Commodore Junk Part 35

"No," said Jack, fiercely, as he pointed to the back-fins of a couple of sharks.

"Ugh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Bart. "What, then, my lad?"

"To find the schooner first, and if not, to make for one of the little islands, where we'll land."

"Little more to the west, my lad," said Bart, after they had been sailing in silence for some time. "You'll land at the Sandy Key, won't you?"

"Yes," said Jack, shortly, as he sat there with eyes fixed and frowning brow.

"Poor old Abe!" said Bart to himself, as he gazed in turn at the ghastly object in the bottom of the boat. "One never used to think much of dying in the old days; but if one did, it was of being drowned at sea, washed ash.o.r.e, and buried decently in the old church-yard atop of the hill. And now, old mate, after being a captain out here, we're a-going to lie you over yonder in the warm, dry sand, where the sun always shines and the cocoa-nuts grow; but you'll have no tombstone, lad, and no words writ, only such as is writ in her heart, for she loved you, Abe, old mate, more than she'll ever love me."

A sharp look-out was kept for the schooner; but though the horizon was swept again and again, she was not in sight.

"It's one o' Black Mazzard's games, lad," Bart said at last, as a faint, cloudy appearance was visible on their bow; "but we shall find him yonder."

Jack bowed his head in acquiescence, and the boat skimmed rapidly on, till the cloudy appearance began to take the form of a low island, from whose sandy sh.o.r.e cocoa-nut palms waved their great pinnate leaves, looking lace-like against the clear blue sky.

In a couple of hours they were close in, and the boat was run up in a sandy cove sheltered by a point, with the result that, instead of the tide setting in heavy rollers, there was just a soft curl over the waves, and a sparkling foam to wash the fine pebble sand.

"No," said Bart, speaking as if in answer to his companion.

"Never mind," said Jack, quietly. "We shall find the schooner by-and-by. Let's land."

Bart a.s.sisted to draw the boat well ash.o.r.e, waiting till a good-sized wave came, and then running the boat on its crest some yards farther up the sand.

He looked up then at Jack, who nodded his head, and the canvas-draped figure was lifted out and borne up to where the sand lay soft and thick, as it had been drifted by the gales of the stormy season.

As Bart bent beneath his burden he nearly trod upon one of the great land-crabs, with which the place seemed to swarm, the hideous creatures scuffling awkwardly out of his way, snapping their claws menacingly, and rolling their horrible eyes, which stood out on foot-stalks far from their sh.e.l.ly orbits, and gave them a weird look as they seemed to be inspecting the canvas-wrapped bag.

"Here?" said Bart, as they reached a smooth spot, where a clump of palms made a slight shade.

"Yes," was the laconic reply.

"No tools," said Bart, half to himself; "but it don't matter, Abe, old lad. I can scratch a grave for you, and cut your name arter with my knife on one o' them trees."

He laid his load tenderly down upon the sand, in the shadiest spot, and then, stripping off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves over his muscle-knotted arms, he began to sc.r.a.pe the sand away rapidly, and soon made a long, narrow trench, though it was not easy work, for the soft, fine, dry sand flowed slowly, as if it were a liquid, back into the trench.

"That will do," said Jack, suddenly rising from where he had been kneeling by Abel's side.

Bart ceased his task without another word, and at a sign from his companion reverently went to the foot of the canvas-covered figure, while Jack went to the head, and they lifted it into the shallow trench.

"And never said so much as a prayer over it!" muttered Bart to himself, as he rapidly scooped back the sand with his hands, till the lower part of his old mate's body was covered, leaving the head instinctively to the last.

He was then about to heap the sand over gravewise, but Jack stopped him, and, taking a piece of wreck wood, drew it along the place so as to leave the sand level.

"What are you going to do?" he said, sternly, as Bart drew his knife.

"Cut a hay and a dee on that there tree," said the man, shortly.

"No."

"Not cut his letters there?" cried Bart, in a wondering tone.

"No, man, no. Do you suppose I am going to leave him here?"

Bart closed his knife with a click, and screwed up his face.

"You're captain," he said, quietly; "what next?"

"Back to the boat."

Bart obeyed without another word, and as they walked down over the hot sand, it was to pa.s.s several of the land-crabs, which rolled their eyes and leered at them in a goblin way till the boat was launched, the sail hoisted, and they coasted the side of the island to get round to its back, and make sure that the schooner had not cast anchor off this--one of the rendezvous for boats which had missed the schooner after being sent away upon some expedition.

But their sail availed them nothing. The schooner was not off the island, and Bart looked at his companion for orders.

"It would take three days to reach the shelter," he said at last.

"With this wind--yes," replied Bart. "No food, no water. Shall us get some nuts?"

There was no reply. Jack sat with his arms resting upon his knees, holding the tiller and gazing right before him, seeing nothing, but trying to pierce the future.

"A-wondering what to do next," muttered Bart, watching his companion furtively. "If the poor thing could see the old cottage now, and the bay, and a decent lugger lying off the point with her sails shivering, would it still be no?"

"Still be no," he said to himself softly; "and yet I wouldn't ask to be different to what I am."

"Mazzard has taken command, Bart," said Jack at last, "and we must make a fresh start, my lad."

"Ay, ay, sir," cried Bart, sharply.

"We must get sufficient provisions somehow, and run across to the shelter. If the schooner is not there we must wait till she comes in."

"And you won't give up without a struggle?"

"Give up?"

"Hurrah!" cried Bart, joyously. "Let's run up the Usa river to one of the Indian places, and get some food and nuts, and then be off. Hard down!"

Instead of obeying and changing the boat's direction, Jack suddenly pointed right away into the distance.

"What's that?"

Bart stood up and sheltered his eyes with his hand, so as to get a good view of a triangular piece of sail glistening white in the sunshine, far away, about the horizon line.

"There ain't another vessel with a raking sail like that!" he cried. "I shaped that sail. Why, it is she!"

"Yes," said Jack, after a long look across the dazzling blue sea, "it's the schooner, Bart; and she's coming here."

The boat danced over the sparkling waves, and three hours after she was alongside the schooner, which was hove to--the wind being contrary--as soon as the boat was descried by those on board. Dinny was the foremost in the group waiting to lower down the falls, and in a few minutes the boat hung from the davits, and Jack gave a sharp look round as he stepped upon the deck.