The Wings of the Morning

  CHAPTER III

  DISCOVERIES

  The sailor wasted no time in idle bewilderment. He searched carefullyfor traces of the missing Lascars. He came to the conclusion that thebodies had been dragged from off the sun-dried rocks into the lagoon bysome agency the nature of which he could not even conjecture.

  They were lying many feet above the sea-level when he last saw them,little more than half an hour earlier. At that point the beach shelvedrapidly. He could look far into the depths of the rapidly clearingwater. Nothing was visible there save several varieties of small fish.

  The incident puzzled and annoyed him. Still thinking about it, he satdown on the highest rock and pulled off his heavy boots to empty thewater out. He also divested himself of his stockings and spread themout to dry.

  The action reminded him of Miss Deane's necessities. He hurried to apoint whence he could call out to her and recommend her to dry some ofher clothing during his absence. He retired even more quickly, fearinglest he should be seen. Iris had already displayed to the sunlight alarge portion of her costume.

  Without further delay he set about a disagreeable but necessary task.From the pockets of the first officer and doctor he secured tworevolvers and a supply of cartridges, evidently intended to settle anydispute which might have arisen between the ship's officers and thenative members of the crew. He hoped the cartridges were uninjured; buthe could not test them at the moment for fear of alarming Miss Deane.

  Both officers carried pocket-books and pencils. In one of these,containing dry leaves, the sailor made a careful inventory of the moneyand other valuable effects he found upon the dead, besides noting namesand documents where possible. Curiously enough, the capitalist of thisisland morgue was a Lascar jemadar, who in a belt around his waisthoarded more than one hundred pounds in gold. The sailor tied in ahandkerchief all the money he collected, and ranged pocket-books,letters, and jewelry in separate little heaps. Then he stripped the menof their boots and outer clothing. He could not tell how long the girland he might be detained on the island before help came, and freshgarments were essential. It would be foolish sentimentality to trust tostores thrown ashore from the ship.

  Nevertheless, when it became necessary to search and disrobe the womenhe almost broke down. For an instant he softened. Gulping back hisemotions with a savage imprecation he doggedly persevered. At last hepaused to consider what should be done with the bodies. His firstintent was to scoop a large hole in the sand with a piece of timber;but when he took into consideration the magnitude of the laborinvolved, requiring many hours of hard work and a waste of precioustime which might be of infinite value to his helpless companion andhimself, he was forced to abandon the project. It was not onlyimpracticable but dangerous.

  Again he had to set his teeth with grim resolution. One by one thebodies were shot into the lagoon from the little quay of rock. He knewthey would not be seen again.

  He was quite unnerved now. He felt as if he had committed a colossalcrime. In the smooth water of the cove a number of black fins werecutting arrow-shaped ripples. The sharks were soon busy. He shuddered.God's Providence had ferried him and the girl across that very place afew hours ago. How wonderful that he and she should be snatched fromthe sea whilst hundreds perished! Why was it? And those others--whywere they denied rescue? For an instant he was nearer to prayer than hehad been for years.

  Some lurking fiend of recollection sprang from out the vista of bygoneyears and choked back the impulse. He arose and shook himself like adog. There was much to be done. He gathered the clothes and otherarticles into a heap and placed portions of shattered packing-casesnear--to mislead Iris. Whilst thus engaged he kicked up out of the sanda rusty kriss, or Malay sword. The presence of this implement startledhim. He examined it slowly and thrust it out of sight.

  Then he went back to her, after donning his stockings and boots, nowthoroughly dry.

  "Are you ready now, Miss Deane?" he sang out cheerily.

  "Ready? I have been waiting for you."

  Jenks chuckled quietly. "I must guard my tongue: it betrays me," hesaid to himself.

  Iris joined him. By some mysterious means she had effected greatimprovement in her appearance. Yet there were manifest gaps.

  "If only I had a needle and thread--" she began.

  "If that is all," said the sailor, fumbling in his pockets. He produceda shabby little hussif, containing a thimble, scissors, needles andsome skeins of unbleached thread. Case and contents were sodden orrusted with salt water, but the girl fastened upon this treasure with asigh of deep content.

  "Now, please," she cried, "I want a telegraph office and a ship."

  It was impossible to resist the infection of her high spirits. Thistime he laughed without concealment.

  "We will look for them, Miss Deane. Meanwhile, will you oblige me bywearing this? The sun is climbing up rapidly."

  He handed her a sou'wester which he carried. He had secured another forhimself. The merriment died away from her face. She remembered hiserrand. Being an eminently sensible young woman she made no protest,even forcing herself to tie the strings beneath her chin.

  When they reached the sands she caught sight of the pile of clothes andthe broken woodwork, with the small heaps of valuables methodicallyarranged. The harmless subterfuge did not deceive her. She darted aquick look of gratitude at her companion. How thoughtful he was! Aftera fearful glance around she was reassured, though she wondered what hadbecome of--them.

  "I see you have been busy," she said, nodding towards the clothes andboots.

  It was his turn to steal a look of sharp inquiry. 'Twere an easier taskto read the records of time in the solid rock than to glean knowledgefrom the girl's face.

  "Yes," he replied simply. "Lucky find, wasn't it?"

  "Most fortunate. When they are quite dry I will replenish my wardrobe.What is the first thing to be done?"

  "Well, Miss Deane, I think our programme is, in the first place, toexamine the articles thrown ashore and see if any of the cases containfood. Secondly, we should haul high and dry everything that may be ofuse to us, lest the weather should break again and the next tide sweepaway the spoil. Thirdly, we should eat and rest, and finally, we mustexplore the island before the light fails. I am convinced we are alonehere. It is a small place at the best, and if any Chinamen were ashorethey would have put in an appearance long since."

  "Do you think, then, that we may remain here long?"

  "It is impossible to form an opinion on that point. Help may come in aday. On the other hand----"

  "Yes?"

  "It is a wise thing, Miss Deane, to prepare for other contingencies."

  She stood still, and swept the horizon with comprehensive eyes. Thestorm had vanished. Masses of cloud were passing away to the west,leaving a glorious expanse of blue sky. Already the sea was calming.Huge breakers roared over the reef, but beyond it the waves weresubsiding into a heavy unbroken swell.

  The sailor watched her closely. In the quaint oilskin hat and hertattered muslin dress she looked bewitchingly pretty. She reminded himof a well-bred and beautiful society lady whom he once saw figuring asGrace Darling at a fashionable bazaar.

  But Miss Iris's thoughts were serious.

  "Do you mean," she said slowly, without moving her gaze from thedistant meeting-place of sky and water, "that we may be imprisoned herefor weeks, perhaps months?"

  "If you cast your mind back a few hours you will perhaps admit that weare very fortunate to be here at all."

  She whisked round upon him. "Do not fence with my question, Mr. Jenks.Answer me!"

  He bowed. There was a perceptible return of his stubborn cynicism whenhe spoke.

  "The facts are obvious, Miss Deane. The loss of the _Sirdar_ willnot be definitely known for many days. It will be assumed that she hasbroken down. The agents in Singapore will await cabled tidings of herwhereabouts. She might have drifted anywhere in that typhoon.Ultimately they will send out a vessel to search, impelled to thatcourse a little earl
ier by your father's anxiety. Pardon me. I did notintend to pain you. I am speaking my mind."

  "Go on," said Iris bravely.

  "The relief ship must search the entire China Sea. The gale might havedriven a disabled steamer north, south, east or west. A typhoon travelsin a whirling spiral, you see, and the direction of a drifting shipdepends wholly upon the locality where she sustained damage. The coastsof China, Java, Borneo, and the Philippines are not equipped withlighthouses on every headland and cordoned with telegraph wires. Thereare river pirates and savage races to be reckoned with. Casting asideall other possibilities, and assuming that a prompt search is made tothe south of our course, this part of the ocean is full of reefs andsmall islands, some inhabited permanently, others visited occasionallyby fishermen." He was about to add something, but checked himself.

  "To sum up," he continued hurriedly, "we may have to remain here formany days, even months. There is always a chance of speedy help. Wemust act, however, on the basis of detention for an indefinite period.I am discussing appearances as they are. A survey of the island maychange all these views."

  "In what way?"

  He turned and pointed to the summit of the tree-covered hill behindthem.

  "From that point," he said, "we may see other and larger islands. Ifso, they will certainly be inhabited. I am surprised this one is not."

  He ended abruptly. They were losing time. Before Iris could join him hewas already hauling a large undamaged case out of the water.

  He laughed unmirthfully. "Champagne!" he said, "A good brand, too!"

  This man was certainly an enigma. Iris wrinkled her pretty forehead inthe effort to place him in a fitting category. His words and accentwere those of an educated gentleman, yet his actions and manners werestudiously uncouth when he thought she was observing him. The veneer ofroughness puzzled her. That he was naturally of refined temperament sheknew quite well, not alone by perception but by the plain evidence ofhis earlier dealings with her. Then why this affectation of coarseness,this borrowed aroma of the steward's mess and the forecastle?

  To the best of her ability she silently helped in the work of salvage.They made a queer collection. A case of champagne, and another ofbrandy. A box of books. A pair of night glasses. A compass. Severalboxes of ship's biscuits, coated with salt, but saved by theirhardness, having been immersed but a few seconds. Two large cases ofhams in equally good condition. Some huge dish-covers. A bit of twistedironwork, and a great quantity of cordage and timber.

  There was one very heavy package which their united strength could notlift. The sailor searched round until he found an iron bar that couldbe wrenched from its socket. With this he pried open the strong outercover and revealed the contents--regulation boxes of Lee-Metfordammunition, each containing 500 rounds.

  "Ah!" he cried, "now we want some rifles."

  "What good would they be?" inquired Iris.

  He softly denounced himself as a fool, but he answered at once: "Toshoot birds, of course, Miss Deane. There are plenty here, and many ofthem are edible."

  "You have two revolvers and some cartridges."

  "Yes. They are useful in a way, but not for pot hunting."

  "How stupid of me! What you really need is a shot-gun."

  He smiled grimly. At times his sense of humor forced a way through theoutward shield of reserve, of defiance it might be.

  "The only persons I ever heard of," he said, "who landed undercompulsion on a desert island with a ship-load of requisites, were theSwiss Family Robinson."

  "Good gracious!" cried Iris irrelevantly; "I had not even thought ofRobinson Crusoe until this moment. Isn't it odd? I--we--"

  She pulled herself up short, firmly resolved not to blush. Withoutflinching she challenged him to complete her sentence. He dared not doit. He could not be mean enough to take advantage of her slip.

  Instantly he helped her embarrassment. "I hope the parallel will nothold good," he said. "In any event, you, Miss Deane, fill a part lessfamiliar in fiction."

  The phrase was neat. It meant much or little, as fancy dictated. Irisat first felt profoundly grateful for his tact. Thinking the words overat leisure she became hot and very angry.

  They worked in silence for another hour. The sun was nearing thezenith. They were distressed with the increasing heat of the day. Jenkssecured a ham and some biscuits, some pieces of driftwood and thebinoculars, and invited Miss Deane to accompany him to the grove. Sheobeyed without a word, though she wondered how he proposed to light afire. To contribute something towards the expected feast she picked upa dish-cover and a bottle of champagne.

  The sailor eyed the concluding item with disfavor. "Not whilst the sunis up." he said. "In the evening, yes."

  "It was for you," explained Iris, coldly. "I do not drink wine."

  "You must break the pledge whilst you are here, Miss Deane. It is oftenvery cold at night in this latitude. A chill would mean fever andperhaps death."

  "What a strange man!" murmured the girl.

  She covertly watched his preparations. He tore a dry leaf from anotebook and broke the bullet out of a cartridge, damping the powderwith water from a pitcher-plant. Smearing the composition on the paper,he placed it in the sun, where it dried at once. He gathered a smallbundle of withered spines from the palms, and arranged the driftwood ontop, choosing a place for his bonfire just within the shade. Then,inserting the touch-paper among the spines, he unscrewed one of thelenses of the binoculars, converted it into a burning-glass, and had afine blaze roaring merrily in a few minutes. With the aid of pointedsticks he grilled some slices of ham, cut with his clasp-knife, whichhe first carefully cleaned in the earth. The biscuits were of thevariety that become soft when toasted, and so he balanced a few bystones near the fire.

  Iris forgot her annoyance in her interest. A most appetizing smellfilled the air. They were having a picnic amidst delightfulsurroundings. Yesterday at this time--she almost yielded to a rush ofsentiment, but forced it back with instant determination. Tears were apoor resource, unmindful of God's goodness to herself and hercompanion. Without the sailor what would have become of her, even wereshe thrown ashore while still living? She knew none of the expedientswhich seemed to be at his command. It was a most ungrateful proceedingto be vexed with him for her own thoughtless suggestion that sheoccupied a new role as Mrs. Crusoe.

  "Can I do nothing to help?" she exclaimed. So contrite was her tonethat Jenks was astonished.

  "Yes," he said, pointing to the dish-cover. "If you polish the top ofthat with your sleeve it will serve as a plate. Luncheon is ready."

  He neatly dished up two slices of ham on a couple of biscuits andhanded them to her, with the clasp-knife.

  "I can depend on my fingers," he explained. "It will not be the firsttime."

  "Have you led an adventurous life?" she asked, by way of politeconversation.

  "No," he growled.

  "I only thought so because you appear to know all sorts of dodges forprolonging existence--things I never heard of."

  "Broiled ham--and biscuits--for instance?"

  At another time Iris would have snapped at him for the retort. Stillhumbly regretful for her previous attitude she answered meekly--

  "Yes, in this manner of cooking them, I mean. But there are otheritems--methods of lighting fires, finding water, knowing what fruitsand other articles may be found on a desert island, such as plantainsand cocoanuts, certain sorts of birds--and _beche-de-mer_."

  For the life of her she could not tell why she tacked on that weirditem to her list.

  The sailor inquired, more civilly--"Then you are acquainted withtrepang?"

  "Who?"

  "Trepang--_beche-de-mer_, you know."

  Iris made a desperate guess. "Yes," she said, demurely. "It makesbeautiful backs for hair brushes. And it looks so nice as a frame forplatinotype photographs. I have--"

  Jenks swallowed a large piece of ham and became very red. At last hemanaged to say--"I beg your pardon. You are thinking of tortoise-shell.
_Beche-de-mer_ is a sort of marine slug."

  "How odd!" said Iris.

  She had discovered at an early age the tactical value of this remark,and the experience of maturer years confirmed the success of juvenileefforts to upset the equanimity of governesses. Even the sailor wassilenced.

  Talk ceased until the meal was ended. Jenks sprang lightly to his feet.Rest and food had restored his faculties. The girl thought dreamily, ashe stood there in his rough attire, that she had never seen a finerman. He was tall, sinewy, and well formed. In repose his face waspleasant, if masterful. Its somewhat sullen, self-contained expressionwas occasional and acquired. She wondered how he could be so energetic.Personally she was consumed with sleepiness.

  He produced a revolver.

  "Do you mind if I fire a shot to test these cartridges?" he inquired."The powder is all right, but the fulminate in the caps may bedamaged."

  She agreed promptly. He pointed the weapon at a cluster of cocoanuts,and there was a loud report. Two nuts fell to the ground, and the airwas filled with shrill screams and the flapping of innumerable wings.Iris was momentarily dismayed, but her senses confirmed the sailor'sexplanation--"Sea-birds."

  He reloaded the empty chamber, and was about to say something, when aqueer sound, exactly resembling the gurgling of water poured from alarge bottle, fell upon their ears. It came from the interior of thegrove, and the two exchanged a quick look of amazed questioning. Jenkstook a hasty step in the direction of the noise, but he stopped andlaughed at his own expense. Iris liked the sound of his mirth. It wasgenuine, not forced.

  "I remember now," he explained. "The wou-wou monkey cries in thatpeculiar warble. The presence of the animal here shows that the islandhas been inhabited at some time."

  "You remember?" repeated the girl. "Then you have been in this part ofthe world before?"

  "No. I mean I have read about it."

  Twice in half an hour had he curtly declined to indulge in personalreminiscences.

  "Can you use a revolver?" he went on.

  "My father taught me. He thinks every woman should know how to defendherself if need be."

  "Excellent. Well, Miss Deane, you must try to sleep for a couple ofhours. I purpose examining the coast for some distance on each side.Should you want me, a shot will be the best sort of signal."

  "I am very tired," she admitted. "But you?"

  "Oh, I am all right. I feel restless; that is, I mean I will not beable to sleep until night comes, and before we climb the hill to surveyour domain I want to find better quarters than we now possess."

  Perhaps, were she less fatigued, she would have caught the vagueanxiety, the note of distrust, in his voice. But the carpet of sand andleaves on which she lay was very seductive. Her eyes closed. Shenestled into a comfortable position, and slept.

  The man looked at her steadily for a little while. Then he moved therevolver out of harm's way to a spot where she must see it instantly,pulled his sou'wester well over his eyes and walked off quietly.

  They were flung ashore on the north-west side of the island. Except forthe cove formed by the coral reef, with its mysterious palm-treegrowing apparently in the midst of the waves, the shape of the coastwas roughly that of the concave side of a bow, the two visibleextremities being about three-quarters of a mile apart.

  He guessed, by the way in which the sea raced past these points, thatthe land did not extend beyond them. Behind him, it rose steeply to aconsiderable height, 150 or 200 feet. In the center was the tallesthill, which seemed to end abruptly towards the south-west. On thenorth-east side it was connected with a rocky promontory by a ridge ofeasy grade. The sailor turned to the south-west, as offering the mostlikely direction for rapid survey.

  He followed the line of vegetation; there the ground was firm andlevel. There was no suggestion of the mariner's roll in his steadygait. Alter his clothing, change the heavy boots into spurredWellingtons, and he would be the _beau ideal_ of a cavalrysoldier, the order of Melchisedec in the profession of arms.

  He was not surprised to find that the hill terminated in a sheer wallof rock, which stood out, ominous and massive, from the wealth ofverdure clothing the remainder of the ridge. Facing the precipice, andseparated from it by a strip of ground not twenty feet above thesea-level in the highest part, was another rock-built eminence, quitebare of trees, blackened by the weather and scarred in a manner thatattested the attacks of lightning.

  He whistled softly. "By Jove!" he said. "Volcanic, and highlymineralized."

  The intervening belt was sparsely dotted with trees, casuarinas, poon,and other woods he did not know, resembling ebony and cedar. A numberof stumps showed that the axe had been at work, but not recently. Hepassed into the cleft and climbed a tree that offered easy access. Ashe expected, after rising a few feet from the ground, his eyesencountered the solemn blue line of the sea, not half a mile distant.

  He descended and commenced a systematic search. Men had been here. Wasthere a house? Would he suddenly encounter some hermit Malay orChinaman?

  At the foot of the main cliff was a cluster of fruit-bearing trees,plantains, areca-nuts, and cocoa-palms. A couple of cinchonas caughthis eye. In one spot the undergrowth was rank and vividly green. Thecassava, or tapioca plant, reared its high, passion-flower leaves abovethe grass, and some sago-palms thrust aloft their thick-stemmed trunks.

  "Here is a change of menu, at any rate," he communed.

  Breaking a thick branch off a poon tree he whittled away the minorstems. A strong stick was needful to explore that leafy fastnessthoroughly.

  A few cautious strides and vigorous whacks with the stick laid bare thecause of such prodigality in a soil covered with drifted sand and lumpsof black and white speckled coral. The trees and bushes enclosed awell--safe-guarded it, in fact, from being choked with sand during thefirst gale that blew.

  Delighted with this discovery, more precious than diamonds at themoment, for he doubted the advisability of existing on the water supplyof the pitcher-plant, he knelt to peer into the excavation. The wellhad been properly made. Ten feet down he could see the reflection ofhis face. Expert hands had tapped the secret reservoir of the island.By stretching to the full extent of his arm, he managed to plunge thestick into the water. Tasting the drops, he found that they were quitesweet. The sand and porous rock provided the best of filter-beds.

  He rose, wall pleased, and noted that on the opposite side theappearance of the shrubs and tufts of long grass indicated theexistence of a grown-over path towards the cliff. He followed it,walking carelessly, with eyes seeking the prospect beyond, whensomething rattled and cracked beneath his feet. Looking down, he washorrified to find he was trampling on a skeleton.

  Had a venomous snake coiled its glistening folds around his leg hewould not have been more startled. But this man of iron nerve soonrecovered. He frowned deeply after the first involuntary heart-throb.

  With the stick he cleared away the undergrowth, and revealed theskeleton of a man. The bones were big and strong, but oxidized by theaction of the air. Jenks had injured the left tibia by his tread, butthree fractured ribs and a smashed shoulder-blade told some terribleunwritten story.

  Beneath the mournful relics were fragments of decayed cloth. It wasblue serge. Lying about were a few blackened objects--brass buttonsmarked with an anchor. The dead man's boots were in the best state ofpreservation, but the leather had shrunk and the nails protruded likefangs.

  A rusted pocket-knife lay there, and on the left breast of the skeletonrested a round piece of tin, the top of a canister, which might havereposed in a coat pocket. Jenks picked it up. Some curious marks andfigures were punched into its surface. After a hasty glance he put itaside for more leisurely examination.

  No weapon was visible. He could form no estimate as to the cause of thedeath of this poor unknown, nor the time since the tragedy hadoccurred.

  Jenks must have stood many minutes before he perceived that theskeleton was headless. At first he imagined that in rummaging aboutwith the sti
ck he had disturbed the skull. But the most minute searchdemonstrated that it had gone, had been taken away, in fact, for theplants which so effectually screened the lighter bones would not permitthe skull to vanish.

  Then the frown on the sailor's face became threatening, thunderous. Herecollected the rusty kriss. Indistinct memories of strange tales ofthe China Sea crowded unbidden to his brain.

  "Dyaks!" he growled fiercely. "A ship's officer, an Englishmanprobably, murdered by head-hunting Dyak pirates!"

  If they came once they would come again.

  Five hundred yards away Iris Deane was sleeping. He ought not to haveleft her alone. And then, with the devilish ingenuity of coincidence, arevolver shot awoke the echoes, and sent all manner of wildfowlhurtling through the trees with clamorous outcry.

  Panting and wild-eyed, Jenks was at the girl's side in an inconceivablyshort space of time. She was not beneath the shelter of the grove, buton the sands, gazing, pallid in cheek and lip, at the group of rocks onthe edge of the lagoon.

  "What is the matter?" he gasped.

  "Oh, I don't know," she wailed brokenly. "I had a dream, such ahorrible dream. You were struggling with some awful thing down there."She pointed to the rocks.

  "I was not near the place," he said laboriously. It cost him an effortto breathe. His broad chest expanded inches with each respiration.

  "Yes, yes, I understand. But I awoke and ran to save you. When I gothere I saw something, a thing with waving arms, and fired. It vanished,and then you came."

  The sailor walked slowly to the rocks. A fresh chip out of the stoneshowed where the bullet struck. One huge boulder was wet, as if waterhad been splashed over it. He halted and looked intently into thewater. Not a fish was to be seen, but small spirals of sand wereeddying up from the bottom, where it shelved steeply from the shore.

  Iris followed him. "See," she cried excitedly. "I was not mistaken.There _was_ something here."

  A creepy sensation ran up the man's spine and passed behind his ears.At this spot the drowned Lascars were lying. Like an inspiration camethe knowledge that the cuttlefish, the dreaded octopus, abounds in theChina Sea.

  His face was livid when he turned to Iris. "You are over-wrought byfatigue, Miss Deane," he said. "What you saw was probably a seal;" heknew the ludicrous substitution would not be questioned. "Please go andlie down again."

  "I cannot," she protested. "I am too frightened."

  "Frightened! By a dream! In broad daylight!"

  "But why are _you_ so pale? What has alarmed you?"

  "Can you ask? Did you not give the agreed signal?"

  "Yes, but--"

  Her inquiring glance fell. He was breathless from agitation rather thanrunning. He was perturbed on her account. For an instant she had lookedinto his soul.

  "I will go back," she said quietly, "though I would rather accompanyyou. What are you doing?"

  "Seeking a place to lay our heads," he answered, with gruffcarelessness. "You really must rest, Miss Deane. Otherwise you will bebroken up by fatigue and become ill."

  So Iris again sought her couch of sand, and the sailor returned to theskeleton. They separated unwillingly, each thinking only of the other'ssafety and comfort. The girl knew she was not wanted because the manwished to spare her some unpleasant experience. She obeyed him with asigh, and sat down, not to sleep, but to muse, as girls will,round-eyed, wistful, with the angelic fantasy of youth and innocence.