Part 63 (1/2)
If so, we may never reach Panama, much less live to--”
”See,” cries Cadwallader, interrupting the despairing speech. ”Those brutes! what's that they're knocking about? By Jove! I believe it's the very thing we're speaking of!”
The brutes are the Myas monkeys, that, away in the s.h.i.+p's waist, are tossing something between them; apparently a large book bound in rough red leather. They have mutilated the binding, and, with teeth and claws, are tearing out the leaves, as they strive to take it from one another.
”It is--it must be the log-book!” cries Crozier, as both rush off to rescue it from the clutch of the orangs.
They succeed; but not without difficulty, and a free handling of handspikes--almost braining the apes before they consent to relinquish it.
It is at length recovered, though in a ruinous condition; fortunately, however, with the written leaves untorn. Upon the last of these is an entry, evidently the latest made:
”Lat.i.tude 7 degrees 20 minutes North; Longitude 82 degrees 12 minutes West. Light breeze.”
”Good!” exclaims Crozier, rus.h.i.+ng back to the quarterdeck, and bending over the chart. ”With this, and the double-headed hill, we may get upon the track of the despoilers. Just when we were despairing! Will, old boy; there's something in this. I have a presentiment that things are taking a turn, and the _Fates will yet be or us_.”
”G.o.d grant they may!”
”Ah?” sighs Crozier: ”if we had but ten men aboard this barque--or even six--I'd never think of going on to Panama, but steer straight for the island of Coiba.”
”Why the island of Coiba?” wonderingly asks Cadwallader.
”Because it must have been in sight when this entry was made--either it or Hicaron, which lies on its sou'west side. Look at this chart; there they are!”
The mids.h.i.+pman bends over the map, and scans it.
”You're right, Ned. They must have seen one or other of those islands, when the Chilian skipper made his last observation.”
”Just so. And with a light breeze she couldn't have made much way after. Both the cook and Don Gregorio say it was that. Oh! for ten good hands. A thousand pounds apiece for ten stout, trusty fellows!
What a pity in that squall the cutter's crew weren't left along with us.”
”Never fear, Ned. We'll get them again, or as good. Old Bracebridge won't fail us, I'm sure. He's a dear old soul, and when he hears the tale we've to tell, it'll be all right. If he can't himself come with the frigate, he'll allow us men to man this barque; enough to make short work with her late crew, if we can once stand face to face with them. I only wish we were in Panama.”
”I'd rather we were off Coiba; or on sh.o.r.e wherever the ruffians have landed.”
”Not as we now are--three against twelve!”
”I don't care for that. I'd give ten thousand pounds to be in their midst--even alone.”
”Ned, you'll never be there alone; wherever you go, I go with you. We have a common cause, and shall stand or fall together.”
”That we shall. G.o.d bless you, Will Cadwallader! I feel you're worthy of the friends.h.i.+p--the trust I've placed in you. And now, let's talk no more about it; but bend on all the sail we can, and get to Panama.
After that, we'll steer for the island of Coiba. We're so far fortunate, in having this westerly wind,” he continues, in a more cheerful tone. ”If it keep in the same quarter, we'll soon come in sight of land. And if this Chilian chart may be depended on, that should be a promontory on the west side of Panama Bay. I hope the chart's a true one; for Punta Malo, an its name imports, isn't a nice place to make mistakes about. By running too close to it with the wind in this quarter--”
”_Steamer to norrard_!” cries a rough voice, interrupting. It is Grummet's.
The young officers, turning with a start, see the same.
Crozier, laying hold of a telescope, raises it to his eye, while he holds it there, saying: