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King o' the Beach: A Tropic Tale, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 26 |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. The dreary hours crawled along, and it seemed to Carey that he was suffering from a long-drawn weary nightmare, made up of his own pain, a sigh or two at times from the doctor and restless movements, groans, and threats and cursings from the beachcomber. It was a horrible night, for the boy, in addition to his other troubles, felt as if he were somehow to blame for the sufferings of the wretched man below. Lying there in agony with broken legs! It was horrible, and the boy could not have suffered more if he had himself been the victim of the accident. But there were breaks in the misery of that long dark night. Bostock was soon back, announcing that his head was two sizes larger than usual, but that he was all the better for his supper, and ready for anything now. He told the watcher, too, that the black fellows ashore were still keeping up their fire, stopping probably to eat sometimes, but at others re-making the fire till it blazed again, and playing in the bright light at "Here we go round the mulberry bush." But the little incident that gave Carey the most satisfaction was that soon after Bostock's return to his post at the skylight there was a soft rustling, a light thud on the floor, and directly after the black squatted down close by where the lad was seated, and, though he could not make out his figure, he felt sure that the Australian was watching him with the dumb patience of a dog. "That you, Jackum?" he said, softly, and he stretched out his hand, to find it touched the black's rough head, which seemed to press itself into his palm. "Iss. Jackum eat big lot. 'Top here now. Car-ee go sleep." The boy sighed, and then there was silence till he spoke again. "Will the black fellows come back soon?" he said, as he thought of the idea he had had about keeping them off. "No come back. Go sleep roun' fire. 'Top all snakum eatum." Twice over it seemed to Carey that he lost consciousness, though he never went fairly off to sleep, but sat there suffering terrible mental pain and the burning sensation in his chest as if he were being seared with a hot iron. The night seemed as if it would never come to an end. Mallam had begun muttering hoarse threats again, and at last startled all into preparation for action by firing three times, each shot striking some place on the upper part of the staircase, and once shivering some glass. Then he became quiet again, and it seemed directly after that Bostock said: "The blacks' fire's out, sir, and the stars are beginning to get whitish. Be sunrise in less than an hour. I'll go and light our fire now, and as soon as the kettle boils I'll make you a cup of tea." "Thank you, Bob," said Carey, huskily. "I shall be glad of that." It seemed a long time to one suffering from a parched throat, and the pale light of dawn was beginning to steal in through the broken opening and the cabin ports, when there was the click of a teacup on the deck, and Jackum said softly: "Cookey make billy boil. Car-ee tea." _Crash_! Down went the tray with the refreshing cup on the deck, and Bostock thrust his head through the broken light. "Master Carey, sir, ahoy! Three cheers, and another for luck. If ever there was a sight for sore eyes it's now. Sail ho, sir, not three mile out, lying just beyond the reef. A small steamer, dear lad, as must ha' seen the fire last night." "Help at last!" panted Carey. "Ay, my lad, they've kept their fires banked up, and the smoke's pouring out of her funnel and hanging to leeward like a flag." "Iss. Ship come," said Jackum, who had bounded up and inspected the vessel. "Jackum fess all aboy. Car-ee going fight him?" "No, no," cried the boy; "they must be friends," and, utterly worn out now, he broke down and hid his face. "Don't do that, dear lad," whispered Bostock. "Keep it up a bit longer, for I must leave you now. Jackum and I must go off in the whale-boat and pilot them inside. Can't you keep it up just an hour more?" and the old sailor's voice shook as he spoke. "Yes," said Carey, as his teeth grated together. "Go on." "Right, my lad. I don't think there's anything to fear, but take my gun, and if that old ruffian does rouse up and crawl to the saloon door--'tarn't likely, or he'd ha' been here before, but I says it, my lad, because it would be your dooty, and you must--shoot, sir; shoot him. He aren't a human man, only a something in a man's shape; a murderer, that's what he is, and you must shoot him as if he was a wild beast. Now, Jackum, give him the gun, and come with me." The black obeyed with alacrity, and a few minutes later Carey heard the faint plash of oars, and sat there in the utter silence, watching the doctor's pallid thin features, as he still slept deeply, and listening for the sounds from below which did not come. It must have been close upon two hours before that silence was broken by the sound of voices, the grating of a boat against the steamer's side, and the trampling of feet on deck. "Jackum backum," cried the black, as he dropped down, with his face shining with excitement. "Ahoy there!" cried Bostock. "How goes it, my lad? Here we are. Boat's crew well armed, and we're going to have Old King Cole out before many more minutes are gone." "Take care," cried Carey, excitedly. "Think of the danger. What are you going to do?" "Roosh him, sir, somehow or another," cried the old sailor, "and I'm a-going first." "What! He will shoot you." "Let him try," cried Bostock, grimly. "I aren't forgot what he did to me with one of the nigger's clubs. I've got Jackum's here, and maybe I shall get its big knob home quicker than he can put in a shot." Carey had no further protest ready, and he sat in agony, hardly realising that it was strange the various sounds had not awakened the doctor. But his every sense was on the strain, as he listened to a sudden rush down past the saloon door, expectant of shot after shot from the beachcomber's revolver. But no shot was fired, though a revolver was fast clenched in the old ruffian's hand. There was, however, to be no hand-cuffing and carrying off to the justice of man, for the spirit of Dan Mallam the beachcomber had passed out that morning, as the old sailor said, with the tide. The small steamer lying anchored close by in the lagoon had after a long and dangerous search at last achieved her purpose, having been despatched, with Carey's father and the captain and chief officer of the _Chusan_ on board, in search of the wreck if it were still on the reef, and the meeting was a joyful one. "I never could think you were dead, my boy," was whispered in Carey's ear; "and your dear mother always felt the same. I knew I should find you, and I have, thank God! thank God!" "Car-ee's ole man?" said a voice just after, and Mr Cranford turned sharply round to stare at the shining black face. "Yes," he said, frowning; "I am Carey's--er--old man." "Me Jackum! You shake han'?" "Next to Bostock and the doctor, father, my best friend," said Carey, eagerly. "Then he is mine," said Mr Cranford. "Here's a canoe of savages off from the island," shouted the captain of the _Chusan_ from the deck. "Does this mean a fight?" "Jackum boy come back," cried the black. "No shoot; all good boy. Jackum take you Big Dan island. Plenty shell, plenty copra, plenty old ship 'tuff. Big Dan mumkull. Jackum give all Car-ee now." But no start was made for the other portion of the King's domain, for a few days were necessary in the way of rest for the doctor; and the captain of the _Chusan_ and the mate had to satisfy themselves of the impossibility of getting the vessel off. During these days, though, there were busy times, for the specie the _Chusan_ had been bearing was all hoisted out in safety and transferred to the smaller vessel. Not much else was done save the taking on board of the pearl shells as the freight belonging to the doctor and Carey. The pearls were already in safety, and Bostock made a greater haul with the help of a chum and the blacks from the tubs ashore. "Twice as many as the first go, my lad," said the old sailor, rubbing his hands, "and, I say, oughtn't you and the doctor to lay claim to what we're a-going to find?" "No," said Carey, "and besides, we have not found it yet. If there is much worth having it will go, I should think, to the company that owns the _Chusan_. But we shall see." Carey Cranford saw the great treasures in pearls, pearl shell, and valuables collected from wrecked vessels in the course of some twenty years, during which Dan Mallam had reigned paramount in a lonely island off the north-west coast of Australia, for Jackum piloted the steamer there in triumph, and looked proud of his achievement, while he pointed out everything he thought of value to Carey, and could not understand the lad's hanging back from helping himself to articles he did not want. The steamer was nearly laden with valuable pearl shell and the boxes of pearls hoarded up by the old beachcomber, who was supposed to have escaped from Norfolk Island with a party of his fellows who had all passed away. These must have been enough, with their insurance, to quite compensate the company for their loss. In fact, voyage after voyage was made to the _Chusan_ and to Jackum's island during the following twelve months on salvage business, and with excellent results. But we have nothing to do with that. It is enough to state that the boats on the night of the wreck had been carried in safety to a western Australian port; that the doctor rapidly began to mend; that Carey's injured chest was doctored by a sick man; and that Jackum wanted badly to follow the young adventurer when the time came for saying good-bye, and was only stopped by its being impressed upon him that he was King of Pearl Island now, and was to go on collecting till Carey came to see him some day on a voyage with his father, to trade for all his copra, shell, and pearls. Jackum nodded and grinned. "Get big lot. You come some day," he cried. "Some day, Jackum, if my father will fit out a vessel." "Iss," said Jackum. "No Big Dan. Killa feller. Mumkull eberybody. You come sit along Jackum. Jackum show Car-ee how fro boomerang next time. Ha, ha!" The last Carey saw of him then was the tall black figure waving his boomerang as he stood up in his canoe, before showing his teeth and then hurling the weapon, to fly far after the retreating steamer, to curve up and return--to the canoe--not quite, for it dropped into the sea some fifty feet away, to be lost somewhere in the lovely submarine gardens of the reef along by whose side the steamer glided. A fortnight later, with the doctor steadily gaining strength, the vessel glided into Moreton Bay. Then Brisbane was soon reached; but the message had flown before on wire to the lonely watcher, waiting for the son she would not believe to be dead, month after month, till three-quarters of a year had passed. And when the house was in sight there was a figure at an open door, and Carey dashed off, his father hanging back, while Robert Bostock, mariner, who was laden with luggage, placed it in the road, turned his back, sat upon it, and began to fill his pipe. This done, he struck a match, but somehow when he held it to the tobacco there was a sudden _ciss_, and the match went out. "Now, how did that there 'bacco get wet like that?" he growled. "Dear! and she a-waiting all this time for the dear lad as didn't come. Ah, it's no use wishin', but I do wish as my old mother was alive now to do that to me." "Bob ahoy!" came in a cheery shout. "Come on! Never mind the things. Here's mother wants to shake your hand." "Ahoy, sir; hand it is," shouted back the old fellow. Then in a growl, "S'pose I must go. Think on it, though; me havin' a drop o' salt water in one eye!"
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