VIII
AN EXCURSION AND AN ALARM
As the only person who had yet discovered anything on the island, Iwas now invested with a certain importance. Also, I had aplayfellow and companion for future walks, in lieu of CuthbertVane, held down tight to the thankless toil of treasure-hunting byhis stem taskmaster. But at the same time I was provided with anannoying, because unanswerable, question which had lodged at theback of my mind like a crumb in the throat:
By what strange chance had the copra gatherer gone away and leftCrusoe on the island?
Since the discovery of Crusoe the former inhabitant of the cabin inthe clearing had been much in my thoughts. I had been dissatisfiedwith him from the beginning, first, because he was not a pirate,and also because he had left behind no relic more fitting than awashtub. Not a locket, not a journal, not his own wasted formstretched upon a pallet--
I had expressed these sentiments to Cuthbert Vane, who replied thatin view of the washtub it was certain that the hermit of the islandhad not been a pirate, as he understood they never washed. I saidneither did any orthodox hermit, to which Mr. Vane rejoined that heprobably was not orthodox but a Dissenter. He said Dissenters wereso apt to be peculiar, don't you know?
One morning, instead of starting directly after breakfast for thecave, Mr. Shaw busied himself in front of the supply tent withcertain explosives which were to be used in the digging operationslater. The neighborhood of these explosives was a great trial toAunt Jane, who was constantly expecting them to go off. I ratherexpected it too, and used to shudder at the thought that if we allwent soaring heavenward together we might come down inextricablymixed. Then when the Rufus Smith returned and they tried to sortus out before interment, I might have portions of Violet, forinstance, attributed to me. In that case I felt that, like BillHalliwell, I should walk.
Having inquired of the Honorable Cuthbert and found that for anhour or two the boat would not be in requisition, I permitted thebeautiful youth to understand that I would not decline aninvitation to be rowed about the cove. Mr. Shaw had left hismarine glasses lying about, and I had been doing some exploringwith them. Under the great cliffs on the north shore of the bay Ihad seen an object that excited my curiosity. It seemed to be thehull of a small vessel, lying on the narrow strip of rocks and sandunder the cliff. Now wreckage anywhere fills me with sad andromantic thoughts, but on the shore of a desolate island even abarrel-hoop seems to suffer a sea-change into something rich andstrange. I therefore commanded the b. y. to row me over to thespot where the derelict lay.
I lay back idly in the stern as the boat skimmed over the smoothwater beneath the strokes of my splendid oarsman. More than everhe looked like the island god. Every day he grew more brown andbrawny, more superb in his physical vigor. But his hands, once sobeautiful, were getting rough and hard with toil. There was agreat raw bruise on his arm. I exclaimed pityingly.
"Oh, it's nothing. We get knocked about a bit by the sea in thecave now and then."
"You mean you are risking your lives every day for the sake of thislegendary treasure that you have no _reasonable_ reason to supposeis there."
"Perhaps not," he admitted, "but then it's such good fun looking,you know."
"That's according to one's idea of fun," I said ironically.
"Oh, well, a chap can't spend his days on flowery beds of ease, ofcourse. Really, I find this story-book kind of thing we're doingis _warm stuff_, as you Americans say. And then there'sShaw--think of the difference it will make to the dear old chap ifwe find the gold--buy a ship of his own and snap his fingers at theP. & O."
"And you'll go along as cabin-boy or something?" "'Fraid not," hesaid quite simply. "A chap has his bit to do at home, you know."
The cliffs on the north shore of the cove were considerably higherthan on the other side. The wreck lay close in, driven high uponthe narrow shelf of rocks and sand at the base of the sheer ascent.Sand had heaped up around her hull and flung itself across her decklike a white winding-sheet. Surprisingly, the vessel was a verysmall one, a little sloop, indeed, much like the fragilepleasure-boats that cluster under the Sausalito shore at home. Thesingle mast had been broken off short, and the stump of thebowsprit was visible, like a finger beckoning for rescue from thecrawling sand. She was embedded most deeply at the stem, andforward of the sand-heaped cockpit the roof of the small cabin wasstill clear.
"Poor forlorn little boat!" I said. "What in the world do yousuppose brought such a mite of a thing to this unheard-of spot?"
"Perhaps she belonged to the copra chap. One man could handle her."
"What would he want with her? A small boat like this is better forfishing and rowing about the cove."
"Perhaps she brought him here from Panama, though he couldn't havecounted on taking back a very bulky cargo."
"Then why leave her strewn about on the rocks? And besides"--herethe puzzle of Crusoe recurred to me and seemed to link itself withthis--"then how did he get away himself?"
But my oarsman was much more at home on the solid ground of factthan on the uncharted waters of the hypothetical.
"Don't know, I'm sure," he returned uninterestedly. Evidently thehermit had got away, so why concern one's self about the method? Iam sure the Light Brigade must have been made up of Cuthbert Vanes."Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do or die--"
We rowed in close under the port bow of the sloop, and on the railI made out a string of faded letters. I began excitedly to spellthem out.
"I--s--l--oh, _Island Queen_! You see she did belong here.Probably she brought the original porcine Adam and Eve to theisland."
"Luckily forgot the snake, though!" remarked the Honorable Bertiewith unlooked-for vivacity. For so far Aunt Jane's tremblinganticipations had been unfulfilled by the sight of a single snake,a fact laid by me to the credit of St. Patrick and by Cookie tothat of the pigs.
"Snakes 'd jes' be oysters on de half shell to dem pigs," declaredCookie.
As we rowed away from the melancholy little derelict I saw thatnear by a narrow gully gave access to the top of the cliff, and Iresolved that I would avail myself of this path to visit the_Island Queen_ again. My mind continued to dwell upon the unknownfigure of the copra gatherer. Perhaps the loss of his sloop hadcondemned him to weary months or years of solitude upon the island,before the rare glimmer of a sail or the trail of a steamer's smokeupon the horizon gladdened his longing eyes. Hadn't he grown verytired of pork, and didn't his soul to this day revolt at a hamsandwich? What would he say if he ever discovered that he mighthave brought away a harvest of gold instead of copra from theisland? Last but not least, did not his heart and conscience, ifhe by chance possessed them, ache horribly at the thought of theforsaken Crusoe?
Suddenly I turned to Cuthbert Vane.
"How do you know, really, that he ever did leave the island?" Idemanded.
"Who--the copra chap? Well, why else was the cabin cleared out socarefully--no clothes left about or anything?"
"That's true," I acknowledged. The last occupant of the hut hadevidently made a very deliberate and orderly business of packing upto go.
We drifted about the cove for a while, then steered into the dimmurmuring shadow of the treasure-cavern. It was filled withdark-green, lisping water, and a continual resonant whispering inwhich you seemed to catch half-framed words, and the low ripple oflaughter. Mr. Vane indicated the point at which they had arrivedin their exploration among the fissures opening from the ledge.
The place held me with its fascination, but we dared not lingerlong, for as the tide turned one man would have much ado to managethe boat. So we slid through the archway into the bright sunshineof the cove, and headed for the camp.
As we neared the beach we saw a figure pacing it. I knew that freestride. It was Dugald Shaw. And quite unexpectedly my heart beganto beat with staccato quickness. Dugald Shaw, who didn't like meand never looked at me--except just sometimes, when he wasperfectly sure I didn't know it. Dugald Shaw
, the silent,unboastful man who had striven and starved and frozen on thedreadful southern ice-fields, who had shared the Viking deeds ofthe heroes--whom just to think of warmed my heart with a safe,cuddled, little-girl feeling that I had never known since I was achild on my father's knee. There he was, waiting for us, andsplashing into the foam to help Cuthbert beach the boat--he forwhom a thousand years ago the skalds would have made a saga--
The b. y. hailed him cheerfully as we sprang out upon the sand.But the Scotchman was unsmiling.
"Make haste after your tools, lad," he ordered. "We'll have finework now to get inside the cave before the turn."
Those were his words; his tone and his grim look meant, _So inspite of all my care you are being beguiled by a minx_--
It was his tone that I answered.
"Oh, don't scold Mr. Vane!" I implored. "Every paradise has itsserpent, and as there are no others here I suppose I am it. Ofcourse all lady serpents who know their business have red hair.Don't blame Mr. Vane for what was naturally all my fault."
Not a line of his face changed. Indeed, before my most viciousstabs it never did change. Though of course it would have beenmuch more civil of him, and far less maddening, to show himself alittle bit annoyed.
"To be sure it seems unreasonable to blame the lad," he agreedsoberly, "but then he happens to be under my authority."
"Meaning, I suppose, that you would much prefer to blame _me_," Ichoked.
"There's logic, no doubt, in striking at the root of the trouble,"he admitted, with an air of calm detachment.
"Then strike," I said furiously, "strike, why don't you, and notbeat about the bush so!" Because then he would be quite hopelesslyin the wrong, and I could adopt any of several roles--the coldlyhaughty, the wounded but forgiving, etc., with great enjoyment.
But without a change in his glacial manner he quite casuallyremarked:
"It would seem I had struck--home."
I walked away wishing the dynamite would go off, even if I had tobe mixed with Violet till the last trump.
Fortunately nobody undertook to exercise any guardianship overCrusoe, and the little white dog bore me faithful company in myrambles. Mostly these were confined to the neighborhood of thecove. I never ventured beyond Lookout ridge, but there I wentoften with Crusoe, and we would sit upon a rock and talk to eachother about our first encounter there, and the fright he had givenme. Everybody else had gone, gazed and admired. But the onlyconstant pilgrim, besides myself, was, of all people, CaptainMagnus. Soon between us we had worn a path through the woods tothe top of the ridge. The captain's unexpected ardor for scenerycarried him thither whenever he had half an hour to spare from thework in the cave. Needless to say, Crusoe and I timed our visitsso as not to conflict with his. A less discreet beast than Crusoewould long ere this have sampled the captain's calves, for thesailor missed no sly chance to exasperate the animal. But the wisedog contented himself with such manifestations as a lifted lip andtwitching ears, for he had his own code of behavior, and was not tobe goaded into departing from it.
One day, as Crusoe and I came down from the ridge, we met CaptainMagnus ascending. I had in my hand a small metal-backed mirror,which I had found, surprisingly, lying in a mossy cleft between therocks. It was a thing such as a man might carry in his pocket,though on the island it seemed unlikely that any one would do' so.I at once attributed the mirror to Captain Magnus, for I knew thatno one else had been to the ridge for days. I was wondering as Iwalked along whether by some sublime law of compensation thecaptain really thought himself beautiful, and sought this retiredspot to admire not the view but his own physiognomy.
When the captain saw me he stopped full in the path. There was agrowth of fern on either side. I approached slowly, and, as he didnot move, paused, and held out the mirror.
"I think you must have dropped this, Captain Magnus. I found it onthe rocks."
For an instant his face changed. His evasive eyes were turned tome searchingly and sharply. He took the glass from my hand andslipped it into his pocket. I made a movement to pass on, thenstopped, with a faint dawning of discomfort. For the heavy figureof the captain still blocked the path..
A dark flush had come into the man's face. His yellow teeth showedbetween his parted lips. His eyes had a swimming brightness.
"What's your hurry?" he remarked, with a certain insinuatingemphasis.
I began to tremble.
"I am on my way back to camp, Captain Magnus. Please let me pass."
"It won't do no harm if you're a little late. There ain't no onethere keepin' tab. Ain't you always a-strayin' off with theHonorable? I ain't so pretty, but--"
"You are impertinent. Let me pass."
"Oh, I'm impert'nent, am I? That means fresh, maybe. I'm a plainman and don't use frills on my langwidge. Well, when I meets alittle skirt that takes my eyes there ain't no harm in lettin' herknow it, is there? Maybe the Honorable could say it nicer--"
With a forward stride he laid a hand upon my arm. I shook him offand stepped back. Fear clutched my throat. I had left my revolverin my quarters. Oh, the dreadful denseness of these woods, thecertainty that no wildest cry of mine could pierce them!
And then Crusoe, who had been waiting quietly behind me in thepath, slipped in between us. Every hair on his neck was bristling.The lifted upper lip snarled unmistakably. He gave me a swiftglance which said, _Shall I spring_?
Quite suddenly the gorilla blandishments of Captain Magnus came toan end.
"Say," he said harshly, "hold back that dog, will you? I don'twant to kill the cur."
"You had better not," I returned coldly. "I should have to explainhow it happened, you know. As it is I shall say nothing. But Ishall not forget my revolver again when I go to walk."
And Crusoe and I went swiftly down the path which the captain nolonger disputed.