Part 33 (1/2)
They watched the steamer eagerly; the hull was enlarging; it was approaching rapidly; it was heading straight for the island. The signal had apparently been seen. But there was still no sign of the missionary.
When the vessel was about half-a-mile from the sh.o.r.e its motion ceased.
”They are afraid to come closer because of the rocks,” said Mary.
”Look, they're lowering a boat.”
But at this moment their attention was withdrawn from the steamer by startling sounds from below--loud, fierce shouts mingled with the report of fire-arms.
”Oh! I'm afraid they've caught him,” exclaimed Elizabeth, clasping her hands in distress.
They ran along the edge of the precipice to a spot where they had a better view of the open ground from the cove to the site of their huts.
The din was increasing in volume and fury, but as yet nothing could be seen. Suddenly, from beyond the jutting edge of a crag, they saw the missionary running with all his might, not towards them, but towards the sea. The girls wondered at this, for he could not have caught sight of the steamer, owing to the trees. It dawned on them afterwards that the chivalrous old man, in his care for them, was leading the pursuers away from their hiding-place.
Quivering with apprehension they watched the runner. Presently, less than a hundred yards behind him, a horde of savages burst into view, uttering frantic yells, as they leapt after their expected victim. For some moments he disappeared from the view of the anxious spectators on the precipice, hidden by the intervening trees. Then he emerged again; he was still running at a speed amazing in a man of his years. What would be the end of the race? The pursuers were gaining on him; they were hard at his heels: it seemed impossible that he should not be overtaken.
He was now upon the beach. A few yards of sand separated him from the sea. He stumbled, recovered himself, dashed on again, and to the girls' horror plunged into the water. The terrifying image of hungry sharks rose in their minds. Several of the pursuers halted and levelled their guns at the swimmer, others plunged in after him, evidently determined not to be baulked of their prey.
All this time the attention of the girls had been divided between this scene on the sh.o.r.e and the steamer's boat, which was rapidly approaching. They could not tell whether it had been seen either by the pursuers or the fugitive. They watched in breathless excitement.
The boat was drawing nearer to the swimmer, but the foremost of the savages was nearer still. Suddenly there was a flash and a puff of smoke from the boat, followed by a report. The brown men stopped: there was a moment's hesitation, then they were seen striking out vigorously for the sh.o.r.e.
”Saved! Saved!” cried Tommy, dancing for joy. ”Oh, let's go and meet them, Bess.”
”Better wait, dear,” said Elizabeth, whose lips were quivering. ”Let them drive the savages away first.”
In tense excitement they watched the missionary lifted into the boat.
It was too far distant as yet for them to distinguish its occupants.
As soon as the missionary was aboard the sailors dipped their oars again and pulled l.u.s.tily for the sh.o.r.e. The girls strained their eyes.
The newcomers might be Dutch, French, English, or American; they were white men; the long captivity was ended.
The boat had almost reached the beach. Suddenly Tommy gave a scream, and clutched at Mary's arm.
”It's Uncle Ben! It's Uncle Ben!” she cried.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE HOME-COMING
Who can describe the happiness of friends long parted when they meet again! As there is a grief too deep for tears, so there is a joy too intense for words to express. Let the reader picture to herself the meeting of uncle and nieces, the sober satisfaction of Mr. Purvis, the ecstasy of little Dan Whiddon, the jolly faces of Long Jimmy, Sunny Pat and the rest.
Uncle Ben's story was a simple and natural one. He had no sooner launched the raft with all his crew on board, than the _Elizabeth_ went down with a gurgle and was seen no more. The raft drifted about for days at the mercy of every current, until it was sighted by a merchant brig. The castaways were picked up, but in spite of Captain Barton's entreaties the skipper would not alter his course to search for the girls. He was bound for San Francisco with a perishable cargo, and declared that he could not waste time and money scouring the South Pacific for any females, even were they princesses or queens.
At San Francisco Captain Barton chartered a steamer. He never spoke of the pang this must have cost him. Those who knew the old man guessed how bitterly he felt the necessity, at the close of his career, of thus tacitly admitting the superiority of steam over sails.