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Adrift on the Pacific: A Boys Story of the Sea and its Perils, a fiction by Edward Sylvester Ellis |
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Chapter 26. The Flying Proa And Its Commander |
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_ CHAPTER XXVI. THE FLYING PROA AND ITS COMMANDER The lateen sail of the proa descended with a rattle and bang, the man at the oar gave it several vigorous sweeps, and the strange-looking but astonishingly swift craft came to rest almost in the same position that the schooner _Coral_ occupied three years before. "Helloa, there! How are you? How long have you been here?" When it is stated that this hail came from aboard the proa, it is unnecessary to say that our two friends were surprised, for they supposed that the visitors were natives, who at the best could not speak more than a few words of broken English. This astonishment was turned to literal amazement when they saw that the speaker was a Caucasian like themselves, one of the two standing at the prow, and looking out upon them with a smiling countenance. There was no mistaking the ruddy, sunburned face, the curling hair, and the regular, European features of the young man, whose expanded smile showed a set of white, even teeth, and he seemed to enjoy their astonishment after hearing his words. It was curious that they had failed to notice him before, inasmuch as his dress was dissimilar from the others, he having the usual tarpaulin hat and the broad trowsers of the American and English sailor. It was plain, too, that he was scarcely a man, being, in fact, a boy, who by some strange means was adrift in this part of the world. As soon as the proa was within reach of land, the youth sprang ashore, and, walking straight up to Captain Bergen, extended his right hand to him and his left to Mr. Storms, shaking both warmly, while, as he spoke, he looked from the face of one to the other. "How long have you been in this place? Judging from your clothes and looks, I should say about twenty years? Do you want to emigrate? Where are you from? What are your names? How came you here? My name is Fred Sanders, and I've been knocking about among the South Sea Islands for the last five years." There was no resisting the jolly good-nature of the young man, who had a habit of laughing heartily, when no one else could see anything to laugh at, and whose high spirits always infected others with whom he came in contact. But it would not have required much study for any one to discover that he was a wild, reckless youth, who had probably run away from home, and taken to bad ways from a natural inclination in that direction. While this interview was going on, Inez Hawthorne was absent, she having withdrawn at the suggestion of her friends, though of course the visitors knew of her presence, from having seen her on the beach. Captain Bergen replied to the greeting of his friend: "We have been here full three years. If I'm not mistaken, it is three years and two weeks this very Thursday." "Then that's just where you _are_ mistaken!" broke in Fred Sanders, with his ringing laugh, "for it so happens that to-day isn't Thursday, by a long shot!" "Of course not," Mr. Storms hastened to say. "I don't know how many arguments I have had with the captain to prove he was wrong, and that this is Friday----" And Fred threw back his head and roared louder than ever. "It's a toss up between you. I don't wonder that you got muddled when you were forced to stay in such an outlandish place as this so long. I think I would have got mixed myself." "Pray tell me what day of the week it is." "This is Tuesday afternoon, with a half-dozen hours of daylight left to you yet." While this brief conversation was going on, the two natives were upon the boat, waiting as if for permission to land. They sat as meekly as children, in a partly crouching position, intently watching, with their glittering black eyes, the three figures before them. They appeared to listen with absorbing attention to the words, as if they understood them--which they did not, excepting so far as they were interpreted by the vigorous gestures. Inez Hawthorne, as we have stated, had withdrawn to the house, when requested to do so by her teacher, but her curiosity led her to step forth and look upon the parties and listen to the conversation--the distance being so short that she could hear all that was said. The natives saw her, and so did Fred Sanders, who occasionally glanced over the shoulders of the two men with whom he was talking, in a way which they understood. The visitors could not fail to be greatly interested in her, but Fred refrained for a time from referring to the girl. Mate Storms explained that the craft in which they came to this portion of the world was wrecked, and that three of the crew were lost, and the captain, mate and a single passenger saved. Since then they had looked in vain for the coming of some friendly sail; plenty enough, however, having appeared, only to depart again and leave them in greater depths of gloom than before. "Where are you from?" asked the captain, putting the question directly to the young man. "I'm an American, born in New England, and am seventeen years old, and it is a long time since I have seen my home." "How came you in this part of the world?" "Why not here as well as anywhere else?" asked Fred Sanders, in reply. "I left home when I was only ten years of age, and have knocked about the world ever since." "But you are now among the Paumotu Islands." "Where I have been for a good while. Some time, perhaps, I will give you the whole history, but it is too long to tell now." It was apparent, from the manner of the boy, that he wished to conceal some facts of his previous life, and neither the captain nor mate pressed him--for, in truth, it was of no special interest to them, their all-absorbing subject of mental anxiety being as to how they were to get away from the hated place. "Where are you directly from?" asked Mr. Storms. "From an island, the name of which I have never heard in English, though its native name is something like Wauparmur." "Inhabited, of course?" "Yes. There are four or five hundred natives and their families. The island is a dozen miles in extent, is very fertile, and has several native towns. At one place is a good harbor, and nearly always some foreign vessel is there. Sometimes I have seen three or more, and when I left, four days ago, a trading-ship from Boston had arrived." "Oh!" exclaimed Abe Storms. "So near and yet so far!" "I think it will probably stay a week longer, for they are doing a good trade with the islanders." "You have awakened a hope that is really painful," said Captain Bergen, while the pale face of Mr. Storms showed he was affected fully as profoundly. "I don't know why it need be painful," said the young man, in his off-hand manner, which was so captivating; "for we were going on a little cruise, when we caught sight of your signal flying, and we put in to find out what the trouble was." "And are you willing to take us off?" asked Storms, who, while he felt the question was unnecessary, was still trembling with anxiety lest something should prevent their going. "Will we take you off?" asked Fred, with a ringing laugh. "That's a pretty question to ask us, when we came for the express purpose of doing so. Of course, we'll take you straight away to the island we came from, and, of course, we'll put you in the way of getting back to Boston as soon as possible, and we only regret that we hadn't the chance to get here three years sooner, so as to save you this dreary waste of time." Tears came to the eyes of both the men, and, as Captain Bergen took the hand of the youth, he said: "We will thank you forever, and will pay you well." It was an unfortunate speech, and the cooler-headed mate would never have uttered it. It might result in no harm; but why let the reckless youth know that they possessed the ability to pay him well? It would be time enough to present him with some of their valuable pearls after reaching Wauparmur, when no possible complication could result from Sanders knowing that these two ragged sailors were very wealthy men. But the words had been said, and could not be recalled, though a vague uneasiness shot through the mind of Abe Storms when he saw a sudden flash of the dark eyes of the youth, who said, in the cheeriest of voices, slapping the captain on the shoulder with a vigor that staggered him: "Who talks of paying one for doing his simple duty? If you or your friend repeats that insult, there will be war between us; and then--excuse me, but ain't you joking when you talk of paying well? For, begging pardon again, you don't look like millionaires with a very heavy bank account." Storms trembled, but he could not restrain the captain. "Of course, we wouldn't insult you, but you will be remembered; and though we are not very extravagant in the way of dress, and don't look like very wealthy men, yet I can promise you you shall be well recompensed, and, what is more, we can carry out the promise, too, in a way that will open your eyes." Having uttered these compromising words, Captain Bergen laughed in a way which alarmed the mate still more; for there was a peculiarity in his friend's actions which he had never noticed before. "I know we are dressed very poorly," added the captain, "and we wouldn't be very popular in a drawing-room, but if you set us down as poor men you will make a great mistake. Won't he, Abe--eh, boy?" And he facetiously punched the astonished and grieved mate in the side, and danced about as if he had perpetrated the best joke of his life. Just then Storms caught the eye of Fred Sanders, and he significantly tapped his own forehead to signify that the captain was not exactly right, mentally. And, when he did so, the kind-hearted mate spoke the truth. _ |
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