer to his inquiries, gave a plausible account of how he came to find them, but did not state they were on the "Mary Hatchett" with him.

Terms were fixed, and the two men sailed on the "Heron." Amos Hooker, as he watched the schooners leave the bay, wondered what would be the result of the trip. If there was a rich haul he had no doubt he would come in for a share.

The position of Rank's Bay, as Phil Danks named it, was unknown to them, but they were determined to find it, and when such men as these skippers make up their minds to do a thing they generally succeed.

A week after leaving Shark's Bay they came across the entrance to what looked like a good sized harbour. On either side trees were growing, and it was an inviting place, providing the passage was safe. Phil Danks sent out a boat to take soundings, and on their return the man in charge reported there was plenty of water, but that the bottom was rocky and covered with coral. His opinion was that a big coral reef existed all along the coast, which at low tide would be dangerous.

Phil Danks agreed with him, and thought it would be the best plan to anchor outside the heads, and explore the bay in small boats.

Accordingly, the two skippers, with Jack and Harry, and half a dozen men, rowed towards the opening.

The sea was as clear as crystal, and at the bottom Jack Redland saw a sight that astonished him. The boat seemed to be gliding over the jagged tops of some great mountain range. They were rowing over a coral reef, and the splendour of the huge masses of grotesque shapes was dazzling. The movement of the water caused the most beautiful reflections, and almost every shade of rainbow hues was to be seen. Gorgeously coloured sea anemones clustered on the white coral, and strangely coloured fish darted in and out of their hiding places.

"What a wonderful sight!" said Jack.

"Yes, it's not a bad entrance, and there seems to be plenty of vegetation," said Phil.

"I was alluding to the coral bed," replied Jack.

Phil Danks smiled as he replied —

"It is new to you, of course. I am not partial to coral reefs. I see the danger in them – not the beauty. If you were dashed on to one in a gale you would have a different opinion of them."

"I suppose they are dangerous," replied Jack.

"Yes, and treacherous. They tear the bottom out of a boat before you know where you are."

They passed safely through the narrow opening, and there burst upon them a strange sight. They were in a small bay, and round it were large trees sweeping down almost to the edge of the water. There was no sign of life, and yet the place seemed so home-like they could hardly believe it to be desolate.

"I have been up this coast a few times," said Hake Moss, "and never struck this place before. Have you, Phil?"

"Never," answered Danks, "and it's worth exploring. I vote we land over yonder and see what sort of a country it is."

He pointed across the bay to where the white beach shimmered in the blazing sunlight, and the trees drooped in graceful folds over it.

"There may be natives here," said Moss. "We must be cautious; they are treacherous beggars, especially when they have not seen much of white men."

They had their guns with them, and Phil, pointing to them, said, "We can easily frighten them off with a few shots."

"We must all keep together, at any rate," replied Moss. "The danger arises when there is any separation. I'll never forget in one of the South Sea Islands when I strolled away into the bush by myself. I had not been half an hour alone before I was surrounded by yelling savages. I made a bolt for it, but it was more by good luck than anything else I got back to the boat with nothing worse than a couple of spear wounds."

"This is different to the South Seas," said Phil; "but as you say, it is well to be cautious, for there is no telling what may happen. This cannot be Rank's Bay; there's no pearl shell in here."

"I wonder if we shall find the place," said Jack.

"We will find it if it is to be found," answered Phil, as the boat grated on the sand, and he sprang out, gun in hand. The others followed, and leaving a man in charge with instructions to keep a sharp look out, they walked up the sloping bank under the trees.

"There's a path here," said Moss, "and that's a sure sign natives hang about the place."

Jack Redland was looking across the bay, thinking what a glorious sight it was, when the sand on the opposite side seemed to be alive with a moving mass of living creatures. He gave an exclamation of surprise, and the others turned round to ascertain the cause.

"Look!" said Jack, pointing across. "What are those black masses moving about on the beach?"

"By jove, they are turtles!" exclaimed Moss. "We must get hold of some of them before we go back to the schooner. They are splendid eating and no doubt we shall find any amount of eggs."

Jack had tried turtle soup, and seen an occasional one in a London shop, but here was a swarm that fairly astonished him.

"Shall we follow the path or try for the turtle?" asked Moss.

"Turtle, by all means," laughed Jack.

"I'm rather curious about that path," was the reply.

"Hang the path! I agree with Mr. Redland. Let us go for the turtle," said Phil, as he walked towards the boat.

They followed him, and were sauntering leisurely down when a strange whirring, hissing sound was heard, and a shower of spears fell all round them. This was followed by loud cries, and savage yells, and a crashing in the bush behind them.

"Run for it!" yelled Moss, and they raced down the beach for the boat.

CHAPTER ELEVENTH

TURNING TURTLE AND AFTER

They had barely time to scramble into the boats and pull out into the bay before the savages dashed down to the edge of the beach waving their spears frantically. Some, more venturesome than others, plunged into the water and swam swiftly after the boats. There must have been at least a hundred, and a fierce looking lot they were. The men pulled hard and the boats were soon out of range of the spears, but it was a narrow escape.

"Let them have a dose of shot," said Moss.

Phil Danks levelled his gun at one of the swimmers and was about to fire, when Jack said, "Don't hit him, aim over his head, the noise will frighten them and it is time enough to kill when we are in danger."

"As you like," replied Phil, laughing, "but an odd nigger or two makes but little difference, and it would teach them not to interfere with white men in future."

He fired the gun, and the sound had a marvellous effect upon the blacks. Some of them dropped down on their knees on the beach, others turned and fled into the bush; as for the swimmer Phil had intended hitting, he dived and did not come up until he reached shallow water, when he scrambled out and ran after the others.

"It's strange they have never heard a gun fire before, this harbour is evidently unknown; we have discovered something during our trip, at any rate; I think we'll call it Redland Bay," said Phil.

Jack laughed, he thought it would be something to boast of on his return to England if a newly discovered harbour was named after him.

The blacks were evidently thoroughly frightened for they saw no more of them.

"It seems curious, they have no boats," said Hake Moss, "they can never have been out to sea. I expect always go round the place on land."

"They have canoes hidden somewhere, depend upon it," replied Phil. "There's plenty of fish here and they are generally clever fishermen."

The boats reached the farther side of the bay, and they spent a lively hour or two turning turtle. The huge ungainly creatures seemed to be too lazy to move, and their weight was enormous. Phil Danks said it was quite unusual to see them on the beach in the day time as they generally crawled out of the water at night. It was evidently a favourite breeding place, for the females were there in abundance, and thousands of eggs were to be found.

"The male turtle has more sense," said Phil, "I have never seen one out of the water."

To Jack Redland and his friend, the turning of turtle was a novel experience. Some of them were so heavy that it took their united efforts to throw them on their backs, and once in that position they were helpless. The silvery sand was soon covered with turned turtle, about fifty of them being at the mercy of their captors.

"What are we to do with the beggars?" asked Jack. "We cannot take the lot on board, it would swamp the boats."

"We will take as many as we require, and turn the remainder over again, if they are left on their backs, they will never get on their feet again, and will rot in the sun. Hundreds of them are destroyed in this way by natives and divers who seem to do it out of pure devilment."

"What a shame," said Harry Marton. "I say, Jack, some of our city aldermen would smack their lips over this sight."

"Yes, turtle is cheap enough here, whatever it may be in London," he replied laughing.

"See this fellow," said Danks, kicking one with his boot. "It's what they call a hawk bill, they are not fit to eat, but tortoise-shell is obtained from them and that makes them valuable. The others are green turtle. They are all right."

"How much do you think this one weighs?" asked Jack, pointing to a larger one than most of the others.

"It will not be far off three hundred pounds weight," answered Phil.

Jack gasped in astonishment, he had no idea they were so heavy.

"The bulk of them average at least a couple of hundred pounds I should say," remarked Hake Moss.

It was no easy matter to get them into the boats, but they succeeded after some difficulty, and the dinghies were almost level with the water.

"We had better put all the turtle in one dinghy and tow her back," said Jack.

"A good idea, we will," replied Phil, and they set to work again until the boat was filled, they then turned the other turtles over, and were about to row back to the schooners, when a screeching attracted their attention and they saw large flocks of birds hovering about the tops of the rocks.

"Melton birds and gulls," said Phil, "we may as well have some fresh eggs now we are about it; I reckon there'll be enough to satisfy a whole fleet over there," and he pointed to a long stretch of sand in which hundreds of them were settling.

It was a curious sight to see these thousands of birds on the sands, and they did not appear to be at all frightened of the visitors to their haunt. They got out of the dinghies again and walked towards them. On their approach a few of the birds rose and whirled around, uttering hoarse cries. But the greater number remained still on their nests, or walked slowly about amongst the stones.

Jack was amused at them, and as he walked, he had frequently to push them out of the way with his foot.

There were thousands of eggs, and they filled two large sacks with them, choosing those which were apparently freshly laid. It was not difficult to tell them as they were perfectly clean, and had a peculiar sticky feel, quite unlike the eggs that had been sat upon.

"Are the birds fit to eat?" asked Jack.

"Melton birds are not bad, the others are no good, a man must be fairly on the verge of starvation to tackle them," replied Moss.

"There does not appear to be much fear of starving here," laughed Jack.

"Perhaps not, but the diet would soon become monotonous," replied Harry.

It was time to return to the schooners, as they had been absent all day, and it was not advisable to leave them for a longtime. It was tedious work running out of the bay, and rather dangerous, as the tide was much lower and here and there sharp pieces of coral stood out of the water. Had one of the boats struck on such a projection it would have speedily ripped open the bottom, or the side.

Phil Danks, however, was a careful steerer and navigated them into the open sea, the dinghy in tow having one or two narrow escapes.

When the blacks saw the boat load of turtle, they gave vent to their joy and danced about the deck.

"You'll see how they gorge themselves to-night," said Phil, "it is enough to make a man cry off turtle for ever to watch them."

"Then I propose we leave them to it," said Jack. "I do not want to spoil my appetite."

The cargo was hauled on board, and the schooners were soon under weigh, Harry Marton remaining on the "Heron" for the night.

There was very little breeze, and the movement was scarcely perceptible. It was a glorious night, the sun shining on the water and illuminating the coast line. The air was pure and cool, and as Jack Redland sat alone at the stern of the schooner, his thoughts commenced to wander to a far different scene thousands of miles away.

He wondered what Sir Lester and Winifred were doing, and what she would have thought of such an experience as he had just gone through. What a contrast it all was to the beautiful Sussex landscape over which he had so often looked from The Downs. Here he was on a pearling schooner, nearing the northernmost point of Australia, and yet his mind was very far away, and his memory lingered over the sights and sounds of Brighton, and the hum of the racecourse. Certainly he was dozing, yet he was half awake; he knew he was smoking, and that the wreaths from his pipe were curling away in the wake of the schooner, and yet he fancied he scented the smell of new mown hay, and in a dim sort of light saw banks covered with primroses and hedgerows budding green, the trees opening out their leaves, the birds nesting, others teaching their young to fly. It mattered not that primroses and new mown hay did not harmonise, it was what he felt and saw, jumbled together in a delightful tangle from which he made no effort to extricate himself.

Now he was on Lewes racecourse and felt the wind whistle past his face, and buzz in his ears, as he made a desperate effort to land Topsy Turvy first past the post. He heard the shouts of the crowd, the roar of the excited backers, and then the next moment he knew he had won, and Sir Lester was congratulating him, and better than all, Winifred was there, all smiles. He heard Job Seagrave's sonorous voice, and smiled in his half awake land of dreams.

He was sitting down on a primrose bank and a gypsy stood looking at him. He held out his hand and she read his fate, he was to claim his own at last. He saw a fair young girl with arms outstretched pleading for him to stay and not venture forth upon his mad quest. He felt her warm form as he pressed her to him, snatched a kiss, and hurried away.

His pipe dropped, and the noise startled him from his reverie. He sat up and looked around wonderingly, hardly realising his whereabouts. A moment ago he was in Sussex, now he was in reality coasting in North-West Australia, and the little schooner was making good headway.

It had been a pleasant enchantment while it lasted; we should be very lonely, very dissatisfied with the ordinary duties of life if we had no dreams.

He looked round and smiled as he saw Harry Marton and Phil Danks fast asleep in their comfortable chairs. Let them sleep on, he was contented with his little romance, he would go through it all over again now he was wide awake.

What if this pearling venture turned out a failure? It was merely a start, the first step on the voyage to wealth and Winifred. If it was not a success he would lose nothing, except time, and that was precious; he could not ask her to wait too long, he had not asked her at all, at least not in words. He must hustle, as an American friend told him, if he meant to get ahead of his fellow men. He smiled as he thought it would be a difficult job to make Phil Danks hustle, the skipper of the "Heron" was a man who made time his slave, not his master, and he looked contented on it.

Pearls; he would at any rate secure some for Winifred even if he had none for himself. He remembered she was fond of pearls, and had a very old chain of them left her by her grandmother. If he had his will the depths of the sea should give up pearls of great price for her gratification, and he would send her them as a token he had not forgotten her. That was a good idea, the first fine pearls he had as his share of the venture should be sent direct to her. Would it look like bribery, a gift to induce her to wait for him, and not regard offers from others with favour? He thought not, she would understand her old playmate wished to prove he was loyal, and would be glad he remembered she loved pearls.

But the pearls were as yet at the bottom of the sea, and he was on the schooner, and they were dawdling along at a very slow pace, quite in keeping with their aldermanic repast on Redland Bay turtle. If he did nothing else the name of that bay would abide for ever as a memory of his trip to the land of chances and dashed hopes.

There was the Great Tom mine, he wondered how that had turned out. Sir Lester's five hundred was sunk in it, he hoped it would bring him luck. Supposing the shares went up to two pounds, that would be a thousand, and he had heard that a great financier once said any man ought to be able to make a fortune with a capital of a thousand pounds. Then he suddenly recollected that same financier, who had made millions, came to a terrible end, the only way out of his trouble being death by his own hand. It was not an alluring prospect after all, this amassing of wealth, there must be something a good deal better in the world. He concluded a modest income with an abundance of domestic happiness would be more to his taste.

The Great Tom mine share might go up to three pounds, even four or five.

He commenced to reckon up what he would do with his money when he had sold out for five times the amount he had invested. He'd ask Barry Tuxford's advice, it was he who made the money for him, and it was only natural he should give him a wrinkle what to do with it. Then he remembered he and Harry Marton were to go halves; it was his own suggestion and he would stick to it, but if he made a fortune and Harry failed it would be rather rough on the lucky one. He laughed to himself as he pictured Harry Marton's dismay when he handed him over half his wealth, which he did not yet possess. Harry would refuse to take it, and there must be a compromise, but he was determined if he was successful his friend should also be a gainer.

The "Heron" sailed on in sight of the "Wild Cat," and Jack Redland, young and active, was full of hope and eager anticipation. The search for fortune is more enchanting, more enthralling, than the actual realisation, which, however successful it may prove is always insufficient to stave off the craving for more.

CHAPTER TWELFTH

JACOB'S YARN

"I shall be glad when we have done messing about here and set to work. We look like making a long trip; at this rate, we shall not be back at Fremantle under a twelve month," grumbled Phil.

"I'm tired of doing nothing," replied Jack, "and this is a slow way of making a fortune. We ought to be somewhere near the place by now."

"We may have slipped past it," replied Phil.

"And have to return," said Jack in dismay. "That will be shocking bad luck."

Another three days passed, and they seemed as far off their journey's end as ever, until next morning one of the men shouted out that there was a signal on a promontory jutting out into the sea.

They rushed to the fore part of the schooner, and looked eagerly at the spot. The man was right; there was a long pole with something waving at the top, evidently a signal to passing vessels.

"It may be a very old one," said Phil.

"Perhaps it is Jacob Rank's signal," replied Jack.

"Let us hope so; anyway, we will make for it. I wonder if they have seen it on board the 'Wild Cat?'"

The other schooner was some distance behind, and as Jack looked through his glasses he saw no sign of excitement on board.

"I do not think they have," he said, "but in any case they will follow in our track."

The "Heron" headed for the rock on which the signal was fixed, and as they drew near it they saw it was a projection of one side of the heads of a bay.

Their spirits rose, and Phil said —

"It's Jacob's Bay, I'll wager. It answers the description exactly. Look there; the rock jutting out bare and jagged, the other side of the channel wooded and sloping gradually down. The entrance narrow, the scene from the ocean exactly as he described it. Here we are at last, boys. Give a rousing cheer; let off a few guns, and if Rank is alive that will bring him out of his shell."

They cheered lustily, and Jack discharged the gun several times.

Harry Marton on the "Wild Cat" asked Moss the meaning of the commotion, and he replied "They must have found the place at last, and glad I am of it. We have had a long journey for nothing so far."

The "Heron" sailed steadily towards the entrance and as she passed the promontory they saw the flag at the top of the staff was made of an old shirt, or some such garment.

"It cannot have been there very long," said Phil, eyeing it through the glasses. "It has only recently been put up, so the probabilities are the man is alive."

The bay they entered was much larger than the former one, almost the size of Shark's Bay, and Phil expressed the opinion that it was a good place for pearl fishing.

Rounding the corner they saw a man who was on the look out, and he waved his arms furiously and danced about in great glee.

The schooner steered closer to the shore, and at last there came a loud shout from the solitary human being.

"By all that's wonderful, it's Jacob Rank," said Phil, and he waved back to him. "Let go the anchor, we'll row ashore," he said, excitedly.

A dinghy was soon in the water, and they scrambled in. In a very short time they were on the sand, and Phil was wringing Jacob's hand until there seemed to be a good chance of their arms coming off.

The excitement was too much for Rank, who sat down on the beach and almost wept for joy. When he became calmer he said —

"What in heaven's name brought you here, Phil?"

"The 'Heron,' and we were sent by Barry Tuxford. We have another schooner, the 'Wild Cat,' see, she is just entering the heads."

"And who is this young man?"

"Mr. Redland. He is in the venture with Harry Marton, who is on that schooner, and we are all in it with Barry."

"Then he did not believe I was dead?"

"No. The beggars said you were drowned, when they reached Fremantle, and that there was no pearl shell to be found, but Barry didn't cotton to that yarn, so he organised another expedition to find you and your boy, and here we are."