第 23 页

“Yes,” agreed Paul, “it is unusually loud; I noticed it the moment that I got outside. And it is not so much on account of the stillness of the air that we hear it so distinctly; it is because, as I believe, the surf is just now unusually heavy, due, doubtless, to those earth tremors that have startled us so confoundedly and sent us scuttling out here at this unearthly hour. But I think the ’quake is over, don’t you? Mightn’t we as well get back to our beds?”

“You may, if you like, Paul,” vouchsafed ’Thea; “I shall not; I shouldn’t feel safe in that stupid old monastery again; I should be afraid of being buried alive there. You will stay with me, won’t you, Jack?”

“Certainly, if you wish it,” I replied. “Where are the others? The air seems unusually close to-night; don’t you think so, Oldroyd?”

“I certainly do,” was the response. “And there is a peculiar odour in it, too.”

“It smells as if someone had been burning matches,” suggested ’Thea.

“Matches!” ejaculated Oldroyd, coming to a halt. “Yes, that is it; sulphur—and something else. And, by Jove! look there! That explains it. Our volcano has become active again!”

He pointed upward, as he spoke, to the crater, a bare mile away; and, sure enough, a thin column of smoke, tinged on its underside with a ruddy glow, was rising slowly into the air.

“Does that mean further danger, Jack?” asked ’Thea, thrusting her hand within my arm and clinging to me, as if for protection.

“I don’t know,” said I. “What do you think, Oldroyd?”

“Guess I wouldn’t care to say decidedly one way or the other,” was the reply. “If it doesn’t develop any further activity I believe we needn’t greatly worry. But who is to say whether it will, or will not? Let’s ask the Doctor what he thinks about it. Does he know anything about volcanoes, ’Thea?”

“I believe he knows something about everything,” answered the girl. As she spoke she withdrew her hand from my arm and walking up to her father said—

“Poppa, do you see that the volcano has become active again! Jack and I—and Paul—want to know whether that means fresh danger for us. What do you think?”

The Doctor studied the appearance of the crater carefully for a full minute or more. Then he answered—

“No; not immediately. The eruption is, so far, very mild. But volcanoes are not to be trusted. I would suggest that our wisest course will be to remove to the Basin, for the time being, and throw ourselves upon the hospitality of Jack’s blood-brother, until we can judge more clearly how the volcano is going to behave.”

“An excellent suggestion,” declared I. “We will carry it out forthwith. Only there is no need for us to claim hospitality from Kilau Minga, or anybody else. There is accommodation enough for us all aboard the hulk, and we shall be a lot safer there than here. The earthquake will not have hurt her, I’ll be bound. But by Jove! has it hurt the cutter, I wonder! It will be bad luck for us all, if it has.”

We saw no signs of damage from the earthquake, no fissures in the earth, not even so much as an overturned tree, as we made our leisurely way down to the Basin that morning; and even when we reached the village such damage as had been done might easily have escaped our notice, had it not been pointed out, and upon arrival at the shipyard all I could discover, after a rigorous examination, was that a few of the keel blocks, upon which the skeleton of our new craft rested, had been slightly displaced; this, was soon put right, while, as for the hulk itself, it was absolutely uninjured. This was in the highest degree satisfactory; but the earthquake was a warning to us all that still worse things might happen; it completely dissipated the tendency to slackness that had been insidiously laying hold upon us, impressing upon us the urgent necessity for haste; and we resumed our ship-building operations with renewed vigour. And while we five men—for Wilkinson and Dartnell still showed no sign of a renewed desire to desert us—toiled in the shipyard, the girls were equally busy upon the task of converting the hulk’s spacious cabin into a really comfortable habitation for us all; so that when Oldroyd, Mason and I went aboard that night, thoroughly tired out by a hard day’s work, we agreed that the change of quarters was distinctly advantageous.

With the stimulus upon us of a possible repetition of the earthquake, involving disastrous results to our labours, we toiled strenuously, day after day, from dawn to dusk, until at length a day arrived when our cutter was so near completion that the only thing needed to make her ready for launching was three coats of paint applied to the interior of her hull. We were engaged on the first of these when, on a certain afternoon, one of the men from the look-out came rushing breathlessly down to the Basin with the startling news that a great canoe, with masts but no sails, and with smoke issuing from a short, thick mast in her middle, was in sight and heading toward the island!

Scarcely able to believe that I had heard aright, I dropped what I was about, hurried abroad the hulk to get my telescope—and, incidentally, to communicate the good news to the Doctor and the girls—and, calling to Oldroyd to accompany me, set off hot-foot for the crater, that being the nearest point from which a view of the stranger could be obtained since she was coming up from the southward.

“Of course,” said I to my companion, as we hurried through the village, “the craft is a steamer, and the ‘short, thick mast’ with smoke issuing from it is her funnel. But I am curious to know what she is, and what she is doing in these waters. She cannot be a liner, for we are far away from all liner tracks, and even if she should prove to be a trader, I can scarcely understand what can be the business which would bring her into this out-of-the-way part of the ocean. The only reasonable explanation which occurs to me is that she may be a man-o’-war.”

“In which case,” remarked Oldroyd, “all our troubles will be over.”

“Oh, they will be over in any case if she should touch at the island, or even if she should pass near enough to be signalled,” said I. “If she does not send a boat ashore to investigate, you may be certain that every glass aboard her will be turned upon the island as she passes; and I will find means to make our presence known. If it were not that she is probably by this time so near that it would be too late to send the boat out to intercept her, I would do so. But—no,” I continued, as a thought suddenly occurred to me, “that would scarcely be a wise thing to do. She may prove to be an enemy.”

“An enemy?” repeated Oldroyd. “What do you mean?”

“Why,” said I, “she may be a German, although I don’t think it very likely.”

“A German—here!” exclaimed my companion. “Oh, no; that is rather too unlikely. Why, what do you suppose your cruisers would be about to allow a German to be at large in the Pacific? No, I have no fear of that.”

“Well,” said I, as we entered the tunnel that led from the Basin to the other part of the island, “we shall know in the course of another hour at the utmost. I wish I had thought to ask that look-out how far distant she was when he sighted her.”

“A goodish way off, I guess,” returned Oldroyd. “You may bet that the fellow started down to report on the instant that he saw her, and these natives have wonderfully keen sight. Haven’t you ever noticed it?”

“I have,” I agreed. “But the man would naturally sight her first when she topped the horizon or, in other words, when she would be some fifty or sixty miles away; and I doubt if he could make out at that distance such details as he described.”

“I believe he could,” contended Oldroyd. “And, assuming that he did, how long would it take a steamer of average speed to travel, say fifty miles? At least three hours, wouldn’t it? And I guess it will be barely an hour since he left his post: and it will take us about the same time for us to get there. We shall be in plenty of time to make all the observations you require, and to take such steps as you may consider necessary. You’ll see.”

The instant that we reached the ridge our glances fastened upon the stranger, at that moment some twenty miles distant, and heading direct for the island. Without wasting a moment I brought my telescope to bear upon her.

* * *

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: The “Seeadler.”

We waited there, seated in the long grass, for nearly three-quarters of an hour, with the telescope bearing all the while upon the stranger, before it became possible to distinguish details with anything approaching to definiteness. Then the first fact to reveal itself was that she was undoubtedly a merchantman, but of what nationality I was unable to determine. There was a time, not so very many years ago, when it was possible for a sailor to make a shrewd guess at the nationality of a ship by noting certain details connected with her build and rig, but that was when ships were built of wood, and when each nation had its own well-defined ideas in the matter of naval architecture; and even to-day the rule holds good, more or less, so far as wooden ships are concerned. But it is different where the iron or steel ship is concerned, especially if that ship happens to be a steam vessel. In this case the national characteristic has almost if not completely vanished, a standard model having apparently been adopted by most of the ship-building nations which renders the determination of a ship’s nationality from her appearance almost an impossibility, to say nothing of the fact that nowadays ships are often built in one country to sail under the flag of another. So it was that in the present case the only thing of which I could be certain was that the stranger was a merchantman—or that, at all events, she had originally been built as such. But, if a merchantman, what could she be doing in this out-of-the-way quarter of the globe, was the question which I repeated to myself.

We were not to be kept much longer in suspense, for when the stranger had arrived within about a mile of the entrance to the southern, or bigger, lagoon—the lagoon in which we castaways had originally landed—her engines were stopped, she rounded to, broadside-on to the island, fired a gun, and hoisted the German naval ensign!

“A German!” exclaimed I. “Well, I am not very greatly surprised; somehow there has been a lurking suspicion in my mind that it might be so, from the moment when I got my first glimpse of her. I can’t explain why it was so; intuition, I suppose. Yet even now I can’t understand her, by a long way. She is flying Germany’s naval flag, but I’ll swear she was never built for a man-o’-war; she is a merchantman from truck to water-line—a combined cargo and passenger carrier, without a doubt, for I can make out a tier of passenger cabins amidships, and that long poop of hers probably contains others. All the same, she is an armed ship now, for there is a gun mounted on that same poop; ay, and another on her fore-deck; and she seems to be full of men. Now, what the dickens can she be? A privateer? No; privateers do not fly the naval ensign; moreover they are not permitted nowadays. Still—I wonder whether the fact of privateering being illegal would be recognised by Germany. She did not show much respect for the law of nations when she overran Belgium, did she?”

“She certainly did not,” agreed Oldroyd. “But what is it that you have in your mind, Massey? Do you think the fact that yonder steamer is a German will affect us?”

“That is just the question that is worrying me,” answered I. “According to every law of humanity the skipper of that ship ought—even though his country should be at war—to take us off this island and land us at the first civilised port it may be convenient for him to call at. But—will he? That is the point. You see, we don’t even know whether the war is still on. If it is not, of course we are all right; but if it is—well, it may be prejudice on my part but I’ve no great belief in Germans. And I think the war is still on, otherwise why is that armed merchantman under the German naval flag? Ah! by Jove! that must be it,”—as enlightenment flashed into my mind—“she is a commerce-destroyer; that is to say, a privateer under another name.”

“You are probably right, Massey,” concurred Oldroyd. “But, even so, how will that affect us? We are not Germany’s enemies—unless of course America has taken a hand, which I do not believe. Even you—the only Englishman among us, can scarcely be regarded as an enemy, for you are not in the naval service.”

“That is true,” I agreed. “Yet somehow the idea that we should all go down to the beach to meet that boat which I see they are just about to lower, and ask them to take us off does not appeal to me. If those fellows are really commerce-destroyers, as I very strongly suspect them to be, they are just pirates, under another name, a lawless crew to whose tender mercies I should be very reluctant to commit ’Thea and Lucy.”

“By Jove! yes,” exclaimed Oldroyd. “I was wondering what the dickens you were hesitating so confoundedly about, but now I understand. No, we must take no risks, so far as the girls are concerned. But what do you suggest? Are we to keep discreetly out of those fellows’ way, and let them leave the island without making any effort to, come to an understanding with them?”

“No—no—wait a moment; let me think; an idea has just suggested itself to me which may prove to be a way out of the difficulty. Those Germans are sending a boat ashore, as you see. Why they are doing so I cannot as yet surmise. It may be that it is merely curiosity that is prompting them. If this island is not laid down on their charts—as may be possible—they will very probably be curious to discover what its resources are, and whether it is worth annexing—they are great on annexation, you know. Or they may be short of water, and hope to be able to fill up here.

“Now, my idea is this. I propose to go down alone toward the beach, approaching the landing party as nearly as I can without being seen, in the hope that I may gather some idea of what their intentions are. Then, having done that, I will return to the Basin, and we will see if we cannot concoct a plan for the capture of the ship. That will be a lot better than trusting ourselves to the honour of a crew of pirates.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed Oldroyd. “But you never told us that you have a knowledge of the German language.”

“Didn’t I?”—with a laugh. “I suppose that was because I haven’t any such knowledge.”

“Then, how do you propose to find out what the German’s intentions are?” demanded Oldroyd.

“Oh, just by watching them and noting their movements,” said I. “One can learn a lot that way.”

“Yes,” agreed Oldroyd; “but not nearly so much as by listening to their conversation. Now, Jack, your plan is a good one—so far as it goes, but it doesn’t go far enough. I have a scheme worth two of yours, and it is this. I understand German, so we will both go down together, and I’ll do the listening part while you do the watching. Then, perhaps, we may learn something worth knowing.”