CHAPTER I
A BEACH IN NEW GUINEA
''Tis a matter of twenty-five years since I was in a fix like this'ere,' said the boatswain, ruminatively, turning a quid in his cheek.'Ephraim, me lad, you can bear me out?'
'I can't rightly say as I can, Mr. Grinson,' said Ephraim, in his huskyvoice, 'but I 'll try.'
The boatswain threw a leg over the stern-post of the much-batteredship's boat that lay listed over just beyond the breakers of a roughsea, and cast a glance at the two young men who stood, with hands inpockets, gazing up at the cliffs. Their backs were towards him; theyhad either not heard, or were disinclined to notice what he had said.
'Ay, 'twas twenty-six year ago,' he resumed, in a voice like the note ofan organ pipe. 'We was working between Brisbane and the Solomons,blackbirding and what not; 'twas before your time, young gents, but----'
'What's that you 're saying?' demanded one of the two whose backs he hadaddressed.
'I was saying, sir, as how I was in a fix like this 'ere twenty-sevenyear ago, or it may be twenty-eight: Ephraim's got the head for figures.We was working between Brisbane and the Carolines--a tight littleschooner she was, light on her heels. You can bear me out, Ephraim?'
'If so be 'twas the same craft, light and tight she was,' Ephraimagreed.
'Well, a tidal wave come along and pitched her clean on to a beach likeas this might be--not a beach as you could respect, with bathing-boxesand a promenade, but a narrow strip of a beach, a reg'lar fraud of abeach, under cliffs as high as a church...'
'Say, Grinson, get a move on,' drawled the second of the two youngermen. 'What about your beach? How does it help us, anyway?'
'Well, look at the difference, sir. There we was: schooner gone topieces, a score of us cast ashore, three of us white men, the restKanakas. 'Tis thirty years since, but the recollection of them awfuldays gives me the 'orrors. My two white mates--the Kanakas ate 'em,being 'ungry. I drops a veil over that 'orrible tragedy. Being about ayard less in the waist than I am to-day, I was nimble as a monkey, andwent up those cliffs like greased lightning, broke off chunks of rockweighing anything up to half a ton, and pitched 'em down on the Kanakasscrambling up after me, panting for my gore. For three days and nights Ikept 'em at bay, and my arms got so used to flinging down rocks thatwhen I was rescued by a boat's crew from a Dutch schooner they kept ona-working regular as a pendulum, and they had to put me in a straitjacket till I was run down. You can bear me out, Ephraim, me lad?'
'I can't exactly remember all them particlers, Mr. Grinson, but truth 'struth, and 'tis true ye 've led a wonderful life, and stranger thingshave happened to ye--that I will say on my oath.'
'You were one of the two that were eaten, I suppose?' said the young manwho had first spoken, eyeing Ephraim with a quizzical smile.
'Gee! That's the part Grinson dropped a veil over,' said the other.'What's the moral of your pretty fairy story, Grinson?'
'Moral, sir? 'Tis plain.' He opened his brass tobacco-box, anddeliberately twisted up another quid. Then he said impressively: 'Dogdon't eat dog; otherways we 're all white men, and there 's no Kanakas.'
Phil Trentham laughed, a little ruefully.
'We may have to eat each other yet,' he said. Then, waving his armstowards the cliffs, he added: 'The prospect doesn't please--what do youmake of it?'
The situation in which the four men found themselves had certainly noelement of cheerfulness. They were the sole survivors from a trampsteamer which, on the previous day, had fallen a prey to a Germanraider. After a night's tossing in their small open boat, they had beencast up on this unknown shore, and when they examined the craft,marvelled that they escaped with their lives. Collision with a rockthat just peeped above the breakers some fifty yards out had stove, inher garboard-strakes, a hole through which a man might creep. Luckily,the bag of ship's biscuits, which, with a keg of water, formed theirwhole stock of provisions, had not been washed out or injured.
But what of the future? The narrow strip of sandy beach on which theyhad been thrown stretched along the foot of high precipitous cliffs thatshowed a concave arc to the sea. At each horn a rocky headland juttedfar out, its base washed high by the waves. The cliffs were rugged andappeared unscalable, even with the aid of the tufts of vegetation thatsprouted here and there from fissures in their weather-beaten face. Itseemed that they were shut in between the cliffs and the sea, pennedbetween the headlands, confined to this strip of sand, perhaps two mileslong, from which there was apparently no landward exit. Their boat wasunseaworthy; there was no way of escape by land or sea.
Phil Trentham, working copra on a remote island of the South Pacific,had learnt of the outbreak of war some months after the event, and takenpassage on the first steamer that called, intending to land at thenearest port and thence to make his way to some centre of enlistment.Among the few passengers he had chummed up with a young fellow about hisown age--one Gordon P. Hoole, who hailed from Cincinnati, had plenty ofmoney, and was touring the Pacific Islands in tramp steamers foramusement. Each was in his twentieth year, stood about five feet ten,and wore a suit of ducks and a cowboy hat; there the likeness betweenthem ended. Trentham was fair, Hoole dark. The former had full ruddycheeks, broad shoulders, and massive arms and calves; the latter waslean and rather sallow, more wiry than muscular. Trentham parted hishair; Hoole's rose erect from his brow like a short thick thatch. Bothhad firm lips and jaws, and their eyes, unlike in colour, were keen withintelligence and quick with humour.
Their two companions in misfortune presented an odd contrast to them andto each other. Josiah Grinson, forty-eight years of age, was five feetsix in height, immensely broad, with a girth of nearly sixty inches,arms as thick as an average man's legs, and legs like an elephant's.His broad, deeply bronzed face, in the midst of which a small nose, overa long clean upper lip, looked strangely disproportionate, was fringedwith a thick mass of wiry black hair. Little eyes of steely blue gazedout upon the world with a hard unwinking stare. He wore a dirty whitesweater, much-patched blue trousers, and long boots. His big voice wassomewhat monotonous in intonation, and he had been known to doze in themiddle of a sentence, wake up and continue without a flaw in theconstruction.
Ephraim Meek, who had been mate to Grinson's boatswain for about aquarter of a century, was a head taller, but lost the advantage of hisinches through a forward stoop of his gaunt frame. Where Grinson wasconvex Meek was concave. His hollow cheeks were covered withstraggling, mouse-coloured hair; his long thin nose made him look moreinquisitive than he really was; his faded grey eyes, slightly asquint,seemed to be drawn as by a magnet to the countenance of his superior.Meek was a whole-hearted admirer of the boatswain, and their longassociation was marred by only one thing--a perpetual struggle betweenMeek's personal devotion and his conscientious regard for veracity. Noone knew what pangs Grinson's frequent appeals to 'Ephraim, me lad,' to'bear him out' cost the anxious man. But he had always managed tosatisfy the boatswain without undue violence to his own scruples, andGrinson had never felt the strain.
'What do I make of it?' repeated Hoole. 'Nix!'
'Where do you suppose we are, Grinson?' asked Trentham.
'I ain't good at supposing, sir, but I know we 're somewheres on thenorth coast of New Guinea,' Grinson replied. 'Which I mean to say it'sinhabited by cannibals, and I was nearly eat once myself. 'Twas twentyor maybe twenty-one years ago, when----'
'By and by, Grinson,' interrupted Trentham. 'It's a gruesome story, nodoubt, and we 'll fumigate it with our last go-to-bed pipe.'
'Just so,' Hoole put in. 'I guess we 'd better explore. It don't feelgood on this beach.'
'Certainly. To save time we 'd better split up. You take Grinson andgo one way; I 'll go the other with Meek. Whoever sees a way up thecliffs, signal to the others.'
They paired off, and walked in opposite directions along the sand. Aline of seaweed some thirty feet from the cliffs indicated high-wa
termark, and relieved them of any fear of being engulfed by the tide.
Trentham and Meek had struck off to the west, and as they went alongthey scanned the rugged face of the cliffs for a place where it would bepossible to scale them. For nearly half a mile they roamed on insilence; Meek was one of those persons who do not invite conversation.Then, however, the seaman came to a halt.
'I wouldn't swear to it, sir,' he said in his deprecating way, 'but ifyou 'll slew your eyes a point or two off the cliffs, I do believe you'll see the stump of a mast.'
He raised his lank hand and pointed.
'That won't help us much,' said Trentham, looking towards a pocket ofsand some distance above high-water mark, and surrounded by stragglingbushes. 'We can't sail off in a wreck.'
'That's true as gospel, sir, but it came into my mind, like, that wherethere 's a mast there 's a hull, and p'r'aps it 'll give us a doss-housefor the night.'
'It 'll be choked with sand. Still, we 'll have a look at it.'
They walked towards the spot where four or five feet of a jagged maststood up apparently from the embedding sand. As they emerged from thesurrounding bushes they discovered parts of the bulwarks projecting afew inches above a mound of silted-up sand, a little higher than theirheads. Clambering up the easiest slope, and stepping over the rottingwoodwork, Trentham gave a low whistle of surprise.
'Come up and have a look at this, Meek,' he said to the man standing inhis bent-kneed attitude below.
'COME UP AND HAVE A LOOK AT THIS, MEEK.']
Meek came to his side, and drew his fingers through his thin whiskers ashe contemplated the scene before him. Then he turned his eyes onTrentham, and from him to the cliffs and the beach around.
'Rum, sir!' he ejaculated. 'Uncommon rum!'
While the greater part of the vessel was deep in sand, a certain area ofthe deck around the base of the mast was covered with only a thin layer,through which the iron ring of a hatch was clearly visible. On allsides of it the sand appeared to have been cleared away, and heaped uplike a regular rampart.
'Some one has been here, and not so long ago,' said Trentham. 'It'scertainly queer. See if you can lift the hatch; we may as well gobelow.'
Meek hesitated.
'If so be there 's cannibals----' he began.
'Nonsense! They wouldn't be stifling under hatches.'
'Or maybe dead corpses or skellingtons.'
'Come, pull up the hatch; I 'll go down first.'
Brushing away the thin covering of sand, Meek seized the ring andheaved. The hatch came up so easily that he almost lost his balance.
'The stairway 's quite sound,' said Trentham, peering into the depths.'Stand by!'
He stepped upon the companion, and descended. In a few seconds Meekheard the striking of a match, and Trentham's voice ringing out of thevault.
'Come down, Meek; there are no skeletons.'
Meek looked around timorously, sighed, and went slowly down the ladder.Trentham had just struck another match, and was holding it aloft. Theflame disclosed a small cabin, the floor space almost filled with amassive table and three chairs of antique make, all of dark oak. Uponthe table lay an old sextant, a long leather-bound telescope, a largemug of silver-gilt, heavily chased, a silver spoon, and several smallerobjects. On the wall hung a large engraved portrait in a carved oakframe, representing a stout, hook-nosed, heavily wigged gentleman ineighteenth century costume, with a sash across the shoulder and manystars and decorations on the breast.
Meek breathed heavily. The match went out.
'I can't afford to use all my matches,' said Trentham. 'Run up and cuta branch from a bush; that'll serve for a torch for the present. Andsignal to the others.'
'I don't hardly like to say it, sir, but I 'm afeard as my weak voicewon't reach so far.'
'My good man, you 've got long arms. Wave 'em about. Climb up the mast.Use your gumption!'
Meek mounted to the deck, and Trentham smiled as he heard a husky voiceshouting, 'Ahoy!' After some minutes the man returned with a thick drybranch.
'I give a hail, sir, and flung my arms about frantic, and Mr. Grinson,he seed me. I can't say he heard me, not being sure. He 've awonderful voice himself--wonderful, and I heard him answer as clear as abell.'
'That's all right!' said Trentham, lighting the branch. 'We 've made adiscovery, Meek.'
'Seemingly, sir. I 'm fair mazed, and that's the truth of it. Whomight be the old soldier yonder, and what's he wear that thing on hishead for? He ain't a sea captain, that I 'll swear, and I wonder at anysailor-man sticking up a soldier's picture in his cabin.'
'You 're quite right, Meek,' replied Trentham, who had been scrutinisingthe portrait. 'The old soldier, as you call him, is a king.'
'You don't say so, sir! Where's his crown, then?'
'Ah, I wonder where! The poor man lost his crown and his head too.It's Louis XVI., King of France a hundred years ago and more. Here it isin French, below the engraving: "Engraved after the portrait byChampfleury." We 're in a French vessel, Meek--the ship of some Frenchexplorer, no doubt, who was wrecked here goodness knows how many yearsago.'
Meek looked around again, and slightly shivered.
'I wonder what they did with the bones?' he murmured.
'What bones?'
'The cannibals, I mean, sir, when they 'd eat the captain and crew.'
'You 've a ghastly imagination, Meek. A question more to the point is,how it happens that these things remain here, so well preserved. There's very little sand on the floor, as you see; any one would think thatsomebody comes here now and then to tidy up. Would your cannibals dothat, do you think?'
'I wouldn't like to say, sir. I 'll ask Mr. Grinson; he knows 'em,being nearly eat himself. But I don't know who 'd have a good word forcannibals.'
'At any rate, they aren't thieves. This mug, for instance, is silvergilt, and of some value; here 's a coat-of-arms engraved on it, and itmust have been polished not very long ago. Yes, it has been rubbed withsand; look at the slight scratches. I 'm beginning to think rather wellof your cannibals.'
'Touch wood, sir,' said Meek earnestly. 'I wouldn't say a thing likethat, not till I knowed. And as for thieves--well, if a man's badenough to eat another man, he 's bad enough to be a thief, and if heain't a thief, 'tis because he don't know the vally of things. Ignoranceis a terrible unfortunate calamity.'
A sonorous bellow from above caused Meek to jump.
'There, now!' he said. 'My head 's full of cannibals, and 'tis Mr.Grinson. We 're down below!' he called.
'Is the place afire?' asked Grinson, sniffing, as he bent his head overthe hatchway. 'I thought 'twas Mr. Trentham smoking when I seed thesmoke, but I see you 're disinfecting the cabin, sir, and I don'twonder. This 'ere wreck must have been collecting germs a good fewyears.'
'Come down, Grinson,' said Trentham. 'Where 's Mr. Hoole?'
'Taking a look up the chimbley, sir.'
'What chimney?'
'Well, that's what he called it; for myself I 'd call it a crack.' Hecame ponderously down the ladder. 'Jiminy! Ephraim, me lad, you nevertidied up so quick in your life before.'
'I can't truthfully say as I tidied up, Mr. Grinson,' said Meek. ''Tisuncommon tidy for a cabin, that's a fact.'
'Picters, too! The master o' this 'ere ship must have been a rum cove!'
'He was a Frenchman, Mr. Trentham says.'
'That accounts for it. I remember a French captain----'
The chimney, Grinson,' Trentham interrupted. 'You haven't explained----'
'True, sir; it was took out of my mind, seeing things what I didn'texpect. As we come along, sir, Mr. Hoole he says: "Ain't that achimbley?" "Where?" says I, not seeing no pot nor cowl. "There!" sayshe, and he points to what I 'd call a long crack in the cliff.'
'Where is it?'
'About half a cable length astern, sir. Mr. Hoole went to have a lookat it. Here he is!'
'Phew! That torch of yours is rather a stinker!' sai
d Hoole, springinglightly down the ladder. 'My! This is interesting, Trentham. Iwondered where the path led.'
'You 've found a path?'
'Sure! Didn't you see it?'
'No. The fact is, Meek and I were so much taken up with the wreck thatwe forgot everything else. But we didn't see any footprints in thesand.'
'There are none about here, except yours. The path is way back a fewyards. I caught sight of a narrow fissure in the cliff, what we call achimney in the Rockies. I pushed through the undergrowth to take a keekat it, and came upon distinct signs of a beaten track, leading straightto the chimney. That's barely wide enough to admit a man; Grinson wouldstick, I guess; but 'tis surely used as a passage. There are notchescut in the cliff at regular intervals.'
'Then we can get away?'
'Sure! All but Grinson, that is. We 'd have to leave him behind.'
'Don't say so, sir,' said Meek. 'Mr. Grinson 's not so fat as hewas--not by a long way. I 'm afeard if he stays, I must stay too.'
'Thank 'ee, Ephraim, me lad,' said Grinson warmly. 'But Mr. Hoole ispulling my leg. You take him too serious; he 's a gentleman as willhave his joke. He wouldn' go for to desert two poor seamen.'
'I never could understand a joke--never!' said Meek. ''Tis amisfortune, but so I was born.'
Hoole and Trentham, meanwhile, had been examining the relics anddiscussing the bearing of their discoveries on the situation.
'It's quite clear that the wreck is visited,' said Trentham.
'By natives, of course. Why? How often? It doesn't matter much,except that if we saw them, we might get a notion as to whether we couldsafely go among them and get their help. You are sure the chimney isclimbable?'
'Certain. The notches are deep, and you could set your back against theopposite wall and climb without using your hands.'
'I 'll have a look at it. Then we had better go back to our boat, getsome grub, and talk things over. It's too late to go in for furtheradventures to-day.'
'That's so. Say, I 'd leave the hatch off for a while. The placereeks--it would give us away.'
'Right! We 'll clear out. The men can keep guard above while we 'reexamining that chimney.'