by G. A. Henty
“He’s only stunned, I believe, after all,” cried our hero.
The captain unscrewed the top of the flask and poured a mouthful of wine between the teeth of the senseless lad.
In a minute it took effect.
Jack sighed and opened his eyes.
“Let’s get him on board the yacht at once,” exclaimed the captain.
First, however, he passed his hand along each limb, and then felt Jack’s ribs.
The patient winced at the last experiment and uttered a low cry.
“Legs and arms all right,” muttered the captain, as he with our hero’s help carried the boy to the small boat; “so, if a rib’s broken, he must consider himself well out of a bad scrape.”
Bob again pulled his hardest, and when alongside the yacht his comrade with some difficulty was got on board.
It was not until late that evening that Jack was able to tell of his wonderful escape.
“I don’t know much about it,” he said, “but never shall I forget the awful feeling as I shot over the edge of the precipice.
“Of course I thought that I should fall down a well that penetrated right through the berg into the sea.
“However, instead of that, I did not fall a great distance before I came down feet first among a lot of pieces of loose ice, or, if not loose, they gave way with me, and together we went clattering down a second slope.
“All of a sudden I was pulled up by my rifle, which was slung round my shoulders, getting jammed across the passage.
“I tried to gain my feet, but failed; the slope was too smooth and steep.
“There was but one thing for it, and that was to go on.
“I slipped the sling over my head, and away I went again.
“Then came another fall.
“This nearly knocked me senseless.
“I just remember another slide, then daylight, then a last fall, and I lost all consciousness, only coming to myself to find you leaning over me.”
“How is your side?” asked the captain. “Your escape was most wonderful. Another foot farther, and you would have been drowned.”
“It was, as you say, a narrow escape. As for my side, I must say it’s rather painful.”
However, on the captain pressing it, he came to the conclusion that no ribs were broken.
It was bandaged up, and Jack was able to walk about, thankful that things were not worse.
CHAPTER IX
The Volcano of Ice
For three long days the Dart bore away northwest, the direction in which the last had been seen of the missing boat.
“Luckily it’s the right course to steer for the Siberian coast,” remarked the captain, as he sat over his wine after midday dinner. “We shall sight the high land to-morrow morning, if not before”
“Surely we shall come across the boat in time, captain?” remarked Bob.
“Well, we have had wonderfully fine weather,” replied the captain. “But, after all she was but a cutter, handled by a lunatic.”
And he and Bob interchanged looks of despair as they ascended the companion ladder.
“Bok, go to the foremast-head,” ordered the captain. “Take the glass, and have a look around.”
The sailor slung the telescope over his shoulder and nimbly mounted the rigging.
When he arrived at the topgallant-yard he passed his arm round the skypole, and, adjusting the glass, swept the line of the horizon.
There was a long pause.
“Deck ahoy!”
“What is it?” bellowed the captain.
“Sure, there is a mist, or smoke right ahead, and above it I see what looks like the top of a mountain,” replied the Irishman.
“Nothing else?”
“There is a low, flat berg.”
“Nothing more? No sign of a boat-sail?”
“Nothing the size of a pocket handkerchief, yer honor.”
“Well, we must give up the search for the present and start for the Siberian shore. But I give you my word, Bob, I shall not give up this hunt for many a week.”
The wind fell light, and the Dart did not make more than three knots an hour during that afternoon.
The strange misty appearance still hung over the water.
They were gradually approaching it, and it was not more than a couple of miles ahead, when, as the sun set, the captain and the two boys went to supper, leaving Leeks in charge of the deck.
They had just finished their meal when the latter shouted down the companion for them to come up.
An extraordinary scene met their gaze when they reached the deck.
The yacht was still in moderately smooth water, but a quarter of a mile before her the sea was covered with a thick mist, while it was tossed hither and thither in tumbling waves, which met and crossed one another in wild confusion.
As they looked a thick body of smoke was belched from the midst of the turmoil.
“Port! hard aport!” shouted the captain. “Round with the yards! Flatten in the jib! Be smart, there!”
Rushing forward, followed by Bok and Jack, the captain himself seized the rope and aided the sailors to execute his orders, while Leeks attended to the jib.
Bok was at the wheel.
When on the new tack the Dart was not a cable’s length from the boiling water.
“It’s a subterranean eruption!” exclaimed the captain. “Look—look yonder!”
Where he pointed, from the midst of the curling waves, a great black patch of what seemed to be mud rose above the surface.
Round it were thick columns of smoke, which instantly shut it out from view.
The wind chopped round, and a fierce gust came, laden with steam and smoke, from the north.
The yacht heeled over till her copper sheeting gleamed above the water-line.
Gasping for breath, for a fearful stench accompanied the smoke, which enveloped them, all on board could do nothing but hold on to whatever was handiest.
A rushing, roaring sound filled their ears as the Dart dashed onward, throwing the boiling water in showers of spray over her bows.
The men forward were forced to stagger aft.
It looked as if the Dart was doomed!
CHAPTER X
The Escape of the “Dart”
For fully ten minutes no one could tell whether the yacht would right herself or not.
Captain Sumner, aided by our hero and Jack, at length found the topgallant halyards, and lowered the sail in the peak.
We say found, for the darkness was intense.
Then the gallant little vessel, as if freed from an overpowering load, came up to her bracings.
Once more she flew with increased speed through the water.
A few seconds and the star-lit sky again appeared overhead, and the rolling smoke wreaths were left behind.
“Heavens!” cried the captain; “never in all my life have I seen the like. What a death to have escaped!”
As if exhausted with its own fury, the squall subsided as suddenly as it had sprung up. The smoke gradually blew away.
And there, over the starboard quarter, some two miles distant, lay a long, low, black island.
“Look! look!” yelled Bob suddenly.
All eyes followed his outstretched hand.
There on the shore rested a familiar-looking boat, containing three figures—Mrs. Cromwell, Viola, and the madman.
Mrs. Cromwell and Viola were waving their hands. Then, assured they were seen, both fell back unconscious.
As for the mad sailor, he never stirred. He was dead.
It did not take the captain and Bob long to reach the women folks. They were taken on board the Dart, and, after Bob had kissed his mother and the captain had hugged his daughter, and both were given food, they told their story.
“When the madman struck Bob I nearly fainted,” said Mrs. Cromwell. “When I came to he had hoisted the sail, and we were leaving the shore. The crazy fellow was eating some ship biscuit, which lay in a basket.
&nb
sp; “When the madman had appeased his hunger he looked at us for some minutes without speaking.
“We were dreadfully frightened, but he never once came aft to annoy us.
“He placed some tinned meat and water near us, and then sat by the mast, singing loudly and rocking himself backward and forward.
“Viola and myself slept in turn; but the madman sat in the bow, looking out ahead, hour after hour.
“When the wind rose and the waves broke into the cutter he reefed the sail, and managed her wonderfully well.
“Still he never spoke.
“A shower fell, and Viola and myself collected the water and had a good drink.
“Another time snow fell.
“This also we collected and put into the barrel.
“Time after time a fresh can of meat was placed out for us.
“But we ate very sparingly.
“I think at this period the man’s senses were returning to him, for soon after he spoke.
“He told us he did not know where we were, but trusted it was off the coast of Siberia, and that we had every chance of being picked up.
“He said that his name was Charlow, and that he had been mate of a brig that had been wrecked, but he had gone mad through misery, loneliness, and want.
“We had just sighted the coast, when first the smoke from your vessel came into view.
“Charlow was very weak, but he altered the direction the boat was going, and told us how to steer toward you.
“Presently the yacht came in sight, and we tried to get him to put us on board; but he was too weak, and just before Bob saw us he breathed his last.”
Such was Mrs. Cromwell’s narrative, and Viola corroborated it.
A happy day was spent on board of the Dart. “I trust we are never separated again,” said Bob to his mother.
“So do I, Bob,” she returned fondly. Then she gave a sigh. “I wonder when we will reach Cedar Island. I see nothing like cedar trees around here.”
“The map has but one cedar on it,” he returned. “It must have floated up here in the water and taken root in the ice. Even Captain Sumner can’t understand that part of it.”
On the following day the Dart again set sail for the coast of Siberia.
They were well into the sea of Kamtchatka, and felt that they must soon strike the spot mentioned in Ruel Gross’ memorandums, if the old sailor had taken his observations correctly.
“If only we were sure father was alive!” Bob murmured more than once.
Three days passed, and Bob was one morning in the foretop when suddenly he gave a wild shout.
“Land ahoy!”
“Where away?” asked Captain Sumner quickly.
For from the deck nothing but icebergs were to be seen.
“To the northwest, sir. Will you let me have the glass?”
The glass was quickly brought and adjusted. The captain gave one glance.
“Ah! Bob, look!”
The boy did so, and then gave a shout that brought everyone on board on deck.
“Cedar Island!”
CHAPTER XI
Among A Strange Foe
It was true.
Far off to the northwest they could see the shore of a land that was covered with ice and snow.
The snow was of a reddish color, and the ice a deep blue.
But this was not all, nor by far the strangest part of the picture.
On the top of a hill, amid the snow, there stood a large cedar tree.
Its heavy branches swayed in the breeze mournfully; for though standing as if planted, the tree was dead.
For several minutes those on the Dart viewed the scene.
Then Bob broke the spell.
“Do you know what I think?” he said.
“I think that dead cedar was stuck up on the hill for a guide.”
“Perhaps you are right,” returned Captain Sumner. “One thing is certain—we have reached Cedar Island, as Gross called it. Probably the ground has a Russian name a yard long.”
“Let us waste no time in getting ashore,” cried Bob. “My father may be waiting for us!”
At this the captain said nothing, not wishing to hurt the boy’s feelings. But the Dart continued on her course, and soon they dropped anchor in deep water but a few rods from the edge of the land.
Bob was the first to enter the small boat. He was followed by the captain and Jack and two sailors.
The shore of the land reached, they gazed around curiously.
“Looks deserted,” said Bob, in a disappointed tone of voice. “But come on up to the cedar. We may be able to discover something from the top of the hill.” The ascent was quickly made by Bob, but scarcely was the top gained than a shout was heard from below.
“Savages!”
Bob was right. The sight that met his eyes startled him as he had never been startled before.
Rushing forward, they perceived the yacht surrounded by a half-score of canoes.
Two others were drawn up on the beach, and half a dozen or more copper-colored savages were standing round the dingy.
“We must save our boat at any cost!” cried Captain Sumner.
As they dashed down the hill the savages turned, armed with clubs, to face them.
One was bending a bow, but a shot from Bob’s gun broke his arm.
Jack also fired, and the aborigines, all save one, took to flight, jumping into one of the canoes.
This brave chief, for such he looked, wielding a heavy club with both hands, rushed at our hero.
Bob threw up his gun to parry the blow.
The weapon was struck from his hand, but the blow fell harmless.
Before the tall savage could regain his balance Bob bounded on him, clasping him round the body.
But if our hero was strong, the native was stronger.
Dropping his club, he seized his adversary’s throat, and, forcing back his head, made him relinquish his hold.
Then, seizing him round the waist, he flung him at the captain, whom he upset, at the same instant springing into the sea and swimming after his companions.
The whole affair did not last a minute.
Jack, who had reloaded, fired upon the overcrowded canoe.
Two paddles fell into the water and drifted away.
No sooner did they clamber on board than they were saluted with a score of spears, which stuck in the masts and deck, one passing through the fleshy part of a sailor’s arm.
“Here, man, go below and bathe it in brandy,” cried the captain. “Drink some, too. The rest of you get under shelter of the bulwarks.
“I have heard that these fellows poison their spears and arrowheads,” he continued to our hero.
“Will they come back, do you think?” questioned Bob.
“Perhaps—we must remain on guard.”
The next few hours were very anxious ones on board of the Dart.
CHAPTER XII
Bob’s Discovery
Night came, and the hostile natives showed no sign of returning.
A strict watch was kept until morning, but nothing out of the ordinary happened.
In the meantime Captain Sumner and Bob examined the map with great care and also read and reread the papers Ruel Gross had left behind him.
“Let us go on another tour of exploration,” said the captain, on the following day. “If those natives come back Bok can fire a gun to warn us.”
The boy readily agreed and they set off without delay.
Once under the dead cedar tree they looked around them curiously.
A short distance further inland they saw a hollow, which had evidently at one time been a camp.
Tin cans were strewn around, along with a number of fish and animal bones.
“I wonder if father and Ruel Gross once encamped here?” thought Bob.
Hardly had the idea occurred to him than Captain Sumner set up a shout.
He was pointing to a post set up in the ice. To the top of the post was attached a rude sign,
which read:
“To the Svlachkys’ Camp—One Mile.”
“Hurrah! here’s a discovery!” cried Bob. “Shall we go on?”
“Yes; but let us advance with extreme caution. These Svlachkys may be very bad people.”
“Undoubtedly there are, or they wouldn’t keep my father a prisoner,” rejoined Bob.
“That signpost must be the work of Ruel Gross,” went on the captain. “The savages haven’t dared to touch it, thinking there was something supernatural attached to it—something to injure them.”
On went the captain and Bob, down one hill of ice and up another. It was extremely cold, but neither minded that.
At last they reached a portion of the island that was very uneven. Great chasms yawned to the right and left of them. It was with difficulty that they pushed forward.
But they were bound to go on, and go they did, until at the mouth of what looked like a cave of ice the captain called a halt.
“Listen!” he whispered. “I hear voices.”
Bob listened. Captain Sumner was right. From the cavern came the sounds of several human tongues.
“They are not speaking Russian,” said the captain. “Perhaps we have stumbled upon more savages.”
Hardly had he spoken when three human beings came into view.
They were bundled up in furs, in strong contrast to the other natives, who had scarcely any body-covering.
The new-comers were jabbering among themselves at a great rate. Presently they came to a halt before a large slab of ice.
They tugged and pounded on this until the slab fell to one side, revealing a strange-looking opening.
“What are they up to now?” whispered Bob.
“I don’t know—wait.”
They waited. Presently the three men disappeared within the opening. Soon a smoke came out, and they saw that firebrands had been lit to light up the scene.
“That may be the place where the stone chest is kept,” said Bob.
“More likely it is a burial place,” replied Captain Sumner. “I’ve seen such spots before. Maybe they’re preparing for a funeral.”
“Can’t we get a little closer to them?”
“It would not be safe. Hark!”
From a distance they heard the mournful toot of a large horn.
“That’s a funeral horn, I’m sure,” said the captain. “If they are coming this way we had better—Hullo! look!”
