Part 32 (2/2)

”Nothing. Do you think that there is any chance at all that Uncle Ben was saved?”

”I cannot tell. Strange things happen in the providence of G.o.d. I see the hand of G.o.d in your presence here; but for that I should not have lived another day. We can but trust that my old friend is safe. He may be on one of these many islands. I hope so.”

In answer to a question from Mary he related how he had gone from London to San Francisco, and sailed thence in an American s.h.i.+p for the South Pacific. Having made a tour of the mission-stations, he had only reached his own island a few days ago. He had been met on the sh.o.r.e by the natives with every mark of welcome; the absence of the chief was plausibly explained; but the vessel had no sooner departed than he was seized and tied up. He expected instant death, but had been reserved for sacrifice at the ceremonies in connection with the inauguration of the new chief.

”Did they give you food?” asked Tommy.

”Yes, my dear, or I should never have had the strength to profit by your sister's brave deed. Do you know, when I heard her voice, I thought it had been the voice of an angel, speaking to me as the angel spoke to St. Peter in prison. The remembrance of how the apostle was set free was very cheering as I lay waiting for night. Your sister has indeed been an angel of deliverance. I thank G.o.d, who put courage into her heart.”

They talked until the light of dawn stole through the trees. Elizabeth had fallen asleep. Without disturbing her the others rose and went to the edge of the clump of woodland, whence a considerable portion of the island was visible. No savages were in sight or hearing. They made a breakfast of fruit, and when Elizabeth awoke, and had eaten, they took their way with many precautions up the steep ascent to the summit of the precipice.

There grew upon it a few palm-trees, which did not afford as good a screen as the clump they had just left. On the other hand it commanded a wider outlook over the sea. They hoped that the savages, failing to discover them, would eventually return to their island. Only when they saw the canoes departing would it be safe to venture down again.

Their situation gave them much anxiety. Their stock of food was small, and they had now another mouth to feed. Already they felt the lack of water. The stream that flowed near the pit and plunged down over the waterfall was too far distant for them to attempt to visit it; and while the savages were on the island the still longer journey to the stream near the site of their original hut was out of the question.

They hoped with all their heart that the intruders would soon depart.

But this hope died as the day wore on. From time to time they heard shouts, now distant, now nearer at hand. Clearly the men were searching for them. Once they were greatly alarmed when they caught sight of dusky figures crossing the open ground below their recent settlement, and knew by their shouts and gestures that they had discovered traces of habitation. The natives had indeed already come upon the pit and searched it. By good fortune they had followed the tracks down to the sh.o.r.e instead of up into the higher ground. They scoured the copse in which the boat and canoe had been placed, and on discovering them hastened along the sh.o.r.e in both directions. No doubt it was only the apparent inaccessibility of the precipice that prevented them from suspecting that as the fugitives' place of refuge.

The day pa.s.sed. The little party lay in the shade of the trees, and kept as still as possible; but they were much distressed by heat and thirst, and at the fall of night the girls felt thoroughly worn out.

Mr. Corke, the missionary, arranged that they should sleep through the night, while he and the two natives kept watch.

Elizabeth was very unwilling that this task should be undergone by the old man; but he a.s.sured her that he was very tough, and had quite recovered from the effects of confinement, owing to the fortunate circ.u.mstance that the islanders had not deprived him of food.

When the next morning broke, and the girls, feeling weak and ill, rose from their hard couches, they were amazed to discover that Mr. Corke was no longer with them.

”Where is he?” asked Elizabeth anxiously.

”He go fetch water,” said Maku. ”He say mus' have water, so he go down all-same fetch some.”

”Why did you let him? Why didn't you wake us?” cried Elizabeth in great distress.

”He say mus' go,” persisted the old chief. ”He say you do lot fo' he, he do little t'ing fo' you.”

Tommy ran to the edge of the plantation to look for the missionary.

Her sisters heard her give a low cry, and next moment she came running back to them, her eyes ablaze with excitement.

”A s.h.i.+p! A s.h.i.+p!” she cried.

The startling news was almost overwhelming. For a moment the girls stood as though rooted to the ground, then they rushed forward, following Tommy, who had already darted back towards the edge. Their hearts leapt within them as they saw, far out at sea, a line of black smoke, and beneath it the low hull of a steamer.

”Is she coming this way?” said Mary anxiously.

”Oh, I do hope so,” said Elizabeth. ”We must make a signal. Let us tie our handkerchiefs together; Fangati can climb one of the trees with it.”

In a few moments Fangati had climbed a tall stem, and tied the three knotted handkerchiefs to a branch projecting towards the sea. Then the girls remembered Mr. Corke, whom in their momentary excitement they had forgotten. There was no sound from below; the natives had certainly not yet seen him, or shouts would have announced their delight.

But his continued absence made the girls ache with dread.

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