V
The Islands and What We Found There
To those who have had no experience of the South Pacific the constantly recurring beauties of our voyage would have seemed like a foretaste of Heaven itself. From Sydney, until the Loyalty Group lay behind us, we had one long spell of exquisite weather. By night under the winking stars, and by day in the warm sunlight, our trim little craft ploughed her way across smooth seas, and our only occupation was to promenade or loaf about the decks and to speculate as to the result of the expedition upon which we had embarked.
Having sighted the Isle of Pines we turned our bows almost due north and headed for the New Hebrides. Every hour our impatience was growing greater. In less than two days, all being well, we should be at our destination, and twenty-four hours after that, if our fortune proved in the ascendant, we ought to be on our way back with Phyllis in our possession once more. And what this would mean to me I can only leave you to guess.
One morning, just as the faint outline of the coast of Aneityom was peering up over the horizon ahead, Wetherell and I chanced to be sitting in the bows. The sea was as smooth as glass, and the tinkling of the water round the little vessel’s nose as she turned it off in snowy lines from either bow, was the only sound to be heard. As usual the conversation, after wandering into other topics, came back to the subject nearest our hearts. This led us to make a few remarks about Nikola and his character. There was one thing I had always noticed when the man came under discussion, and that was the dread Wetherell had of him. My curiosity had been long excited as to its meaning, and, having an opportunity now, I could not help asking him for an explanation.
“You want to know how it is that I am so frightened of Nikola?” he asked, knocking the ash off his cigar on the upturned fluke of the anchor alongside him. “Well, to give you my reason will necessitate my telling you a story. I don’t mind doing that at all, but what I am afraid of is that you may be inclined to doubt its probability. I must confess it is certainly more like the plot of a Wilkie Collins novel than a bit of sober reality. However, if you want to hear it you shall.”
“I should like to above all things,” I replied, making myself comfortable and taking another cigar from my pocket. “I have been longing to ask you about it for some time past, but could not quite screw up my courage.”
“Well, in the first place,” Mr. Wetherell said, “you must understand that before I became a Minister of the Crown, or indeed a Member of Parliament at all, I was a barrister with a fairly remunerative practice. That was before my wife’s death and when Phyllis was at school. Up to the time I am going to tell you about I had taken part in no very sensational case. But my opportunity for earning notoriety was, though I did not know it, near at hand. One day I was briefed to defend a man accused of the murder of a Chinaman aboard a Sydney vessel on a voyage from Shanghai. At first there seemed to be no doubt at all as to his guilt, but by a singular chance, with the details of which I will not bore you, I hit upon a scheme which got him off. I remember the man perfectly, and a queer fellow he was, half-witted, I thought, and at the time of the trial within an ace of dying of consumption. His gratitude was the more pathetic because he had not the wherewithal to pay me. However, he made it up to me in another way, and that’s where my real story commences.
“One wet night, a couple of months or so after the trial, I was sitting in my drawing-room listening to my wife’s music, when a servant entered to tell me that a woman wanted to see me. I went out into the passage to find waiting there a tall buxom lass of about five-and-twenty years of age. She was poorly dressed, but in a great state of excitement.
“ ‘Are you Mr. Wetherell?’ she said; ‘the gentleman as defended China Pete in the trial the other day?’
“ ‘I am,’ I answered. ‘What can I do for you? I hope China Pete is not in trouble again?’
“ ‘He’s in a worse trouble this time, sir,’ said the woman. ‘He’s dyin’, and he sent me to fetch you to ’im before he goes.’
“ ‘But what does he want me for?’ I asked rather suspiciously.
“ ‘I’m sure I dunno,’ was the girl’s reply. ‘But he’s been callin’ for you all this blessed day: “Send for Mr. Wetherell! send for Mr. Wetherell!” So off I came, when I got back from work, to fetch you. If you’re comin’, sir, you’d best be quick, for he won’t last till mornin’.’
“ ‘Very well, I’ll come with you at once,’ I said, taking a mackintosh down from a peg as I spoke. Then, having told my wife not to sit up for me, I followed my strange messenger out of the house and down into the city.
“For nearly an hour we walked on and on, plunging deeper into the lower quarter of the town. All through the march my guide maintained a rigid silence, walking a few paces ahead, and only recognising the fact that I was following her by nodding in a certain direction whenever we arrived at cross thoroughfares or interlacing lanes.
“At last we arrived at the street she wanted. At the corner she came suddenly to a standstill, and putting her two first fingers into her mouth blew a shrill whistle, after the fashion of street boys. A moment later a shock-headed urchin about ten years old made his appearance from a dark alley and came towards us. The woman said something to him, which I did not catch, and then turning sharply to her left hand beckoned to me to follow her. This I did, but not without a feeling of wonderment as to what the upshot of it all would be.
“From the street itself we passed, by way of a villainous alley, into a large courtyard, where brooded a silence like that of death. Indeed, a more weird and desolate place I don’t remember ever to have met with. Not a soul was to be seen, and though it was surrounded by houses, only two feeble lights showed themselves. Towards one of these my guide made her way, stopping on the threshold. Upon a panel she rapped with her fingers, and as she did so a window on the first floor opened, and the same boy we had met in the street looked out.
“ ‘How many?’ enquired the woman, who had brought me, in a loud whisper.
“ ‘None now,’ replied the boy; ‘but there’s been a power of Chinkies hereabouts all the evenin’, an’ ’arf an hour ago there was a gent in a cloak.’
“Without waiting to hear any more the woman entered the house and I followed close on her heels. The adventure was clearly coming to a head now.
“When the door had been closed behind us the boy appeared at the top of a flight of stairs with a lighted candle. We accordingly ascended to him, and having done so made our way towards a door at the end of the abominably dirty landing. At intervals I could hear the sound of coughing coming from a room at the end. My companion, however bade me stop, while she went herself into the room, shutting the door after her. I was left alone with the boy, who immediately took me under his protection, and for my undivided benefit performed a series of highly meritorious acrobatic performances upon the feeble banisters, to his own danger, but apparent satisfaction. Suddenly, just as he was about to commence what promised to be the most successful item in his repertoire, he paused, lay flat on his stomach upon the floor, and craned his head over the side, where once banisters had been, and gazed into the half dark well below. All was quiet as the grave. Then, without warning, an almond-eyed, pigtailed head appeared on the stairs and looked upwards. Before I could say anything to stop him, the youth had divested himself of his one slipper, taken it in his right hand, leaned over a bit further, and struck the ascending Celestial a severe blow on the mouth with the heel of it. There was the noise of a hasty descent and the banging of the street door a moment later, then all was still again, and the youngster turned to me.
“ ‘That was Ah Chong,’ he said confidentially. ‘He’s the sixth Chinkie I’ve landed that way since dark.’
“This important piece of information he closed with a double-jointed oath of remarkable atrocity, and, having done so, would have recommenced the performance of acrobatic feats had I not stopped him by asking the reason of his action. He looked at me with a grin, and said—
“ ‘I dunno, but all I cares is that China Pete in there gives me a sprat (sixpence) for every Chinkie what I keeps out of the ’ouse. He’s a rum one is China Pete; an’ can’t he cough—my word!’
“I was about to put another question when the door opened and the girl who had brought me to the house beckoned me into the room. I entered and she left me alone with the occupant.
“Of all the filthy places I have ever seen—and I have had the ill-luck to discover a good many in my time—that one eclipsed them all. The room was at most ten feet long by seven wide, had a window at the far end, and the door, through which I had entered, opposite it. The bed-place was stretched between the door and the window, and was a horrible exhibition. On it, propped up by pillows and evidently in the last stage of collapse, was the man called China Pete, whom I had last seen walking out of the dock at the Supreme Court a couple of months before. When we were alone together he pointed to a box near the bed and signified that I should seat myself. I did so, at the same time taking occasion to express my sorrow at finding him in this lamentable condition. He made no reply to my civilities, but after a little pause found strength enough to whisper, ‘See if there’s anybody at the door.’ I went across, opened the door and looked into the passage, but save the boy, who was now sitting on the top step of the stairs at the other end, there was not a soul in sight. I told him this and having again closed the door, sat down on the box and waited for him to speak.
“ ‘You did me a good turn, Mr. Wetherell, over that trial,’ the invalid said at last, ‘and I couldn’t make it worth your while.’
“ ‘Oh, you mustn’t let that worry you,’ I answered soothingly. ‘You would have paid me if you had been able.’
“ ‘Perhaps I should, perhaps I shouldn’t, anyhow I didn’t, and I want to make it up to you now. Feel under my pillow and bring out what you find there.’
“I did as he directed me and brought to light a queer little wooden stick about three and a half inches long, made of some heavy timber and covered all over with Chinese inscriptions; at one end was a tiny bit of heavy gold cord much tarnished. I gave it to him and he looked at it fondly.
“ ‘Do you know the value of this little stick?’ he asked after a while.
“ ‘I have no possible notion,’ I replied.
“ ‘Make a guess,’ he said.
“To humour him I guessed five pounds. He laughed with scorn.
“ ‘Five pounds! O ye gods! Why, as a bit of stick it’s not worth five pence, but for what it really is there is not money enough in the world to purchase it. If I could get about again I would make myself the richest and most powerful man on earth with it. If you could only guess one particle of the dangers I’ve been through to get it you would die of astonishment. And the sarcasm of it all is that now I’ve got it I can’t make use of it. On six different occasions the priests of the Llamaserai in Peking have tried to murder me to get hold of it. I brought it down from the centre of China disguised as a wandering beggar. That business connected with the murder of the Chinaman on board the ship, against which you defended me, was on account of it. And now I lie here dying like a dog, with the key to over ten millions in my hand. Nikola has tried for five years to obtain it, without success however. He little dreams I’ve got it after all. If he did I’d be a dead man by this time.’
“ ‘Who is this Nikola then?’ I asked.
“ ‘Dr. Nikola? Well, he’s Nikola, and that’s all I can tell you. If you’re a wise man you’ll want to know no more. Ask the Chinese mothers nursing their almond-eyed spawn in Peking who he is; ask the Japanese, ask the Malays, the Hindus, the Burmese, the coal porters in Port Said, the Buddhist priests of Ceylon; ask the King of Corea, the men up in Tibet, the Spanish priests in Manilla, or the Sultan of Borneo, the ministers of Siam, or the French in Saigon—they’ll all know Dr. Nikola and his cat, and, take my word for it, they fear him.’
“I looked at the little stick in my hand and wondered if the man had gone mad.
“ ‘What do you wish me to do with this?’ I asked.
“ ‘Take it away with you,’ he answered, ‘and guard it like your life, and when you have occasion, use it. Remember you have in your hand what will raise a million men and the equivalent of over ten mil—’
“At this point a violent fit of coughing seized him and nearly tore him to pieces. I lifted him up a little in the bed, but before I could take my hands away a stream of blood had gushed from his lips. Like a flash of thought I ran to the door to call the girl, the boy on the stairs reechoed my shout, and in less time than it takes to tell the woman was in the room. But we were too late—China Pete was dead.
“After giving her all the money I had about me to pay for the funeral, I bade her goodbye, and with the little stick in my pocket returned to my home. Once there I sat myself down in my study, took my legacy out of my pocket and carefully examined it. As to its peculiar power and value, as described to me by the dead man, I hardly knew what to think. My own private opinion was that China Pete was not sane at the time he told me. And yet, how was I to account for the affray with the Chinaman on the boat, and the evident desire the Celestials in Sydney had to obtain information concerning it? After half an hour’s consideration of it I locked it up in a drawer of my safe and went upstairs to bed.
“Next day China Pete was buried, and by the end of the month I had well nigh forgotten that he had ever existed, and had hardly thought of his queer little gift, which still reposed in the upper drawer of my safe. But I was to hear more of it later on.
“One night, about a month after my coming into possession of the stick, my wife and I were entertaining a few friends at dinner. The ladies had retired to the drawing-room and I was sitting with the gentlemen at the table over our wine. Curiously enough we had just been discussing the main aspects of the politics of the East when a maidservant entered to say that a gentleman had called, and would be glad to know if he might have an interview with me on important business. I replied to the effect that I was engaged, and told her to ask him if he would call again in the morning. The servant left the room only to return with the information that the man would be leaving Sydney shortly after daylight, but that if I would see him later on in the evening he would endeavour to return. I therefore told the girl to say I would see him about eleven o’clock, and then dismissed the matter from my mind.
“As the clock struck eleven I said good night to the last of my guests upon the doorstep. The carriage had not gone fifty yards down the street before a hansom drew up before my door and a man dressed in a heavy cloak jumped out. Bidding the driver wait for him he ran up my steps.
“ ‘Mr. Wetherell, I believe?’ he said. I nodded and wished him ‘good evening,’ at the same time asking his business.
“ ‘I will tell you with pleasure,’ he answered, ‘if you will permit me five minutes alone with you. It is most important, and as I leave Sydney early tomorrow morning you will see that there is not much time to spare.’
“I led the way into the house and to my study, which was in the rear, overlooking the garden. Once there I bade him be seated, taking up my position at my desk.
“Then, in the light of the lamp, I became aware of the extraordinary personality of my visitor. He was of middle height, but beautifully made. His face was oval in shape, with a deadly white complexion. In contrast to this, however, his eyes and hair were dark as night. He looked at me very searchingly for a moment and then said: ‘My business will surprise you a little I expect, Mr. Wetherell. First, if you will allow me I will tell you something about myself and then ask you a question. You must understand that I am pretty well known as an Eastern traveller; from Port Said to the Kuriles there is hardly a place with which I am not acquainted. I have a hobby. I am a collector of Eastern curios, but there is one thing I have never been able to obtain.’
“ ‘And that is?’
“ ‘A Chinese executioner’s symbol of office.’
“ ‘But how can I help you in that direction?’ I asked, completely mystified.
“ ‘By selling me one that has lately come into your possession,’ he said. ‘It is a little black stick, about three inches long and covered with Chinese characters. I happened to hear, quite by chance, that you had one in your possession, and I have taken a journey of some thousands of miles to endeavour to purchase it from you.’
“I went across to the safe, unlocked it, and took out the little stick China Pete had given me. When I turned round I almost dropped it with surprise as I saw the look of eagerness that rose in my visitor’s face. But he pulled himself together and said, as calmly as he had yet addressed me:
“ ‘That is the very thing. If you will allow me to purchase it, it will complete my collection. What value do you place upon it?’
“ ‘I have no sort of notion of its worth,’ I answered, putting it down on the table and looking at it. Then in a flash a thought came into my brain, and I was about to speak when he addressed me again.
“ ‘Of course my reason for wishing to buy it is rather a harebrained one, but if you care to let me have it I will give you fifty pounds for it with pleasure.’
“ ‘Not enough, Dr. Nikola,’ I said with a smile.
“He jumped as if he had been shot, and then clasped his hands tight on the arm of his chair. My random bolt had gone straight to the heart of the bullseye. This man then was Dr. Nikola, the extraordinary individual against whom China Pete had warned me. I was determined now that, come what might, he should not have the stick.
“ ‘Do you not consider the offer I make you a good one then, Mr. Wetherell?’ he asked.
“ ‘I’m sorry to say I don’t think the stick is for sale,’ I answered. ‘It was left to me by a man in return for a queer sort of service I rendered him, and I think I should like to keep it as a souvenir.’
“ ‘I will raise my offer to a hundred pounds in that case,’ said Nikola.
“ ‘I would rather not part with it,’ I said, and as I spoke, as if to clinch the matter, I took it up and returned it to the safe, taking care to lock the door upon it.
“ ‘I will give you five hundred pounds for it,’ cried Nikola, now thoroughly excited. ‘Surely that will tempt you?’
“ ‘I’m afraid an offer of ten times that amount would make no difference,’ I replied, feeling more convinced than ever that I would not part with it.
“He laid himself back in his chair, and for nearly a minute and a half stared me full in the face. You have seen Nikola’s eyes, so I needn’t tell you what a queer effect they are able to produce. I could not withdraw mine from them, and I felt that if I did not make an effort I should soon be mesmerised. So, pulling myself together, I sprang from my chair, and, by doing so, let him see that our interview was at an end. However, he was not going without a last attempt to drive a bargain. When he saw that I was not to be moved his temper gave way, and he bluntly told me that I would have to sell it to him.
“ ‘There is no compulsion in the matter,’ I said warmly. ‘The curio is my own property, and I will do just as I please with it.’
“He thereupon begged my pardon, asked me to attribute his impatience to the collector’s eagerness, and after a few last words bade me ‘good night,’ and left the house.
“When his cab had rolled away I went back to my study and sat thinking for awhile. Then something prompted me to take the stick out from the safe. I did so, and sat at my table gazing at it, wondering what the mystery might be to which it was the key. That it was not what Dr. Nikola had described it I felt certain.
“At the end of half an hour I put it in my pocket, intending to take it upstairs to show my wife, locked the safe again and went off to my dressing-room. When I had described the interview and shown the stick to my wife I placed it in the drawer of the looking-glass and went to bed.
“Next morning, about three o’clock, I was awakened by the sound of someone knocking violently at my door. I jumped out of bed and enquired who it might be. To my intense surprise the answer was ‘Police!’ I therefore donned my dressing-gown, and went out to find a sergeant of police on the landing waiting for me.
“ ‘What is the matter?’ I cried.
“ ‘A burglar!’ was his answer. ‘We’ve got him downstairs; caught him in the act.’
“I followed the officer down to the study. What a scene was there! The safe had been forced, and its contents lay scattered in every direction. One drawer of my writing-table was wide open, and in a corner, handcuffed, and guarded by a stalwart constable, stood a Chinaman.
“Well, to make a long story short, the man was tried, and after denying all knowledge of Nikola—who, by the way, could not be found—was convicted, and sentenced to five years’ hard labour. For a month I heard no more about the curio. Then a letter arrived from an English solicitor in Shanghai demanding from me, on behalf of a Chinaman residing in that place, a little wooden stick covered with Chinese characters, which was said to have been stolen by an Englishman, known in Shanghai as China Pete. This was very clearly another attempt on Nikola’s part to obtain possession of it, so I replied to the effect that I could not entertain the request.
“A month or so later—I cannot, however, be particular as to the exact date—I found myself again in communication with Nikola, this time from South America. But there was this difference this time: he used undisguised threats, not only against myself, in the event of my still refusing to give him what he wanted, but also against my wife and daughter. I took no notice, with the result that my residence was again broken into, but still without success. Now I no longer locked the talisman up in the safe, but hid it in a place where I knew no one could possibly find it. My mind, you will see, was perfectly made up; I was not going to be driven into surrendering it.
“One night, a month after my wife’s death, returning to my house I was garrotted and searched within a hundred yards of my own front door, but my assailants could not find it on me. Then peculiar pressure from other quarters was brought to bear; my servants were bribed, and my life became almost a burden to me. What was more, I began to develop that extraordinary fear of Nikola which seems to seize upon everyone who has any dealings with him. When I went home to England some months back, I did it because my spirits had got into such a depressed state that I could not remain in Australia. But I took care to deposit the stick with my plate in the bank before I left. There it remained till I returned, when I put it back in its old hiding-place again.
“The day after I reached London I happened to be crossing Trafalgar Square. Believing that I had left him at least ten thousand miles away, you may imagine my horror when I saw Dr. Nikola watching me from the other side of the road. Then and there I returned to my hotel, bade Phyllis pack with all possible dispatch, and that same afternoon we started to return to Australia. The rest you know. Now what do you think of it all?”
“It’s an extraordinary story. Where is the stick at the present moment?”
“In my pocket. Would you like to see it?”
“Very much, if you would permit me to do so.” He unbuttoned his coat, and from a carefully contrived pocket under the arm drew out a little piece of wood of exactly the length and shape he had described. I took it from him and gazed at it carefully. It was covered all over with Chinese writing, and had a piece of gold silk attached to the handle. There was nothing very remarkable about it; but I must own I was strangely fascinated by it when I remembered the misery it had caused, the changes and chances it had brought about, the weird story told by China Pete, and the efforts that had been made by Nikola to obtain possession of it. I gave it back to its owner, and then stood looking out over the smooth sea, wondering where Phyllis was and what she was doing. Nikola, when I met him, would have a heavy account to settle with me, and if my darling reported any further cruelty on his part I would show no mercy. But why had Mr. Wetherell brought the curio with him now?
I put the question to him.
“For one very good reason,” he answered. “If it is the stick Nikola is after, as I have every right to suppose, he may demand it as a ransom for my girl, and I am quite willing to let him have it. The wretched thing has caused sufficient misery to make me only too glad to be rid of it.”
“I hope, however, we shall be able to get her without giving it up,” I said. “Now let us go aft to lunch.”
The day following we were within a hundred miles of our destination, and by midday of the day following that again were near enough to render it advisable to hold a council over our intended movements. Accordingly, a little before lunchtime the Marquis, Wetherell, the skipper and myself, met under the after awning to consider our plan of war. The vessel herself was hove to, for we had no desire to put in an appearance at the island during daylight.
“The first matter to be taken into consideration, I think, Mr. Wetherell,” said the skipper, “is the point as to which side of the island we shall bring up on.”
“You will be able to settle that,” answered Wetherell, looking at me. “You are acquainted with the place, and can best advise us.”
“I will do so to the best of my ability,” I said, sitting down on the deck and drawing an outline with a piece of chalk. “The island is shaped like this. There is no reef. Here is the best anchorage, without doubt, but here is the point where we shall be most likely to approach without being observed. The trend of the land is all upward from the shore, and, as far as I remember, the most likely spot for a hut, if they are detaining Miss Wetherell there, as we suppose, will be on a little plateau looking south, and hard by the only fresh water on the island.”
“And what sort of anchorage shall we get there, do you think?” asked the skipper, who very properly wished to run no risk with his owner’s boat.
“Mostly coral. None too good, perhaps, but as we shall have steam up, quite safe enough.”
“And how do you propose that we shall reach the hut when we land? Is there any undergrowth, or must we climb the hill under the enemy’s fire?”
“I have been thinking that out,” I said, “and I have come to the conclusion that the best plan would be for us to approach the island after dark, to heave to about three miles out and pull ashore in the boat. We will then ascend the hill by the eastern slope and descend upon them. They will probably not expect us from that quarter, and it will at least be easier than climbing the hill in the face of a heavy fire. What do you say?”
They all agreed that it seemed practicable.
“Very good then,” said the skipper, “we’ll have lunch and afterwards begin our preparations.” Then turning to me, “I’ll get you to come into my cabin, Mr. Hatteras, by-and-by and take a look at the Admiralty chart, if you will. You will be able probably to tell me if you think it can be relied on.”
“I’ll do so with pleasure,” I answered, and then we went below. Directly our meal was over I accompanied the skipper to look at the chart, and upon it we marked our anchorage. Then an adjournment was made aft, and our equipment of rifles and revolvers thoroughly overhauled. We had decided earlier that our landing party should consist of eight men—Wetherell, Beckenham, the mate of the yacht, myself, and four of the crew, each of whom would be supplied with a Winchester repeating rifle, a revolver, and a dozen cartridges. Not a shot was to be fired, however, unless absolutely necessary, and the greatest care was to be taken in order to approach the hut, if possible, without disturbing its inmates.
When the arms had been distributed and carefully examined, the sixteen foot surfboat was uncovered and preparations made for hoisting her overboard. By the time this was done it was late in the afternoon, and almost soon enough for us to be thinking about overcoming the distance which separated us from our destination. Exactly at four o’clock the telegraph on the bridge signalled “go ahead,” and we were on our way once more. To tell the truth, I think we were all so nervous that we were only too thankful to be moving again.
About dusk I was standing aft, leaning against the taffrail, when Beckenham came up and stood beside me. It was wonderful what a difference these few months had made in him; he was now as brown as a berry, and as fine-looking a young fellow as any man could wish to see.
“We shall be picking up the island directly,” I said as he came to an anchor alongside me. “Do you think you ought to go tonight? Remember you will run the risk of being shot!”
“I have thought of that,” he said. “I believe it’s my duty to do my best to help you and Mr. Wetherell.”
“But what would your father say if he knew?”
“He would say that I only did what was right. I have just been writing to him, telling him everything. If anything should happen to me you will find the letter on the chest of drawers in your cabin. I know you will send it on to him. But if we both come out of it safely and rescue Miss Wetherell I’m going to ask a favour of you?”
“Granted before I know what it is!”
“It isn’t a very big one. I want you to let me be your best man at your wedding?”
“So you shall. And a better I could not possibly desire.”
“I like to hear you say that. We’ve been through a good deal together since we left Europe, haven’t we?”
“We have, and tonight will bring it to a climax, or I’m much mistaken.”
“Do you think Nikola will show fight?”
“Not a doubt about it I should think. If he finds himself cornered he’ll probably fight like a demon.”
“It’s Baxter I want to meet.”
“Nikola is my man. I’ve a big grudge against him, and I want to pay it.”
“How little we thought when we were cruising about Bournemouth Bay together that within such a short space of time we should be sailing the South Pacific on such an errand! It seems almost too strange to be possible.”
“So it does! All’s well that ends well, however. Let’s hope we’re going to be successful tonight. Now I’m going on the bridge to see if I can pick the land up ahead.”
I left him and went forward to the captain’s side. Dusk had quite fallen by this time, rendering it impossible to see very far ahead. A hand had been posted in the fore-rigging as a lookout, and every moment we expected to hear his warning cry; but nearly an hour passed, and still it did not come.
Then suddenly the shout rang out, “Land ahead!” and we knew that our destination was in sight. Long before this all our lights had been obscured, and so, in the darkness—for a thick pall of cloud covered the sky—we crept up towards the coast. Within a couple of minutes of hearing the hail every man on board was on deck gazing ahead in the direction in which we were proceeding.
By teatime we had brought the land considerably nearer, and by eight o’clock were within three miles of it. Not a sign, however, of any craft could we discover, and the greatest vigilance had to be exercised on our part to allow no sign to escape us to show our whereabouts to those ashore. Exactly at nine o’clock the shore party, fully armed, assembled on deck, and the surfboat was swung overboard. Then in the darkness we crept down the gangway and took our places. The mate was in possession of the tiller, and when all was ready we set off for the shore.