by Louis Tracy
CHAPTER IV
RAINBOW ISLAND
Across the parched bones lay the stick discarded by Jenks in his alarm.He picked it up and resumed his progress along the pathway. So closelydid he now examine the ground that he hardly noted his direction. Thetrack led straight towards the wall of rock. The distance was notgreat--about forty yards. At first the brushwood impeded him, but sooneven this hindrance disappeared, and a well-defined passage meanderedthrough a belt of trees, some strong and lofty, others quite immature.
More bushes gathered at the foot of the cliff. Behind them he could seethe mouth of a cave; the six months' old growth of vegetation about theentrance gave clear indication as to the time which had elapsed since ahuman foot last disturbed the solitude.
A few vigorous blows with the stick cleared away obstructing plants andleafy branches. The sailor stooped and looked into the cavern, for theopening was barely five feet high. He perceived instantly that theexcavation was man's handiwork, applied to a fault in the hard rock. Asort of natural shaft existed, and this had been extended by manuallabor. Beyond the entrance the cave became more lofty. Owing to itsposition with reference to the sun at that hour Jenks imagined thatsufficient light would be obtainable when the tropical luxuriance offoliage outside was dispensed with.
At present the interior was dark. With the stick he tapped the wallsand roof. A startled cluck and the rush of wings heralded the flight oftwo birds, alarmed by the noise. Soon his eyes, more accustomed to thegloom, made out that the place was about thirty feet deep, ten feetwide in the center, and seven or eight feet high.
At the further end was a collection of objects inviting promptattention. Each moment he could see with greater distinctness. Kneelingon one side of the little pile he discerned that on a large stone,serving as a rude bench, were some tin utensils, some knives, asextant, and a quantity of empty cartridge cases. Between the stone andwhat a miner terms the "face" of the rock was a four-foot space. Here,half imbedded in the sand which covered the floor, were two pickaxes, ashovel, a sledge-hammer, a fine timber-felling axe, and three crowbars.
In the darkest corner of the cave's extremity the "wall" appeared to bevery smooth. He prodded with the stick, and there was a sharp clang oftin. He discovered six square kerosene-oil cases carefully stacked up.Three were empty, one seemed to be half full, and the contents of twowere untouched. With almost feverish haste he ascertained that thehalf-filled tin did really contain oil.
"What a find!" he ejaculated aloud. Another pair of birds dashed from aledge near the roof.
"Confound you!" shouted the sailor. He sprang back and whacked thewalls viciously, but all the feathered intruders had gone.
So far as he could judge the cave harbored no further surprises.Returning towards the exit his boots dislodged more empty cartridgesfrom the sand. They were shells adapted to a revolver of heavy caliber.At a short distance from the doorway they were present in dozens.
"The remnants of a fight," he thought. "The man was attacked, anddefended himself here. Not expecting the arrival of enemies he providedno store of food or water. He was killed whilst trying to reach thewell, probably at night."
He vividly pictured the scene--a brave, hardy European keeping at bay aboatload of Dyak savages, enduring manfully the agonies of hunger,thirst, perhaps wounds. Then the siege, followed by a wild effort togain the life-giving well, the hiss of a Malay parang wielded by alurking foe, and the last despairing struggle before death came.
He might be mistaken. Perchance there was a less dramatic explanation.But he could not shake off his, first impressions. They were garneredfrom dumb evidence and developed by some occult but overwhelming senseof certainty.
"What was the poor devil doing here?" he asked. "Why did he buryhimself in this rock, with mining utensils and a few rough stores? Hecould not be a castaway. There is the indication of purpose, ofpreparation, of method combined with ignorance, for none who knew theways of Dyaks and Chinese pirates would venture to live here alone, ifhe could help it, and if he really were alone." The thing was amystery, would probably remain a mystery for ever.
"Be it steel or be it lead, Anyhow the man is dead."
There was relief in hearing his own voice. He could hum, and think, andact. Arming himself with the axe he attacked the bushes and branches oftrees in front of the cave. He cut a fresh approach to the well, andthrew the litter over the skeleton. At first he was inclined to bury itwhere it lay, but he disliked the idea of Iris walking unconsciouslyover the place. No time could be wasted that day. He would seize anearly opportunity to act as grave-digger.
After an absence of little more than an hour he rejoined the girl. Shesaw him from afar, and wondered whence he obtained the axe heshouldered.
"You are a successful explorer," she cried when he drew near.
"Yes, Miss Deane. I have found water, implements, a shelter, evenlight."
"What sort of light--spiritual, or material?"
"Oil."
"Oh!"
Iris could not remain serious for many consecutive minutes, but shegathered that he was in no mood for frivolity.
"And the shelter--is it a house?" she continued.
"No, a cave. If you are sufficiently rested you might come and takepossession."
Her eyes danced with excitement. He told her what he had seen, withreservations, and she ran on before him to witness these marvels.
"Why did you make a new path to the well?" she inquired after a rapidsurvey.
"A new path!" The pertinent question staggered him.
"Yes, the people who lived here must have had some sort of freepassage."
He lied easily. "I have only cleared away recent growth," he said.
"And why did they dig a cave? It surely would be much more simple tobuild a house from all these trees."
"There you puzzle me," he said frankly.
They had entered the cavern but a little way and now came out.
"These empty cartridges are funny. They suggest a fort, a battle."Woman-like, her words were carelessly chosen, but they were crammedwith inductive force.
Embarked on the toboggan slope of untruth the sailor slid smoothlydownwards.
"Events have colored your imagination, Miss Deane. Even in England menoften preserve such things for future use. They can be reloaded."
"Yes, I have seen keepers do that. This is different. There is an airof--"
"There is a lot to be done," broke in Jenks emphatically. "We mustclimb the hill and get back here in time to light another fire beforethe sun goes down. I want to prop a canvas sheet in front of the cave,and try to devise a lamp."
"Must I sleep inside?" demanded Iris.
"Yes. Where else?"
There was a pause, a mere whiff of awkwardness.
"I will mount guard outside," went on Jenks. He was trying to improvethe edge of the axe by grinding it on a soft stone.
The girl went into the cave again. She was inquisitive, uneasy.
"That arrangement--" she began, but ended in a sharp cry of terror. Thedispossessed birds had returned during the sailor's absence.
"I will kill them," he shouted in anger.
"Please don't. There has been enough of death in this place already."
The words jarred on his ears. Then he felt that she could only alludeto the victims of the wreck.
"I was going to say," she explained, "that we must devise a partition.There is no help for it until you construct a sort of house. Candidly,I do not like this hole in the rock. It is a vault, a tomb."
"You told me that I was in command, yet you dispute my orders." Hestrove hard to appear brusquely good-humored, indifferent, though forone of his mould he was absurdly irritable. The cause was over-strain,but that explanation escaped him.
"Quite true. But if sleeping in the cold, in dew or rain, is bad forme, it must be equally bad for you. And without you I am helpless, youknow."
His arms twitched to give her a reassuring hug. In some respects shewas so childlike; her
big blue eyes were so ingenuous. He laughedsardonically, and the harsh note clashed with her frank candor. Here,at least, she was utterly deceived. His changeful moods wereincomprehensible.
"I will serve you to the best of my ability, Miss Deane," he exclaimed."We must hope for a speedy rescue, and I am inured to exposure. It isotherwise with you. Are you ready for the climb?"
Mechanically she picked up a stick at her feet. It was the sailor'swand of investigation. He snatched it from her hands and threw it awayamong the trees.
"That is a dangerous alpenstock," he said. "The wood is unreliable. Itmight break. I will cut you a better one," and he swung the axe againsta tall sapling.
Iris mentally described him as "funny." She followed him in the upwardcurve of the ascent, for the grade was not difficult and the groundsmooth enough, the storms of years having pulverized the rock anddriven sand into its clefts. The persistent inroads of the trees haddone the rest. Beyond the flight of birds and the scampering of sometiny monkeys overhead, they did not disturb a living creature.
The crest of the hill was tree-covered, and they could see nothingbeyond their immediate locality until the sailor found a point higherthan the rest, where a rugged collection of hard basalt and theuprooting of some poon trees provided an open space elevated above theridge.
For a short distance the foothold was precarious. Jenks helped the girlin this part of the climb. His strong, gentle grasp gave herconfidence. She was flushed with exertion when they stood together onthe summit of this elevated perch. They could look to every point ofthe compass except a small section on the south-west. Here the treesrose behind them until the brow of the precipice was reached.
The emergence into a sunlit panorama of land and sea, though expected,was profoundly enthralling. They appeared to stand almost exactly inthe center of the island, which was crescent-shaped. It was no largerthan the sailor had estimated. The new slopes now revealed were coveredwith verdure down to the very edge of the water, which, for nearly amile seawards, broke over jagged reefs. The sea looked strangely calmfrom this height. Irregular blue patches on the horizon to south andeast caught the man's first glance. He unslung the binoculars he stillcarried and focused them eagerly.
"Islands!" he cried, "and big ones, too!"
"How odd!" whispered Iris, more concerned in the scrutiny of herimmediate surroundings. Jenks glanced at her sharply. She was notlooking at the islands, but at a curious hollow, a quarry-likedepression beneath them to the right, distant about three hundred yardsand not far removed from the small plateau containing the well, thoughisolated from it by the south angle of the main cliff.
Here, in a great circle, there was not a vestige of grass, shrub, ortree, nothing save brown rock and sand. At first the sailor deemed itto be the dried-up bed of a small lake. This hypothesis would notserve, else it would be choked with verdure. The pit stared up at themlike an ominous eye, though neither paid further attention to it, forthe glorious prospect mapped at their feet momentarily swept aside allother considerations.
"What a beautiful place!" murmured Iris. "I wonder what it is called."
"Limbo."
The word came instantly. The sailor's gaze was again fixed on thosedistant blue outlines. Miss Deane was dissatisfied.
"Nonsense!" she exclaimed. "We are not dead yet. You must find a bettername than that."
"Well, suppose we christen it Rainbow Island?"
"Why 'Rainbow'?"
"That is the English meaning of 'Iris,' in Latin, you know."
"So it is. How clever of you to think of it! Tell me, what is themeaning of 'Robert,' in Greek?"
He turned to survey the north-west side of the island. "I do not know,"he answered. "It might not be far-fetched to translate it as 'a ship'ssteward: a menial.'"
Miss Iris had meant her playful retort as a mere light-hearted quibble.It annoyed her, a young person of much consequence, to have her kindlycondescension repelled.
"I suppose so," she agreed; "but I have gone through so much in a fewhours that I am bewildered, apt to forget these nice distinctions."
Where these two quareling, or flirting? Who can tell?
Jenks was closely examining the reef on which the _Sirdar_ struck.Some square objects were visible near the palm tree. The sun, glintingon the waves, rendered it difficult to discern their significance.
"What do you make of those?" he inquired, handing the glasses, andblandly ignoring Miss Deane's petulance. Her brain was busy with otherthings while she twisted the binoculars to suit her vision. RainbowIsland--Iris--it was a nice conceit. But "menial" struck a discordantnote. This man was no menial in appearance or speech. Why was he sodeliberately rude?
"I think they are boxes or packing-cases," she announced.
"Ah, that was my own idea. I must visit that locality."
"How? Will you swim?"
"No," he said, his stern lips relaxing in a smile, "I will not swim;and by the way, Miss Deane, be careful when you are near the water. Thelagoon is swarming with sharks at present. I feel tolerably assuredthat at low tide, when the remnants of the gale have vanished, I willbe able to walk there along the reef."
"Sharks!" she cried. "In there! What horrible surprises this speck ofland contains! I should not have imagined that sharks and seals couldlive together."
"You are quite right," he explained, with becoming gravity. "As a rulesharks infest only the leeward side of these islands. Just now they areattracted in shoals by the wreck."
"Oh." Iris shivered slightly.
"We had better go back now. The wind is keen here, Miss Deane."
HE WAS SO BUSY THAT HE PAID LITTLE HEED TO IRIS, BUT THEODOR OF FRIED HAM WAS WAFTED TO HIM]
She knew that he purposely misunderstood her gesture. His attitudeconveyed a rebuke. There was no further room for sentiment in theirpresent existence; they had to deal with chill necessities. As for thesailor, he was glad that the chance turn of their conversation enabledhim to warn her against the lurking dangers of the lagoon. There was noneed to mention the devil-fish now; he must spare her all avoidablethrills.
They gathered the stores from the first _al fresco_ dining-roomand reached the cave without incident. Another fire was lighted, andwhilst Iris attended to the kitchen the sailor felled several youngtrees. He wanted poles, and these were the right size and shape. Hesoon cleared a considerable space. The timber was soft and so small ingirth that three cuts with the axe usually sufficed. He dragged fromthe beach the smallest tarpaulin he could find, and propped it againstthe rock in such manner that it effectually screened the mouth of thecave, though admitting light and air.
He was so busy that he paid little heed to Iris. But the odor of friedham was wafted to him. He was lifting a couple of heavy stones to staythe canvas and keep it from flapping in the wind, when the girl calledout--
"Wouldn't you like to have a wash before dinner?"
He straightened himself and looked at her. Her face and hands wereshining, spotless. The change was so great that his brow wrinkled withperplexity.
"I am a good pupil," she cried. "You see I am already learning to helpmyself. I made a bucket out of one of the dish-covers by slinging it intwo ropes. Another dish-cover, some sand and leaves supplied basin,soap, and towel. I have cleaned the tin cups and the knives, and see,here is my greatest treasure."
She held up a small metal lamp.
"Where in the world did you find that?" he exclaimed.
"Buried in the sand inside the cave."
"Anything else?"
His tone was abrupt She was so disappointed by the seeming want ofappreciation of her industry that a gleam of amusement died from hereyes and she shook her head, stooping at once to attend to the toastingof some biscuits.
This time he was genuinely sorry.
"Forgive me, Miss Deane," he said penitently. "My words are dictated byanxiety. I do not wish you to make discoveries on your own account.This is a strange place, you know--an unpleasant one in some respects."
"Surel
y I can rummage about my own cave?"
"Most certainly. It was careless of me not to have examined itsinterior more thoroughly."
"Then why do you grumble because I found the lamp?"
"I did not mean any such thing. I am sorry."
"I think you are horrid. If you want to wash you will find the waterover there. Don't wait. The ham will be frizzled to a cinder."
Unlucky Jenks! Was ever man fated to incur such unmerited odium? Hesavagely laved his face and neck. The fresh cool water was delightfulat first, but it caused his injured nail to throb dreadfully. When hedrew near to the fire he experienced an unaccountable sensation ofweakness. Could it be possible that he was going to faint? It was tooabsurd. He sank to the ground. Trees, rocks, and sand-strewn earthindulged in a mad dance. Iris's voice sounded weak and indistinct. Itseemed to travel in waves from a great distance. He tried to brush awayfrom his brain these dim fancies, but his iron will for once failed,and he pitched headlong downwards into darkness.
When he recovered the girl's left arm was round his neck. For oneblissful instant he nestled there contentedly. He looked into her eyesand saw that she was crying. A gust of anger rose within him that heshould be the cause of those tears.
"Damn!" he said, and tried to rise.
"Oh! are you better?" Her lips quivered pitifully.
"Yes. What happened? Did I faint?"
"Drink this."
She held a cup to his mouth and he obediently strove to swallow thecontents. It was champagne. After the first spasm of terror, and whenthe application of water to his face failed to restore consciousness,Iris had knocked the head off the bottle of champagne.
He quickly revived. Nature had only given him a warning that he wasoverdrawing his resources. He was deeply humiliated. He did notconceive the truth, that only a strong man could do all that he haddone and live. For thirty-six hours he had not slept. During part ofthe time he fought with wilder beasts than they knew at Ephesus. Thelong exposure to the sun, the mental strain of his foreboding that thecharming girl whose life depended upon him might be exposed to evenworse dangers than any yet encountered, the physical labor he hadundergone, the irksome restraint he strove to place upon his conductand utterances--all these things culminated in utter relaxation whenthe water touched his heated skin.
But he was really very much annoyed. A powerful man always is annoyedwhen forced to yield. The revelation of a limit to human enduranceinfuriates him. A woman invariably thinks that the man should bescolded, by way of tonic.
"How _could_ you frighten me so?" demanded Iris, hysterically."You must have felt that you were working too hard. You made me rest.Why didn't you rest yourself?"
He looked at her wistfully. This collapse must not happen again, forher sake. These two said more with eyes than lips. She withdrew herarm; her face and neck crimsoned.
"There," she said with compelled cheerfulness. "You are all right now.Finish the wine."
He emptied the tin. It gave him new life. "I always thought," heanswered gravely, "that champagne was worth its weight in gold undercertain conditions. These are the conditions."
Iris reflected, with elastic rebound from despair to relief, that menin the lower ranks of life do not usually form theories on theexpensive virtues of the wine of France. But her mind was suddenlyoccupied by a fresh disaster.
"Good gracious!" she cried. "The ham is ruined."
It was burnt black. She prepared a fresh supply. When it was ready,Jenks was himself again. They ate in silence, and shared the remains ofthe bottle. The man idly wondered what was the _plat du jour_ atthe Savoy that evening. He remembered that the last time he was therehe had called for _Jambon de York aux epinards_ and half a pint ofHeidseck.
"_Coelum non animum mutant, qui trans mare currant_," he thought.By a queer trick of memory he could recall the very page in Horacewhere this philosophical line occurs. It was in the eleventh epistle ofthe first book. A smile illumined his tired face.
Iris was watchful. She had never in her life cooked even a potato orboiled an egg. The ham was her first attempt.
"My cooking amuses you?" she demanded suspiciously.
"It gratifies every sense," he murmured. "There is but one thingneedful to complete my happiness."
"And that is?"
"Permission to smoke."
"Smoke what?"
He produced a steel box, tightly closed, and a pipe, "I will answer youin Byron's words," he said--
"'Sublime tobacco! which from east to west Cheers the tar's labour or the Turkman's rest.'"
"Your pockets are absolute shops," said the girl, delighted that histemper had improved. "What other stores do you carry about with you?"
He lit his pipe and solemnly gave an inventory of his worldly goods.Beyond the items she had previously seen he could only enumerate asilver dollar, a very soiled and crumpled handkerchief, and a bit oftin. A box of Norwegian matches he threw away as useless, but Irisrecovered them.
"You never know what purpose they may serve," she said. In after days aweird significance was attached to this simple phrase.
"Why do you carry about a bit of tin?" she went on.
How the atmosphere of deception clung to him! Here was a man compelledto lie outrageously who, in happier years, had prided himself onscrupulous accuracy even in small things.
"Plague upon it!" he silently protested. "Subterfuge and deceit are asmuch at home in this deserted island as in Mayfair."
"I found it here, Miss Deane," he answered.
Luckily she interpreted "here" as applying to the cave.
"Let me see it. May I?"
He handed it to her. She could make nothing of it, so together theypuzzled over it. The sailor rubbed it with a mixture of kerosene andsand. Then figures and letters and a sort of diagram were revealed. Atlast they became decipherable. By exercising patient ingenuity some onehad indented the metal with a sharp punch until the marks assumed thisaspect (see cut, following page).
Iris was quick-witted. "It is a plan of the island," she cried.
"Also the latitude and the longitude."
"What does 'J.S.' mean?"
"Probably the initials of a man's name; let us say John Smith, forinstance."
"And the figures on the island, with the 'X' and the dot?"
"I cannot tell you at present," he said. "I take it that the lineacross the island signifies this gap or canyon, and the smallintersecting line the cave. But 32 divided by 1, and an 'X' surmountedby a dot are cabalistic. They would cause even Sherlock Holmes to smokeat least two pipes. I have barely started one."
She ran to fetch a glowing stick to enable him to relight his pipe.
"Why do you give me such nasty little digs?" she asked. "You need nothave stopped smoking just because I stood close to you."
"Really, Miss Deane--"
"There, don't protest. I like the smell of that tobacco. I thoughtsailors invariably smoked rank, black stuff which they call thicktwist."
"I am a beginner, as a sailor. After a few more years before the mast Imay hope to reach perfection."
Their eyes exchanged a quaintly pleasant challenge. Thus the man--"Sheis determined to learn something of my past, but she will not succeed."
And the woman--"The wretch! He is close as an oyster. But I will makehim open his mouth, see if I don't."
She reverted to the piece of tin. "It looks quite mysterious, like thethings you read of in stories of pirates and buried treasure."
"Yes," he admitted. "It is unquestionably a plan, a guidance, given toa person not previously acquainted with the island but cognizant ofsome fact connected with it. Unfortunately none of the buccaneers I canbring to mind frequented these seas. The poor beggar who left it heremust have had some other motive than searching for a cache."
"Did he dig the cave and the well, I wonder?"
"Probably the former, but not the well. No man could do it unaided."
"Why do you assume he was alone?"
He strolled towards th
e fire to kick a stray log. "It is only idlespeculation at the best, Miss Deane," he replied. "Would you like tohelp me to drag some timber up from the beach? If we get a few bigplanks we can build a fire that will last for hours. We want some extraclothes, too, and it will soon be dark."
The request for co-operation gratified her. She complied eagerly, andwithout much exertion they hauled a respectable load of firewood totheir new camping-ground. They also brought a number of coats to serveas coverings. Then Jenks tackled the lamp. Between the rust and thesoreness of his index finger it was a most difficult operation to openit.
Before the sun went down he succeeded, and made a wick by unraveling afew strands of wool from his jersey. When night fell, with thesuddenness of the tropics, Iris was able to illuminate her smalldomain.
They were both utterly tired and ready to drop with fatigue. The girlsaid "Good night," but instantly reappeared from behind the tarpaulin.
"Am I to keep the lamp alight?" she inquired.
"Please yourself, Miss Deane. Better not, perhaps. It will only burnfour or five hours, any way."
Soon the light vanished, and he lay down, his pipe between his teeth,close to the cave's entrance. Weary though he was, he could not sleepforthwith. His mind was occupied with the signs on the canister head.
"32 divided by 1; an 'X' and a dot," he repeated several times. "Whatdo they signify?"
Suddenly he sat up, with every sense alert, and grabbed his revolver.Something impelled him to look towards the spot, a few feet away, wherethe skeleton was hidden. It was the rustling of a bird among the treesthat had caught his ear.
He thought of the white framework of a once powerful man, lying thereamong the bushes, abandoned, forgotten, horrific. Then he smothered acry of surprise.
"By Jove!" he muttered. "There is no 'X' and dot. That sign is meantfor a skull and cross-bones. It lies exactly on the part of the islandwhere we saw that queer-looking bald patch today. First thing tomorrow,before the girl awakes, I must examine that place."
He resolutely stretched himself on his share of the spread-out coats,now thoroughly dried by sun and fire. In a minute he was sound asleep.
