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Fire Island, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 27. An Awkward Scrape |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. AN AWKWARD SCRAPE The first impulse of Oliver Lane was to drop down flat upon the sun-baked sand and earth, so as to protect himself from being seen in the glare of the blue light. His example was followed by the others, whose thoughts reverted also to the possibility of a bullet intended for the enemy, hitting a friend. And there they lay listening after the dying out of the yells, and watching the glare from the blue light as it lit up the surroundings of the brig, and then sank lower and lower till all was darkness as well as silence. Judging from what they heard, Mr Rimmer and his men were safe enough so far, and had been aware of the Indians' attack. But what was to come next? The watchers asked themselves this question as they lay close together listening for the slightest sound, waiting for a solution of the little problem which had so much to do with their future: Had the enemy seen them when the light was burning? Long-drawn-out minutes passed as they waited in the darkness, now hopeful, now despondent, for Oliver felt a touch on his arm simultaneously with a soft, rustling sound, and the _pat, pat_ of naked feet going over the sand. The message of danger was silently telegraphed by a touch to the others, and every weapon was grasped, those who had guns slightly raising the muzzles, while Smith took out his jack-knife to open it with his teeth, and Wriggs, to use his own words--afterwards spoken--"stood by" with the ladder, meaning to use it as a battering-ram to drive it at any enemy who approached. But the sound passed over to their right, and all was silent again. "Hadn't we better creep up to the ship?" whispered Oliver. "And be shot for enemies?" replied Panton, in the same tone. "They haven't seen us, so we had better wait till morning." "And then make ourselves marks for spears and arrows." "Better than for bullets. I'd rather a savage mop-headed Papuan shot me, than Mr Rimmer did." "Hist! Silence!" whispered Drew, who had crept closer. "Enemy." He was right, for footsteps were heard again, coming from the direction of the brig, and it seemed like a second party following the first, till it occurred to Panton that this might be the same party returning from passing right round the vessel. But they had no means of knowing, and a few minutes later they all lay there asking themselves whether they would not have acted more wisely if they had fired a volley into the enemy when they first came up, and followed up the confusion the shots would have caused by rushing to the brig. "They would not have taken us for the enemy then," said Drew. But the opportunity had gone by, and to add to their discomfort, a low, murmuring sound indicated that the savages had come to a halt between them and their friends. For a good hour the party waited in the hope that the enemy would move away, but it soon became evident that they had settled down for a permanent halt, and the murmur of voices came so clearly to the ear that all felt the danger of attempting to speak, lest they should bring the enemy upon them. Somehow, in spite of his being the youngest, Drew and Panton fell into the habit of letting Oliver Lane take the post of leader, and when after a long and wearisome period of waiting he whispered his ideas, they were accepted at once, as being the most sensible under the circumstances. Oliver's plan was this: to gradually creep back from the position they occupied, until they felt that they were out of hearing, and then to bear off to their left, and gradually get round to the other side of the brig, which would thus be placed between them and the enemy. The greatest caution was necessary in the presence of so wary a foe, and it was not until this had been duly impressed upon the two sailors that Oliver began the retrograde movement so slowly and softly that his companions could hardly realise the fact that he had started. Panton followed, then Smith and Wriggs, and Drew brought up the rear. They had all risen and followed one another in Indian file, almost without a sound. But the murmuring that was made by the Papuans came softly through the darkness, as if the savages were engaged in a debate upon the subject of how they had better make their next attack. Then all at once there was a sharp crack, for Oliver had stepped upon a large, thin shell, which broke up with a fine ear-piercing sound, that must have penetrated for a long distance. That it had reached the spot where the Papuans were was evident, for the murmuring of voices ceased on the instant. "Down. Lie down," whispered Oliver. "They will come to see what the noise was." They lay down upon the soft sand, listening with every nerve upon the strain, but not for long. Before many seconds had passed, there was a peculiar soft, rattling sound such as would be made by a bundle of reed arrows, secure at one end and loose at the other. This noise came nearer, and then at a little distance, as they held their breath, it seemed as if a shadow passed by, and then another, and another. Oliver's hand which held his gun trembled, not from fear, but from the nervous strain, and the knowledge that at any moment he might, for the first time in his life, be compelled in self-defence, and for the protection of his companions, to fire upon a party of savages, and so shed the blood of a human being. He stretched out his left hand as the third shadowy figure went lightly by, and touched Panton's arm, to have the extended hand caught and pressed warmly. This was encouraging, and told of a trusty friend ready to help. Then they lay there upon their breasts for some minutes, gazing in the direction taken by the enemy, while the impressive silence continued. At last came a quick, sharp pressure of the hand, which seemed to imply--Look out! Here they come. For at that moment, the quick, soft beat of feet came again, and three shadowy figures passed so close to them that it seemed impossible for them to remain unseen, but their clothes assimilated so with the sun-burned sand and earth that the enemy passed on, and in a minute or two the murmuring of voices arose once more. "Come on," whispered Oliver, and he rose quickly, while the word was passed to the others, and they recommenced their retreat, taking every step cautiously. It was not an easy task, for there was no judging distances by any object, and hence Oliver had to walk straight away into the darkness, till he guessed that he was far enough distant. Then he began to veer round to his right, and he had hardly done this, when from somewhere behind came a sharp sound, best expressed by the word _Thung_! accompanied by a sharp whizz. No one needed any telling what had produced that noise, for it was evident that one of the Papuans had hung back to keep watch, and hearing if not seeing, he had sent an arrow in the direction by which the party was retreating. Oliver halted for a few moments with the thought in his mind which took the form "poisoned," and he listened for some exclamation from one or other of his companions indicating pain, or the sound of a fall. But all was still. The others had given up to him as leader, and when he stopped they halted, and when he moved on again they followed, in full expectation of another arrow whizzing by. But none came, and increasing his speed now and trying as well as he could to move in a curve large enough to carry him round to the other side of the brig, Oliver pressed on. "Oh, if only they would burn another blue light," he muttered, as striving to pierce the darkness ahead, and with his gun across his breast ready for instant action, he went on and on, with all kinds of curious thoughts occurring to him as his pulses beat heavily, and even his brain seemed to throb. Stories he had read and heard of people who were lost moving in a circle and getting back to the place from which they had started troubled him, others of people wandering about in the dark and going over the same ground, and of others walking right into the very spot they sought to avoid. These and similar thoughts made him break out into a cold perspiration, and wish that Panton had taken the lead. But all the time he was steadily walking on in the direction he believed to be correct, till he felt at last that he must be level with the brig, then passing it, and again that he must be well on his way now, and that it was time to turn more sharply round and get up to the other side of the vessel. Then--_Splash_! He drew back with a chill of dread running through his frame, for he had reached the edge of a pool, and there was no water within half a mile of the spot where the brig lay. "What is it--water?" whispered Panton. "Yes, I have come wrong." "No, you haven't, only kept straight on instead of bearing more to your right." "But I thought I was bearing well to the right," whispered Oliver. "So did I--too much, but you see you were not. This is the half-dried-up pool, where there are three crocos. I saw them the other day." "It can't be." _Splash, splash, splash, splash_! Four heavy blows given to the surface of the water by the tail of a great reptile, for the purpose of stunning any fish there might be close at hand. "Yes; you're right," said Oliver. "Then we ought to bear away to the right now?" "That's it. Go on." Fortunately the ground was open now, and there was nothing to dread but the scattered blocks of coral which it was too dark to see, but Oliver stepped out boldly, chancing a fall over any of these obstacles, and for the next ten minutes or so he made pretty good progress, and felt sure that he was going right, for he every now and then stepped short with his right foot. "I must be near the brig now," he said to himself, and after gradually slackening his pace he stopped short and listened, in the hope of hearing some sound on board the vessel, and to his great joy there was a whispering not far away. Reaching out his hand, he touched Panton, and then placing his lips to his companion's ear he said,-- "Can you hear that?" "Yes, some one talking." "Well, I make it out to be on the brig. What are we to do next?" "Creep a little nearer, and then wait for morning. If we go too close, the next thing will be a shot in our direction." "Hark!" "What is it?" "Listen. Isn't this peculiar?" Panton was silent there in the darkness for a few minutes, and then with his lips to Oliver's ear,-- "I say," he said, "isn't this rather queer?" "What? I don't understand you." "If that's people on the brig she's coming nearer to us; I thought at first that the wind might be bringing the sound, but it isn't. The sound's coming closer." "Mr Rimmer is down, then, patrolling round with some of his men. Be careful, or they may shoot." "Not he. Mr Rimmer wouldn't leave his wooden fort in the darkness. Listen." "Yes, you're right. Whoever it is, is coming this way." "It's the enemy, then, and we must retreat again." "But which way? What are we to do? We must be near the brig at daybreak, so that as soon as it is light we may make a rush for it." "We ought to be, but we mustn't be within sight of Mr Papuan at daybreak; for, so near as we are, we shall have some of his arrows quivering in us. I don't know that I am very much afraid of a wound as a rule, but I am awfully scared about having a poisoned arrow in me. I don't want to die of locked jaw." "Hist. Back," whispered Oliver. "We must go somewhere, for they're coming on, and it sounds like a good number of them." Talking was quite plain now, and those who spoke were evidently full of confidence, for one man spoke in a loud voice, and a chorus of agreement or dissent arose, otherwise the enemy must have heard the whispering of the little party, which now retreated steadily, but with the result that Oliver grew confused, for he felt that he had entirely lost all sense of direction, and letting Panton come up abreast he told him so. "Don't matter," said the latter. "You've evidently been going all wrong, and no wonder. Nature never meant us to play rats and owls. But I daresay we shall get right after all. I wish there were some trees so that we could shelter under them, and--" "But there is nothing for a long distance but those barren rocks a quarter of a mile from the brig's bows. If we could reach them." "Yes, where do you think they are?" "I can't think. I don't know, only that they must be somewhere." "Yes, that's exactly where they are," said Panton, with a little laugh. "Somewhere, unless the earth has swallowed them up, but where that somewhere is I don't know, nor you either, so we're lost in the dark." "Hush, not so loud, the daylight cannot be very far-off now." "What? Hours. I don't believe it's midnight yet." "There, I told you so," whispered Oliver, a few minutes later, "there's the dawn coming and the sunrise." "Nonsense, it's the moon; but look here, oughtn't we to be facing the east now." "Yes, according to my calculations," replied Oliver. "Your calculating tackle wants regulating, for so sure as that's the moon rising over yonder we've been working along due west." "Tut, tut, tut!" ejaculated Oliver, as he gazed round at the faint light on the horizon, "and I did try so hard. But that must be the dawn." "Then it has got a good, hard, firm, silvery rim to it. Look! That's uncommonly like the moon, isn't it?" Panton pointed to where the edge of the pale orb came slowly above the horizon, looking big, and of a soft yellowish tarnished silver hue. "Yes, it's the moon sure enough," said Oliver. "I'm all wrong. We shall be able to make out where the brig is, though, when it gets a little higher." "And the niggers will be able to make out where we are, and skewer us all with arrows, if we don't look out. Hadn't we better all lie down?" "No, no, let's aim at getting back on board. We shall be stronger there, and it will be a relief to Mr Rimmer to have us all back again safely. Better wait. I can't hear the enemy now, and in a few minutes we may be able to see the brig. What do you say, Drew?" "All right." _ |
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