CHAPTER III.

THE LAST OF LONG TOM.

For four weeks succeeding the gale the weather was delightful. Propelled by favoring breezes the Stranger sped rapidly on her way, stopping now and then at some point of interest long enough to allow the boys to stretch their cramped limbs on shore, a privilege of which they were always glad to avail themselves. Eugene found ample opportunity to try his new Henry rifle on the various species of birds and animals with which some of the islands abounded, and the others collected such a supply of curiosities, in the shape of weapons and ornaments, which they purchased from the natives, that the cabin of the Stranger soon began to look like a little museum. The Club’s absent friends, Chase and Wilson, were not forgotten. If one of their number found any curiosities of special value, such as bows and arrows, spears, headdresses, or cooking utensils, he always tried to procure more just like them to send to the two boys in Bellville. Everything passed off smoothly for four weeks, as we have said, and then the members of the Club, having made up their minds that they had seen enough of the islands of the Pacific, began to urge Uncle Dick to shape the schooner’s course toward Japan. On this same day Frank noticed, with some uneasiness, that the captain seemed to be very much interested in his barometer, so much so that he paid frequent visits to it; and every time he looked at it he would come out of his cabin and run his eye all around the horizon as if he were searching for something. But he said nothing, and neither did Frank until dinner was over, and Archie and George and the rest of the Club had ascended to the deck. Then he thought it time to make some inquiries, and the result was the conversation we have recorded at the beginning of our first chapter.

“A cyclone!” thought Frank, with a sinking at his heart such as he had frequently felt when threatened by some terrible danger. The very name had something appalling in it. There they were, surrounded by treacherous reefs which rendered navigation extremely difficult and dangerous, even under the most favorable circumstances, and Uncle Dick knew that there was a hurricane approaching, and still he allowed his vessel to run along with all her sails spread. Frank had read of shipmasters ordering in every stitch of canvas on the very first indication of an approaching storm, and wondered why Uncle Dick did not do the same.

The old sailor filled his pipe for his after-dinner smoke, and Frank went on deck to see how things looked there. Then he found that some precautions had already been taken to insure the safety of the schooner and her company. The islands, which clustered so thickly on all sides of them in the morning, were further away now, and were all lying astern. In front and on both sides of them nothing was to be seen but the sky and the blue water. Uncle Dick meant to have plenty of elbow-room.

The first thing that attracted Frank’s attention after he had noted the position of the islands, was the unusual gloom and silence that seemed to prevail everywhere. The men who were gathered about the capstan conversed in almost inaudible tones, the two mates seemed to be wholly absorbed in their own reflections and in watching the horizon; and even the voices of the merry group on the quarter-deck were tuned to a lower key. The wind whistled through the cordage as usual, the water bubbled up under the bows, the masts and yards creaked and groaned, but all these sounds were subdued—were uttered in a whisper, so to speak, as if the schooner and the element through which she was passing were depressed in the same degree and manner that Frank and the rest were. Away off to the eastward he now discovered a large ship, standing along with all her canvas spread that would catch the wind. Frank was glad to see her. During the fearful convulsion that was to follow he thought it would be a great comfort to know that he and his companions were not alone on the deep—that there were human beings near who might be able to extend a helping hand if they got into trouble. Somebody did get into trouble, and help was needed and freely and promptly given; but it was not to the Stranger or her crew.

“How far is it, Mr. Baldwin?” asked Frank.

“It is close at hand,” was the reply. “Half an hour will tell the story.”

“Why didn’t we take in something then, and get ready for it?” inquired Frank.

“Why, we want to run away from it, don’t we? How could we do it with everything furled? You may safely trust the captain. There’s a heap of knowledge under those gray hairs of his.”

“I know that,” returned Frank, quickly. “I only asked for information.”

“You see,” continued the officer, “hurricanes are not like ordinary gales. The wind moves in a circle, and at the same time the body of the storm has a motion in a straight line. The pressure of the atmosphere is less the nearer you get to the outside of the storm, and greater as you approach the centre; while if you should get into the very centre of it, you wouldn’t feel any wind at all.”

“Has that been proved, or is it merely supposition?” asked Frank.

“It has been proved in a hundred cases, and once in my own experience. It happened two years ago, and off the Mauritius. It began with a rather stiff breeze, which in two hours increased to a gale, and in two more to the worst hurricane I ever saw in my life. It blew squarely from the northeast, and when it got so hard that it seemed as if wood and iron couldn’t stand it an instant longer, there came a calm quicker than you could say Jack Robinson, and there wasn’t a breath of air stirring. This lasted fifteen minutes, and then without any warning the wind began again with the most terrible screech I ever heard, and blew from the southwest as hard as ever. Now, we don’t propose to get in there with this little craft. As soon as we can tell which way it is coming from we’ll run off in another direction and get out of its track. There’s the first puff of it now,” said the officer, as a strong gust of wind filled the sails, and the schooner began to careen under the pressure. “Keep her steady, there.”

Mr. Baldwin started toward the cabin, but Uncle Dick was on the alert, and came up the ladder in two jumps. He looked at the compass, made sure of the direction of the wind, then issued some hasty orders, and in five minutes more the Stranger was bounding away on another tack, and in a direction lying almost at right angles with the one she had been following. This was the time for Frank to see if his ideas were correct. He looked at the compass and found that the wind was coming from the northeast, coming pretty strong, too, which proved that they must be some distance inside of the outer circle of the storm. It proved, too, that the centre of the storm lay to the northwest of them, and as it was moving toward the southeast, of course it was coming directly toward them. The shortest way out of its path lay in a southwesterly direction, and that was the way the schooner was heading, as he saw by another glance at the compass. It took him some time to think these points all out, but Uncle Dick, aided by the skill acquired by long experience, had decided them without a moment’s delay.

“What was the old course, quartermaster?” asked Frank.

“Nor’west, one-half west, sir,” was the answer.

“We were holding as straight for it as we could go,” said Frank, drawing a long breath. “In a little while we’d have been in the very midst of it.”

“In the midst of what?” asked Walter, who with the rest of the Club had watched Uncle Dick’s movements in surprise. “What is the trouble, and why was the course of the vessel changed so suddenly?”

It required but a few minutes for Frank to make his explanations, and then there were other interested ones aboard the schooner who watched the progress of the storm with no little anxiety. They noticed with much satisfaction that the strange ship to the eastward was keeping company with them; that she also had changed her course, and was sailing in a direction parallel to the one the Stranger was following. This proved that her captain’s calculations had led to the same result as those of Uncle Dick.

The wind steadily increased in force for almost four hours, being accompanied at the last by the most terrific thunder and lightning, and by such blinding sheets of rain that the boys and the trappers were driven to the cabin and kept close prisoners there. This was all they felt and all they knew of that cyclone until a long time afterward, when, in another part of the world and under more agreeable circumstances, Eugene received a paper from his friend Chase, accompanied by a letter which contained this paragraph:

“I send you to-day a copy of the _Herald_, in which appears an account of a terrible and most destructive storm that happened down there somewhere. As the last letter you sent me was written while you were approaching the Mangrove Islands, where Nelson performed the exploit that made him master of the Tycoon, I felt a little uneasy, fearing that you might have been caught out in it. Did you see the waves that flooded the islands named in the article referred to, and did you feel the wind that twisted off large trees as if they had been pipe-stems, and carried the tops so far away that they were never seen afterwards?”

No, the Club saw and felt none of these, but they did see and feel the effects of the protracted gale that set in at the close of that eventful day, and never abated until the Stranger had been completely dismantled, and her consort, the large ship that hove in sight just before the storm commenced, driven high and dry upon the shores of one of those inhospitable islands. This happened on the third day after the cyclone. During the whole of this time the boys and the trappers were confined to the cabin, and did not once sit down to a cooked meal, the storm being so severe that it was impossible to build a fire in the galley. During the night that followed the second day the fury of the gale seemed to increase a hundred-fold, and the boys and their two friends passed the long, gloomy hours in a state of anxiety and alarm that cannot be described. On the morning of the third day the tarpaulin that covered the cabin was suddenly thrown aside, and Uncle Dick came down. The frightened boys held their breath while they looked at him, for something told them that he had bad news for them.

“Go on deck, now,” said the old sailor, shouting the words through his trumpet, for the gale roared so loudly that he could not have made himself understood had he addressed them in any other way. “Hold fast for your lives and stand by to do as I tell you. There is an island under our lee and I can’t get away from it, because the schooner is dismantled and almost unmanageable. We are driving ashore as fast as the wind can send us. I want you boys and Dick and Bob to go to the pumps. The men are tired out.”

The boys’ hearts seemed to stop beating. They followed Uncle Dick to the deck, and grasping the life-lines he passed to them, gazed in awe at the scene presented to their view. Never in their lives, not even when rounding the Horn, had they seen such waves as they saw that morning. They seemed to loom up to the sky, and how the Stranger escaped being engulfed by some of them, drifting, as she did, almost at their mercy, was a great mystery. Of the beautiful little schooner which had been so recently refitted, there was nothing left but the hull. Both masts were gone, the bowsprit was broken short off, and a little piece of sail, scarcely larger than a good-sized pillowcase, which was rigged to a jury mast, was all the canvas she had to keep her before the wind. Now and then, as she was lifted on the crest of a billow, the boys could see the island a few miles to leeward of them, and the long line of breakers rolling over the rocks toward which the vessel was being driven with tremendous force. It seemed as if nothing could be done to avert the death toward which they were hastening, but even yet the crew had not given up all hope. There was no confusion among them, and every man was busy. Some were at the pumps, and others at work getting up the anchors and laying the cables. A sailor never gives up so long as his vessel remains afloat.

Toward the pumps the boys made their way with the assistance of the life-lines, and taking the places of the weary seamen, went to work with a will. Frank’s eyes were as busy as his arms, and whenever he could get a glimpse of the island he closely examined the long line of breakers before him, in the hope of discovering an opening in it through which the Stranger could be taken to a place of safety. He could see no opening, but he saw something else, and that was a crowd of men running along the beach.

Before Frank had time to make any further observations, one of the mates tapped him on the shoulder and made signs for him and his companions to increase their exertions at the pumps, following up these signs by others intended to convey the disagreeable information that the Stranger was taking in water faster than they pumped it out. Frank understood him, and so did the others; and if they had worked hard before, they worked harder now. The schooner was sinking, and something must be done to lighten her. Frank knew that this was the substance of the communication which Mr. Baldwin shouted into the ears of his commander, although he could not hear a word of it on account of the shrieking of the gale, and when Uncle Dick pointed toward the thirty-pounder that stood in the waist, Frank knew what he had determined on. The gun was to be thrown overboard, and there was no time lost in doing it, either. The mate removed the iron pin which held the gun-carriage to a ring in the deck, and two sailors, with axes in their hands, crept to the waist by the help of the life-lines. They stood there until the schooner made a heavy lurch to starboard, and then in obedience to a sign from the mate, severed the fastenings at a blow. The piece being no longer held in position slid rapidly across the deck, through an opening the waves had made in the bulwarks, and disappeared in the angry waters. That was the last of Long Tom. Frank was sorry to see it go, and hoped that the schooner was now sufficiently lightened. If she was not, the next things to be sacrificed would be the twenty-four pounders, and in case they were thrown overboard, what would they have to defend themselves with if those natives he had seen on the beach should prove to be hostile? Small arms, even though some of them did shoot sixteen times, could not accomplish much against such a multitude.

The vessel being lightened and the water in the wells declared to be at a standstill, Uncle Dick turned his attention to the island and to the long line of breakers before him, which he closely examined through his glass. He must have discovered something that gave him encouragement, for he turned quickly and issued some hasty orders which the boys could not hear. But they could see them obeyed. Another jury-mast was set up, another little piece of canvas given to the wind, and the course of the schooner was changed so that she ran diagonally across the waves, instead of directly before them. She rolled fearfully after this. Wide seams opened in her deck and the water arose so rapidly in the wells that the boys grew more frightened than ever. How much longer they would have succeeded in keeping the vessel afloat under circumstances like these, it is hard to tell; but fortunately the most part of the danger was passed a few minutes afterward. The Stranger dashed through an opening in the breakers and ran into water that seemed as smooth as a millpond compared with the rough sea they had just left. But the Club never forgot the two minutes’ suspense they endured while they were passing the rocks. It was awful! It seemed to them that Uncle Dick was guiding the schooner to certain destruction, and so frightened were they that they ceased their exertions at the pumps. The water arose before them like a solid wall, but it was clear there, while on each side it was broken into foam by the rocks over which it passed. The noise of the waves combined with the noise of the gale was almost deafening, and all on board held their breath when a sudden jar, accompanied by a grating sound, which if once heard can never be forgotten, told them that the schooner had struck! The blow, however, was a very light one, and did no damage. The next moment a friendly wave lifted her over the obstruction and carried her with railroad speed toward the beach. A hearty cheer broke from the tired crew, and Uncle Dick pulled off his hat and drew his hand across his forehead. Then the boys knew that the danger was over.

“All ready with the anchor!” shouted Uncle Dick, and that was the first order the boys had heard since coming on deck.

“All ready, sir,” was the reply.

The schooner ran on a quarter of a mile farther, the water growing more and more quiet the nearer she approached the beach, and then the order was given to let go. The anchor was quickly got overboard, and when she began to feel its resisting power, the Stranger came about and rode safely within short rifle-shot of the shore where the boys had expected her to lay her bones, and perhaps their own. As soon as she was fairly brought up with her head to the waves, a squad of men was sent to the pumps, and the boys tottered back, and supporting themselves by the first objects they could lay hold of, panted loudly. They were almost exhausted.

“Mr. Baldwin,” said Uncle Dick, “have a fire started in the galley without a minute’s delay, and see that the doctor serves up the best he’s got in the lockers to these weary men. We’ll be the better for a cup of hot coffee.”

Having given these orders, Uncle Dick came up and shook each of the boys by the hand with as much cordiality as he would have exhibited if he had not seen them for a twelvemonth.

“Now that it is all over, I can tell you that awhile ago I thought it was the last of us,” said he. “Mr. Baldwin,” he added, as the mate came up out of the galley, “have the magazine lighted. Frank, I think you had better send our compliments to those fellows in the shape of a two-second shell.”

Uncle Dick pointed over the stern, and Frank was surprised to see a fleet of canoes loaded with natives approaching the schooner. His mind had been so completely occupied with other things that he had not thought of them since he saw Long Tom go overboard.

“Perhaps they are coming to help us,” said he.

“Well, we don’t want any of their help, and you had better tell them so in language they will understand. Do it, too, before they come much nearer.”

If Frank had been as cool as he usually was, and as cool as Uncle Dick was in spite of the trying scenes through which he had just passed, he would have seen the reason for this apparently hasty order. One glance at the approaching canoes would have been enough. He would have noticed that those of the natives who were handling the paddles bent to their work with an eagerness which showed that they were animated by something besides a desire to render assistance to the distressed vessel; that the others brandished their weapons about their heads in the most threatening manner; and, had the wind been blowing from them toward himself, he would have heard yells such as he had never heard before, not even when the Indians attacked the wagon-train to which he once belonged. He went to the gun, which was quietly stripped and cast loose. A cartridge with a shrapnel attached was driven home, and the nearest of the approaching canoes was covered by the weapon.

“Shoot to hit,” said Uncle Dick. “If those Malays gain a footing on our deck, our voyage will be ended sure enough.”

“All ready, sir,” said Frank.

“Let them have it, then,” commanded Uncle Dick.

The twenty-pounder roared, and the shrapnel, true to its aim, struck the crowded canoe amidships, cutting it completely in two and sending all her crew into the water. The destruction that followed an instant afterwards must have been great. The missile exploded in the very midst of the natives, of whom Uncle Dick said there were at least three hundred, and created a wonderful panic among them. They had not looked for such a reception from a vessel that was little better than a wreck. The whole crowd turned and made for the shore, those in the uninjured canoes being in such haste to seek a place of safety that they left their companions who were struggling in the water to take care of themselves as best they could. As the fleet separated a little, Uncle Dick surveyed the scene with his glass, and announced that the shot had been well-directed, four boatloads of natives having been emptied out into the bay.

“Perhaps they will let us alone now,” said Frank.

“It will not be safe to relax our vigilance as long as we stay here, simply because they have been once repulsed,” returned Uncle Dick. “I know what those fellows are, for I have had some experience with them. They have been thrashed repeatedly by our own and English vessels of war, but they soon forget it and act as badly as ever. A man who falls into their hands never escapes to tell how he was treated. Now, Frank, load that gun and secure it; and Mr. Baldwin, have a sentry kept on that quarter-deck night and day, with orders to watch that shore as closely as ever—Eh? What’s the matter?”

The officer in reply pointed seaward. Uncle Dick and the boys looked, and were horrified to see a large ship in the offing, drifting helplessly before the gale.