第 16 页

It was on the ninth day of our investment that the first signs of impatience on the part of the savages became noticeable. Mason, who was in command during the absence of Oldroyd and myself—who, as usual, had gone out foraging—was on the roof of the monastery, reconnoitring preparatory to another feint on his part to break through, when he caught a glimpse of a savage face peering at him through a bush on the outskirts of the open ground surrounding the building. Lucy Stroud was on the roof with him, and he at once sent her for my telescope, and examined the ground, with the result that he eventually discovered some twenty savages concealed behind convenient bushes, all staring at the monastery. He kept those twenty well under observation for nearly half an hour, at the end of which he saw them, as at a preconcerted signal, back carefully away until they supposed themselves to be out of range, when they calmly rose to their feet and walked to the shadow of a large tree, where, squatting on the ground in a circle, they engaged in an animated discussion which had all the appearance of being a council of war. He informed us, that night, when Oldroyd and I returned, that the council—if such it was—lasted nearly an hour, that the savages spoke in turn, using a vast amount of gesticulation, the meaning of some of which he believed he had guessed at pretty shrewdly, and that, if he was right, the subject of discussion was a proposal to storm the building. He was of opinion that the members of the council were by no means unanimously in favour of active measures, the elders among them seeming to counsel patience, while the younger men seemed to advocate immediate action. Of course this was all pure surmise, and Mason may have been mistaken in his interpretation of the gestures of the several members of the supposed war council, but in any case what he had seen seemed to portend action of some kind, and it was decided that no one should leave the building next day, a decision the more easily come to inasmuch as we happened to have a sufficiency of food to last forty-eight hours.

We were all on the alert that night, for Mason’s report had led us to expect an attack sometime in the small hours of the morning; but contrary to our anticipation, the night passed quietly, nothing happened, and when at length morning came and we were once more able to get sight of our surroundings, a careful reconnaissance from the top of the tower revealed the fact that the savages were acting pretty much as usual. Later in the day, however, signs of greatly increased activity on the part of the enemy became visible; the two girls, who had undertaken to maintain, between them, an uninterrupted watch from the summit of the tower, reported that a party of about fifty had been observed to leave their camp and proceed in the direction of the Basin, returning some four hours later, laden with spears and war clubs, and accompanied by a large number of women bearing baskets containing supplies of fruit and fish, which they left at the camp, the women then departing with the empty baskets. This seemed to indicate that at last decisive action of some sort had been determined upon by the enemy, and we made our arrangements accordingly.

With nightfall our real anxieties began, for we could not know whether the activity displayed during the day was the prelude to an attack, or whether it was merely a demonstration made with the object of keeping us perpetually on the alert and thus eventually tiring us out: furthermore, if an attack was actually intended we had no means of knowing at what hour it would take place. It might occur at any moment, though we rather anticipated that it would probably be deferred until the small hours of the morning, when human vitality is at its lowest and fatigue most strongly asserts itself. Our preparations, however, were complete before nightfall, and an incessant watch was maintained from the roof of the monastery. Of course it would have been the easiest thing in the world for us to have avoided a fight altogether by the simple device of retiring to the subterranean chambers and shutting ourselves in; but there were several good reasons against that, the chief of which was that, since the savages had chosen to assume the offensive, we must first demonstrate our superiority to them, after which it would probably be possible to establish amicable relations upon terms advantageous to ourselves.

The hours passed, slowly enough; Oldroyd, Mason and the two seamen being stationed, one at the middle of each of the low parapets that surrounded the flat roof of the monastery, each man reclining with his back to the parapet, snatching such sleep as might be possible, but with his weapons to his hand, ready for use at a moment’s notice, while I paced wearily round and round, keeping a strict watch upon the belt of scrub that surrounded the open space on all sides of the building. The silence remained profound, being emphasised rather than broken by the sullen, continuous low thunder of the surf upon the distant reefs and the sibilant hum of the myriads of insects that inhabited the neighbouring woods; it was very dark, all the darker for the shadow of those same woods and the overhanging Peak, the last rearing itself blackly into the black sky, like a wedge, and blotting out about a sixth-part of the starlit firmament. Yet, dark as it was, the star-sheen was just sufficient for one to distinguish the open ground from the black mass of the surrounding scrub, and it was upon this faintly defined open ground that I kept my eyes fixed as I slowly traversed my beat, pausing at intervals to take a longer look.

It was during one of these pauses that I seemed to detect a subtle difference in the aspect of our surroundings. The belt of scrub that bounded the open space on all sides of the monastery was quite regular in outline—we had seen to that; but now it appeared to me that it presented in places a jagged appearance, portions of the scrub projecting here and there.

I took my night glass and studied these projections with the utmost intentness, and as I did so a certain passage in “Macbeth” flashed into my mind; the belt of scrub was stealthily drawing nearer to the walls of the beleaguered building; already I could detect detached portions of it here and there, each detached portion having behind it, I could not doubt, one or more savages creeping inch by inch, stealthily towards us.

I waited, patiently watching, until there could no longer be a doubt as to the correctness of my surmise; waited until it was possible to distinguish those detached masses of scrub with the unaided eye, then I gently roused my four companions, explained to them in a whisper what I had discovered, and pointed out to them the screening patches of scrub behind which lurked the wily savages. This done, four of us went to a lamp which we had burning in a bucket on the roof, fired four big handfuls of prepared tow, and dropped one each over the wall on to some bonfires we had built beneath. These last, being dry, instantly kindled, and a minute later were blazing up and crackling fiercely, sending up a thin smoke, it is true, but casting a yellowish glare all over the open ground and revealing the detached masses of scrub with startling distinctness.

The savages now sprang to their feet with blood-curdling yells and, brandishing their spears, started at a run to cover the intervening distance, a dozen or more gangs of them, each numbering about twenty men, carrying long pine poles, the branches of which had been lopped off to within about a foot of the trunk, which they evidently intended to use as scaling ladders. They came on from all four sides at once, casting their spears as they ran; and for a minute or two I thought that things looked rather bad for us. We lost not a moment in getting our bows and arrows into action, and although our every shot told, we utterly failed to stop their rush until Oldroyd and Mason seizing their shot guns, loaded with buckshot, began to blaze away at the ladder bearers, in more than one instance arresting the whole gang at a single discharge. Then, indeed, whether it was the flash, the report, or the amount of damage done, we could not say—perhaps all three played their part—the mob came to a halt, with cries of consternation and, after standing for nearly a minute, spellbound, while we continued to pepper them severely, turned short round and fled, leaving nearly a quarter of their number on the ground. There was only one exception to this. He was a fine-looking fellow; wearing a sort of coronet of shells bound round his head, with several scarlet feathers attached to a kind of necklace, from which, since he seemed to be the only man so adorned, I drew the inference that he was the chief of the band. He seemed to be not in the least dismayed by the discharge of the guns or the slaughter of his comrades; he appeared to be animated by a kind of berserk rage and continued to advance while his comrades were flying, hurling his spears with marvellous strength and precision while he gave utterance to the most extraordinary cries of ferocity and defiance. He arrived within some twenty yards of the wall before one of the seamen, seizing a rifle, brought him down with a bullet through his chest. This ended the fight, for that night at least, the savages retiring to their camp discomfited.

Scarcely was the fight over, when the two girls made their appearance on the roof, bearing a liberal supply of a very refreshing and delicious cooling drink which they had learned to compound from the expressed juices of certain fruits mingled with cocoanut milk. They eagerly enquired whether either of us had been hurt, and, receiving a reply in the negative, proceeded to serve the draught which they had prepared, and then quite obediently went to bed again.

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Chapter Eleven: Anthea raises the Siege.

With the coming of the dawn we discovered, as we had expected, that the savages had removed their dead and wounded, with one exception, and that was the man who, during the hottest of the fight, had refused to retire when the rest had fled stricken with dismay at the effect of our firearms, and whose mad rush had only been stopped by a bullet fired by one of the seamen. He lay not more than twenty yards from the foot of the south wall of the monastery, apparently just as he had fallen, and he at first appeared to be dead. But as we stood gazing at him, he flung up one arm and clutched the wound in his breast, as though the smart of it had pierced through his state of unconsciousness. It was evident that some of the savages had seen the movement, too, for on the instant a shrill cry went up, and presently a band of about fifty of them emerged, fully armed, from the sheltering scrub and advanced at a rapid run, with the clear intention of carrying him off. Now that I saw him in clear daylight, however, I was more convinced than ever, from his appearance, that he must be a man of importance, the eagerness of the savages to save him going a long way to confirm me in that opinion. But, if as I suspected, he was a chief—possibly the chief—of the tribe, it would be well worth while to secure him, if only to hold as a hostage; I therefore shouted to Wilkinson to follow me and, hastily explaining to Oldroyd my determination to bring the wounded man in, dashed down the steps leading from the roof, and made my way outside the building just as a double report from the roof apprised me that the two Americans had opened fire upon the advancing savages. Without waiting to see the result, I rushed toward the wounded man, while a dozen spears hurtled about my ears, seized him by the shoulders as Wilkinson came up and laid hold of his legs, and together we bore him into the building, while the two Americans held the advancing savages at bay and finally drove them off with further losses.

We carried him to an empty cell and set him down, and Wilkinson hurried away to fetch the Doctor, while I stood by and watched the wounded man.

I judged him to be about twenty-eight or thirty years of age, about five feet ten inches in height, splendidly made, with fine, shapely but rather slender limbs, quite passably good-looking, his complexion a pale olive, scarcely darker than my own sunburnt features, and his hair, beard and moustache were jet black. The man was conscious now, and stared enquiringly into my face, as though trying—I thought—to read his fate there. I smiled encouragingly at him, patted him on the shoulder and said—

“It’s all right, old chap, don’t worry; we won’t hurt you.”

Of course he could not understand my words, but I think the tones of my voice must have been reassuring, for he nodded gravely, said a few words, and then pointed to the wound in his chest. I again nodded encouragingly, and was about to essay further speech when the Doctor entered, accompanied by Wilkinson. Walking straight up to his patient, he bent over the savage, knelt by his side, scrutinised the wound, and then ordered the seaman to bring hot water, and a soft towel.

“The trouble with us,” remarked the Doctor, while waiting for Wilkinson’s return, “is that we have no drugs, antiseptics or dressings of any description. The utmost that I can do for this man is just to wash the wound and cleanse it as best I can, and leave Nature to do the rest. It is a pity, for the wound ought to be dressed, though ever so roughly, if only to exclude possible impurities, but—”

“Would an old shirt be of any use, doctor?” I asked. “Well,” was the somewhat hesitating answer, “it would be better than nothing.”

I went for the shirt, such as it was; and when I returned I found Wilkinson also back, with hot water, and a nice soft clean towel, with which the Doctor was carefully washing the wound. When he had done this he took the shirt from me, inspected it, and finally began to tear it into strips from which he formed pads and bandages. Twenty minutes sufficed him to do all that it was possible to do, when he left the patient, instructing Wilkinson to remain and see that the man was not disturbed, as sleep was now the best thing for him. The Doctor had been very gentle in the handling of his patient, but, notwithstanding, he must have caused the poor chap considerable pain, yet the savage never once winced, or betrayed the smallest evidence of discomfort, apart from a profuse perspiration.

When I rejoined the rest of the party they were about to sit down to breakfast, while Shirley-Winthrop was doing his best to satisfy the curiosity of his questioners as to the condition of the patient and his prospects of recovery. I arrived in time to hear Lucy Stroud offering her services as nurse, to the Doctor, and he, good simple man, was cheerfully accepting them, when I intervened with a very decided negative, saying—

“No, certainly not; the man must not be permitted to see either of you girls, on any account whatever.”

Breakfast over, Oldroyd and I started out upon our daily duty of bringing in the necessary supplies of food and water for the day’s consumption. Naturally, we exercised extreme caution in our movements, for we had no desire to fall into the hands of our pertinacious enemies, nor did we wish them to discover by what means we entered and left the ruins. But we had little fear on the score of either contingency for, if I have not already done so, I will explain now that the ruins which we inhabited were situated on the right bank of the stream from which we drew our supply of water, while the tower from which we made our exit was on the left bank, the subterranean passage connecting the two passing beneath the bed of the stream. Moreover, the two buildings—the tower and the monastery—were about half a mile apart, the latter being hemmed in and closely watched by the savages, who evidently had no idea that any means of connection between the two existed, for, thus far, we had been unable to discover that even the most cursory observation of the tower was being maintained. This, and the further fact that the tower was encircled by a belt of high bushes, through which only one intricate and almost secret passage existed, enabled us to leave the tower, even in broad daylight if need were, with very little risk of discovery.