The Third Officer: A Present-day Pirate Story

  CHAPTER XXI

  The Castaways

  Mostyn was awake instantly. The burly Scillonian was slow to graspthe significance of the peril. Burgoyne stirred him with his foot.

  "We're close on a lee shore," warned the Third Officer. "Look aliveand 'bout ship."

  The two men were almost lost to sight in the darkness as theyclambered for'ard over the thwarts.

  "Hope to goodness they don't bungle," thought Alwyn, as he remainedon the alert, ready to put the helm down. "If she fails to answerthis time we're done."

  But before Jasper could uncleat the halliard a vicious puff struckthe stiffly strained canvas. No doubt the sail was in a bad conditionowing to its having been stored so long under a galvanized iron roofexposed to a broiling sun. Without warning the centre cloth splitfrom top to bottom, and the hook securing the tack burst from itscringle. The next instant the torn fragments of the useless sail werestreaming from the yard like washing on a line on a windy day.

  Instantly the life-boat flew up into the wind under the action of thestill close-sheeted mizzen; then, gathering sternway, she began todrift rapidly towards the reef dead to leeward.

  The best seamanship in the world could not have saved her. To resortto the oars would have been a hopeless expedient. Even had the oarsbeen double-banked and the boat manned by a full crew of stalwartoarsmen, she would not have been able to make headway in the howlingwind and in the grip of the breaking seas.

  For some moments the men were dumbfounded. They could only grip thegunwale and await the development of events. Then Burgoyne's voicestirred them to action.

  "Come aft!" he shouted, relinquishing the now useless tiller."Mostyn, you do the best for yourself, and the best of luck. Jasper,we must do our best to save Miss Vivian. Wake her, quickly."

  But Hilda was already awake. The loud frapping of the canvas,sounding like a succession of pistol-shots, was enough to rouse thesoundest sleeper, even if the erratic motion of the wave-tossed boatfailed to do so.

  "Come aft," shouted Burgoyne. "For heaven's sake keep clear of thatawning. We're in a bit of a hole, but we'll get you out, I hope."

  He spoke bravely, but the words belied his thoughts. It seemed as ifnothing alive could pass through that cauldron of broken water,thundering upon the cruel coral reefs.

  Swept with the velocity of an arrow the boat, travelling on the crestof an enormous wave, was borne towards the reef. Burgoyne, holding onto the mizzen-mast, grasped the girl by one arm while Minalto's hugefist gripped her left shoulder. Then they waited.

  They had not long to wait. With a crash of shattering timber the boatstruck--struck so violently that Burgoyne had a momentary vision ofthe iron watertank being thrown right out clear of the side. Then asthe battered craft reared itself as if to fall upon and entomb hercrew, Burgoyne and Jasper leapt, literally carrying the girl betweenthem.

  They rose to the surface in the midst of a smother of foam. Thewrecked boat swirled past Alwyn's head, missing it by a couple offeet or less.

  Then ensued a terrible struggle. Wave after wave pounded down uponthem, driving them, so it seemed, fathoms deep, until their lungsfelt on the point of bursting. Once and once only did Burgoyne's feettouch the reef with a jar that seemed to snap his backbone. Thenanother breaker crashed, whirling the three human beings like leavesin an autumn gale.

  Down went Burgoyne, retaining his grip with the energy of despair,and when next he came to the surface he was aware of two handsgrasping his shoulder. Minalto had vanished, while Hilda, only justconscious, was instinctively clinging to her now sole support.

  After that things became a bit hazy. Alwyn found himself swimmingmechanically with one arm, while the other held up his charge. He wasdimly aware that the sea was no longer breaking but was a successionof heavy, crestless rollers, the tops feathered with spray flungupward by the howling wind.

  "We're over the reef!" he exclaimed to himself. "But what's beyond?"

  That was the question. If there were land he knew that he would haveto contend with the dreaded undertow, and already well-nigh exhaustedthe prospect was not inviting. But if there were no land--? Heshuddered to think of that possibility, when, drifting farther andfarther from the lee of the reef into a boundless waste oftempestuous water, nothing but a slow death by drowning confrontedall the crew of the luckless life-boat. He wondered, too, what fatehad befallen Mostyn and Jasper. The latter had gone, no doubt dashedagainst the reef that had let Alwyn and Hilda down so lightly. AndMostyn? He had seen nothing of him. Whether he leapt with the othersor was crushed under the wreckage of the life-boat there was notelling.

  "'Tany rate," muttered Burgoyne, tightening his grip upon his nowsenseless burden, "we're going to make a good old fight for it. Now,then!"

  Borne just in front of a huge wave that was on the point of breaking,the man and the girl were projected towards the unknown; submerged,twisted about and rolled helplessly in the smother of agitated water.Then Burgoyne's feet touched ground--sand, by the feel of it.

  For another twenty yards he felt himself being impelled forward. Thenhis feet found a grip, but only for a brief instant. The horribleundertow--the back lash from the breaking waves--was commencing.

  Planting his heels deeply in the yielding sand and gripping Hildawith both arms he braced himself to withstand the retrogrademovement. Slipping slowly and surely he resisted strenuously, butwith every remaining effort of his sorely-taxed strength. Like amill-stream the creamy-white foam receded, until Burgoyne's head andshoulders emerged.

  The next instant he saw the rearing crest of another huge wave aboutto break. There was no avoiding it. He was still too deeply immersedto hope to stagger even a few yards from its impending grip.

  Down it crashed. Rolled over and over, with the breath well-nighdashed out of his body, Burgoyne and his burden were swept onward foryet another fifty yards... back twenty, and then almost by a miraclehis disengaged hand clutched and held a piece of rock.

  Ten seconds later his prostrate form was uncovered by the recedingundertow. With the frenzy of despair he regained his feet, andbending low under the weight of his burden--he was now carrying Hildaacross his back like a sack of flour, but how he managed it he hadnot the slightest idea--he staggered rather than ran up the shelving,yielding sand until he dimly remembered stumbling blindly against thetrunk of a tree.

  Driven by the instincts of self-preservation and the desperatedetermination to save his charge, Burgoyne staggered another half adozen yards inland and collapsed like a wet rag upon the wind andspray-swept ground.

  For how long he remained unconscious he was totally unable to gauge.When he opened his eyes he was aware that he felt numbed to the bone,except his right hand, from which the blood was flowing freely. Ingripping the sharp rock that had proved his salvation he had gashedhis palm in half a dozen places. He tried to move, but his limbs werepowerless and incapable of responding to the dictates of his will.

  It was still dark. The wind was howling through a clump ofcoco-palms, bending the supple crests almost to the ground. Spray,too, was hissing with almost clock-like regularity as the breakersdashed themselves against the shore.

  Some time elapsed before the events that led to his almost helplesspredicament dawned upon him. He recalled the struggle in thedarkness, the agony of the grip of the undertow, and the namelessfear that his precious burden would be torn from his grasp. Then thelast, almost automatic dash for land... and where was Hilda?

  With a supreme effort he moved his benumbed arm, half-dreading thatthe limb was broken. To his mingled satisfaction and alarm his almostnerveless fingers touched the cold face and dank hair of the objectof his search.

  Was she dead? he wondered.

  For some moments he contented himself by rubbing his own benumbedlimbs, slowly at first, then warming to his task as the blood beganto circulate through his veins. Then, half-rising, he crawled toHilda's side. Her heart was still beating, though feebly.

  Racking his brains to remember the instructions la
id down for therestoration of those apparently drowned, and then puzzled whether totreat the case as that of a half-drowned person or one suffering fromcold and exposure, he decided to act upon the latter supposition, andproceeded to chafe the girl's limp hands.

  As he did so he became aware that dawn was breaking--breaking withthe rapidity usual in tropical climes. In a few minutes it was light,and the ruddy orb of the sun appeared to shoot up in a cloudless skyabove the eastern horizon.

  How he blessed the rapidly increasing warmth as the sun mountedhigher and higher! Warmth meant life. He cast about him for asuitable spot, open to the glorious rays yet sheltered from the stillflying spindrift.

  He found what he required in a grassy hollow, screened by palms fromthe worst of the wind yet exposed to the slanting rays of the sun,which were momentarily increasing in brilliance and strength.

  How he contrived to carry the seemingly lifeless form of Young Billfrom the shore he hardly knew. It was a triumph of sheerdetermination over utter fatigue.

  Again he chafed the nerveless arms, never desisting until the girl'slips moved and her eyes opened with a startled expression, like onewaking from a troubled dream.

  "Where am I?" she demanded feebly.

  "Safe ashore," replied Burgoyne cheerfully enough. He was content forthe time being to find Hilda restored to life. "Can you walk?" hecontinued, although the absurdity of putting such a question to onewho had been unconscious but a few moments previously struck himrather forcibly as soon as he had uttered it.

  "I'll try," she replied pluckily, greatly to his surprise. "Why? Mustwe be going anywhere?"

  "No," he reassured her. "We're stopping on the island a little while,but if you can you ought to keep moving."

  He assisted the girl to rise, and the pair, both excessively weak,walked unsteadily, although the movement was beneficial to both.

  Hilda had come through the ordeal comparatively lightly. Beyond agraze on the back of her right hand and a slight cut on her foreheadshe was unhurt, although she complained of stiffness in her anklesand wrists.

  "But I _am_ hungry," she added plaintively.

  The words brought before Burgoyne's eyes the vision of that grimspectre starvation. All their provisions had been lost when the boatbroke her back on the reef. Unless the natural resources of theisland could provide sufficient food to sustain life theirpredicament was a serious one.

  "There are coco-nuts," he said apologetically, as if it were hisfault that more substantial fare was not forthcoming. "I'll get yousome."

  He knew that he was too weak to climb. He had nothing with which tocut down the tough and supple palms, but it was quite likely thatsome of the trees exposed to the gale might have been uprooted.

  As he was walking away Hilda recalled him.

  "Where are the others?" she asked. "Mostyn and Jasper?"

  "Somewhere about," he replied vaguely. "They may be along presently."

  Somehow he could not bring himself to tell the girl the hideoustruth: that as far as he knew the two men had been overwhelmed in thebreakers on the reef. Yet in his mind he had an idea that Hildaguessed what had befallen their companions, and that she expectedconfirmation of her fears.

  Returning to the beach Burgoyne took stock of his surroundings. Thewind, though strong, was moderating rapidly. Not a cloud obscured thesky. It was now close on low-water, the tide having fallen abouteight feet, which for that part of the Pacific was exceptional andwas undoubtedly caused by the terrific wind.

  The reef, which at this part of the island was within one hundredyards of the shore, was showing up about four or five feet above thenow placid water of the lagoon--a succession of jagged clumps ofcoral intersected by narrow channels which were now drying out. Onthe seaward side the breakers were tumbling heavily, for in the openthe waves were still lofty and menacing. Viewing the reef at thisstate of the tide it seemed impossible that any human being couldhave been hurled across that formidable barrier without beingbattered out of recognition.

  Away to the south-eastern extremity of the island was another pieceof dry land, low-lying and not more than a hundred yards in length.On it were three solitary palms. Round it, and extending far in aneasterly direction, were reefs and atolls, terminating in a rockquite two miles from the large island. Had the life-boat crashed uponthese reefs--which she would most certainly have done had she held onher course--the fate of all on board would have been sealed. And,even if Burgoyne had succeeded in putting the boat on the starboardtack, she was embayed to such an extent that there would have been noescape. Providentially the castaways had been driven ashore on thelarger island and the only one not liable to be completely swept bythe breakers.

  The eastern part of the island, off which side the boat had suffereddisaster, ran in a fairly even direction north and south, terminatingin two sandy spits about a mile apart. As far as Burgoyne could seethere was no sign of any indentation; the coral strand formed astraight expanse from end to end.

  Looking towards his left, or in a northerly direction, Alwyn noticeda dark object lying close on high-water mark and half-buried in sand.It was the after part of the life-boat.

  Thinking that by a rare slice of luck some of the provisions mighthave remained in the after locker, he made his way painfully towardsthe wreckage, conscious of a burning pain in the heel--the legacy ofa violent contact with the reef. His damaged hand, swathed in a stripof his last remaining handkerchief, was throbbing excruciatingly.

  As he approached his attention was attracted by the sight of a man'shand and arm projecting beyond some scrub and driftwood within a fewyards of the boat. The arm was bare, brown, and muscular, andlavishly embellished with tattoo marks.

  "Minalto!" exclaimed the Third Officer, and, forgetting his injuries,hurried to the spot to confirm or dissipate his worst fears.

  Jasper was not only alive but conscious. He had been cast ashore in abattered condition, being flung on the crest of a wave right into aclump of undergrowth. Bruised from head to foot he had lain in atorpid state, until the warmth of the sun had roused him from hislethargy but a few minutes before Alwyn's appearance.

  "Sure, 'tes a rum world," he remarked. "Didn't think tu see youagen-like, sir. And the young leddy? Where she be tu?"

  "Safe," replied Burgoyne. He was going to add "and sound ", butchecked himself. "You've seen nothing of Mr. Mostyn?" he addedanxiously.

  Minalto slowly extricated himself from his bed of scrub anddriftwood.

  "No, sir," he said slowly. "I aint. Fact is I've just come-tu-like,bein', in a manner o' speakin', fair-flummoxed. Ne'er clapt eyes on'im arter the boat struck."

  The two men searched the fragments of wreckage. In the stern lockerthey discovered two tins of beef. The rest had vanished. Two of thecopper air-tanks were still intact, while wedged in between the sternbench and a broken oar was one of the two buckets.

  "Better'n nothin'," observed Jasper philosophically "S'pose we dusearch round-like. Might find somethin' worth our while."

  It was a strain of his wrecker ancestors that prompted this remark,but the suggestion was worth acting upon. With the wind on shore anda heavy sea tumbling in there might be valuable spoil from the ocean.

  The search resulted in the discovery of the mizzen mast with the sailstill set. The mast had been broken off close to the thwart-clamp. Alittle farther on they discovered an oar, a length of grass rope, andanother copper air-tank, all of which they collected and placed wellabove high-water mark.

  "We'll get along, now," declared Burgoyne. "I came to look forcoco-nuts, not wreckage, although I admit the search has not beenexactly fruitless."

  "One minute, sir," interrupted Minalto. "What be that? We ne'er hadno li'l barrel in the boat, did us?"

  He pointed to a small cask, half buried in the sand It was encrustedwith barnacles, and growing marine whiskers a foot or more in length.

  "Heavy 'un be, too," continued Jasper, searching round for a stone toknock out the tightly fixed bung.

  "Later on will do fo
r that," declared the Third Officer. "Roll it upunder that bush."

  Reluctantly Minalto turned away from his find, like a dog ordered byhis master to drop a succulent bone. In his presentappearance--hatless, with a lavish growth of beard, bare almost tothe waist, having lost most of his shirt in the struggle with thewaves--he looked more like a seventeenth-century wrecker of theinhospitable Scillies than a steady-going quartermaster of theMercantile Marine.

  Burgoyne's appearance was very little better. He, too, was sporting abristling beard. He was capless--a fact to which the now powerfulrays of the sun was calling pressing attention. His one-time whitepatrol-jacket was torn, dirty, and had half of one sleeve missing.His trousers ended at the knees, while his shoes, cut by contact withthe sharp coral, were little more than a pair of ragged canvasuppers, held together by fragments of once good British leather.Slight gashes on his forehead and cheek, and his bandaged hand,completed his dishevelled and disreputable appearance.

  On the return journey Burgoyne discovered an uprooted coco-palm, fromwhich he gathered some green nuts, sufficient to provide liquidrefreshment, but of small value from a life-sustaining point of view.But with the tins of beef, even if nothing else of an edible naturewere found, they might with luck eke out an existence for days.