Kitabı oku: «Bert Wilson, Wireless Operator», sayfa 7
The tiger’s rage was truly a terrible thing to see. As he stood facing them, foam dripped from his jaws, and great rumblings issued from his throat. His tail lashed back and forth viciously, and he began creeping along the deck toward them.
But now Bert and Dick and the first mate had had a chance, in frantic haste, to load their revolvers, and they gripped the butts of their weapons in a convulsive grasp. And they had need of all they could muster.
Soon the tiger judged he was near enough for a spring, and stopping, gathered his great muscles under him in tense knots. Then he sprang through the air like a bolt from a cross-bow, and this time they had no chance to retreat.
As the raging beast landed among them, the men scattered to left and right, and struck out with the heavy iron bars they had brought with them. They dodged this way and that, evading the tiger’s ripping claws and snapping teeth as best they could, and landing a blow whenever the opportunity offered. They were not to escape unscathed from such an encounter, however, and again and again shouts of pain arose from those unable to avoid the raving beast. Bert and Dick waited until the tiger’s attention was concentrated on three of the men who were making a concerted attack on him, and then, at almost point blank range, emptied their revolvers into the beast’s head. At almost the same moment the first mate followed suit, and the tiger stopped in his struggles, and stood stupidly wagging his head from side to side, while bloody foam slavered and dripped from his jaws. Then he gradually slumped down on the reddened deck, and finally lay still, with once or twice a convulsive shiver running over him.
Quickly reloading their revolvers, Bert, Dick, and the first mate delivered another volley at the prostrate beast, so as to take no chances.
Every muscle in the animal’s beautiful body relaxed, his great head rolled limply over on to the deck, and it was evident that he was dead. A cheer arose from the men, but their attention was quickly turned to themselves, and with good reason. Not one of them had escaped a more or less painful wound from the great beast’s tearing claws, one or two of which threatened to become serious. Both Bert and Dick had deep, painful scratches about the arms and shoulders, but they felt glad enough to escape with only these souvenirs of the desperate encounter.
“Well, men,” said Mr. Collins, after they had bound up their wounds temporarily, and were limping back toward their boat, “I think we can thank our lucky stars that we got off as easily as we did. When that fellow jumped for us the second time, I for one never expected to come out of the mix-up alive.”
“I, either,” said Bert. “I like excitement about as well as anybody, I guess, but this job of fighting tigers with nothing but a revolver is a little too rich for me. The next time I try it I’ll want to pack a cannon along.”
“Righto!” said Dick, with a laugh that was a trifle shaky. “But what are we going to do now? I suppose the first thing is to let those low-lives out of the forecastle and tell ’em we’ve fixed their tiger for them.”
“We might as well,” acquiesced Mr. Collins, and they lost no time in following out Dick’s suggestion. Before they reached the forecastle they were joined by the two men who had run at the tiger’s second onslaught, and you may be sure they looked thoroughly ashamed of themselves. The men who had stood fast realized that reproaches would do no good, however, and they were so exhilarated over their victory, now that they began to realize just what they had accomplished, that they were not inclined to indulge in recriminations. They could come later.
They were about to resume their march to the crew’s quarters when Dick happened to notice that Bert was missing. The men all started out in search of him, but their anxiety was soon relieved by seeing Bert return accompanied by a man whom he presently introduced to them as the wireless operator. The latter was profuse in his expressions of gratitude, but Bert refused point blank to listen to him.
“It’s no more than you would have done for us, if you had had the chance,” he said, “therefore, thanks are entirely out of order.”
“Not a bit of it,” persisted the other, warmly. “It was a mighty fine thing for you fellows to do, and, believe me, I, for one, will never forget it.”
By now they were in front of the fo’castle, and shouted out to the men within that they could come out with safety. There was a great noise of objects within being pulled away from the door, and then the crew of the animal ship emerged in a rather sheepish manner, for they realized that they had not played a very heroic part. However, they had had very little in the way of weapons, and perhaps their conduct might be palliated by this fact.
Two of them immediately set to work skinning the tiger, and meantime the wounded first mate of the animal ship expressed his thanks and that of the crew to Mr. Collins. Then the limping, smarting little band clambered over the side and into their waiting boat. The row back to the ship seemed to consume an age, but you may be sure that the two sailors who had escaped the conflict were now forced to do most of the hard work, and they did not even attempt to object, no doubt realizing the hopelessness of such a course.
They reached their ship at last, however, and were greeted with praise from the passengers on account of their bravery, and sympathy over their many and painful wounds.
After Mr. Collins had made his report to the captain, the latter shook his head gravely. “Perhaps I did wrong in letting you undertake such a task,” he said, “but I don’t know what else we could have done. Heaven knows how long it would have taken any other vessel to get here, and after they arrived they might not have had any greater facilities for meeting such a situation than we had. But I’m very glad we got out of the predicament without actual loss of life.”
“We were very fortunate, indeed,” agreed Mr. Collins, and here they dropped the subject, for among men who habitually followed a dangerous calling even such an adventure as this does not seem such a very unusual occurrence.
Bert was not so seriously wounded as to make it impossible to resume his duties, however, and after a few days his wounds gave him no further trouble. Needless to say, the remembrance of the desperate adventure never entirely left his mind to the end of his life, and for weeks afterward he would wake from a troubled sleep seeing again in his imagination the infuriated tiger as it had looked when leaping at the devoted group.
CHAPTER XII
Among the Cannibals
The routine life of shipboard wore quietly on for several days without interruption. The staunch ship held steadily on its course, and the ceaseless vibrations of its engines came to be as unnoticed and as unthought of as the beatings of their own hearts. There had been no storms for some time, as indeed there seldom were at this time of the year, and Bert’s duties as wireless operator occupied comparatively little of his time. He had plenty left, therefore, to spend with Dick and Tom, and they had little trouble in finding a way to occupy their leisure with pleasure and profit to themselves and others.
A favorite resort was the engine room, where in spite of the heat they spent many a pleasant hour in company with the chief engineer, MacGregor. The latter was a shaggy old Scotchman with a most stern and forbidding exterior, but a heart underneath that took a warm liking to the three comrades, much to the surprise and disgust of the force of stokers and “wipers” under him.
“And phwat do yez think of the old man?” one was heard to remark to his companion one day. “There was a toime when the chief ’ud look sour and grumble if the cap’n himself so much as poked his nose inside the engine room gratin’, and now here he lets thim young spalpeens run all ovir the place, wid never a kick out o’ him.”
“Sure, an’ Oi’ve ben noticin’ the same,” agreed his companion, “an’ phwat’s more, he answers all their questions wid good natur’, and nivir seems to have ony desire to dhrop a wrinch on their noodles.”
“Perhaps ’tis because the youngsters ask him nothin’ but sinsible questions, as ye may have noticed,” said he who had spoken first, as he leaned on his shovel for a brief rest. “Shure, an’ it’s me private opinion that the young cubs know ’most as much about the engines as old Mac himsilf.”
“Thrue fer you,” said the other. “Only yisterday, if O’im not mistaken, young Wilson, him as runs the wireless outfit for the ship, was down here, and they were havin’ a argyment regardin’ the advantages of the reciprocatin’ engines over the new steam turbins, an’ roast me in me own furnace if I don’t think the youngster had the goods on the old man right up t’ the finish.”
“Oi wouldn’t be su’prised at ahl, at ahl,” agreed his companion. “The young felly has a head for engines, an’ no mistake. He’s got a lot o’ book larnin’ about ’em, too.”
It was indeed as the stokers said, and a strong friendship and mutual regard had sprung up between the grizzled old engineer and the enthusiastic wireless operator. As our readers doubtless remember, Bert had been familiar with things mechanical since boyhood, and during his college course had kept up his knowledge by a careful reading of the latest magazines and periodicals given over to mechanical research. Needless to say, his ideas were all most modern, while on the part of the chief engineer there was a tendency to stick to the tried and tested things of mechanics and fight very shy of all inventions and innovations.
However, each realized that the other knew what he was talking about, and each had a respect for the opinions of the other. This did not prevent their having long arguments at times, however, in which a perfect shower and deluge of technical words and descriptions filled the air. It seldom happened, though, that either caused the other to alter his original stand in the slightest degree, as is generally the case in all arguments of any sort.
But the engineer was always ready to explain things about the ponderous engines that Bert did not fully understand, and there were constant problems arising from Bert’s inspection of the beautifully made machinery that only the engineer, of all on board, could solve for him. Bert always found a fascination in watching the powerful engines and would sit for hours at a time, when he was at leisure, watching each ingenious part do its work, with an interest that never flagged.
He loved to study the movements of the mighty pistons as they rose and fell like the arm of some immense giant, and speculate on the terrific power employed in every stroke. The shining, smooth, well-oiled machinery seemed more beautiful to Bert than any picture he had ever seen, and the regular click and chug of the valves was music. Every piece of brass, nickel and steel work in the engine room was spotlessly clean, and glittered and flickered in the glow from the electric lights.
Sometimes he and MacGregor would sit in companionable silence for an hour at a time, listening to the hiss of steam as it rushed into the huge cylinders, and was then expelled on the upward stroke of the piston. MacGregor loved his engines as he might a pet cat or dog, and often patted them lovingly when he was sure nobody was around to observe his actions.
Once the engineer had taken Bert back along the course of the big propeller shaft to where it left the ship, water being prevented from leaking in around the opening by means of stuffing boxes. At intervals the shaft was supported by bearings made of bronze, and as they passed them the old man always passed his hand over them to find out if by any chance one was getting warm on account of the friction caused by lack of proper lubrication.
“For it’s an afu’ thing,” he said to Bert, shaking his head, “to have a shaft break when you’re in the ragin’ midst of a storm. It happened to me once, an’ the second vayage I evir took as chief engineer, and I hae no desire t’ repeat the experience.”
“What did you do about it?” inquired Bert.
“We did the anly thing there was to be done, son. We set the whole engine room force drillin’ holes thrae the big shaft, and then we riveted a wee snug collar on it, and proceeded on our way. Two days and two nights we were at it, with the puir bonnie ship driftin’ helpless, an’ the great waves nigh breakin’ in her sides. Never a wink o’ sleep did I get during the hale time, and none of the force under me got much more. Ye may believe it was a fair happy moment for all of us when we eased the steam into the low pressure cylinder and saw that the job was like to hold until we got tae port. Nae, nae, one experience like thot is sufficient tae hold a mon a lifetime.”
“I should think it would be,” said Bert. “You generally hear a lot about the romantic side of accidents at sea, but I guess the people actually mixed up in them look at the matter from a different point of view.”
“Nae doot, nae doot,” agreed the old Scotsman, “and what credit do ye suppose we got for all our work? The papers were full o’ the bravery and cael headedness the skipper had exhibited, but what o’ us poor deils wha’ had sweated and slaved twae mortal day an nichts in a swelterin’, suffercatin’ hold, whi’ sure death for us gin anything sprang a leak and the ship sank? Wae’d a’ had nae chanct t’ git on deck and in a boat. Wae’d have been drounded like wee rats in a trap. I prasume nobody thocht o’ that, howiver.”
“That’s the way it generally works out, I’ve noticed,” said Bert. “Of course, many times the captain does deserve much or all the credit, but the newspapers never take the trouble to find out the facts. You can bet your case wasn’t the first of the kind that ever occurred.”
“’Tis as you say,” agreed the engineer; “but nae we must back to the engine room, me laddie. I canna feel easy when I am far frae it.”
Accordingly they retraced their course, and were soon back in the room where the machinery toiled patiently day and night, never groaning or complaining when taken proper care of, as you may be sure these engines were. MacGregor would have preferred to have somebody make a slighting remark about him than about his idolized engines, and would have been less quick to resent it.
Bert was about to take his leave, when suddenly Tom and Dick came tumbling recklessly down the steep ladder leading to the engine room, and fairly fell down the last few rounds.
“Say, Bert, beat it up on deck,” exclaimed Tom, as soon as he was able to get his breath. “We sighted an island an hour or so ago, and as we get nearer to it we can see that there’s a signal of some sort on it. Captain Manning says that none of the islands hereabout are inhabited, so it looks as though somebody had been shipwrecked there. The skipper’s ordered the course changed so as to head straight toward it, and we ought to be within landing distance in less than an hour.”
“Hooray!” yelled Bert. “I’ll give you a race up, fellows, and see who gets on deck first,” and so saying he made a dive for the ladder. Dick and Tom made a rush to intercept him, but Bert beat them by a fraction of an inch, and went up the steep iron ladder with as much agility as any monkey. The others were close at his heels, however, and in less time than it takes to tell they were all on deck.
Dick and Tom pointed out the island to Bert, and there, sure enough, he saw what appeared to be a remnant of some flag nailed to an upright branch planted in the ground. They were not more than a mile from the island by this time, and soon Captain Manning rang the gong for half speed ahead. A few moments later he gave the signal to shut off power, and the vibration of the ship’s engines ceased abruptly. The sudden stopping of the vibration to which by now they had become so accustomed that it seemed part of life came almost like a blow to the three young men, and they were obliged to laugh.
“Gee, but that certainly seems queer,” said Tom. “It seems to me as though I must have been used to that jarring all my life.”
“Well,” said Dick, “it certainly feels unusual now, but I will be perfectly willing to exchange it for a little trip on good, solid land. I hope we can persuade the captain to let us go ashore with the men.”
The captain’s consent was easily obtained, and they then awaited impatiently for the boat to be launched that was to take them to the island.
The island was surrounded by a coral reef, in which at first there appeared to be no opening. On closer inspection, however, when they had rowed close up to it, they found a narrow entrance, that they would never have been able to use had the water been at all rough. Fortunately, however, the weather had been very calm for several days past, so they had little difficulty in manœuvering the boat through the narrow opening. As it was, however, once or twice they could hear the sharp coral projections scrape against the boat’s sides, and they found time even in their impatience to land to wonder what would happen to any ship unfortunate enough to be tossed against the reef.
After they had passed the reef all was clear sailing, and a few moments later the boat grated gently on a sloping beach of dazzling white sand, and the sailor in the bow leapt ashore and drew the boat a little way up on the beach. Then they all jumped out and stood scanning what they could see of the place for some sign of life other than that of the signal they had seen from the ship. This now hung limply down around the pole, and no sound was to be heard save the lap of the waves against the reef and an occasional bird note from the rim of trees that began where the white sand ended.
The green trees and vegetation stood out in sharp relief contrasted with the white beach and the azure sky, and the three boys felt a tingle of excitement run through their veins. Here was just such a setting for adventures and romance as they had read about often in books, but had hardly dared ever hope to see. This might be an island where Captain Kidd had made his headquarters and buried priceless treasure, some of which at that moment might lie under the sand on which they were standing. The green jungle in front of them might contain any number of adventures and hair-raising exploits ready to the hand of any one who came to seek, and at the thought the spirits of all three kindled.
“This is the chance of a lifetime, fellows,” said Bert, in a low voice, “if we don’t get some excitement out of this worth remembering, I think it will be our own fault.”
“That’s what,” agreed Dick, “why in time don’t we get busy and do something. We won’t find the person who put up that signal by standing here and talking. I want to make a break for those trees and see what we can find there.”
“Same here,” said Tom, “and I guess we’re going to do something at last, by the looks of things.”
Mr. Miller, the second mate, who had been placed in charge of the party, had indeed arrived at a decision, and now made it known to the whole group.
“I think the best thing we can do,” he said, “is to skirt the forest there and see if we can find anything that looks like a path or trail. If there’s any living thing on this island it must have left some sort of a trace.”
This was done accordingly, and in a short time they were walking along the edge of the jungle, each one straining his eyes for any indication of a trail. At first they met with no success, but finally Tom gave a whoop. “Here we are,” he yelled, “here’s a path, or something that looks a whole lot like one, leading straight into the forest. Come along, fellows,” and he started on a run along an almost obliterated trail that everybody else had overlooked.
You may be sure Bert and Dick were not far behind him, and were soon following close on his heels. After they had gone a short distance in this reckless fashion they were forced to slow down on account of the heat, which was overpowering. Also, as they advanced, the underbrush became thicker and thicker, and it soon became difficult to make any progress at all. Great roots and vines grew in tangled luxuriance across the path, and more than once one of them tripped and measured his length on the ground.
Soon they felt glad to be able to progress even at a walk, and Bert said, “We want to remember landmarks that we pass, fellows, so that we can be sure of finding our way back. It wouldn’t be very hard to wander off this apology of a path, and find ourselves lost.”
“Like the babes in the woods,” supplemented Dick, with a laugh.
“Exactly,” grinned Bert, “and I don’t feel like doing any stunts along that line myself just at present.”
These words were hardly out of his mouth when the path suddenly widened out into a little opening or glade, and the boys stopped abruptly to get their bearings.
“Look! over there, fellows,” said Bert, in an excited voice. “If I’m not very much mistaken there’s a hut over there, see, by that big tree – no, no, you simps, the big one with the wild grape vine twisted all over it. See it now?”
It was easy to see that they did, for they both hurried over toward the little shack at a run, but Bert had started even before they had, and beat them to it. They could gather little information from its contents when they arrived, however. Inside were a few ragged pieces of clothing, and in one corner a bed constructed of twigs and branches. In addition to these there was a rude chair constructed of boughs of trees, and tied together with bits of string and twine. It was evident from this, however, that some civilized person had at one time inhabited the place, and at a recent date, too, for otherwise the hut would have been in a more dilapidated condition than that in which they found it.
They rummaged around, scattering the materials of which the bed was constructed to left and right. Suddenly Tom gave a yell and pounced on something that he had unearthed.
“Why don’t you do as I do, pick things up and look for them afterward?” he said, excitedly.
“What is it? What did you find?” queried Bert, who was more inclined to be sure of his ground before he became enthusiastic. “It looks a good deal like any other old memorandum book, as far as I can see.”
“All right, then, we’ll read it and see what is in it,” replied Tom. “Why, it’s a record of somebody’s life on the island here. I suppose maybe you think that’s nothing to find, huh?”
Without waiting for a reply he started to read the mildewed old book, and Bert and Dick read also, over his shoulder.
The first entry was dated about a month previous to the time of reading, and seemed to be simply a rough jotting down of the important events in the castaway’s life for future reference. There were records of the man, whoever he might be, having found the spring beside which he had built the hut in which they were now standing; of his having erected the rude shelter, and a good many other details.
The three boys read the scribbled account with breathless interest, as Tom turned over page after page. “Come on, skip over to the last page,” said Bert at last, “we can read all this some other time, and I’m crazy to know what happened to the fellow, whoever he is. Maybe he’s written that down, too, since he seems to be so methodical.”
In compliance with this suggestion, Tom turned to the last written page of the note-book, and what the boys read there caused them to gasp. It was scribbled in a manner that indicated furious haste, and read as follows:
“Whoever you are who read this, for heaven’s sake come to my aid, if it is not too late. Last night I was awakened by having my throat grasped in a grip of iron, and before I could even start to struggle I was bound securely. By the light of torches held by my captors I could see that I was captured by a band of black-skinned savages. After securing me beyond any chance of escape, they paid little further attention to me, and held what was apparently a conference regarding my disposal. Finally they made preparations to depart, but first cooked a rude meal and my hands were unbound to enable me to eat. At the first opportunity I scrawled this account, in the hope that some party seeing my signal, might by chance find it, and be able to help me. As the savages travel I will try to leave some trace of our progress, so you can follow us. I only hope – ” but here the message ended suddenly, leaving the boys to draw their own conclusions as to the rest of it.
For a few moments they gazed blankly into each other’s faces, and uttered never a word. Bert was the first to break the silence.
“I guess it’s up to us, fellows,” he said, and the manly lines of his face hardened. “We’ve got to do something to help that poor devil, and the sooner we start the better. According to the dates in this book it must have been last Thursday night that he was captured, and this is Monday. If we hurry we may be able to trace him up and do something for him before it’s too late.”
The thought that they themselves might be captured or meet with a horrible death did not seem to enter the head of one of them. They simply saw plainly that it was, as Bert had said, “up to them” to do the best they could under the circumstances, and this they proceeded to do without further loss of time.
“The first thing to do,” said Bert, “is to scout around and see if we can find the place where the savages left the clearing with their prisoner. Then it will be our own fault if we cannot follow the trail.”
This seemed more easily said than done, however, and it was some time before the three, fretting and impatient at the delay, were able to find any clue. At last Bert gave an exultant whoop and beckoned the others over to where he stood.
“I’ll bet any amount of money this is where they entered the jungle,” he said, exultantly. “Their prisoner evidently evaded their observation while they were breaking a path through, and pinned this on the bush here,” and he held up a corner of a white linen handkerchief, with the initial M embroidered on the corner.
“Gee, I guess you’re right,” agreed Dick. “Things like that don’t usually grow on bushes. It ought to be easy for us to trace the party now.”
This proved to be far from the actual case, however, and if it had not been for the occasional scraps of clothing fluttering from a twig or bush every now and then their search would have probably ended in failure. So rank and luxuriant is the jungle growth in tropical climates, that although in all probability a considerable body of men had passed that way only a few days before, practically all trace of their progress was gone. The thick underbrush grew as densely as ever, and it would have seemed to one not skilled in woodland arts that the foot of man had never trod there. Monkeys chattered in the trees as they went along, and parrots with rainbow plumage shot among the lofty branches, uttering raucous cries. Humming clouds of mosquitoes rose and gathered about their heads, and added to the heat to make their journey one of torment.
Their previous experience as campers now stood them in good stead, and they read without much trouble signs of the progress of the party in front of them that they must surely have missed otherwise.
After three hours of dogged plodding, in which few words were exchanged, Bert said, “I don’t think we can have very much further to go, fellows. I remember the captain saying that this island was not more than a few miles across in any direction, and we must have traveled some distance already. We’re bound to stumble on their camp soon, so we’d better be prepared.”
“Probably by this time,” said Tom, “the savages will have returned to the mainland, or some other island from which they came. I don’t think it very likely that they live permanently on this one. It seems too small.”
“Yes, I thought of that,” said Bert, “but we’ve got to take our chance on that. If they are gone, there is nothing else we can do, and we can say we did our best, anyway.”
“But what shall we do when we find them?” asked Tom, after a short pause, “provided, of course, that our birds haven’t flown.”
“Oh, we’ll have to see how matters stand, and make our plans accordingly,” replied Bert. “You fellows had better make sure your revolvers are in perfect order. I have a hunch that we’ll need them before we get through with this business.”
Fortunately, before leaving the ship the boys had, at Bert’s suggestion, strapped on their revolvers, and each had slipped a handful of cartridges into their pockets.
“The chances are a hundred to one we won’t need them at all,” Bert had said at the time. “But if anything should come up where we’ll need them, we’ll probably be mighty glad we brought them.”
The boys were very thankful for this now, as without the trusty little weapons their adventure would have been sheer madness. As it was, however, the feel of the compact .45’s was very reassuring, and they felt that they would at least have a fighting chance, if worse came to worst, and they were forced to battle for their lives.
