CHAPTER V

IN THE TOILS

Trentham looked round. Mushroom Hill reared its strange form into the sky on their left hand--forty miles away, Haan had said. Between it and them stretched unbroken forest, an undulating sea of green. There was forest on their right, in front, behind.

'It's like looking for the proverbial needle in the bundle of hay,' he said.

'But we might track him through the undergrowth,' suggested Hoole. 'He couldn't pass without leaving traces--a big fellow, with big boots.'

'Yes; a solid-looking fellow, too; not the kind of man to do anything so mad as Grinson suggests.'

'Ah, sir, 'tis them as are the worst when the feeling gets a hold,' said Grinson. 'There was once a messmate o' mine, Job Grindle by name----'

'Really we must lose no time,' Trentham interrupted. 'The sun will be down in two hours or less. He was on that side, Hoole? Then let us start from there, and all keep together.'

They examined the slight eminence where Hoole had last seen the Dutchman. The plants were beaten down over a space of a few yards, where the man had walked to and fro; but beyond this narrow area there was no sign of footsteps in any direction.

'Very odd,' said Trentham. 'He must have gone back the way we came.'

They retraced their steps towards the clearly marked track of their course through the forest.

''Tis my belief the cannibals come up and cotched him again,' said Meek.

'But they must have passed us before they reached him,' said Trentham. 'He would have sung out.'

'And even if they took him by surprise a big fellow like him wouldn't have been overpowered without a struggle,' added Hoole. 'There 's no sign of it. And they would hardly have been satisfied with one victim when they might have had five. I guess Grinson is right, after all. Now let us look at the proposition from that point of view. Say that Haan was seized with the roaming fever--that is, was more or less mad. There's a deal of cunning in madmen, and he 'd naturally try to cover up his tracks. He would expect us to go back over our course, so that's the very way he wouldn't go. What do you say?'

'It sounds reasonable, but where are his tracks? How could he cover them?'

'Let's go back to where I last saw him. I have an idea.'

Retracing their steps to the rising ground, they examined once more the few yards which Haan had trodden. Beyond this clear space trees of various species grew somewhat thickly together. Hoole went up to them and began to look closely at the trunks.

'Ah, maybe he 's sitting up aloft a-grinning at us,' said Grinson, peering up into the foliage--'for a joke, like.'

'I never could understand a joke,' murmured Meek.

'Here you are,' cried Hoole, laying his hand on a twisted and knobby trunk. 'He shinned up here.'

There were on the bark scratches that might have been made by nails in a heavy sole. But Haan was not discoverable amid the leaves above.

'The madman!' exclaimed Trentham.

'With a madman's cunning,' said Hoole. 'Clearly he wanted to throw us off, and he deserves to be left to his fate. But, of course, we can't leave him to his fate. I suppose he went from tree to tree, and then dropped to earth again when he thought he had done us. It would be a hopeless job to attempt to track him through the foliage; but we know the direction in which he went, and I dare say we 'll find his traces not far away. Let us go on; scatter a little; the forest isn't thick hereabouts, and we can see each other a few yards apart. If we don't find him by nightfall, we shall simply have to give it up, camp for the night, and then make tracks for Mushroom Hill.'

Following his suggestion, they went forward in a line, looking up into the foliage, and closely examining the undergrowth for signs of its having been trampled down. Every now and then they stopped to listen; they dared not shout, but Hoole sometimes ventured upon a low whistle.

After they had progressed slowly for about half an hour, Meek suddenly sniffed, and caught Grinson by the arm.

'Summat burning, Mr. Grinson,' he said.

'Well, you 've a long nose, Ephraim. You 're right, me lad; I smell it myself.' He coughed lightly to attract the attention of Trentham, a few yards on his right. The four men grouped themselves. Hoole took out his revolver. They stood in silence, listening, looking in the direction from which the smell of burning came. There was no sound of crackling, no sign of smoke, and after a minute or two they went forward cautiously.

Soon they halted in astonishment. They had come upon a stretch of blackened undergrowth, upon which lay a few trees that bore the mark of an axe; others, still erect, were black for many feet from their base. The air was full of the smell of burnt wood.

'Surely the madman didn't set fire to the trees?' said Trentham.

'This wasn't done to-day,' said Hoole, touching a blackened trunk. 'It's not hot. But it wasn't long ago. Look here; the remains of a ladder.'

He had picked up at the foot of a tree what was clearly the charred remnant of a ladder of bamboo.

'Bless my eyes, sir, 'tis a village,' said Grinson. 'When I was at Moresby some years ago they showed me a photograph of one--a tree village, the little houses perched up aloft, and ladders to get to 'em. There 's been a fire, that's clear.'

'And no fire-engine,' said Meek. 'A terrible calamity, to be sure.'

Hoole had gone a few steps ahead.

'Here 's the sea,' he called. 'We 're on the edge of a cliff. And by Jove! Trentham, look here!'

The others went forward and joined him. They looked down upon a narrow ravine--a steep valley such as is called a chine in the South of England. At the foot of the thickly wooded banks a stream flowed out into a small bay almost landlocked by high cliffs. And in the middle of the bay lay a vessel--a long blue shape with a single funnel.

'The Raider!' ejaculated Grinson with an oath.

'I guess you 're right,' said Hoole quietly. 'And there 's that cloud of smoke we saw in the distance this morning.'

A slight dark cloud was rising above the cliff near the vessel. It did not proceed from the Raider's funnel. Was it possible that a consort of hers lay beyond the point?

The four men, standing just within the forest verge, gazed for a few moments in silence at this unexpected scene. Then Trentham turned.

'We had better get back--to where we can see Mushroom Hill,' he said, a grave note in his voice.

'And give up Haan?' said Hoole.

'And give up Haan. Haan may go hang. Let us go at once; it 'll be dark soon.'

They retraced their steps through the burnt village, Hoole and Trentham walking side by side, the two seamen following.

'I wondered why the fellow spelt his name to us; you remember? H-a-a-n,' said Trentham. 'It's clear as daylight now. He 's a German; was on that raider; a petty officer, I suppose; his name 's Hahn.'

Hoole whistled under his breath.

'They played some devilry with the natives, I suppose,' Trentham went on; 'burnt their village, very likely; Hahn strayed and got collared--and we saved one of the ruffians who sunk us!'

'And he 's got away and rejoined--with my watch!' cried Hoole. 'What an almighty fool I was! And I gave him five minutes' extra sleep! That stings, Trentham, and will till my dying day.'

'He beat us: in slimness the Hun always will. I haven't a doubt he was playing tricks with us all the time. His Mushroom Hill--faugh!'

'You mean?'

'I mean that I don't believe that's our way at all. He reckoned on our getting hopelessly lost--starving--falling into the hands of the savages.'

'Well, for my part, I 'd as soon fall into their hands as the Germans'. You don't think he 'll send the Huns after us, then?'

'Not he! I don't suppose he 'll mention us, thinking us well out of the way. He 'll probably pitch some tall yarn about his clever escape from the cannibals--very likely write a book about it. Upon my word, Hoole, after what we know----'

'Well, I reckon we 're done pretty brown, but I 'm not inclined to give him best. We 'll get to Friedrich What-do-you-call-it in spite of him, and not by Mushroom Hill either. We 'll stick to the coast--confound him! He was so precious careful to keep us away from it.'

'We can only try; it's a ticklish affair, Hoole.'

'I know it is, old son. The food question.'

'Don't worry about that. Where there are men there must be food.'

'That's true; but I 'd rather find the food where there weren't men, if the men are like those dancing hoodlums on the beach. One thing; the Hun's frightfulness has probably scared away all the natives from these parts, so we 'll be able to rest in peace to-night and start afresh in the morning.'

'I hope so. We had better camp where Hahn left us; I 'll tell the men there.'

They went on over their former tracks. A wind was rising, and the foliage overhead rustled like the hissing of breakers on a shingly beach. Conversation ceased; each was busy with his own uneasy thoughts. The rays of the setting sun filtered through the trees from behind them, and presently they came in sight of the open space where Hahn had deserted them. And then the two young men suddenly halted; Trentham wheeled round and put his fingers over his lips in sight of the seamen.

In the middle of the clearing, just where Grinson had lain, a dark, naked figure was stooping and closely examining the ground. He had his back to them, but a moment after they had stopped he sprang up suddenly and turned towards them, his head raised like that of a wild animal that scents danger. For a few moments he stood motionless in the full glow of the sunlight--a tall lithe figure, like a statue in bronze. His right hand clutched a spear.

The watchers had time to notice his well-proportioned form; his colour, lighter than that of the natives they had already seen; a grace of bearing that gave him an indefinable distinction; then he was gone, as if by magic. Where he had been he was no longer; it was as if he had dissolved like Pepper's ghost.

After waiting a little, Hoole stole forward to reconnoitre. The space was vacant; there was no sign of savages lurking among the surrounding trees. He returned to the others.

'No one there,' he said under his breath.

'D' you think he saw us?' asked Trentham.

'No. I couldn't see you from the edge. But he was uneasy.'

'So am I! We had better avoid that spot. I 'd rather not meet any more natives just yet! We had better go rather deeply into the forest, and perch up in trees for the night. There 's only about half an hour of daylight left; we shall probably be pretty safe in the dark. In daylight--well, we shall have to look out.'

They had spoken in whispers. The seamen had watched them anxiously; Grinson, usually talkative enough, had not uttered a word for some time. Trentham in a few sentences explained his plan; then led the way with Hoole into the forest, in a direction at right angles to their former course.

The dying sunlight scarcely penetrated the thick canopy above them. The greenish gloom lent pallor to their cheeks. They stumbled, on through the brushwood, which grew more densely where the overhead leafage was thin. The wind had dropped as suddenly as it had arisen. They heard nothing but the swish of their feet through the vegetation and the fitful calls of night birds just awaking. Presently, however, Hoole stopped and whispered:

'Did you hear that?'

'What?'

'Some sound--I don't know what.'

'I heard nothing.'

They went on.

'There again!' said Hoole, a few seconds later. He looked round apprehensively. A slight groan came from Meek.

'What's the matter?' asked Trentham in a whisper, sharply. His nerves were a little on edge.

'I seed a face, sir,' murmured the man, staring into the gloom.

'Nonsense! It's too dark to see anything. We 'll stop in a few minutes, when it's quite dark; but we must get as far as we can from where we saw that native.'

They had not advanced more than a dozen yards when Hoole made a sudden dash among the bushes. The rest halted, drawing quick breaths. He came back after half a minute's absence.

'I distinctly heard a sound there,' he explained. 'No; it's not jumpiness. But I couldn't see any one or anything. I vote we stop, Trentham. We shall lose our bearings utterly if we go too far into the forest, where we can't see the sun to-morrow.'

'I think you 're right. Now to find trees we can climb, and big enough to give us safe perches. Grinson, put down your bag and have a look round.'

The boatswain had just risen from stooping to the ground; the others were standing by, looking up for broad forks which promised security, when with a sudden _whish_ that took them all aback the brushwood around them parted and a score or more of dusky natives burst into the ring. Before they could raise a finger in self-defence they were thrown headlong, and sinewy hands were knotting pliant tendrils about their arms and legs, while others held them down. In a few minutes the binding was finished. The captors collected, and jabbered away among themselves. One of them had opened the bag, and was munching a biscuit. The bag was wrenched from his hands; and the four prisoners, lying on their backs, watched the gleeful savages consume their whole stock of provisions to the last crumb.