The Nameless Island: A Story of Some Modern Robinson Crusoes

by Percy F. Westerman

  Produced by Al Haines

  Cover art]

  [Frontispiece: AMID THE CHEERS OF THE BAND OF BRITISHERS THE ENSIGN WASBROKEN AT THE MASTHEAD. See page 68]

  THE NAMELESS ISLAND

  A Story of some Modern Robinson Crusoes

  BY

  PERCY F. WESTERMAN

  _Author of "The Young Cavalier," etc._

  London

  C. Arthur Pearson Ltd.

  Henrietta Street

  1920

  _Second Impression_

  STORIES OF ADVENTURE.

  _UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME_

  Each Volume contains Eight Full-Page Illustrations by a well-knownArtist

  The Boys of the Otter Patrol.

  A Tale of the Boy Scouts. By E. Le Breton-Martin.

  Kiddie of the Camp.

  A Scouting Story of the Western Prairies. By Robert Leighton.

  Otters to the Rescue.

  A Sequel to "The Boys of the Otter Patrol." By E. Le Breton-Martin.

  The Clue of the Ivory Claw.

  By F. Haydn Dimmock.

  'Midst Arctic Perils.

  By P. F. Westerman.

  The Phantom Battleship.

  By Rupert Chesterton.

  Kiddie the Scout.

  A Sequel to "Kiddie of the Camp." By Robert Leighton.

  The Lost Trooper.

  A Tale of the Great North-Wert. By F. Haydn Dimmock.

  The Brigand of the Air.

  By Christopher Beck.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  I. THE HURRICANE II. AGROUND III. ABANDONED IV. THE LANDING V. THE CAMP VI. THE ANIMAL THAT WOULDN'T BE RESCUED VII. THE EMBLEM OF EMPIRE VIII. "A SAIL!" IX. UNWELCOME VISITORS X. STRANGE ALLIES XI. THE FRUSTRATED SACRIFICE XII. AT BAY XIII. ELLERTON TO THE RESCUE XIV. ROUTING THE SAVAGES XV. A KNIFE-THRUST IN THE DARK XVI. THE GALE XVII. BACK TO THE ISLAND XVIII. A SURPRISE FOR THE INVADERS XIX. THE PRISONER'S ESCAPE XX. THE ENEMY IS CORNERED XXI. THE BUCCANEERS' CAVE XXII. THE TREASURE CHAMBER XXIII. "A SAIL! A SAIL!" XXIV. A FALSE AND A REAL ALARM XXV. THE GREAT INVASION XXVI. A GREAT DISASTER XXVII. THE LAST STAND XXVIII. THE RESCUE

  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  Amid the cheers of the band of Britishers the ensign was broken at the masthead . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_

  Ellerton was only just in time. Another dazzling flash enabled him to see the helpless form of the crippled seaman

  Andy, finding the bull close to his heels, gripped a rope and swung himself into a position of comparative safety

  The chief's canoe was paddled slowly towards the shore

  Crash! fair in the centre of the lightly built fifty-feet hull struck the sharp stem

  "A sail! a sail!" he exclaimed breathlessly

  A huge turtle had crawled across the beach and ... had set the alarm bell ringing

  With fierce shouts the savages tore down the path straight for the barricade

  THE NAMELESS ISLAND

  CHAPTER I

  THE HURRICANE

  The _San Martin_, a single-screw cargo steamer of 3050 tons, was on herway from Realejo to Tahiti. Built on the Clyde twenty years back, thisPeruvian-owned tramp was no longer in her prime. Since passing out ofthe hands of her British owners, neglect had lessened her speed, whilethe addition of various deck-houses, to suit the requirements of theSouth American firm under whose house-flag she sailed, had notincreased her steadiness.

  Captain Antonio Perez, who was in command, was a short, thick-set manof almost pure Spanish descent, swarthy, greasy, and vain--combiningall the characteristics, good, bad, and indifferent, of the SouthAmerican skipper. As part owner of the _San Martin_ he was glad of theopportunity of adding to the vessel's earnings, so he had willinglyagreed to take five passengers as far as Tahiti.

  The five passengers were Mr. McKay, his son Andrew, Terence Donaghue,Fanshaw Ellerton, and Quexo; but before relating the circumstances inwhich they found themselves on board the _San Martin_, it will benecessary to introduce them to our readers.

  Mr. McKay, a tall, erect Queenslander, of Scottish descent, had,through the death of a near relative, migrated from Australia to one ofthe Central American republics in order to test the possibilities of anestate which had been left him, before putting it into the market.

  Andrew McKay, or Andy, as he was called, was a well-set-up young fellowof nineteen, broad-shouldered and straight-limbed, with a fine headsurmounted by a crop of auburn hair.

  Terence Donaghue, the son of an Irish Canadian, was about Andy's age,and was on a visit to the McKays. He was impulsive both in manner andspeech, high-spirited, and good-natured.

  Fanshaw Ellerton, a lad of sixteen, was supposed to be serving hisapprenticeship on board the _Tophet_, a barque of 2200 tons, of theport of Liverpool. He was in reality a deserter--but in circumstancesbeyond his control.

  Taking advantage of general leave being granted to the crew of the_Tophet_, Ellerton had gone "up-country," and, before he actuallyrealised it, he found himself besieged in Mr. McKay's ranch of SanEugenio.

  One of those revolutions that occur in many of the South CentralAmerican states had broken out, and the rebels, thinking that Mr.McKay's house and estate would prove an easy and profitable prize,promptly attempted to take and plunder San Eugenio.

  In spite of a vigorous defence, it seemed as if numbers would gain theday, till Quexo, a mulatto lad on the ranch, contrived to steal throughthe rebels' lines and bring timely aid, but not before Mr. McKay hadbeen severely wounded.

  But, so far as his Central American affairs were concerned, Mr. McKaywas practically ruined, and he took steps to return to Queensland withthe least possible delay.

  Andy, of course, was to accompany him, while Terence arranged to go asfar as Tahiti, whence he could take steamer to Honolulu and on toVictoria, British Columbia.

  "Never mind, old chap," exclaimed Andy, when Ellerton made thestartling yet not altogether unexpected discovery that the _Tophet_ hadsailed without him. "We've stuck together through thick and thin theselast few days, and it seems as if we have been chums for years. I knowthe governor will be only too glad to have you with us, and no doubtyou can pick up your ship at Sydney."

  Nor did Mr. McKay forget Quexo's devotion; and, to the mulatto's greatdelight, he was engaged as servant at the--to him--princely salary offive dollars a month.

  A fever-stricken coast was no place for a wounded man, hence Mr.McKay's anxiety to sail as soon as possible; and since ten days or morewould elapse before one of the regular line of steamers left forHonolulu, passages were booked on the Peruvian tramp steamer _SanMartin_.

  * * * * *

  "What a scratch crew!" remarked Terence, pointing at the swarm ofolive-featured Peruvians who were scrubbing down decks with the aid ofthe ship's hose.

  "But even they have one advantage over most of the crews of themercantile marine," replied Ellerton. "They are all of onenationality. Take the _Tophet's_ crew--there are only eight Britishseamen before the mast; the rest are Germans, Finns, and Swedes."

  "That is a crying scandal," interrupted Mr. McKay, who was resting in adeck-chair a few feet from the head of the poop-ladder. "England, theprincipal carrier of the world, has to rely upon foreigners to man hermerchant ships. And the reason is not far to seek," he added.

  The _San Martin_ was in the Doldrums. Not a ripple disturbed thesurface of the ocean, save the white wake of the steamer as she poundedalong at a steady nine knots. Overhead the sun shone fiercely in acloudless sky.
/>
  "How deep is it here?" asked Terence, leaning over the rail.

  "Do you know, Ellerton?" asked Mr. McKay.

  "No, sir; I had no opportunity of examining a chart."

  "It's approximately three thousand fathoms. Between the Galapagos andthe Marquesas is a vast sunken plateau. Sunlight never penetratesthese great depths; probably all is dark beyond two hundred fathoms."

  "And are there fish or marine animals in the bed of the ocean?"

  "No one knows. Possibly there are some marine animals capable ofwithstanding the enormous pressure, for it may be taken for grantedthat at three thousand fathoms the pressure per square inch is aboutthree tons."

  "Is it always calm in the Doldrums?" continued Terence, for he hadnever before "crossed the line."

  "Often for weeks at a stretch. What's your experience of these,Ellerton?"

  "Three weeks with the canvas hanging straight down from the yards. Ifyou threw anything overboard it would be alongside for days. I canassure you, Terence, that I am jolly glad we're on board a steamer."

  "How did you get out of it?" continued the young Canadian, eager forfurther information.

  "By one of the frequent and sudden hurricanes that spring up in thebelt of the calms; but even that was looked upon as a slice of luck."

  Thus the days passed. Conversation was the chief means of passing thetime, although the lads derived considerable amusement from theirefforts to teach Quexo English.

  Reading was out of the question, for the ship's library consisted ofonly a few Spanish books of little interest to Mr. McKay and Andy,while to Terence and Ellerton they were unfathomable.

  On the evening of the fourth day there was an ominous change in theweather.

  The sun, setting between high-banked, ill-defined clouds, gave outbright copper-coloured rays that betokened much wind at no distantdate; while from the south-east a long, heavy swell, although far fromland, gave further indications of change.

  "How is the glass, Captain?" asked Mr. McKay, as Captain Perez emergedfrom the companion and began to make his way for'ard to the bridge.

  The captain shrugged his shoulders.

  "Low, senor. I like it not."

  "What an admission," exclaimed Mr. McKay, as the officer mounted theladder. "Fancy a British skipper replying like that! Here, Andy, youare not shaky on the pins like I am; just present my compliments toCaptain Perez and ask him to tell you how the barometer stands. I'mrather curious on that point."

  "You appear to have a good knowledge of seamanship, sir," remarkedEllerton, as young McKay made his way to the bridge.

  "Well, I must confess I have," admitted Mr. McKay. "Years ago I spentsome months on a pearl-fisher in Torres Strait; but that's a longstory. Some day, perhaps, I'll tell you more about it."

  "Seven hundred and forty millimetres--a fall of twenty-two millimetresin eight hours," announced Andy, reading the figures from a slip ofpaper, on which he had noted the captain's reply.

  "By Jove!" exclaimed Mr. McKay. "That's equivalent to a trifle over29.1 inches. We're in for something, especially with that deck cargo,"as he pointed to the towering baulks of mahogany which were stowedamidships.

  "Are they doing anything for'ard?" he continued.

  "The men are placing additional lashings over the hatchways."

  "Pity they didn't man the derrick and heave some of that stuffoverboard," replied Mr. McKay, eyeing the timber with concern."However, it will be dark in another quarter of an hour, so we hadbetter turn in and get some sleep while we are able."

  It was shortly after midnight when Ellerton awoke, conscious thatsomething was amiss. He had slept through severe gales in the old_Tophet_ when she was scudding under close-reefed canvas before thewind or lying hove-to in a hurricane in Magellan Straits; but there wassomething in the peculiar motion of the _San Martin_ that roused hisseaman's instincts.

  It was blowing. He could hear the nerve-racking clank of the enginesas the propeller raced in the air, and the corresponding jar as theship's stern was engulfed in the following seas. That was a merenothing; it was the excessive heel and slow recovery of the vesselwhich told him that things were not as they should be.

  Hastily dressing, he was about to leave the cabin when a hollow groancaught his ear. It was pitch dark, for the electric lights had failed,and the after part of the ship was in a state of absolute blackness.

  "What's up, Terence?"

  Terence was like the sufferer on the Channel mail boat. He was pastthe stage when he was afraid he might die, and was entering into thestage when he was afraid he might not. Ellerton had suffered theagonies of sea-sickness before, so, knowing that the unhappy victimwould prefer to suffer in solitude, he went outside.

  In the alley-way he collided with the second mate, who, clad indripping oilskins, was returning from his watch on deck.

  Ere the two could disengage, a heavy list sent them both rollingagainst one of the starboard cabins, and, at the same time, Andy, who,unable to sleep, was on the point of making his way over to Ellerton'sberth, stepped upon the writhing forms and promptly joined them on thefloor of the alley-way.

  A number of choice expressions in English and Spanish, drowned by thethunder of the "combers" on deck, arose from the struggling trio, tillat length Ellerton disentangled himself and succeeded in pulling hischum from under the form of the second mate.

  "Isn't it awful, this gale?" gasped Andy, whose right eye was rapidlyclosing from the effects of an accidental knock from the Peruvian'ssea-boot.

  "Yes, it's a bit thick," replied Ellerton, whose knuckles were bleedingthrough coming into contact with the brass tread of the cabin door."But let's follow this chap up and get him to let us have a candle;then we can see what we are doing."

  As he spoke, a vivid flash of lightning revealed the Peruvian, still inhis wet oilskins, stretched at full length on his bunk, his head buriedin the blankets. He was in a state of absolute funk!

  A swinging candlestick was affixed to the bulkhead, and Ellerton wassoon able to procure a light. Andy glanced at the barometer. Themercury stood at 715 millimetres (28.15 in.)--a fall of nearly an inchsince six o'clock on the previous evening.

  "Can't we go on deck?" asked Andy, as the _San Martin_ slowly recoveredfrom a dangerous list. "It's rotten being cooped up here."

  "You would stand a jolly good chance of being swept overboard," repliedEllerton. "Everything is battened down, and we can only get out by thesliding hatch communicating with the----"

  His words were interrupted by a succession of heavy thuds, plainlyaudible above the roar of the wind and waves, while the shouts of thefrantic seamen showed that something had broken adrift.

  Taking advantage of the lift of the vessel as she threw her stern clearof a mountainous sea, Ellerton opened the steel sliding doorwaysufficiently wide for the two chums to gain the poop. Staggering alongthe slippery, heaving deck, they reached the lee side of thedeck-house, where, gripping the stout iron stanchion-rail, they awaitedthe next flash of lightning.

  They had not long to wait. A brilliant, prolonged succession offlashes dazzled their eyes, the electric fluid playing on the wetplanks and foam-swept waist of the plunging vessel.

  The reason for the commotion was now apparent. One of the mainmastderricks had broken adrift, and, charging from side to side like agigantic flail, had smashed the rail, crushed two steelventilator-cowls, and utterly demolished two boats in the davits.

  The crew, trying to secure the plunging mass of metal, were workingwith mad desperation, frequently up to their waists in water.

  Two of the unfortunate men, crushed by the sweep of the derrick, hadbeen hurled over the side, while another, his leg bent under him, layhelpless in the lee-scuppers, with only a few inches of broken bulwarksto prevent him from sharing the fate of his comrades.

  "Stand by, Andy!" shouted Ellerton. "Take a couple of turns round thisbollard," and throwing the end of a coil of signal-halliards to hisfriend, he made the other end fast round his w
aist and jumped down thepoop-ladder.

  He was only just in time. Another dazzling flash enabled him to seethe helpless form of the crippled seaman, and as he wound his armsround the man's waist in an iron grip, a seething cataract of foamswept the deck.

  ELLERTON WAS ONLY JUST IN TIME. ANOTHER DAZZLING FLASHENABLED HIM TO SEE THE HELPLESS FORM OF THE CRIPPLED SEAMAN]

  The ship, stunned by the force of the gigantic billow, listed till herdeck took an angle of 45 degrees, or more. To the young apprentice,held only by a single turn of the thin signal-halliard, it seemed as ifthe ship were already taking her downward plunge, for all round himsurged the torrent of solid water, his position rendered doublyhorrible by the intense blackness of the night.

  Still he held on like grim death to the disabled seaman, the thin ropecutting into his breastbone like a steel wire. His feet were unable tofind a hold; the last fragment of the bulwarks had vanished, and onlythe rope held him and his burden from a prolonged death in the surgingocean.

  Quivering like an aspen leaf, the stricken vessel slowly resumed aneven keel, and then began the correspondingly sickening list towindward.

  Another flash revealed the charging derrick whirling over his head;then, as he felt the rope slacken and himself slipping across the deck,his hand managed to grasp the foot of the poop-ladder.

  Almost breathless by his exertions, and half suffocated through beingso long under water, Ellerton retained sufficient presence of mind toclamber up the ladder, Andy assisting his burden by steadily andstrongly hauling on the rope; then, as the _San Martin_ once more beganher sickening roll to leeward, he sank exhausted to the deck, safeunder the lee of the deck-house, with the Peruvian still in his grip.

  That last tremendous breaker had been the means of saving the ship,though at the time it had threatened to end her career. The dangerousdeck-load of mahogany baulks had been wrenched from its securinglashings, and had been swept overboard; while the disabled derrick,coming into contact with the donkey-engine, had snapped off short.

  At the same time the waves had swept four more of the crew to theirlast account, and the remainder, exhausted and disheartened by theirmisfortunes, had gained the shelter of the fo'c'sle.

  Securing themselves by the rope, Andy and Ellerton--the latter havingpassed a bight round the now conscious and groaning seaman--hung onwith desperation.

  From their comparatively sheltered position they could gain occasionalglimpses of the bridge, where Captain Perez, the first mate, and acouple of seamen stood braving the elements, their sou'-westers justvisible above the top of the canvas storm-dodgers.

  At one moment, silhouetted against the glare of the lightning, theirheads could be seen against a background of wind-torn clouds; atanother the vessel would be so deep in the trough of the waves that thecrests ahead appeared to rise high above the rigid figures on theirlofty, swaying perch.

  "Will it hold?" shouted Andy above the hiss of the foam and the howlingof the wind, as a few tons of water struck the weather side of thedeck-house.

  "I think so," replied Ellerton. "It would have gone before this ifnot."

  "Then let's put the man inside. We can then go below and get thesteward or some of the crew to look after him."

  Accordingly they dragged the groaning seaman into the deck-house, and,wedging him up with cushions to prevent him from playing the part ofNeptune's shuttlecock, they left him.

  Seizing their opportunity, the two friends contrived to gain thesaloon, where they found Mr. McKay, who had succeeded in procuring andlighting a pair of cabin-lamps.

  "Thick, isn't it?" remarked Andy's father. Then: "What have youfellows been up to?" for both were wet to the skin, while Andy's eyewas black and green, and Ellerton's forehead was bleeding from asuperficial cut.

  "Oh, nothing much," replied Ellerton modestly. "We were caught in thetail end of a comber. The deck cargo's gone, though."

  "That's good news," replied Mr. McKay. "Though I fancy the worst isyet to come. I suppose Captain Perez is steering to the south'ard totry and avoid the main path of the hurricane?"

  "I haven't had the chance of looking at the compass," replied Ellerton."But I must go for'ard and get help for the poor fellow in thedeck-house."

  "What fellow is that?" asked Mr. McKay of his son as the apprenticedisappeared along the darkened alley-way.

  While Andy was relating with whole-hearted praise the story of hiscompanion's bravery, Ellerton was feeling his way along the narrow,heaving passage that communicated with the fore part of the ship.

  At length he came to the engine-room hatchway. Down below he could seethe mass of complicated machinery throbbing in the yellow glimmer ofthe oil lamps, while the hot atmosphere was filled with a horribleodour of steam and burning oil.

  Here, at any rate, the men were doing their duty right manfully, for hecould see the engineers, gripping the shiny rails as they leant overthe swaying, vibrating engines, calmly oiling the bearings of theplunging rods and cranks. The "chief," his eyes fixed upon theindicators, was alertly awaiting the frequently recurring clank whichdenoted that the propeller was racing. For a few moments Ellertonstood there fascinated, the spectacle of an engine-room in a vessel ina storm was new to the lad, whose experience of the sea was confined toa sailing barque.

  Suddenly above the monotonous clank of the piston-rods came a hideousgrinding sound. The cylinders began to give out vast columns of steam,as the engines ran at terrifying speed.

  Through the vapour Ellerton could discern the "chief," galvanised intoextraordinary alertness, make a rush for a valve, while his assistants,shouting and gesticulating, dashed hither and thither amid the confinedspaces between the quivering machinery.

  The main shaft had broken, and the _San Martin_ was helpless in theteeth of the hurricane.