Fire Island Part 23

"Wonder what it's like down below, inside like. You hauled me out 'fore I'd half a chance to find out."

"Why didn't yer say yer wanted to see? Then I'd ha' let yer go."

"Nay, you wouldn't, Tommy," said Wriggs, with a chuckle. "Be too warm, wouldn't it?"

"But what I was saying, mates, was as I don't think we tried hard enough to find Mr Lane. We ought to have done something."

"Ay; but how are you going to do it?" said Wriggs, shortly, just as the man's words had gone like a pang through Drew's breast, making him feel that even the men were judging him adversely. "That's the worst o' you clever ones: you says, says you, 'We ought to do some'at,' but you don't say what."

"That's a true word, Billy Wriggs," cried Smith, clapping his messmate on the shoulder, "they don't say what. Why, 'fore you chaps come, Mr Panton and Mr Drew--"

"And Tommy Smith," growled Wriggs.

"Well, I did try a bit, mate, and so did you, till we couldn't do no more. I don't believe a hangel could ha' done more than Billy did."

"Oh, I say, mate," grumbled Wriggs, modestly.

"I says it again, 'could ha' done more than Billy did.' But it's like this here, mates, the onpossible's just a bit too hard for a man to do, and whether he likes it or whether he don't, he's got to put up with it, and that's what clever people calls flossify."

"And quite rightly, my man," said Drew, coming close up. "Smith and Wriggs behaved like brave, true men, my lads."

"Easy, sir, please. We only tried same as you did."

"You think, then, that we tried everything that was possible to save my friend?"

"Think, sir? Why, Billy and me's sure on it, eh, Billy?"

"Sartain."

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Drew, "you have done me good, my lads, for my heart felt very sore and my conscience reproached me cruelly for not doing more."

"It's all right, sir," cried Smith, cheerily. "You wait till the morning comes, and then we shall see a way o' sarc.u.mventing this gas, as you calls it, and I daresay we shall find Mr Lane somewhere all right on t'other side."

"If I could only feel that, I could rest till morning," said Drew.

"Then just you feel it, sir," said Smith. "It's what I feels strong."

"So do I, sir, now," put in Wriggs. "If Tommy Smith mays so, it's all right."

Drew tried to think that it was, but the pleasant, hopeful sensation would not come, and he sat now with the men, now beside the mate and his friend Panton, waiting for the morning, the first hints of its approach being in the gradual paling of the golden light from the cloud over the volcano, and the appearance of the softer, more natural glow, that came in the east, bringing with it a more diffused light, and the hope that rides in with the dazzling rays of a new day.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

CHEAP LODGINGS AND CATS.

Oliver Lane's double gun gave forth two sharp clicks as his thumb pressed back the c.o.c.ks, and then, raising it to his shoulder, he waited, with his eyes searching among the thick leaves of the fig-tree, and trying to penetrate the orchids which cl.u.s.tered where the trunk forked and sent forth a dozen or so of minor boughs.

But the snarling sound had ceased, and there was not the slightest rustle among the leaves to indicate the spot where the animal was hidden. But in imagination he could see some big, lithe, cat-like creature crouching there in the tree-fork, ready to spring, its head looking flattened with the ears drawn down, teeth gleaming in a fierce snarl, eyes flashing with green phosph.o.r.escent-like light, and sharp claws alternately protruded and withdrawn.

All this was pictured by his active brain, but there was nothing visible save a gleam here and there, where the light from a fire-fly shone faintly from some leaf.

A minute pa.s.sed, all eager watchfulness, and at the slightest rustle indicating action on the part of the animal Lane would have drawn trigger. But all remained still, and the young man asked himself what he had better do.

There were other trees about, but not one which offered such a satisfactory lodging, so easy to reach.

"One oughtn't to mind a cat on the premises," he laughingly said to himself at last. "It would keep away nuisances, but this is too much of a cat, and wants to have all the bed to itself."

He hesitated about firing into the tree to scare the beast, partly from the idea that it might irritate it into springing and taking him at a disadvantage, for as he stood there the light was behind him, so that he must be plain to his invisible enemy; then, in the smoke, he would be unable to make out his foe, and there would be no chance or time to take aim with the second barrel, and he knew what the result would be--the brute seizing him with teeth and claws, holding on fast while it tore him with its hind legs, as a cat does a rat.

"A miserable end at the beginning of one's life," thought Lane.

"Discretion's the better part of valour," he muttered. "I'll go back and find another tree."

He stood for a few minutes longer, in the utter silence, listening for some movement from his enemy, but there was none. Then he began to hope that it had stolen away, and he moved slightly--drawing back to go in search of fresh lodgings. But at the first step there was a savage growl, such as might have been uttered by a magnified cat, and his fingers moved to press the trigger, as he stood firm, with the b.u.t.t of the piece pressed to his shoulder, and his cheek against the stock.

The snarling ceased and all was dead silence again, while, oddly enough, the old story of the Irish soldier came to Lane's mind:

"Please, sor, I've caught a Tartar prisoner."

"Bring him along, then."

"Please, sor, he won't come."

"Then come without him."

"Please, sor, he won't let me."

For, in spite of his excitement and its accompanying alarm, Lane could not help smiling at his predicament. He knew that if he beat a retreat the beast would spring at him, and taking into consideration the fact that he would be better off if he took the offensive and advanced, he at once acted upon the latter course.

Taking a step forward, there was another savage snarl, and he aimed, as nearly as he could guess, at the spot whence it came, and waited, but the animal did not spring.

He moved forward again and there was another snarl--a pause--a slight movement--another snarl and a scratching noise, which meant the tearing at the bark of the trunk upon which the animal crouched.

"I must fire," thought Lane, and bending forward again, the snarling was resumed and he drew trigger.

Almost simultaneously with the shot there was a fierce yell, and the young man received a tremendous blow in the chest, which knocked him backwards right amongst the thick growth; then came a loud rustling, the sound of the animal dashing through the tangle of undergrowth, and then all was still.

"Killed, or escaped wounded?" muttered: Lane, as he gathered himself up, and stood with his gun ready to deliver the contents of the second barrel. But at the end of ten minutes or so there was no sound to break the silence, save a peculiar rending, tearing noise at a distance, followed by a rumbling boom, as of thunder under ground, and a sensation as of the earth quivering beneath his feet.

This pa.s.sed away, and feeling safe for the moment, Lane opened the breech of his piece, threw away the empty cartridge, and replaced it with one containing heavy shot before stepping up to the tree, and climbing up the trunk easily enough by the help of the cable-like parasite which enlaced its great b.u.t.tresses.

He had not far to mount, for the main trunk ended about twelve feet from the ground, and after a little feeling about amongst the dense orchid growth, he soon found a position where he could sit astride, and support his back in a comfortable half-reclining posture, perfectly safe from all risk of falling, so that there was every prospect of a good night's rest.

"I hope they will not fidget about me very much," he said to himself, as he thought of his companions. Then, utterly tired out, and with his perceptions somewhat blunted by fatigue, he gave his friends the credit of thinking that he would be able to take care of himself, and leaned back.

"Jolly," he muttered. "Cheap, comfortable lodgings if it don't rain, and the leopard, or whatever it was, does not come back to turn out this trespa.s.ser. Hah! how restful and nice. Can't fall: but I'm not going to cuddle this gun all night."