Bevis Part 55

"Millions of broad gold pieces."

"Doubloons."

"Pistoles."

"Ingots."

"You can see the skeletons chained at the oar-benches."

"Yes--just as they went down."

"There are strange sounds here at night."

"Bubbles come up, and shouts, and awful shrieks."

"Hope we shan't hear them when we're in our hut."

"No; it's too far."

They sailed between New Formosa and Serendib, and homewards through Mozambique to the harbour. The east wind, like the west, was a there-and-back wind, and they could reach their island, or return from it, in two or three tacks, sometimes in one stretch.

Volume Two, Chapter XII.

PROVISIONING THE CAVE.

Next day they took an iron bar with them, and pitched the stakes for the fence or stockade. Between the stakes they wove in willow rods and brushwood, so that thus bound together, it was much stronger than it looked, and no one could have got in without at least making a great noise. The two boards, nailed together for the gate, were fastened on one side to a stouter stake with small chains like rude hinges. On the other there was a staple and small padlock.

"It's finished," said Mark, as he turned the key and locked them in.

"No," said Bevis, "there's the bedstead. The ground's dry," (it was sand), "but it's not proper to sleep on the ground."

They put off preparing the bedstead till next day, when they approached on a spanking south east wind--half a breeze--against which they had to tack indeed, but spun along at a good speed. The waves were not large enough to make the Pinta roll, but some spray came over now and then.

"It's almost shipwreck weather," said Mark. "Just see--" He pointed at the cliff where there was a little splashing, as the waves swept sideways along the base of the cliff. "If you run her against the cliff the bowsprit will be knocked in. Would the mast go by the board?"

"Not enough wind," said Bevis, as he steered past, and they landed at the usual place. The bedstead was made by placing five or six thick poles sawn off at four feet on the floor on the left side of the hut, like the sleepers of a railway. Across these lengthways they laid lesser rods, then still more slender rods crossways, and on these again boughs of spruce fir, one on the other to a foot or more in depth. The framework of logs and rods beneath kept the bed above the ground, and the boughs of the spruce fir, being full of resinous sap, gave out a slight fragrance. On this mattress a rug and some old great-coats were to be thrown, and they meant to cover themselves with more rugs and coats. The bedstead took up much of the room, but then it would answer in the daytime instead of chairs to sit on.

"It's finished now, then," said Mark.

"Quite finished," said Bevis. "All we have now to do is to bring our things."

"And get wrecked," said Mark. "These chips and boughs," pointing to the heap they had cut from the poles and stakes, "will do for our fire.

Come on. Let's go up and look at the cliff where we are to be dashed to pieces."

They climbed up the cliff to the young oak on the summit, and went to the edge. The firm sand bore them safely at the verge.

"It looks very deep," said Bevis. "The sand goes down straight."

"Fathomless," said Mark. "Just think how awful. It ought to happen at night--pitch black! I know! Some savages ought to light a fire up here and guide us to destruction."

"We could not scramble up this cliff out of the water--I mean if we have to swim."

"Of course we shall have to swim, clinging to oars."

"Then we must get round that corner, somehow."

"The other side is all weeds; that wouldn't do."

"Very likely the waves would bang us against the cliff. Don't you remember how Ulysses clung to the rock?"

"His hands were torn."

"Nearly drowned."

"Tired out."

"Thumped and breathless."

"Jolly!"

"But I say! There's one thing we've forgotten," said Bevis. "If we smash our ship against a cliff like this she'll go to the bottom--"

"Well, that's just what we want."

"Ah, but it's not like rocks or shoals; she'll go straight down, right under where we can't get at her--"

"All the better."

"But then our things will go down too--gun, and powder, and provisions, and everything."

"Put them on the island first and wreck ourselves afterwards."

"So we could. Yes, we could do that, but then," said Bevis, imagining what would happen, "when the Pinta was missed from the harbour and did not come back, there would be a search, and they would think something had happened to us."

"I see," said Mark, "that's very awkward. What a trouble it is to get wrecked! Why can't people let us be jolly?"

"They must not come looking after us," said Bevis, "else it will spoil everything."

"Perhaps we had better put the wreck off," said Mark, in a dejected tone. "Do the island first, and have the wreck afterwards."

"It seems as if we must," said Bevis, "and then it's almost as awkward--"

"Why?"

"We shall have to come here in the Pinta, and yet we must not keep her here, else she will be missed."

"The ship must be here and at home too."