CHAPTER XXVI
Mostyn's Watch
Just before sunset the wind dropped to a flat calm. Peter tookadvantage of the practically motionless conditions to employ thefishing-lines that had been discovered in the after locker. The hookswere sharpened by means of the sandpaper fixed to the solitary box ofmatches in the boat. Small pieces of biscuit, soaked in water androlled between the finger and thumb, served as bait. The lines wereold and far from sound, but might be relied upon to bear a steadystrain of about seven pounds.
"Do we fish on the bottom, Mr. Mostyn?" asked Olive facetiously.
"Yes, rather," replied Peter, entering into the jovial spirit. "Thatis, if your line is long enough. We're only about a mile from thenearest land, and that's immediately beneath us."
Olive lowered her line steadily. Before she had paid out half of itthere was a perceptible jerk and the line slackened.
"I've struck soundings," she reported.
At first Mostyn thought that the girl was still joking, but anexclamation from one of the lascars, who was lowering one of the lines,convinced him that the lead weights had touched something of a solidnature.
Taking Miss Baird's line, Peter held it between his extended first andmiddle fingers. He could distinctly feel the lead trailing over a hardbottom, as the boat was carried along by a slight current.
"Strange," he ejaculated. "We're in less than five fathoms. I had noidea that there was a shoal hereabouts."
Steadying himself by the mast, Mostyn stood upon the gunwale andscanned the horizon. North, south, east, and west the aspect was muchthe same--an unbroken expanse of water, differing in colour accordingto the bearing. To the east it was sombre, to the west the sea wascrimson, as it reflected the gorgeous tints of the setting sun.
"No land in sight," he reported.
The shoal proved to be a good fishing-ground, for, before the shorttropical dusk had given place to night, a dozen fair-sized fish,somewhat resembling the herring of northern waters, had been hauledinto the boat.
"What is the use of them after all?" inquired Olive. "We can't cookthem, and raw fish are uneatable."
"Unpalatable, Miss Baird," corrected Peter. "It is just likely that weshall have to eat them. To-morrow we'll try curing them in the sun."
"Couldn't we fry them over the lamp?" asked the girl, who obviously hadnot taken kindly to the suggestion that the fish should be sun-cured.She was extremely practical on most points, but she drew the line atdried but otherwise raw herrings.
"You might try cooking for yourself, Miss Baird," said Peter dubiously."You see, we have to economize in oil almost as much as with water; butI think we can stretch a point in your favour."
"In that case I'd rather not," rejoined the girl decidedly. "Itwouldn't be fair to the rest, and there's the oil to be taken intoconsideration. I hadn't thought of that."
Having caught sufficient fish for their needs, the anglers hauled intheir lines and stowed them away. Peter then shared out half a biscuitapiece and a small quantity of water. This time Mrs. Shallop was nottoo proud to accept the meagre fare. She ate her portion of biscuit,and even suggested to her companion that if Olive had more than shewanted she could give it to her.
Watches were then set for the night, Mahmed and one of the lascarstaking from eight till two, and Peter and the other lascar from twotill eight; the time being determined by Miss Baird's watch. Thismeant a long trick, but it was unavoidable. The three natives had beenstanding easy most of the day, while Peter had had no sound sleep fornearly thirty hours.
"I am not going to sleep in that tent, Mr. Mostyn," declared Olive,with an air of finality, speaking in a low voice. "I'd much rathercurl up on the bottom-boards. It's not nearly so stuffy."
"Is it because Mrs. Shallop has been jawing?" asked Peter. "I'll tellyou what; there's a square of spare canvas sufficient to rig you up ashelter between those two thwarts."
"Don't bother!" exclaimed Mrs. Shallop, who, when she wanted, wasmarvellously quick of hearing. "You can have the tent. I'll sleepoutside."
And, before the astonished Peter and Olive could say anything, Mrs.Shallop snatched up the piece of canvas and went for'ard.
"She's ashamed of herself and is trying to make good, I think,"suggested Mostyn. "Well, your pitch is queered, Miss Baird, butthere's the tent."
Without a word Olive disappeared behind the flap.
Mostyn could rely upon Mahmed to keep his companion "up to scratch", sowith an easy mind the Wireless Officer went for'ard, wrapped himself inhis oilskin, and was soon sleeping soundly on the bottom-boards.
He was awakened by Mahmed at the stipulated hour. In his drowsiness itwas some moments before he realized where he was, and it ratherperplexed him to find his boy shaking him by the shoulder without thecustomary "Char, sahib".
It was a bright, starlit night. The wind was soft and steady, and theboat was rippling through the water at at least four knots.
Going aft, Mostyn peered at the compass. There was sufficient light toenable the helmsman to steer without having to use the candle-lamp ofthe binnacle. The course was still sou'-east, or four points south ofthe desired direction. It was as close as the boat could sail; eventhen she made a lot of leeway.
"Not'ing to report, sahib," declared Mahmed.
"All right," was the rejoinder. "Carry on."
The lascar told off to share Mostyn's watch came aft, rubbing his eyesand yawning.
"Me no well, sahib," he said. "Me tink me die."
"Take the wheel," ordered Peter, using the term instead of tiller,since the lascar was well acquainted with the word "wheel".
The man grasped the tiller without another word. His little ruse was a"wash-out", and, finding that his imaginary ailment received nosympathy, he carried on as if nothing had happened.
Mostyn then proceeded to attend to his injured brother-officer, washinghis wounds and feeding him with biscuit.
Preston was still very weak, but quite rational in his speech. Hisprolonged sleep had restored his mental powers, but he was unable tomove without assistance.
"What's happened, old man?" he inquired. "I've been racking my brainsto find out how I got laid out. I remember lowering away the boat, andafter that everything's a blank."
"You got a smack with the lower block swaying," replied Peter. "Atleast that's what I was told. They didn't pick me up for a couple ofhours or more after the ship went down."
"And the Old Man?" asked Preston.
The Wireless Officer shook his head sadly.
"'Fraid he's done in," he answered. "When the ship disappeared he waswith me on the bridge. I never set eyes on him after that."
"Rough luck," murmured Preston. "His last voyage before he went on thebeach with a pension. Sound old chap too, although hard to get on withat times."
"One of the best," declared Mostyn.
There was silence for a few moments.
"Mostyn, old son," exclaimed Preston. "How about a cigarette?"
"Wish I could oblige you," replied Peter; "but there isn't a shred oftobacco in the boat. I had my case full in the wireless-room when shesank--a silver presentation case--and I quite forgot to ram it into mypocket."
The Acting Chief smiled wanly, and immediately regretted having doneso. It was a painful process, with one side of his face battered.
"You ought to have known better than that," he remarked reprovingly."Especially as you've been through much the same sort of thing before.Tobacco takes the edge off a fellow's hunger. I suppose your case waswatertight?"
"I think so," replied Peter. "But since I haven't got it I don't seethat it matters."
"Mostyn, dear old thing, you don't deserve pity," said Preston. "Justfeel in the inside pocket of my coat. Luckily I haven't been in theditch."
Peter did as requested, and drew out a cardboard box containing nearlya hundred Virginias.
"Lifted 'em from the Chief Steward's cabin," explained the ActingChief. "They would have gone
to Davy Jones if I hadn't. Take chargeof them, old man. They'll last the pair of us for a fortnight, and bythat time----"
"How about the lascars?" asked Pater.
"Mohammedans," rejoined Preston briefly. "They aren't allowed tosmoke. At least," he added, "I don't think they do. Of course,they'll come in if they want any. We'll see. Light up for me, oldfellow."
"We collared a box of matches from you," said Peter. "These are all wehave on board. They are yours, of course, but----"
"Do they strike?" asked the Acting Chief. "I've had them for at leasta twelvemonth. Sort of emergency issue, don't you know. Try mypockets, old son. I've a lighter somewhere, I'll stake my affidavit onthat---- Gently, old man!"
"Sorry," exclaimed the Wireless Officer. "By Jove, Preston, you are amarvel."
"Rot!" ejaculated the other in self-depreciation. "Merely a case oflooking after one's own interests."
Placing the end of a cigarette between Preston's lips Peter lit it.The Acting Chief grunted contentedly.
"There's a box of Turkish delight in my pocket," he continued. "Takeit and hand it to the womenfolk. All the joy hasn't gone out of lifeyet, Sparks. Light up and get happy."
Mostyn did so. Never before had he so appreciated the soothing effectof a cigarette.
In this complaisant state of mind he was addressed by the lascar at thehelm.
"Mahometan smoke, Sahib; Sikh, Mahometan, too: him not smoke."
Which resulted in the tip of another cigarette glowing in the darkness.
"I feel a jolly sight better for that," declared Preston gratefully,when the cigarette was finished. "Think I'll have another caulk.S'pose you don't mind?"
"Not at all," replied Peter. "Carry on. It will do you good. Areyour bandages comfortable?"
In a few minutes the Acting Chief was slumbering more peacefully thanhe had done since his accident. Mostyn, left to commune with his ownthoughts, squatted on the weather side of the stern-sheets so that hecould give an occasional glance at the compass, and keep an eye on thelascar at the tiller.
It was a long trick. It seemed as if the eastern sky would never paleto herald the dawn of another day.
At 4 a.m. the boat was put on the starboard tack, the wind stillheading her as before. Then, having trimmed sheets, Mostyn took thetiller and ordered the lascar into the bows.
At length the dawn broke--not a pale grey, as Peter had hoped for, butwith far-flung lances of vivid scarlet. That indicated rain and windbefore the day was done.
There was a movement of the canvas awning, and, somewhat to Peter'ssurprise, Miss Baird emerged cautiously, crawling, since there was noother means of negotiating the narrow gap that served as a door.
She was bareheaded, her hair trailing over her shoulders in two longplaits. The outward and visible signs of her costume consisted of ayellow oilskin. Silhouetted against the red glow of the sky she lookedas if she were outlined in deep gold.
"Good morning, Miss Baird," observed Peter politely. "You're outearly."
"I simply couldn't sleep any longer," replied the girl. "I hope youdon't mind my intruding upon you? What a glorious sunrise."
"From an artistic point, yes," agreed Mostyn. "But I'm afraid we'llget it before very long."
"She's a safe boat," said Olive with conviction. "She isn't exactly ayacht, but, personally, I'm rather enjoying it."
"Even on short rations?" inquired Peter.
"Up to the present, yes," was the reply. "It's rather a novelty beingserved out with biscuits, but I'm not looking forward to the sun-driedherrings."
"Perhaps," said Peter, producing the box of Turkish delight, "thesewill prove a welcome substitute for the herrings. No, don't thank me.Preston's the fellow."
With her eyes sparkling, Olive proceeded to count the luscious squares.Mostyn looked on, wondering at the reason of her act.
"Sixty-three, sixty-four," concluded the girl. "That's thirty-two forMrs. Shallop. You'll be witness, Mr. Mostyn, that it's a fair divide?"
The Wireless Officer had said nothing about sharing the sweetmeats.Olive's generosity and fairness were all the more apparent.
"I'm out of a post, Mr. Mostyn," she continued, with a light-heartedlaugh. "Mrs. Shallop and I are not on speaking terms."
"That rather gives you a free hand. I'm very glad," said Peter gravely.
"Yes," admitted the girl. "She has certainly been a bit trying oflate. Do have a piece of Turkish delight?"
Mostyn shook his head.
"No, thanks," he declined. "Your share won't go very far. Besides,I'm in luck too. Preston had a big box of cigarettes in his pocket.So you're pleased to be free of Mrs. Shallop?"
"Rather," replied the girl whole-heartedly. "The only thing thattroubles me is how I am to get home again, if we come through thisadventure safely."
"Don't worry about that, Miss Baird," declared Peter boldly. "I'll seeyou safely home. You can be quite independent of that woman."
"Thank you so much," said Olive gratefully, and almost unconsciouslyshe laid her hand lightly upon Peter's arm.
A thrill of pleasure swept across the Wireless Officer's mind. Then,as if to seal the compact, the tropical sun in all its glory appearedabove the rim of the horizon.
"I'm not a woman," exclaimed a strident voice from inside the tent."I'm a lady. I am really. My father was a naval officer--a captain."
The man and the girl looked at each other. Olive's face was wreathedin smiles. Peter actually winked. In the Eden that he had created thepresence of the Serpent was of no account.
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