Part 5

“Soon the cry was repeated, and I must say it did have a depressing effect.

“‘Sure sign of westerly wind,’ said Jensen, as he lit his pipe and walked fore and aft. ‘Better make all snug for’ard there, for, by hookey, it looks as if we were goin’ to have a fracas.’

“I went for’ard and saw all snug and then came aft again. The old man had come on deck, and I could see on his face the glow of his pipe as he drew it. He was standing close to the rail and looking hard to the north’ard.

“‘I don’t believe a barometer is any good in these here latitudes,’ I heard Jensen say to him. ‘I’ve seen the glass way below the centre of a West India hurricane an’ no more wind than now for days on end.’

“It wasn’t five minutes afterwards that I felt a puff, and the topsail came aback with a crack. The old man was on the break of the poop in a second, bawling, ‘All hands wear ship; hard up the wheel!’

“The men jumped for the braces, but it was nearly ten minutes before we got way on her. The wind came slowly. By the time she paid off it had increased, and came harder and harder at every puff, so before we had her braced around on the port-tack it was snorting away in true Cape Horn style. Soon we were switching into it at a great rate, and the big sea that took us fair on the port-bow made a nasty mess on the main-deck, while the maintop-sail with the sheet slacked off, to spill some of the wind out of it, bellied out like some huge monster in the gloom overhead.

“There was nothing more to do, so when the watch was changed I turned in, and after wedging myself into my bunk I fell asleep.

“It seemed as though I had hardly closed my eyes before there was a sharp banging at my door. I turned out, and opening it found Johnnie standing in the for’ard cabin with the water dripping from his shining oil-skins and blowing his fingers to try and get them warm.

“‘Eight bells, sir,’ said he, ‘an’ the mate wants you, sir.’

“‘All right; how is it now?’ I said.

“‘Bad night, sir, and plenty of water on deck.’

“I buttoned on my sou’wester and followed Johnnie to the cabin door. It was on the lee side, so there was no trouble getting out.

“As I stepped on deck I saw that the gale had increased in force, and the dull booming roar overhead told that the old ship was standing up to it manfully.

“She was plunging and switching into a giant sea, and every now and then a huge mass of water fell on deck with a tremendous crash and roared off to leeward through the water-ways.

“We kept clear of the main-deck and joined the rest of the watch on the poop, where some of them had stayed to keep clear of the water.

“As my eyes were almost blinded at first from the flying drift, I couldn’t make out anything, but soon they got accustomed to the darkness and water, and I looked about me.

“The maintop-sail was still holding with the foot rope stretching and bending until it was almost on the yard, but the sheet, being slacked off, eased it, while the way the wind roared out from under the foot of the sail told plainly of the pressure.

“To leeward, on the main-deck, the foam showed ghastly white, and it was evident that the waist was full of ice-cold water. I soon made out the forms of the rest of the watch huddled behind the for’ard house, swinging their arms to keep their hands warm. The old man stood on the break of the poop holding on to the pin-rail and beside him stood the mate, both watching the maintop-sail as it surged and strained at the clews.

“I saw in a moment that if the sail went there would be nothing to do but run for it, as it was all two men at the wheel could do to hold her up to it as it was.

“While I was looking at the sail I heard a loud crack like a gun and saw the lee-clew part from the yard-arm. It was gone to ribbons in a second, but the weather-clew still held.

“‘Goose-wing it!’ roared the old man, and Jensen bawled for all hands to lay out on that yard.

“The men for’ard saw what had happened even if they didn’t hear the mate. Just as they started aft to the main-rigging a tremendous sea rolled right over the weather-rail. The for’ard house saved the men, but they were up to their waists in cold water and held back.

“‘Lay out on that yard!’ bawled Jensen, and we fought our way along the weather-rail to the backstays. ‘Lay out there!’ and his voice rose to a screech, for it was duff or dog’s belly, as the saying is, and it meant life or death for all hands.

“In the gloom I saw a slight form spring into the ratlines and go aloft hand over hand. Then the men followed, while Jensen was bawling, ‘Come down, you devil’s limb! come down, or I’ll skin you!’

“But Johnnie was leading the way over the futtock-shrouds, so I grabbed the ratlines and went up with the rest.”

Here Gantline stopped for a moment and expectorated violently down the weather-side most unsailorly.

“And didn’t that coward Jensen go along, or was he too scared?” asked Captain Green.

Gantline wiped his mouth and continued, slowly, “He may or may not have been scared. He went aft. Johnnie gained the yard first with Williams close behind him, and they started out to leeward with the watch following.

“The yard-arm was jumping and springing under the shock of flying canvas, and it was all a good sailor could do to hold on. The men soon passed a line under the sail and got it on the yard amidships, while Johnnie, knife in hand, cut away the flying canvas from the bolt-rope to leeward.

“It was bitter work on that yard-arm in that freezing gale, and it took a long time to get the sail ‘goose-winged,’--that is, with the bunt on the yard and the weather-clew drawing,--and when we got through my hands were so nearly frozen I could hardly hold on to a rope.

“The mate was on the poop, and we had just finished lashing the sail, when I felt the vessel take a tremendous heave to windward.

“‘Hold hard!’ I yelled, for I knew what was coming. With a great heave she rolled to leeward, and above the roar I heard the smothering rush of water as the sea went over her.

“From the darkness to leeward I heard a sharp cry, and, looking to where I had last seen Johnnie, I saw he was gone.

“I grasped the topsail clew-line and slid down to the deck. Making my way aft somehow, I found the old man and one of the men at the wheel holding on to a rope that trailed taut over the lee-quarter, while the old man was bawling for some one to lay aft and help pull it in.

“I grabbed hold and we hauled it in together. A dark lump came over the side and I grabbed hold of it and pulled it aboard. It was all that was left of Jensen. He had seen Johnnie go, and had gone after him with the line around his waist.

“The old man said nothing, but took his shoulders and I took his feet and we carried him below. He was as dead as could be. A sea had hove him under the ship’s counter as she squatted, and the top of his head was stove flat.

“The old man didn’t say much, but I could see by the light of the lamp there was more water in his eyes than that of the flying drift.

“The next day the carpenter sewed the mate up in canvas, along with some sheet-lead. The old man read the service in spite of the gale, and then he raised his hand.

“The men of the mate’s watch tilted the plank he was laying on, and the white bundle went to leeward with a heavy plunge.

“Just at that minute the long, hoarse cry of a penguin broke on our ears from the darkness to the s’uth’ard. That was all.”

Zach Green sat smoking, but said nothing. Gantline turned and noticed me. Then he spat his quid overboard, and, giving me the course for my watch, went slowly forward.

_THE TREASURE OF TINIAN REEF_

The tropical sun shone fiercely on the beach of coral sand. The tall-trunked cocoanuts, with their bunchy, long-leaved tops, rustled softly in the trade-wind on the shore, and stood like bold sentinels, or a picket-line, for the serried ranks of thick jungle growth on the land behind them. The long, heavy roll of the Pacific heaved itself up, as if in defiance, as it rolled towards the land, mounting higher and higher upon itself, until the blue wall wavered an instant, then fell with a mighty roar into a waste of sparkling foam as it rolled over the barrier-reef and rushed towards the beach beyond.

Sometimes the seas would come in quick couples, and the deep thundering jar of their falling bodies could be heard clear back to Sunharon, where Sangaan lived in the pride of his manhood and a grass-thatched palace.

Northward from the reef, well off shore, lay a small schooner, rolling deep in the swell. Her mainsail was hauled flat aft, and she lay hove to, while a small white speck in the sea between her and the shore, growing rapidly larger every moment, told plainly to the curious native sitting on the beach in the shadow of a palm that a boat was soon to make a landing.

But Warto was not uneasy. He had seen boats land there before, and had once helped to carry some of the men ashore, where a large fire had been built and knives sharpened; but that was long ago, long before Mr. Easyman had come there and taught him how to take care of his soul as well as his huge brown body.

Still, memory made his eyes bright, and he involuntarily clutched a short spear with his right hand as he sat and watched the small boat near the surf.

“Steady your bow oar!” roared a deep-voiced, bow-legged man who stood at the steering oar. Then he removed his cap and wiped a dent in the top of his bald head, while he gazed steadfastly at a floating mass in the water. “By the Holy Smoke, Gantline! but that’s some o’ that whale slush, or bust my eyes!”

Gantline, pulling stroke oar, turned quickly in his seat at this and gazed in the direction the boat was heading, where a small object floated like a lump of tallow on the smooth water. His gray eyes grew suddenly bright as he brought the object in range of his vision, but he assumed a careless air as he answered Garnett.

“Nothing but a piece of whale-blubber,” he muttered, as he drew his oar inboard. “Some of those niggers been trying out on the beach; and, by thunder! if that ain’t one squatting there under that big palm right ahead.”

“Get out your boat-hook,” roared Garnett to the man at the bow oar, “and make a pass at it; for, by the Pope! it looks to me like a lump of amber-grease.”

They were very close to the line of lifting water, closer, in fact, than Garnett supposed; but he was so intent on capturing the floating prize that he did not realize his danger.

The man forward reached for the floating mass with his boat-hook and drew it alongside, but it took the united efforts of himself and the man next him to lift the spongy, slippery lump into the boat.

There it was, a good hundred pounds of ambergris, worth fifty dollars a pound anywhere on the West Coast.

Garnett removed his cap and mopped the top of his bald head, while his eyes remained fixed upon the prize. “By the Holy Smoke, Gantline! you see what comes o’ being in charge of a party. I came mighty near letting you go ashore with the boat by yourself, and then I’d been out a few thousand; but never mind, I’ll give you a pound o’ the stuff, anyways.”

Gantline gave a loud grunt of disgust. “Seems to me half and half would sound better among old messmates like us. By thunder! if I had picked it up you would have had your share fast enough.”

Garnett smiled broadly and replaced his cap on his head.

“It’s a pity that the devilish desire to prosper should come atween two old shipmates like us two; but I remember the time, onct, when the terbacker gave out on the Moose, and you never so much as offered me a quid off your plug, even when you knowed I was suffering. Besides, it not only wouldn’t do to divy up from a physical stand-point, but it’s ’gainst all morals and religion. What d’ye suppose old Easyman, ashore there, would say if I gave up my rights? The Bible says, ‘He that have got, shall have; and he that haven’t got, shall have that which he ain’t taken from him,’ which goes to show that by all rights and religion I should take away that pound I promised you.”

Gantline muttered something that Garnett couldn’t hear, and then resumed his oar.

During all this time the boat had been drifting towards the beach, but the wind had caused her to swing nearly broadside on while all hands were busy with the prize. Suddenly Gantline looked seaward, and gave a quick exclamation that brought Garnett to his senses and the steering oar with a jump.

“Back port! Give way starboard, for God’s sake!” roared the mate, as he swung all his weight on the steering oar to slew the boat head-on; but it was too late. A great blue sea rose just outside of them, with its inshore slope growing steeper and steeper, until it was almost perpendicular. Then, curling clear and green, it fell over them, and in an instant boat and men disappeared in the white smother.

“’Ternal bliss! ’ternal bliss!” lisped Warto, sweetly, as he sat scraping his great toe-nail with a piece of shell. Then he glanced sharply up and down the beach to see if anybody was looking who might tell the missionary, and, grasping his spear firmly, dropped his grass cloth and made for the surf.

The first thing that attracted his attention was a shining bald head which glistened brightly in the sunshine, and he made his way swiftly towards it.

“Get onto the divil av a naygur makin’ for us,” said a sailor. “Faith, an’ if me eyes ain’t entirely full of salt, I do believe the black haythen has a harpoon along with him. Now, bless me----”

This last remark was caused by the actions of Garnett, who was swimming a little in advance of the rest, turning his head every now and then to watch for the following breakers. The mate had an oar under each arm and was using the boat-hook for a paddle, when he was aware of a black head, with shining eyes and grinning teeth, close aboard him.

There was something suspicious in the manner the savage swam, for, while he often held one hand clear of the water, Garnett noticed that the other was always below the surface.

“Git out the way, ye murdering shark, or I’ll hook ye higher than Haman!” roared Garnett, as he flourished his boat-hook and glared fiercely at the islander. “None o’ your cannibal tricks on me;” and with that he made a pass with his weapon so quick that Warto came near ending his career as a beach-comber then and there.

As it was, he ducked his head just in time, and then, completely cowed by this show of resistance from what he supposed were helpless men, made for the beach.

Before Garnett made the land quite a crowd had collected, for the fleeing savage had spread the news in a few moments, and then hastened back to see if anything was to be gained from the new arrivals.

These came ashore in due course of time on whatever flotsam that happened within their reach, Gantline astride of a keg which bore the missionary’s name in large black letters, painted on the ends, while the two sailors clung tenaciously to the sides of the capsized boat.

Soon the majestic form of Sangaan was seen approaching, accompanied by a crowd of servants and the Reverend Father Easyman himself.

At an order from their chief, several stout fellows plunged into the surf and assisted in getting Gantline and the men safely ashore; but Garnett flourished his boat-hook when they approached him, and glared at them so savagely that they soon let him alone and turned their attention to securing whatever stuff still floated in the broken water.

When Garnett could stand, he turned and cast his eye along the white line of rolling surge in search of his prize, but failing to see it, he walked slowly ashore, looking intently from right to left.

Gantline and the men were already surrounded by the crowd of natives, and the missionary was alternately shaking their hands and offering up thanks for their safe deliverance from the perils of the sea. At a wave of the good man’s hand, two strapping fellows picked up his keg and made off in the direction of the mission, but the rest of the supplies, that still floated, were piled in a heap upon the sand as fast as the men could rescue them from the water.

“By the Holy Smoke! Mr. Easyman,” grunted Garnett, with a string of oaths, “but you’re making a fine lot o’ these naygers when they swim out and try to murder a man as soon as he gets into trouble. There was----”

“Ah, me!” gasped the missionary, lifting his hands and raising his eyes; “so it is the violent one I see again,--the man of fierce speech. A warm welcome to you, friend; for it has been a long time since you and Father Tellman’s pig left the Marquesas suddenly on the same day. A mere coincidence, however! a mere coincidence!” and he shot a vengeful look at the mate, who smiled and spat a stream of tobacco and salt water upon the sand.

“What is the invoice of goods that you have landed so disastrously. I had thought you were a right good sailor, though I reckoned you a poor Christian. Give me the bill and I’ll check off what I owe your captain for. Ah, my friend, it gives me great unease to hear you use such strange and unholy words, especially before my great friend, Chief Sangaan, the greatest chief in the Archipelago, and also the greatest ras----”

“’Tis Garnett, sure enough,” he continued to himself, as that sailor, having handed him the list of goods, hurried off down the beach, where Gantline stood with his eyes fixed on an object in the surf.

“Blast his eyes! if he don’t remember me when I was on the Pigeon,” said Garnett, as he reached Gantline. “You remember that foolishness I told you about concerning a pretty wench he had at the mission--ewe lamb, he called her--and that infernal pig I pulled out of his friend’s pen the day we sailed. Dernation! the beast was so tough I can taste it yet.”

“There’s a saying in the Holy Book that stolen fruits is sweetest,” answered Gantline, with a grin; “which goes to show the onreliability of misplacing these quotations. Which, the same, you seem to be doing in regard to that lump of whale stuff. It seems to me that I might enter into a dispute with you in regard to the ownership of it; for, if I see straight, there it is just inside the first line of breakers, and belongs to the man who can abide the longest for its sake.”

“Now, by the eyes of that sky-pilot, if you are bent on quarrelling and intent on mutiny, it won’t take long for me to show you who is running this affair,” said Garnett, as he glared at Gantline and began to make a few preparations necessary for establishing his authority.

“We’re on the beach; and, Lord love ye, Garnett, I’ll make a fair showing if you start for me. Afloat I’ll obey orders, but ashore you’ve got to prove what’s what before I believe it.”

So saying, Gantline plunged into the surf and made his way rapidly towards the floating mass, which represented, in value, his profits of a dozen voyages.

“This is too infernal bad,” muttered Garnett to himself, as several natives started out to help Gantline. “Here I’ll have to fight Gantline or lose half of that lump o’ grease; but he brings it on himself, for it’s mutiny.”

He grasped the boat-hook which he still carried, and waited patiently until the lump was brought ashore. Then he approached the second mate, who had had the prize carried above high-water mark, where he stood astride of it.

The natives saw that something was wrong between the white men, although they knew nothing of the dispute or the value of the fetid prize, so they began to crowd around them in the hope of viewing and enjoying the hostilities in which they had no desire to take part.

“’Tis no use, Garnett; you are too old a dog to make headway against me, even with that hook, though there was a time when you might have held on to some purpose.”

“I have had a clip or two in my time,” answered Garnett; “but we’ll see. No matter if you do get to windward of me, Easyman and the chief will hold you for mutiny till the skipper gets you. So stand away to leeward of that lump or I’ll be for boarding ye.”

“Stand off!” bawled Gantline; “if I fire this chunk of coral into that dent in your forepeak there’ll be trouble.”

“Ah, brothers! ah, brothers! what is this strife about? and what is that lump on the sand?” asked a voice on the outside of the group. The natives instantly stood aside, and the Reverend Father Easyman stood before the quarrelling mates. “Oh, ho! it is my friend of the godless tongue; and pray, my friend, what is it he desires to take from you? for I reckon him a covetous man,” said the missionary, looking at Garnett, but addressing Gantline.

“It’s just a find of grease,” answered Gantline, “and, as I went into the surf after it, I want to divide it with Garnett here, who says it’s his because he saw it first.”

“Lump of grease! Now, bless me, my friend, it has a most unholy odor for grease. ’Tis a poor beef that gives forth such tallow; but let me examine it closer, for there is no need to guard it, as Sangaan there will have no disputes about the ownership of property on his most civilized island.”

“Sangaan be hanged!” grunted Garnett; “the stuff’s mine, and I’ll have it if I have to bring the schooner in and fire on the village with our twelve-pounder. Who’s Sangaan, that he must meddle with the affairs of an American citizen, hey? After a while I suppose I’ll have to be asking permission from every chief in the Archipelago to carry the stuff we just brought ashore for you. Have your niggers clear our boat and give me the bill, for it’s time we were aboard again.”

“Not so fast, friend Garnett,” said the missionary; “your boat is stove, and it will take a man a half a day to repair it, and as you haven’t enough spare hands aboard your vessel to man another, you will have to stay ashore with me this evening. Perhaps I may find a nice tender shote and entertain you according to your taste,” and he glanced sharply at the sailor. “As for this find, as you call it, it seems to me that I have heard of the stuff before, and that it has some value; so I will have it carried up to the village and stored safely. In the mean time we can discuss its ownership and also examine certain articles billed to me at our leisure; for although your captain is an honest trader and a true Christian man, yet one of his last year’s kegs did contain a most unsavory mixture, and gave rise to the impression that his vessel’s hold contained much liquid tar in a free state. As for Sangaan, it will be well for you to show him some deference, for, although a good chief and a devout man, he has little love for sailors, as you may remember if you have not forgotten that affair of the Petrel. He is coming this way now with his men, so have a care.”

Garnett saw there was nothing to do but as the missionary said. The boat was injured so as to be unsafe for a long pull through the heavy surf, and it would have to be repaired before launching again.

Gantline had the fetid mass which he was guarding so closely put into an empty keg, and several natives carried it off to the mission as Sangaan walked up.

The chief evidently remembered the mate, for he advanced smiling and held out his hand, saying, in good English, “How do you do? Had a bad time in surf, so come up to the mission and we’ll have a good time.”

Garnett shook his hand, and then, the missionary joining them, they walked towards the mission house together. They proceeded in silence, Garnett eyeing the chief suspiciously and trying to remember if he had ever committed any deviltries which Sangaan might still feel sore about. The missionary kept Gantline and the two sailors in view, but appeared to be lost in deep thought. A close observer, however, might have noticed an unholy twinkle in his eye when he glanced at the natives who were carrying the keg of ambergris towards his home.