Mother Carey's Chicken Part 80

"That was a narrow escape from being seen," said the captain, cheerily.

"Two minutes sooner, and we should have been in full view. All together, the ground is getting clearer now."

"If we might only give one good hooray, Mr Mark, sir," said a familiar voice, "it would seem to do us good;" and the lad realised that it was Billy Widgeon who had been working all along close to his elbow.

Mark felt with the man, for in his own breast there was an intense desire to cry out or shout, or give some vent to the pent-up excitement.

But there was plenty to take up their attention, for the captain, now that the ridge was between them and their enemies, hastened their steps, in spite of the blackness, so that, after a few slips, and a narrow escape of breaking in the bows of the boat through a sudden fall upon an awkwardly-placed rock, she was safely run down to the edge of the crater, and the oars, mast, and sail replaced.

The next proceeding was to get the ladies on board the little cutter, which lay some twenty fathoms from the sands, and in darkness and silence they were handed into the gig, and were half-way to the little vessel, when, without warning, a vivid light flashed out from the mountain, and the oars ceased to dip.

But this was no lightning-like flash, but a continuous glow, which lit up jungle, rock, and the black waters of the bay, while every eye was turned in the direction of the ridge in expectation of seeing the praus plainly standing out in the glare.

Fortunately, the ridge was sufficiently high to conceal the occupants of the boat, and in place of the light proving their betrayal, it aided the embarkation, the boat going on at the end of the next few minutes, and all climbing safely on board. Then the gig was secured by a rope astern, and there was nothing now to be done but wait till daylight, and then trust to being able to escape by running southward along the lagoon before the praus could get round the northern arm of the little bay.

"Look at that," cried Billy Widgeon suddenly, as the light flashed out as quickly as it had appeared, the glowing scene changing instantaneously to the most intense darkness, while now a peculiar odour began to pervade the air, a suffocating hot puff coming from the land, charged with sulphurous vapours.

Everything was ready for a start, but there was one thing needful, light, for the risk was too great to attempt to get round the southern point in the darkness. It was dangerous with the gig, but they had learned the positions of the rocks by heart, and could come round now with ease. With a boat drawing so much water, however, as the cutter, it was different, and the course necessary so intricate, that, tremendously in their favour as a start would now be, the captain dared not run the risk.

"It's death to stay," said Gregory, as they stood in a group waiting for day.

"It's death to go," said the captain gloomily. "One touch on a sharp rock, and we shall fill, or be fast."

"Well, Strong," said the major, "I don't like to interfere in your navigating matters, but in this case, as a soldier, I say if we are to die, let's die like Englishmen trying our best."

"We are trying our best, Major O'Halloran," said the captain coldly.

"Yes, my dear fellow; but for Heaven's sake let's start."

"What should you do, Mark?" said the captain, laying his hand on his son's shoulder.

Mark was silent for a moment or two, and then said huskily:

"I don't like going against your opinion, father, but I should start now."

"In the darkness?"

"Yes. It seems to be our only chance."

The captain made no verbal reply, but took out his knife, and stepping to where the rope pa.s.sed out from the stern, mooring them to a crag of rock that seemed to rise from unfathomable depths, he divided the strands, and the rope fell with a splash in the water. Then, going to the bows, where the other rope ran to one of the timbers of the _Petrel_, he cut that, and there was another splash.

Then giving his orders, a couple of the men pa.s.sed sweeps over the side with the greatest of care, and the head of the cutter began to turn, and she was moving slowly toward the mouth of the bay when once more the intense darkness was cut as by a knife, and the little vessel seemed to be destined to have a light as clear almost as day for making her way round into the lagoon, where she could catch the wind and escape.

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.

HOW NATURE SEEMED A FOE.

The distance was not great, and as Captain Strong gazed before him, knowing, as he did, the perils to be encountered, he hesitated, and was disposed to stay. But the first step had been taken, and, giving his orders in a whisper, he went to the helm, while Gregory and Morgan prepared to hoist the sail, and the men bent steadily to their long oars.

The light increased, and there seemed to be nothing to prevent the little vessel from pa.s.sing safely round the southern point, for the water looked smoothness itself; but none knew better than the captain the rocks that were in his path, while away to his right over the northern arm of the bay lay three praus teeming with bloodthirsty savage men who would be ready to rush in pursuit the moment they were seen.

It was a painful dilemma for the captain, who had, however, been longing to make his present venture, but shrank therefrom as too risky till opinions other than his own urged his attempt. But there was his position. If he kept to the darkness, wreck seemed certain; if to the light, he must be seen.

And now the light was most vivid, but still he kept on, the little cutter gliding slowly on over water that seemed to be golden, while Mark held his breath as he watched the northern point till by slow degrees first one and then another and then the third of the praus came full into view with their rough rigging and cordage distinctly seen in the glowing light.

Other eyes than Mark's watched the praus, and it was a matter of surprise to all that the cutter went on and on to the second pa.s.sage through the rocks off the south point, round which, if they were fortunate, she would be able to pa.s.s--the first pa.s.sage being only safe for the gig--while the praus, if they started in pursuit, would have to sail out quite half a mile before they could round their point, and as great a distance back, which would give the fugitives a good start along the lagoon.

No one spoke as the cutter glided slowly on, the sweeps dipping regularly and almost without a sound. For fully five minutes this continued, but to all on board, as they crouched down for the shelter of the low bulwark, it seemed more like five hours. There they were in full sight of the praus, but not a sound reached them, and in a whisper the captain said to Mark, who was at his side:

"They must be all asleep. Oh for a little wind!"

But there was not a breath of air nor even a hot blast from the mountain, and in spite of the agonising desire to escape they could only creep slowly over the golden water in a terribly sluggish motion, though two men toiled hard now at each sweep.

Suddenly, and with a spontaneity which showed how suddenly they had been perceived, a tremendous yell arose from the occupants of the praus.

"Now, Strong," cried the major, as a thrill of horror ran through the occupants of the little cutter, "war is declared."

"Be ready with that sail," said the captain; but his words were not needed, for his two officers were standing with the ropes in their hands, and at a word the mainsail would have been hoisted.

The yelling continued and the thrill increased, for from moment to moment the escaping party expected to hear the sharp ring of the bra.s.s guns of the Malays and to have their tin bullets whizzing overhead.

It was a curious position, for the yelling of the Malays was as that of so many wild beasts unable to reach their prey, the long low spit of rocky sand lying between them and the bay, and near as they were now, they could only attack by rowing or sailing right out to where the current ran swiftly and tumultuously about the point, rounding it, and then making straight for the bay.

"They are going to fire," said the captain quietly as he stood at the tiller; "everyone but the men at the sweeps lie down or keep below."

"Which order does not apply to me, Mark," said the major coolly. "I'm an officer. Lie down, sir! Do you want to be shot?"

"Certainly not, sir," replied Mark, who, in spite of his dread and excitement, could not help feeling amused at the major's satisfied air, and the way in which he seemed to play with his gun.

Bang! A sharp ringing report from a lelah as the praus began to move, and the charge of tin bullets came screaming overhead as the report echoed from the rocks that surrounded the bay.

"Bad shot at close quarters," said the major; "and they are moving off.

Can't you whistle for the wind and let's show them our heels!"

"The wind will come as soon as we get out beyond the shelter of the point," said the captain. "Pull, my lads."

The men tugged at the long sweeps, but the cutter was so substantial and heavily-built that she moved very slowly through the water, beside which, it was extremely nervous work to keep on pulling while at intervals of a few minutes there came a shot from one or other of the receding praus. Still they progressed, and if once they could get over a few hundred yards there was a prospect of their clearing the rocks off the south point and getting well along the lagoon.

Shot after shot, some whistling by the mast, some striking the water, and others going before or behind, but not one touched the cutter, and as the three praus rowed out and grew more distant the practice became more wild.

"Ah!" said the major, "being shot at is very exciting; but I don't think I like it after all. How are you setting on, Mark?"

"I'm all right, sir."

"Well, ladies, we shall not have breakfast till two hours after sunrise," said the major, as he bent over the entrance to the rough cabin where they were sheltered, "so I should advise a short nap."

A sad smile was the only reply to the major's cheery remark, and he nodded and then sighed as he turned to the captain.