Part 38 (1/2)

Ellerton soon returned with the bunting, and the Union Jack was hoisted to the masthead. The mulatto procured some dry wood from the store, and set it in a blaze. When well alight, he piled a quant.i.ty of damp leaves upon the fire, causing a thick smoke.

Unfortunately the strong wind prevented the vapour from rising, the smoke drifting over the ground in thick, suffocating columns, but to the castaways' great joy the vessel hoisted her ensign. It was the French tricolour.

”Hurrah!” shouted Mr. McKay. ”Now lads, hand me N and C.”

The next instant the N and C flags, signifying in the International code, ”_Want a.s.sistance_” were fluttering from the mast.

Through the telescope the inhabitants of McKay's Island could see the oilskin-clad figure of the French skipper, his neatly-trimmed moustache and imperial as correct as if he were on the boulevards of Paris, rus.h.i.+ng hither and thither, and giving his orders with much waving of his arms. Then, as a string of flags ran up to her main truck, the schooner was hove-to.

”_D.C.--Are coming to your a.s.sistance_,” read Mr. McKay, referring to his signal-book. ”By Jove! that won't do, the boat will be swamped,”

for already some of the crew were manning the falls.

”Sharp there,” he continued, ”'_E.Y.--Do not attempt to land in your boat_.' That will stop them; but there's no denying that they are plucky fellows.”

In obedience to the signal, the crew of the French schooner gave up their attempt, and a lengthy interchange of signals was kept up, the Frenchman promising to report the presence of the castaways at the first port she touched; then, with a farewell dip of her ensign, she flung about, and half an hour later she was lost in the haze.

”That's a load off our minds,” remarked Mr. McKay. ”We can reasonably expect help in a month at the very outside.”

”Unless she is blown out of her course, for a gale is freshening,”

replied Ellerton.

”Nevertheless, the chances are greatly in our favour, though at the same time we must not cease our efforts to work out our salvation.

This gale will doubtless mark the end of the rainy season, so we can hope to renew our efforts to salve the yawl within the next few days.”

But, contrary to Mr. McKay's expectations, the weather continued bad for nearly a month and, although a sharp look-out was kept by day and the searchlights flashed nightly, no vessel appeared in sight.

Alternate hopes and fears did not tend to improve the spirits of the castaways, and ere the fine weather set in their condition was bordering on acute depression, in spite of their individual efforts to the contrary.

At length, after a long spell of rainy weather, the sun burst forth in all its splendour, the wind went away, and the island appeared under a totally different aspect from that which it had shown during the last six months. With the return of the dry season, the spirits of the castaways likewise rose, and energetically they resumed their outdoor labours.

The submerged yawl was, so far as they could see, little the worse for its prolonged rest on the bed of the lagoon, and by dint of hard and painstaking work she was moved nearer to the sh.o.r.e than she had been since the disastrous day when she had been scuttled by the natives.

”It will be new moon to-morrow at about ten o'clock,” announced Mr.

McKay. ”Consequently there will be a fairly high tide at noon, so we can reasonably hope for sufficient water to float the yawl to the cradle. Everything is ready, I suppose?”

”Yes, sir,” replied Ellerton. ”I finished rigging the tackle this morning, and the cradle is properly ballasted.”

”Good! Then we'll make the attempt to-morrow.”

CHAPTER XXIV

A FALSE AND A REAL ALARM

Before daybreak everyone was up and eager for the fray, and directly breakfast was over they sallied down to the sh.o.r.e. It was still pitch dark, but the time of dead low water made it absolutely necessary that operations should commence ere the sun rose.

By the light of several lanterns the slack of the hawsers was taken in and the two canoes pinned down so far as the united efforts of all hands would permit. Nothing more could be done till the rising of the tide.