Dave Porter in the South Seas: or, The Strange Cruise of the Stormy Petrel

CHAPTER XXVI
EXPLORING A TROPICAL ISLAND

The night to follow was an anxious one for all on board the Stormy Petrel. The sea was still too rough to think of venturing ashore, and so it was impossible to learn to what harbor they had floated and what was the prospect of continuing their voyage to Sobago Island.

"We must be at least two hundred miles out of our reckoning," said Captain Marshall, in reply to a question from Phil. "This may be Tapley Island, but I am not sure."

"Is Tapley Island inhabited?"

"I am not sure about that, either. There was once a colony there, but I think it died out. The natives on the other islands around here are very fierce."

"Then I hope we haven't landed on one of the other islands," remarked Dave.

"If we came over a reef, how are we to get out of this harbor?" questioned Roger.

"That remains to be learned, Roger," answered the master of the Stormy Petrel, gravely.

During the night the sea went down a great deal, and in the morning the harbor could be plainly distinguished. A boat was lowered, and Captain Marshall went ashore, taking Dave and Phil with him.

It was an easy matter to beach the rowboat on the sands, and the boys leaped ashore quickly and ran up to the nearest of the palm trees. A look around showed all how the gigantic tidal wave had torn and twisted everything growing near the water's edge. In some spots the sand lay a foot thick on beds of grass and moss and small brushwood.

"We can be thankful that our ship was not cast up high and dry on the shore," remarked Captain Marshall, as he gazed around. "That wave must have done the shipping for hundreds of miles around great damage."

The party walked up and down the beach for almost a mile, but without seeing the first sign of inhabitants of any sort. The shore was full of dead fish and overturned turtles, and the sailors took some back to the ship with them for eating purposes.

It was nearly midday when they returned to the ship, and the boys were so hungry that a mess of fried fish was particularly appetizing to them. At noon the captain made some observations and got out his charts, and finally announced that they must be at a small island, one hundred and sixty miles to the southward of Sobago.

"The island is not of great importance," said he. "It is shaped a good deal like the letter B, and this harbor is formed by the double curve on one side. The interior of each of the two portions is mostly marsh land – a good place for tropical fevers. The reef outside of the harbor is well defined on the chart, and extends in a semicircle for many miles."

"Isn't there any opening at all?" queried Dave.

"For small vessels, yes."

"But not for a bark the size of ours?"

"That remains to be found out. I shall go this afternoon and make some soundings."

"If there isn't any opening in the reef, what are we to do?" asked Phil, blankly. "Why, the Stormy Petrel will have to remain here forever!"

"Which puts me in mind of a story, as Shadow Hamilton would say," came from Dave. "I once heard of a fellow who built a rowboat in the garret of his house. After the boat was done, it was so large he couldn't get it out of the door or window, and he had to take the boat apart again."

"If the boys at Oak Hall could see us now!" cried Roger. "But about our ship. We didn't build it here – the tidal wave sent it in, over yonder reef. Now the question arises, how are we to get over the reef again?"

"If there is no opening in the reef, maybe we can blow one out with dynamite," suggested Phil.

After dinner Captain Marshall went out in the largest of the rowboats, taking with him his pick of the sailors. They took a lead line along, and remained away until dark, taking as many soundings as they possibly could. It was dangerous work, and those on the bark were glad when the rowboat returned.

"Well, did you find a channel?" asked the first mate.

"No," was the short answer. "There are several openings, but none, that I discovered, wide enough for the Stormy Petrel."

"Of course, you didn't cover the whole reef?"

"By no means. I will go out again to-morrow – or you may do so."

The news the captain brought was very disheartening, and it was a gloomy party that assembled in the cabin of the bark that evening.

"We shall be perfectly safe in this harbor, so long as the weather remains fair," said Captain Marshall. "But a heavy blow might cause us to drag our anchors and either run ashore or on the reef. We must get away in the near future, if it can possibly be accomplished."

"You can't get away and to Sobago any too quick for me," replied Dave.

That evening Jasper Van Blott came out of hiding and attempted to take his place at the cabin table. But Captain Marshall would have none of this and sent the former supercargo forward, where the sailors made room for him in the forecastle. This angered Van Blott intensely, and he gritted his teeth with rage.

"Wait until I get the chance," he said to himself. "I'll get square for this insult!"

"He can't run away for the present," the captain explained to the boys. "When we get to a regular stopping place, I'll put him in irons."

On the following morning it was so fair all the boys begged to be allowed to go ashore and do a little exploring. The captain was willing, but told them to be careful. Billy Dill was to go with them, and they took along a pistol, a shotgun, and some provisions.

"If you get into trouble, fire two shots in quick succession," said Captain Marshall. "If I want you to return, I'll fire two shots."

The boys got into the boat, and Billy Dill took one pair of oars and Dave the others. They were soon at the beach and landed in true nautical style. Then the rowboat was drawn up out of the water and into the shade of some palms, that the sun might not crack open the seams.

"We must be extremely careful," observed Phil. "Remember, we do not know what is on this island."

"Sure, there might be lions," suggested Roger, with a wink and a glance at Billy Dill.

"You boys know better nor thet," rejoined the old tar. "None o' these South Sea islands have much in the way o' wild beasts. But you may strike a big snake."

"Excuse me, but I don't want to be introduced to his snakeship," cried the senator's son.

After a little look around, they determined to start up the shore, and did so, with their provisions on their backs and Dave carrying the shotgun and Phil the pistol. Roger and the old tar armed themselves with big sticks.

A half-mile was covered, when they came to a hollow, in which were basking a number of turtles, all of great size. Phil gave a shout, and on the instant the turtles all headed for the ocean with clumsy, but swift, strides. Billy Dill made after them and managed to catch the last one and turn him over.

"He will make fine turtle soup," said the tar.

"So he will!" cried Dave. "I suppose I might have shot at them."

"Not worth while, lad; one is enough."

They soon came to a portion of the shore where the undergrowth was exceedingly close, and they had to journey a short distance inland. The palms were thick, and they saw numerous cocoanuts and great varieties of beautiful ferns and gigantic creeping vines. Billy Dill also pointed out three varieties of bread-fruit trees.

"Well, a fellow wouldn't starve here, in spite of the scarcity of meat," observed Dave.

"And meat isn't especially good in hot weather," added Roger.

"Natives down here eat very little meat," said the old tar. "They use lots of yams and such stuff, besides bananas and plantains. Everything grows of itself, and they have a lazy man's life of it."

"Excepting when they fight each other," observed Phil.

An hour later they came out on the shore again. They were now away from the harbor and could look straight out on the ocean.

"Look! look!" cried Roger, pointing seaward. "Am I mistaken, or do I see a long canoe filled with men?"

"It certainly is a canoe," declared Dave, after a look.

"And it is filled with natives," added Phil. "What do you make of this?" he added, turning to Billy Dill. "Are they coming here?"

"I don't think they are, Phil. They seem to be headed away from this island."

The canoe was certainly a large one, and they counted at least twelve natives at the paddles, or sweeps. Other natives were in the bow and stern of the craft. In quarter of an hour the canoe was but a speck in the distance, and then it was lost to sight altogether.

"We'll have to tell the captain about this," declared Dave. "If there are natives around, he will want to know it."

"Perhaps they can tell us of a way out of the harbor," suggested Roger.

"Like as not, if there is a way out," spoke up Billy Dill. "They generally know the coasts putty well – bein' out so much in their canoes."

The little party continued on its exploring tour, but soon came to a portion of the marsh land the captain had mentioned. Not wishing to get stuck, they began to retrace their steps, until they were in the midst of the thickets again. Then a strange rushing sound through the trees broke upon their ears.

"Wait!" whispered Billy Dill, "I know what that is. Don't make any noise."

"Is there any danger?" queried Roger.

The old tar shook his head. Then he pointed upward, and the boys saw a large flock of beautiful tropical birds settling down on all sides of them.

"What a sight!" murmured Dave. "How pretty they are!"

"They get birds for ladies' hats from places like this," whispered Billy Dill.

"I know it. What a shame to shoot them down, too!"

"It is a shame, lad; and ladies ought to stop wearin' sech finery," said the old tar, soberly.

They watched the beautiful birds for some time. Then the creatures discovered the strangers, and off they went in a mad flight, and were lost to sight.

An hour later found the party passing down the shore once more. Here they walked on the sand until they came to something of a cove, surrounded by stately palms.

"Might as well rest a bit – " began Roger, when Dave uttered a cry:

"See, the remains of a campfire!"

"Yes, and the remains of a feast, too!" added Phil. "Those natives must have been here!"

CHAPTER XXVII
A MAP AND A PLOT

The boys and Billy Dill viewed the surroundings with interest. Some bones lay on the ground, and they kicked them over.

"These can't be human bones, can they?" whispered the senator's son to Dave.

"No, Roger, they are nothing but the bones of some small animal."

"I was afraid the natives might be cannibals!"

To one side of the camp lay a fantastically carved stick, evidently cut by somebody during his leisure. Dave picked this up and saw that it contained a heart, an anchor, a cross, several links of a chain, and some stars. At the big end of the stick was an American flag.

"Hello, look here!" exclaimed the country boy. "This is strange, to say the least. I don't believe any native would cut a stick in this fashion."

"Neither do I," declared Phil. "That must have been carved by an American, and with his jack-knife. Perhaps some sailors were camping out here."

"To me this campfire, or what's left o' it, looks to be about a week old," said Billy Dill. "The question is, where did the crowd go to from here?"

"Maybe there were some Americans with those natives in that canoe," suggested Roger.

"In that case, the natives must be friendly," returned Phil.

They walked around the locality and down the shore half a mile further, but could find nothing more of interest. Then they sat down to enjoy the lunch they had brought, washing the meal down at a spring, close by where the campfire had been.

"It is wonderful that fresh water should be so close to the salt," observed the senator's son. "You'd think it would all get salt."

"Nature knew man wanted fresh water, and so it was placed there," replied Billy Dill. "Trust a kind Providence to take care on us every time."

After the meal the party set off for the opposite shore of the island, over a small hill which divided one end from the other. Here the jungle was so thick they had to literally force their way through, and each of the boys got his clothing torn more or less. Once the old tar became so completely fastened that the lads had to go to his assistance and cut him loose with their pocket-knives.

"I'm jest about anchored!" remarked Billy Dill. "This is worse nor the Sargasso Sea, ain't it?"

By the middle of the afternoon they gained the opposite shore of the island. Here the ground was very rough, but at one spot they found the remains of a village – two houses of logs and half a dozen thatched huts. The houses and huts were bare, and nothing of interest was to be found around the remains of half a dozen campfires.

"This shows that somebody lived here once upon a time," observed Phil. "But it couldn't have been much of a population."

"Can't tell as to thet," came from the old sailor. "These natives live pretty thick sometimes, ten or a dozen in one hut – and a good many live right out under the trees."

Dave and Roger had passed into one of the deserted log houses, and the country youth struck a match, that they might see around a little better. Somewhat to their astonishment, they saw pinned up on a wall a sheet of water-stained brown wrapping paper, upon which was drawn something of a map, with a heavy cross where two lines met.

"Here's a discovery!" cried Dave. "Wonder what this map was for?"

The others came in, and a minute later a torch was lit, and all examined the map with care. Then Roger uttered a cry:

"Dave, look there!" and the senator's son pointed to one corner of the map. In faint letters was the written name:

Dunston A. Porter.

"The very man I am looking for!" ejaculated Dave, and his heart gave a bound. "Oh, boys, what can it mean?"

"It means that Mr. Porter has been here," answered Roger.

"He must have been hunting for that treasure," said Phil. "This may be one of his maps."

"That's a fact," said Billy Dill. "He was always drawing jest such things when I was with him. He said he was bound to find that treasure some day."

"This map looks to be quite old," went on Dave, in disappointed tones. "I wish it was fresh and he was here."

"He must have come here after sailing to Sobago Island," said the senator's son, "and that can't be so very long ago."

After that they made a closer hunt than before in and around the camp, but found nothing, outside of two buttons, a bit of lead pencil, and the broken handle of a spade.

"That spade proves there was some digging done," said Phil. "Undoubtedly he came here looking for that treasure."

"Did you ever get any of the particulars of that treasure?" asked Dave, of the old sailor.

"Not much, exceptin' that it was a treasure of pearls and precious stones once hidden by some native king. Mr. Porter didn't want to tell much about it, and I didn't feel as I had the right to ask him."

It was now growing late, and all felt that it was time to return to the ship. Before leaving the hut, Dave pinned a slip of paper over the map, writing upon it as follows:

"To Dunston A. Porter:

"I am very anxious to meet you. I am on board the bark Stormy Petrel, in the harbor of this island, and bound for Sobago Island. Please see me, by all means.

David Porter."

To this the youth added the date, and also his home address, in case he should fail to meet Dunston Porter and the man should wish to write to him.

"That certainly ought to interest him – especially if he is interested in a lost boy," was Roger's comment.

Dave was in a sober mood when he returned to the ship and did not feel much like talking. He allowed the others to relate the day's experience, to which Captain Marshall listened closely.

"It is certainly a pity we didn't get a chance to talk to those natives," said the master of the Stormy Petrel. "They might have shown me some way out of this harbor."

"Then you haven't found any passage through the reef?"

"Not yet. The first mate was out with four of the crew, but they could find nothing wide enough," answered Captain Marshall.

The master of the bark thought he spoke the truth, but he was mistaken. Unknown to the captain, the first mate had found a passage, rather twisting in shape, but perfectly safe. It was near the northern end of the reef – a locality Captain Marshall had not visited. One of the sailors who had been out with the mate also knew of the passage, but Paul Shepley had pledged him to secrecy for the time being.

While the boys and Billy Dill were in the cabin of the Stormy Petrel relating their experiences, an interesting conversation was going on in another part of the ship, between the first mate and Jasper Van Blott.

"I have made an important discovery," said Shepley, in a low tone, so that no others might hear. "I have found a safe passageway out of this harbor."

"Did you tell the old man?" demanded the former supercargo, quickly.

"No; I told him that there wasn't any opening wide enough for the bark."

"Good! Now, if we can only arrange this other matter, Shepley, we'll make a fine thing of this," went on Jasper Van Blott.

"I don't know about this other thing, as you call it," grumbled the first mate. "I'll be running a tremendous risk."

"Oh, it will be perfectly safe."

"Don't you know that mutiny on the high seas is punishable by death?"

"I do – if you get caught. But you won't get caught. Besides that, please to remember that I am not going to suffer for this cargo affair alone. If I have to stand trial, you'll have to do the same."

"Then you really mean to drag me into it, eh?" said the first mate, sourly.

"Unless you consent to my plan. Why, man, it's dead easy," continued the former supercargo, earnestly. "I know that at least four of the sailors will stand in with us from the start, and we can easily win over the others by the promise of a big reward. All we have got to do is to get Captain Marshall, Billy Dill, and those three boys ashore, and then sail away for some distant port. On the way we can change the name of the bark and I'll fix up the clearance papers, and there you are. You and I can become equal owners, and we can go into the regular Australian-New Zealand trade and make a barrel of money in a few years."

"But supposing some of the men raise a row?"

"We won't give them a chance, until we are out on the ocean. We can tell them – after the captain's crowd is gone – that you have orders to try to clear the reef. When we are on the ocean, I don't think it will be so hard to manage things. We can arm ourselves and lock up all the other weapons, and tell the men they shall have big money if they ask no questions and stick to their duty," added Jasper Van Blott.

"Well, how do you propose to get that crowd ashore? They may not happen to go of their own free will."

"I think I can manage that, sooner or later. The main thing is, we must watch our chances and strike as soon as the right moment arrives. Now then, what do you say, Shepley?"

The first mate hesitated, and an argument lasting a full hour ensued, during which the former supercargo's plot was discussed from every possible point of view. At last the first mate agreed to do as Jasper Van Blott wanted, and then the two separated, to await the time for making their first move.

CHAPTER XXVIII
MAROONED

On the following morning Captain Marshall went out once more to look for a passageway through the reef. Dave accompanied him, and so did Billy Dill. In the meantime Roger and Phil rowed ashore, to see if they could find any more traces of the natives.

The captain and Dave had been out about an hour, when they noticed a small boat coming toward them, containing two sailors and the first mate.

"Captain Marshall, you are wanted on shore at once!" cried Paul Shepley, when within hearing distance. "Those two boys just sent word to the ship by a native. They said to bring young Porter and Dill along."

"They must have discovered something!" cried Dave, quickly. "Oh, let us go, by all means!"

"I will," answered the master of the Stormy Petrel. "Did they say where they were?"

"Near the interior of the island, I believe," answered the mate.

No more was said, and, winding up his lead line, the captain had the rowboat turned around and headed for the island. In the meantime the first mate returned to the bark. Once on the deck of the ship he was quickly joined by the former supercargo.

"What did he say?" asked Jasper Van Blott, anxiously.

"Said he'd go."

"Then we must lose no time in getting up the anchors. Luckily the breeze is just right."

"Wait until they are ashore and have disappeared," answered the first mate, nervously. He was really a coward at heart, and now fairly under the thumb of Van Blott.

It took but a few minutes for the captain, Dave, and Billy Dill to gain the stretch of sand. Then those on the Stormy Petrel saw them draw the small craft up to a safe place and disappear in among the trees.

"Now then, act as quickly as you can," said Jasper Van Blott.

An order was issued for the sailors to come on deck, and all did so, and the second mate, a young man named Bob Sanders, also appeared. Then Paul Shepley issued orders to hoist the anchors and raise some of the sails.

"What does this mean, Mr. Shepley?" asked the second mate, in surprise.

"The captain has found a passageway and wants me to take the ship out and around to the other side of the island," replied the first mate. "He wants us to be lively, too."

Bob Sanders was mystified, but, as he was not on particularly good terms with the first mate, he asked no more questions. Soon the sails were up, and Paul Shepley himself steered the bark toward the passageway he had discovered.

"You are sure of what you are doing?" asked Jasper Van Blott, coming to the wheel. "We don't want to strike and go to the bottom."

"I wish I was as sure of the future as I am of the passageway," answered the first mate, somewhat grimly.

"Oh, don't worry about the future," answered the former supercargo, lightly. "In a few days we'll have everything in apple-pie order."

There was a good breeze, and the bark cleared the reef with but little difficulty. Then Paul Shepley had all the sails set, and soon the Stormy Petrel was leaving the island far behind.

In the meantime Captain Marshall, Dave, and the old tar were looking everywhere for Phil and Roger. They dove straight into the jungle and called out as loudly as they could. But no answer came back.

"It is queer that we can't locate them," was Dave's comment. "If they wanted us, I should think they would be watching out, wouldn't you?"

"Perhaps they are in trouble," answered the captain, gravely.

He fired his pistol as a signal, and at last came an answering shot from the lower end of the island. At once they hurried in that direction, only to find themselves cut off by a stretch of impassable marsh land.

"Reckon as how we'll have to go around," observed Billy Dill. "If we try to go through thet we'll git stuck, fer sartin!"

Going around was not so easy, and it took them nearly half an hour to cover a mile. Then the captain discharged his pistol once more, and a minute later came an answering shot but a short distance away.

"I see them – at the top of the hill!" cried Dave, and, looking ahead, the others discovered Phil and Roger at the top of the slight rise of ground, waving their handkerchiefs to attract attention. Soon the two parties were together.

"What's the news?" cried Captain Marshall, looking around to see if anybody else was present.

"No news," answered Phil. He gazed at them curiously. "What's up? You look rather excited!"

"Didn't you send for us?" gasped Dave.

"Send for you? What do you mean?" queried Roger.

"The first mate said you sent a native to the bark, asking us to come to you," said Captain Marshall.

"We sent nobody – we have seen no natives to-day."

There was a pause, during which each looked blankly at the others.

"I can't understand this," said Dave, slowly. "Mr. Shepley certainly delivered that message."

"It is a trick of some sort!" burst out Captain Marshall. "The very best thing we can do is to get back to the vessel without delay."

The others thought so, too, and in a moment more all were on their way to the shore, hurrying through the undergrowth as rapidly as the bushes and vines would permit. Phil and Roger had managed to shoot two small animals that looked like hares, but that was all.

At last they came out on the sands, and a shout of dismay went up.

"The ship is gone!"

"The Stormy Petrel has sailed away and left us!"

The boys and the old sailor turned to Captain Marshall, whose face had turned white. Now it grew dark and stern.

"How could they get out of the harbor?" questioned Dave.

"Shepley must have found a passageway," answered the captain.

"But where has the ship gone to?" queried Phil. "I can't see her anywhere."

Instead of replying, the captain of the Stormy Petrel clenched his hands and compressed his lips. He was doing some deep thinking.

"I must say, this looks to me as if somebody had run off with the ship!" declared the senator's son.

"And that is just what they have done!" cried the captain. "Oh, the rascals! the scoundrels! If I ever catch them – " He could not finish, so great was his rage.

"Run off with the ship!" burst out Dave. "How could they do that? Do you think there was a regular mutiny?"

"There may have been – anyway, the bark is gone – and we are left to shift for ourselves."

"I think I see through it," said Phil. "The first mate and Van Blott have hatched this up between them. I know they were as thick as peas – in fact, I suspect Shepley helped the supercargo to hide away on board. They must have bought over the crew and Mr. Sanders."

"I don't think they could buy over Bob Sanders," declared the captain. "I know him too well. He is very quiet, but I'd trust him with almost anything. But I can't say as much for all the crew. Shepley got some of the men to ship, and he most likely knew whom he was getting."

"What are you going to do about it?" asked Roger.

"I don't exactly know what to do, yet, lad. We are marooned, that is all there is to it. And it doesn't look as if they had left us anything to live on, either," added the captain, casting his eyes along the shore.

"Do you mean to say they have deserted us?" cried Dave.

"Doesn't it look like it?"

"And stolen the bark?"

"Yes."

Dave drew a long breath. Here was another set-back, of which he had not dreamed. If the Stormy Petrel had really sailed away, not to return, what were they to do, and when would they get a chance to leave the lonely island?

"This is positively the worst yet!" groaned Roger. "The fellows who would do such a thing ought to be – be hanged! And they haven't left us a thing!"

"Let us separate and see if we can sight the bark," said the captain, and this was done, one party going to the upper end of the island and the other to the lower. But not a trace of the missing vessel was to be seen.

It was a decidedly sober party that gathered on the sands two hours later to discuss the situation and decide upon what was to be done. Here they were, marooned on a deserted island, with no food and but little shelter, and with only two pistols and a shotgun between them. It was certainly not a situation to be envied.

"I used to think, when I was a small boy, that I'd like to play Robinson Crusoe," remarked Roger. "But I've changed my mind, and I'd much rather be back on the ship."

"Humph! If you are going to talk that way, what will you say if we have to stay here weeks, or months, or maybe years?" asked Phil.

"Gracious!" burst out Dave. "You don't think we'll have to stay here years, do you?"

"We'll have to stay until we can git away," was the sage remark of Billy Dill. "Captain, are we in the track o' any ships?"

Captain Marshall shook his head slowly.

"I don't think we are. That storm blew us far out of our course. I doubt if a ship comes this way once in three months."

"There, what did I tell you!" cried Phil. "But don't think I want to stay," he added, quickly. "I am just as anxious to get away as any one, and anxious to regain my father's ship, too. Why, to lose her would mean a serious loss to my father!"

They talked the matter over until nightfall, but without reaching any satisfactory conclusion. Not one of the party could bring himself to think that he would really have to stay on the island for any great length of time.

"If we do have to stay, we'll have to rassle around fer somethin' to eat," remarked Billy Dill. "The mean sharks! They might at least have left us a barrel o' salt horse an' some canned goods – an' a little tobacco," he added, dolefully. His pipe was empty and so was his pouch, and this added the last drop to his misery.

As night came on they gathered some driftwood and lit a campfire, not because they were cold, but because it looked more cheerful, and because it also helped to keep away some obnoxious insects that had appeared. Over the fire they cooked the game Roger and Phil had shot, and made a supper of this and some crackers the boys had been carrying in their pockets. Then they sat down to talk the matter over once more. As the night advanced, the bright stars bespangled the heavens and all became perfectly calm and quiet. Tired out by what had passed, one after another sought a comfortable resting-place, and soon all were sound asleep.