Bunyip Land Part 6

I shuddered and s.h.i.+vered, and the men laughed at my drenched aspect, a breach of good manners that the captain immediately resented.

"There, make fast that shark to the ring-bolt, and lay hold of your oars again. Pull away, there's a hurricane coming afore long."

As he spoke he looked long at a dull yellow haze that seemed to be creeping towards the sun.

"Had we not better let the fish go?" said the doctor anxiously.

"No, I want the oil," said the captain. "We've had trouble enough to get him, and I don't mean to throw him away. Now, my lads, pull."

The men tugged steadily at their oars, but the dead fish hung behind like a log, and our progress was very slow. Every now and then it gave a slight quiver, but that soon ceased, and it hung quite pa.s.sively from the cord.

I was leaning over the stem, feeling rather dizzy and headachy when, all at once, the captain shouted to me to "cut shark adrift; we're making too little way. That schooner's too far-off for my liking." I drew my knife, and after hauling the fish as closely as I could to the side I divided the thin line, and as I did so the boat seemed to dart away from its burden.

It was none too soon, for the yellow haze seemed to be increasing rapidly, and the wind, which at one minute was oppressively calm, came the next in ominous hot puffs.

"Why, the schooner's sailing away from us," cried the captain suddenly.

"Hang me if I don't believe that scoundrel of a Malay has got to the helm, and is taking her right away out of spite."

"Don't begin prophesying evil like that, captain," cried the doctor sharply. "Here, man, I can pull; let's take an oar apiece and help."

"I wasn't croaking," growled the captain; "but whether or no, that's good advice. No, no, youngster, you're not strong enough to pull."

"I can row," I said quickly; and the captain making no farther objection, we three pulled for the next half-hour, giving the men a good rest, when they took their turn, and we could see that while the haze seemed nearer the schooner was quite as far-off as ever. There was a curious coppery look, too, about the sun that made everything now look weird and unnatural, even to the doctor's face, which in addition looked serious to a degree I had never seen before.

"There'll be somebody pitched overboard--once I get back on deck, and no boat ready to pick him up. Here, what does he mean?"

He stood up in the boat waving his hat to those on board the little vessel; but no heed was paid, and the captain ground his teeth with rage.

"I'll let him have something for this," growled the captain. "There, pull away, men. What are you stopping for?"

The men tugged at their oars once more, after glancing uneasily at each other and then at the sky.

"If I don't give him--"

"Let's get on board first, captain," said the doctor, firmly.

"Ay, so we will," he growled. "The brown-skinned scoundrel!"

"That's land, isn't it, captain?" I said, pointing to a low line on our left.

"Ay, worse luck," he said.

"Worse luck, captain? Why, we could get ash.o.r.e if we did not overtake the schooner."

"Get ash.o.r.e! Who wants to get ash.o.r.e, boy? That's where my schooner will be. He'll run her on the reefs, as sure as I'm longing for two-foot of rope's-end and a brown back afore me."

"A crown apiece for you, my lads, as soon as you get us aboard," cried the doctor, who had been looking uneasily at the men.

His words acted like magic, and the oars bent, while the water rattled and pattered under our bows.

"That's the sort o' fire to get up steam, doctor," said the captain; "but we shall never overtake my vessel, unless something happens. I'd no business to leave her, and bring away my men."

"I'm sorry, captain," I said deprecatingly. "It seems as if it were my fault."

"Not it," he said kindly. "It was my fault, lad--mine."

All this while the mist was steadily moving down upon us, and the captain was watching it with gloomy looks when his eyes were not fixed upon the schooner, which kept on gliding away. The doctor's face, too, wore a very serious look, which impressed me more perhaps than the threatenings of the storm. For, though I knew how terrible the hurricanes were at times, my experience had always been of them ash.o.r.e, and I was profoundly ignorant of what a typhoon might be at sea.

"There," cried the captain at last, after a weary chase, "it's of no use, my lads, easy it is. I shall make for the land and try to get inside one of the reefs, doctor, before the storm bursts."

"The schooner is not sailing away now," I said eagerly.

"Not sailing, boy? Why she's slipping away from us like--No, no: you're right, lad, she's--Pull, my lads, pull; let's get aboard. That Malay scoundrel has run her on the reef."

CHAPTER FIVE.

HOW WE FOUND JACK PENNY.

The captain's ideas were not quite correct. Certainly the little trading vessel had been run upon one of the many reefs that spread in all directions along the dangerous coast; but it was not the Malay who was the guilty party.

As far as I was concerned it seemed to me a good job, for it brought the schooner to a stand-still, so that we could overtake it. No thought occurred to me that the rocks might have knocked a hole in her bottom, and that if a storm came on she would most likely go to pieces.

Very little was said now, for every one's attention was taken up by the threatened hurricane, and our efforts to reach the schooner before it should come on.

It was a long severe race, in which we all took a turn at the oars, literally rowing as it seemed to me for our lives. At times it was as if we must be overtaken by the fierce black clouds in the distance, beneath which there was a long misty white line. The sea-birds kept das.h.i.+ng by us, uttering wild cries, and there was overhead an intense silence, while in the distance we could hear a low dull murmuring roar, that told of the coming mischief.

Every now and then it seemed to me that we must be overtaken by the long surging line, that it was now plain to see was pursuing us, and I wondered whether we should be able to swim and save our lives when it came upon us with a hiss and a roar, such as I had often heard when on the beach.

"We shall never do it," said one of the men, who half-jumped from his seat the next moment as the captain leaned forward from where he was rowing and gave him a sound box on the ears.

"Pull, you cowardly humbug!" he cried. "Not do it? A set of furriners wouldn't do it; but we're Englishmen, and we're going to do it. If we don't, it won't be our fault. Pull!"

This trifling incident had its effect, for the men pulled harder than ever, exhausted though they were. It was a struggle for life now, and I knew it; but somehow I did not feel frightened in the least, but stunned and confused, and at the same time interested, as I saw the great line of haze and foam coming on. Then I was listening to the dull roar, which was rapidly increasing into what seemed a harsh yell louder than thunder.

"Pull, my lads!" shouted the captain, with his voice sounding strange and harsh in the awful silence around us, for, loud as was the roar of the storm, it seemed still afar off.

The men pulled, and then we relieved them again, with the great drops gathering on our faces in the intense heat; and my breath came thick and short, till I felt as it were a sense of burning in my chest. Then I grew half-blind with my eyes staring back at the wall of haze; and then, as I felt that I should die if I strained much longer at that oar, I heard the captain shout:

"In oars!" and I found that we were alongside the schooner, and close under her lee.

There was just time to get on board, and we were in the act of hauling up the boat, when, with an awful whistle and shriek, the storm was upon us, and we were all clinging for life to that which was nearest at hand.

Now, I daresay you would like me to give you a faithful account of my impressions of that storm, and those of one who went through it from the time that the hurricane struck us till it pa.s.sed over, leaving the sky clear, the sun s.h.i.+ning, and the sea heaving slowly and without a single crest.

I feel that I can do justice to the theme, so here is my faithful description of that storm.

_A horrid wet, stifling, flogging row_.