by G. A. Henty
“‘Ah, my leetle boy!’ he said, ‘you have just come in time. I have been shot through the body. I was not in de fight, but was standing near when dey rushed at de officer on watch. De first pistol he fire missed de man he aim at and hit me. Well, it was shust as well. I am too old to care for living among de black peoples, and I did not want a black wife at all. So matters haf not turned out so vera bad. Get me some water.’
“I got him some, but in five minutes the poor old Dutchman was dead. There was no one on deck. All were shouting and singing in the captain’s cabin, so I went and turned in forward. Morning was just breaking when I suddenly woke. There was a great light, and running on deck I saw the fire pouring out from the cabin aft. I suppose they had all drunk themselves stupid and had upset a light, and the fire had spread and suffocated them all. Anyhow, there were none of them to be seen. I got hold of a water keg and placed it in a boat which luckily hung out on its davits, as Jans had, the day before, been calking a seam in her side just above the water’s edge. I made a shift to lower it, threw off the falls, and getting out the oars, rowed off. I lay by for some little time, but did not see a soul on deck. Then, as I had nowhere particular to go, I lay down and slept. On getting up I found that I had drifted two or three miles from the ship, which was now a mere smoking shell, the greater part being burnt to the Water’s edge. Two miles to the north lay the land, and getting out an oar at the stern I sculled her to shore. I suppose I had been seen, or that the flames of the ship had called down the people, for there they were in the bay, and such a lot of creatures I never set eyes on. Men and women alike was pretty nigh naked, and dirt is no name for them. Though I was but a boy I was taller than most. They came round me and jabbered and jabbered till I was nigh deafened. Over and over again they pointed to the ship. I thought they wanted to know whether I belonged to it, but it couldn’t have been that, because when I nodded a lot of ’em jumped into some canoes which was lying ashore, and taking me with them paddled off to the ship. I suppose they really wanted to know if they could have what they could find. That wasn’t much, but it seemed a treasure to them. There was a lot of burned beams floating about alongside, and all of these which had iron or copper bolts or fastenings they took in tow and rowed ashore. We hadn’t been gone many hundred yards from the vessel when she sunk. Well, young gentlemen, for upwards of two years I lived with them critturs. My clothes soon wore out, and I got to be as naked and dirty as the rest of ’em. They were good hands at fishing, and could spear a fish by the light of a torch wonderful. In other respects they didn’t seem to have much sense. They lived, when I first went there, in holes scratched in the side of a hill, but I taught ’em to make huts, making a sort of ax out of the iron saved. In summer they used to live in these, but in winter, when it was awful cold, we lived in the holes, which were a sight warmer than the huts. Law, what a time that was! I had no end of adventures with wild beasts. The way the lions used to roar and the elephants—”
“I think, Jack,” Ruthven interrupted, “that this must be one of the embellishments which have crept in since you first began telling the tale. I don’t think I should keep it in if I were you, because the fact that there are neither lions or elephants in South America throws a doubt upon the accuracy of this portion of your story.”
“It may be, sir,” the sailor said, with a twinkle of his eyes, “that the elephants and lions may not have been in the first story. Now I think of it, I can’t recall that they were; but, you see, people wants to know all about it. They ain’t satisfied when I tell ’em that I lived two years among these chaps. They wants to know how I passed my time, and whether there were any wild beasts, and a lot of such like questions, and, in course, I must answer them. So then, you see, naturally, ’bellishments creeps in; but I did live there for two years, that’s gospel truth, and I did go pretty nigh naked, and in winter was pretty near starved to death over and over again. When the ground was too hard to dig up roots, and the sea was too rough for the canoes to put out, it went hard with us, and very often we looked more like living skelingtons than human beings. Every time a ship came in sight they used to hurry me away into the woods. I suppose they found me useful, and didn’t want to part with me. At last I got desperate, and made up my mind I’d make a bolt whatever came of it. They didn’t watch me when there were no ships near. I suppose they thought there was nowhere for me to run to, so one night I steals down to the shore, gets into a canoe, puts in a lot of roots which I had dug up and hidden away in readiness, and so makes off. I rowed hard all night, for I knew they would be after me when they found I had gone. Them straits is sometimes miles and miles across; at other times not much more than a ship’s length, and the tide runs through ’em like a mill race. I had chosen a time when I had the tide with me, and soon after morning I came to one of them narrow places. I should like to have stopped here, because it would have been handy for any ship as passed; but the tide run so strong, and the rocks were so steep on both sides, that I couldn’t make a landing. Howsomdever, directly it widened out, I managed to paddle into the back water and landed there. Well, gents, would you believe me, if there wasn’t two big allygaters sitting there with their mouths open ready to swallow me, canoe and all, when I came to shore.”
“No, Jack, I’m afraid we can’t believe that. We would if we could, you know, but alligators are not fond of such cold weather as you’d been having, nor do they frequent the seashore.”
“Ah, but this, you see, was a straits, Master Ruthven, just a narrow straits, and I expect the creatures took it for a river.”
“No, no, Jack, we can’t swallow the alligators, any more than they could swallow you and your canoe.”
“Well,” the sailor said with a sigh, “I won’t say no more about the allygaters. I can’t rightly recall when they came into the story. Howsomdever, I landed, you can believe that, you know.”
“Oh yes, we can quite believe, Jack, that, if you were there, in that canoe, in that back water, with the land close ahead, you did land.”
The sailor looked searchingly at Ruthven and then continued:
“I hauled the canoe up and hid it in some bushes, and it were well I did, for a short time afterwards a great—” and he paused. “Does the hippypotybus live in them ere waters, young gents?”
“He does not, Jack,” Ruthven said.
“Then it’s clear,” the sailor said, “that it wasn’t a hippypotybus. It must have been a seal.”
“Yes, it might have been a seal,” Ruthven said. “What did he do?”
“Well he just took a look at me, gents, winked with one eye, as much as to say, ‘I see you,’ and went down again. There warn’t nothing else as he could do, was there?”
“It was the best thing he could do anyhow,” Ruthven said.
“Well, gents, I lived there for about three weeks, and then a ship comes along, homeward bound, and I goes out and hails her. At first they thought as I was a native as had learned to speak English, and it wasn’t till they’d boiled me for three hours in the ship’s copper as they got at the color of my skin, and could believe as I was English. So I came back here and found the old woman still alive, and took to fishing again; but it was weeks and weeks before I could get her or any one else to believe as I was Jack Perkins. And that’s all the story, young gents. Generally I tells it a sight longer to the gents as come down from London in summer; but, you see, I can’t make much out of it when ye won’t let me have ’bellishments.”
“And how much of it is true altogether, Jack?” Frank asked. “Really how much?”
“It’s all true as I have told you, young masters,” the boatman said. “It were every bit true about the running down of the smack, and me being nearly killed by the skipper, and the mutiny, and the burning of the vessel, and my living for a long time—no, I won’t stick to the two years, but it might have been three weeks, with the natives before a ship picked me up. And that’s good enough for a yarn, ain’t it?”
“Quite good enough, Jack,
and we’re much obliged to you; but I should advise you to drop the embellishments in future.”
“It ain’t no use, Master Hargate, they will have ’bellishments, and if they will have ’em, Jack Perkins isn’t the man to disappint ’em; and, Lord bless you, sir, the stiffer I pitches it in the more liberal they is with their tips. Thank ye kindly all round, gentlemen. Yes, I do feel dry after the yarn.”
CHAPTER IV
A RISING TIDE
The half year was drawing to its close, and it was generally agreed at Dr. Parker’s that it had been the jolliest ever known. The boating episode and that of the tea at Oak Farm had been events which had given a fillip to existence. The school had been successful in the greater part of its cricket matches, and generally every one was well satisfied with himself. On the Saturday preceding the breaking up Frank, with Ruthven, Charlie Goodall and two of the other naturalists, started along the seashore to look for anemones and other marine creatures among the rocks and pools at the foot of the South Foreland. Between Ruthven and Frank a strong feeling of affection had grown up since the date of their boating adventure. They were constantly together now; and as Ruthven was also intended for the army, and would probably obtain his commission about the same time as Frank, they often talked over their future, and indulged in hopes that they might often meet, and that in their campaigns, they might go through adventures together.
Tide was low when they started. They had nearly three miles to walk. The pools in front of Deal and Walmer had often been searched, but they hoped that once round the Foreland they might light upon specimens differing from any which they had hitherto found. For some hours they searched the pools, retiring as the tide advanced. Then they went up to the foot of the cliffs, and sat down to open their cans and compare the treasures they had collected. The spot which they had unwittingly selected was a little bay. For a long time they sat comparing their specimens. Then Frank said, “Come along, it is time to be moving.”
As he rose to his feet he uttered an exclamation of dismay. Although the tide was still at some little distance from the spot where they were sitting, it had already reached the cliffs extending out at either end of the bay. A brisk wind was blowing on shore, and the waves were already splashing against the foot of the rocks.
The whole party leaped to their feet, and seizing their cans ran off at the top of their speed to the end of the bay.
“I will see how deep the water is,” Frank exclaimed; “we may yet be able to wade round.”
The water soon reached Frank’s waist. He waded on until it was up to his shoulders, and he had to leap as each wave approached him. Then he returned to his friends.
“I could see round,” he said, “and I think I could have got round without getting into deeper water. The worst of it is the bottom is all rocky, and I stumbled several times, and should have gone under water if I could not have swam. You can’t swim, Ruthven, I know; can you other fellows?”
Goodall could swim, as could one of the others.
“Now, Ruthven,” Frank said, “if you will put your hand on my shoulder and keep quiet, I think I could carry you around. Goodall and Jackson can take Childers.”
But neither of the other boys had much confidence in their swimming. They could get thirty or forty yards, but felt sure that they would be able to render but little assistance to Childers, and in fact scarcely liked to round the point alone. For some time they debated the question, the sea every minute rising and pushing them farther and farther from the point. “Look here, Frank,” Ruthven said at last; “you are not sure you can carry me. The others are quite certain that they cannot take Childers. We must give up that idea. The best thing, old boy, is for you three who can swim to start together. Then if either of the others fail you can help them a bit. Childers and I must take our chance here. When you get round you must send a boat as soon as possible.”
“I certainly shall not desert you, Ruthven,” Frank said. “You know as well as I do that I’m not likely to find a boat on the shore till I get pretty near Walmer Castle, and long before we could get back it would be settled here. No, no, old fellow, we will see the matter out together. Jackson and Goodall can swim round if they like.”
These lads, however, would not venture to take the risk alone, but said they would go if Frank would go with them.
“Chuck off your boots and coats and waistcoats,” Frank said suddenly, proceeding to strip rapidly to the skin. “I will take them round, Ruthven, and come back to you. Run round the bay you and Childers, and see if you can find any sort of ledge or projection that we can take refuge upon. Now, then, come on you two as quick as you can.”
The sea had already reached within a few feet of the foot of the cliff all round the bay.
“Now, mind,” Frank said sharply, “no struggling and nonsense, you fellows. I will keep quite close to you and stick to you, so you needn’t be afraid. If you get tired just put one hand on my back and swim with the other and your legs; and above all things keep your heads as low as possible in the water so as just to be able to breathe.”
The three lads soon waded out as far as they could go and then struck out. Jackson and Goodall were both poor swimmers and would have fared very badly alone. The confidence, however, which they entertained in Frank gave them courage, and they were well abreast of the point when first Jackson and then Goodall put their hands on his shoulders. Thanks to the instructions he had given them, and to their confidence in him, they placed no great weight upon him. But every ounce tells heavily on a swimmer, and Frank gave a gasp of relief as at last his feet touched the ground. Bidding his companions at once set off at a run he sat down for two or three minutes to recover his breath.
“It is lucky,” he said to himself, “that I did not try with Ruthven. It’s a very different thing carrying fellows who can swim and fellows who can’t. What fools we’ve been to let ourselves he caught here! I had no idea the tide came so high, or that it was so dangerous, and none of us have ever been round here before. Now I must go back to Ruthven.”
Frank found it even harder work to get back than it had been to come out from the bay, for the tide was against him now. At last he stood beside Ruthven and Childers.
“We can only find one place, Frank, where there is any projection a fellow could stand upon, and that is only large enough for one. See!” he said, pointing to a projecting block of chalk, whose upper surface, some eight inches wide, was tolerably flat. “There is a cave here, too, which may go beyond the tide. It is not deep but it slopes up a bit.”
“That will never do,” Frank said; “as the waves come in they will rush up and fill it to the top. Don’t you see it is all rounded by the water? Now, Childers, we will put you on that stone. You will be perfectly safe there, for you see it is two feet above this greenish line, which shows where the water generally comes to. The tides are not at spring at present, so though you may get a splashing there is no fear of your being washed off.”
The water was already knee deep at the foot of the rocks, and the waves took them nearly up to the shoulders. Ruthven did not attempt to dispute Frank’s allotment of the one place of safety to Childers. Frank and he placed themselves below the block of chalk, which was somewhat over six feet from the ground. Then Childers scrambled up on to their shoulders, and from these stepped onto the ledge.
“I am all right,” he said; “I wish to Heaven that you were too.”
“We shall do,” Frank said. “Mind you hold tight, Childers! You had better turn round with your face to the cliff, so as to be able to grip hold and steady yourself in case the waves come up high. The tide will turn in three quarters of an hour at the outside. Now, then, Ruthven, let’s make a fight for it, old man.”
“What are you going to do, Frank?”
“We will wade along here as far as we can towards the corner, and than we must swim for it.”
“Don’t you think it’s possible to stay here,” Ruthven said, “if the tide will turn so soon?”
“Quite impossible!” Frank said. “I have been nearly taken off my feet twice already, and the water will rise a yard yet, at least. We should be smashed against the rocks, even if we weren’t drowned. It must be tried, Ruthven. There is no other way for it. The distance is a good deal farther than it would have been if we had started at first; but it isn’t the distance that makes much matter. We’ve only got to go out a little way, and the tide will soon take us around the point. Everything depends on you. I can take you round the point, and land you safely enough, if you will lie quiet. If you don’t, you will drown both of us. So it’s entirely in your hands.
“Look out!”
At this moment a larger wave than usual took both boys off their legs, and dashed them with considerable force against the cliff. Frank seized Ruthven, and assisted him to regain his feet.
“Now, old fellow, let me put you on your back. I will lie on mine and tow you along. Don’t struggle; don’t move; above all, don’t try and lift your head, and don’t mind if a little water gets in your mouth. Now!”
For a moment Ruthven felt himself under water, and had to make a great effort to restrain himself from struggling to come to the surface. Then he felt himself lying on his back in the water, supported by Frank. The motion was not unpleasant as he rose and fell on the waves, although now and then a splash of water came over his face, and made him cough and splutter for breath. He could see nothing but the blue sky overhead, could feel nothing except that occasionally he received a blow from one or other of Frank’s knees, as the latter swam beneath him, with Ruthven’s head on his chest. It was a dreamy sensation, and looking back upon it afterwards Ruthven could never recall anything that he had thought of. It seemed simply a drowsy pleasant time, except when occasionally a wave covered his face. His first sensation was that of surprise when he felt the motion change, and Frank lifted his head from the water and said, “Stand up, old fellow. Thank God, here we are, safe!”
