The Nameless Island Part 38

Ellerton soon returned with the bunting, and the Union Jack was hoisted to the masthead. The mulatto procured some dry wood from the store, and set it in a blaze. When well alight, he piled a quant.i.ty of damp leaves upon the fire, causing a thick smoke.

Unfortunately the strong wind prevented the vapour from rising, the smoke drifting over the ground in thick, suffocating columns, but to the castaways' great joy the vessel hoisted her ensign. It was the French tricolour.

"Hurrah!" shouted Mr. McKay. "Now lads, hand me N and C."

The next instant the N and C flags, signifying in the International code, "_Want a.s.sistance_" were fluttering from the mast.

Through the telescope the inhabitants of McKay's Island could see the oilskin-clad figure of the French skipper, his neatly-trimmed moustache and imperial as correct as if he were on the boulevards of Paris, rushing hither and thither, and giving his orders with much waving of his arms. Then, as a string of flags ran up to her main truck, the schooner was hove-to.

"_D.C.--Are coming to your a.s.sistance_," read Mr. McKay, referring to his signal-book. "By Jove! that won't do, the boat will be swamped,"

for already some of the crew were manning the falls.

"Sharp there," he continued, "'_E.Y.--Do not attempt to land in your boat_.' That will stop them; but there's no denying that they are plucky fellows."

In obedience to the signal, the crew of the French schooner gave up their attempt, and a lengthy interchange of signals was kept up, the Frenchman promising to report the presence of the castaways at the first port she touched; then, with a farewell dip of her ensign, she flung about, and half an hour later she was lost in the haze.

"That's a load off our minds," remarked Mr. McKay. "We can reasonably expect help in a month at the very outside."

"Unless she is blown out of her course, for a gale is freshening,"

replied Ellerton.

"Nevertheless, the chances are greatly in our favour, though at the same time we must not cease our efforts to work out our salvation.

This gale will doubtless mark the end of the rainy season, so we can hope to renew our efforts to salve the yawl within the next few days."

But, contrary to Mr. McKay's expectations, the weather continued bad for nearly a month and, although a sharp look-out was kept by day and the searchlights flashed nightly, no vessel appeared in sight.

Alternate hopes and fears did not tend to improve the spirits of the castaways, and ere the fine weather set in their condition was bordering on acute depression, in spite of their individual efforts to the contrary.

At length, after a long spell of rainy weather, the sun burst forth in all its splendour, the wind went away, and the island appeared under a totally different aspect from that which it had shown during the last six months. With the return of the dry season, the spirits of the castaways likewise rose, and energetically they resumed their outdoor labours.

The submerged yawl was, so far as they could see, little the worse for its prolonged rest on the bed of the lagoon, and by dint of hard and painstaking work she was moved nearer to the sh.o.r.e than she had been since the disastrous day when she had been scuttled by the natives.

"It will be new moon to-morrow at about ten o'clock," announced Mr.

McKay. "Consequently there will be a fairly high tide at noon, so we can reasonably hope for sufficient water to float the yawl to the cradle. Everything is ready, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir," replied Ellerton. "I finished rigging the tackle this morning, and the cradle is properly ballasted."

"Good! Then we'll make the attempt to-morrow."

CHAPTER XXIV

A FALSE AND A REAL ALARM

Before daybreak everyone was up and eager for the fray, and directly breakfast was over they sallied down to the sh.o.r.e. It was still pitch dark, but the time of dead low water made it absolutely necessary that operations should commence ere the sun rose.

By the light of several lanterns the slack of the hawsers was taken in and the two canoes pinned down so far as the united efforts of all hands would permit. Nothing more could be done till the rising of the tide.

The cradle, its ends marked by long poles to indicate its position at high water, was already run out so far as the lines of the slipway extended, a rope being fastened to it from the windla.s.s ash.o.r.e.

Anxiously the little group of workers watched the tide rise slowly, inch by inch, up the temporary tide gauge. Sometimes it paused as a "false ebb" in the offing stayed its progress, till at length it crept within a few inches of its predicted height.

"There's enough water now, I fancy," announced Ellerton, "so heave away. Gently does it!"

It was an anxious time. Slowly the two canoes were warped sh.o.r.e wards, guided by a pair of ropes abeam so as to insure the wrecked boat being deposited evenly on the cradle. Already the two outer poles of the cradle were pa.s.sed, when a slight shock told the salvors that the yawl's forefoot had touched the cradle.

"Avast there!" shouted Ellerton to Terence and Quexo, who were hauling on the sh.o.r.e.

"There's not enough water," exclaimed Andy, with dismay written on his face.

"Ten minutes yet before high water," announced Mr. McKay. "Will she do it, I wonder?"

For answer Ellerton slipped off his clothes and plunged over the side of the canoe. Mr. McKay and Andy could follow his movements as he descended with slow yet powerful strokes, till he disappeared from view beneath the submerged craft. Half a minute later he reappeared, and swam alongside the canoe, into which he was a.s.sisted by the eager spectators.

"She'll do it," he announced, when he had recovered his breath. "We are a bit out in our reckoning; her keel is touching the side of the cradle."

Five minutes later the yawl was lying immediately over the slipway, the slings were cast off, and slowly she settled upon the carriage prepared for her reception. The canoes were warped clear, and all that remained to be done was to man the winch and heave the cradle above high-water mark.

In spite of the broiling sun, the work of winding the winch was begun, for the delighted lads would not be persuaded to delay the operation till the cool of the day. Foot by foot the cradle came home, till the huge barnacle-covered hull began to appear above the water.

"What a state she's in," exclaimed Andy, as the lads rested from their labours, for they were thoroughly played out. "There's a week's sc.r.a.ping in front of us before we can do anything else."

"Hadn't we better see about baling her out?" asked Terence. "Directly she ceases to be water-borne the pressure of the water will burst her seams."

"No fear of that," replied Mr. McKay. "The water will find its way out of the hole that the natives made in her."

"I guess the motor is pretty rusty," continued Terence.

"It may not be," Andy replied. "You see, I kept it smothered in grease, and unless those brutes smashed it, it ought to be capable of being repaired. But I am awfully anxious to see, so what do you say to another turn at the winch?"

Once more the lads resumed their work of hauling up the cradle, till nearly the whole of the streaming, weed-covered hull--a forlorn waif from the sea--was visible.

"Another five yards, lads," exclaimed Ellerton cheerfully. "Now, put more beef into it."

As he spoke, there was a warning shout from Mr. McKay, but the warning came too late. Ere the lads could realise the extent of their misfortune the cradle collapsed and the hull of the yawl crashed over on her side.

With a horrible rending of the shattered timbers, the enormous ma.s.s pitched fairly on a jagged rock; the next instant the object of so many months' tedious toil lay on its broadside, hopelessly damaged.

For quite a minute all hands gazed in speechless grief upon the scene of calamity. To have the fruits of victory s.n.a.t.c.hed from their lips seemed almost more than they could realise, till by degrees the extent of their misfortune began to a.s.sert itself.

"Is she really done for?" said Andy, his voice barely raised above a whisper.

"Yes, her back's broken," replied his father. "She will never float again."

"Then, by George!" announced Andy, speaking in a tone that surprised his companions by its resolution, "I won't be done. I begin to build another craft to-morrow. Come on, pater, let's get something to eat, and after that we'll set out the plans for our new craft. Buck up, Hoppy, it's no use crying over spilt milk."

Inspired by their companion's cheerfulness, the lads turned their backs upon the scene of their ill-favoured labours and set off towards the house. They now felt specially anxious to devote their energies to the new task that lay before them, and already their late misfortune was being regarded as a thing of the past.