I told Uncle Naboth our difficulty, and Duncan Moit, who stood by, listened to my story with lively interest.
“Will you try to beach her, Sam?” enquired my uncle, with his usual calmness.
“Of course, sir, if we manage to float long enough to reach the land. That is the best I can hope for now. By good luck the coast of Panama is low and marshy, and if we can drive the tub aground there the cargo may be saved to the owners.”
“Ain’t much of a country to land in, Sam; is it?”
“Not a very lovely place, Uncle, I’m told.”
“It’s where they’re diggin’ the canal, ain’t it?”
“I believe so.”
“Well, we may get a chance to see the ditch. This ‘ere travellin’ is full of surprises, Mr. Moit. I never thought to ‘a’ brung a guide book o’ Panama, or we could tell exactly where they make the hats.”
The inventor appeared ill at ease. I could understand the man’s disappointment and anxiety well enough. To beach his beloved machine on a semi-barbarous, tropical shore was not what he had anticipated, and I had time to feel sorry for him while thinking upon my own troubles.
He followed me on deck, presently, and I saw him take a good look at the sea and shake his head despondently. The Convertible Automobile might work in ordinary water, but it was not intended for such mammoth waves as these.
Then he watched the men at the pumps. They worked with a will, but in that cheerless way peculiar to sailors when they are forced to undertake this desperate duty. The ocean was pushing in and they were trying to keep it out; and such a pitiful struggle usually results in favor of the ocean.
Suddenly Moit conceived a brilliant idea. He asked for a length of hose, and when it was brought he threw off the covering of his machine and succeeded in attaching the hose to his engines. The other end we dropped into the hold, and presently, despite the lurching and plunging of the ship, the engines started and a stream the full size of the hose was sucked up and sent flowing into the scrup-pers. It really did better work than the ship’s pumps, and I am now positive that this clever arrangement was all that enabled us to float until we made the coast.
In the afternoon, while the gale seemed to redouble its force, we sighted land — low, murky and uninteresting, but nevertheless land — and made directly for it.
Darkness came upon us swiftly, but we held our course, still pumping for dear life and awaiting with tense nerves the moment of impact.
What this shore, of which we had caught a glimpse, might be like I did not know, more than that it was reported low and sandy at the ocean’s edge and marshy in the interior. There were a few rocky islands at the south of the isthmus, and there might be rocks or breakers at any point, for all we knew. If the ship struck one of these we were surely doomed.
On and on we flew, with blackness all round us, until on a sudden the bow raised and our speed slackened so abruptly that we were all thrown prostrate upon the deck. The mainmast snapped and fell with a deafening crash, and slowly the ship rolled to starboard until the deck stood at a sharp angle, and trembled a few brief moments, and then lay still.
The voyage of the Gladys H. was at an end.
CHAPTER FIVE
MAKING THE BEST OF IT
“Are you there, Sam?”
“Yes, Ned.”
“Safe and sound?”
“I think so.”
Overhead the wind still whistled, but more moderately; around me I could hear the men stirring, with an occasional groan. We had come from the tempest-tossed seas into a place of comparative quiet, which just now was darker than the pocket of Erebus.
I found the after cabin and slid down the steps, which inclined sidewise. Inside however, the hanging lamps had withstood the shock and still cast a dim light over the room. I found Uncle Naboth reclining upon a bench with his feet braced against the table, while he puffed away complacently at one of his enormous cigars.
“Stopped at a way station, Sam?” he enquired.
“So it appears, Uncle.”
“Any damage?”
“Can’t tell, yet. Were you hurt?”
He exhibited a great lump on his forehead, but smiled sweetly.
“You should ‘a’ seen me dive under the table, Sam. It were a reg’lar circus, with me the chief acrobat. Where are we?”
“I’m going to find out.”
I unhooked both the lanterns and started up the companion-way with them. Rather than remain in the dark, Uncle brought himself and his cigar after me.
I gave Ned one of the lights and we began to look about us. Duncan Moit lay unconscious beside his machine, the engines of which were still running smoothly. I threw back the lever and stopped them, and then a couple of seamen carried the inventor into the cabin. Black Nux had lighted another lantern, and with my uncle’s assistance undertook to do what he could to restore the injured man.
Ned and I slid aft and found the stern still washed by a succession of waves that dashed over it. Walking the deck was difficult because the ship listed from stem to stern and from port to starboard. Her bow was high and dry on a sand-bar — or such I imagined it to be — but it was only after I had swung a lantern up a halyard of the foremast, so that its dim rays would illumine the largest possible area, that I discovered we had plunged straight into a deep inlet of the coast. On one side of us appeared to be a rank growth of tangled shrubs or underbrush; on the other was the outline of a forest. Ahead was clear water, but its shallow depth had prevented our proceeding farther inland.
Either the gale had lessened perceptibly or we did not feel it so keenly in our sheltered position. An examination of the men showed that one of them had broken an arm and several others were badly bruised; but there were no serious casualties.
The ship was now without any motion whatever, being fast on the bottom of the inlet. The breakers that curled over the stern did her no damage, and these seemed to be gradually lessening in force.
Ned sent his tired men to their bunks and with the assistance of Bryonia, who was almost as skillful in surgery as in cooking, prepared to set the broken arm and attend to those who were the most bruised.
I went to the cabin again, and found that Uncle Naboth and Nux had been successful in restoring Duncan Moit, who was sitting up and looking around him with a dazed expression. I saw he was not much hurt, the fall having merely stunned him for the time being.
“The machine — the machine!” he was muttering, anxiously.
“It’s all right, sir,” I assured him. “I shut down the engines, and she seems to have weathered the shock in good shape.”
He seemed relieved by this report, and passed his hand across his brow as if to clear his brain.
“Where are we?” was his next query.
“No one knows, sir. But we are landed high and dry, and I’m almost sure it is some part of the coast of Panama. To-morrow morning we can determine our location more accurately. But now, Mr. Moit, I recommend that you tumble into your bunk and get all the rest you can before daybreak.”
The strain of the last few days had been severe upon all of us, and now that the demand for work or vigilance was removed we found that our strength had been overtaxed. I left Ned to set a watch, and sought my own bed, on which I stretched myself to fall asleep in half a minute.
“Wake up, Mars’ Sam,” said Nux, shaking me. “Breakfas’ ready, seh.”
I rubbed my eyes and sat up. The sun was streaming through the cabin window, which was on the port side. Around me was a peculiar silence which contrasted strongly with the turmoil that had so long buffeted my ears. The gale had passed on and left us to count the mischief it had caused.
“What time is it, Nux?”
“Eight o’clock, Mars’ Sam.”
I sprang up, now fully conscious of the night’s tragedy, which sleep had for a time driven from my mind. Nux stood with my basin and towel and his calmness encouraged me to bathe before I went on deck.
In the mess-cabin I found that the
table legs had been propped up with boxes to hold it level, and that a hot breakfast had been prepared and was now steaming on the table. Around the board were gathered Ned Britton, Uncle Naboth and Duncan Moit, all busily engaged in eating. They greeted me cheerfully and bade me sit down and join them.
“How is everything, Ned?” I enquired, anxiously.
“Bad as can be, an’ right as a trivet, Sam,” he replied. “The Gladys H.’ll never float again. Her bottom’s all smashed in, an’ she’s fast in the mud till she goes to pieces an’ makes kindlin’-wood for the Indians.”
“Then the cargo is safe, for the present?”
“To be sure. It can’t get lost, ‘cause it’s a chunk o’ steel, and the ship’s planks’ll hold it in place for a long time. It’ll get good and soaked, but I’ve noticed it’s all painted to keep it from rustin’. This ain’t San Pedro, whatever else it is, and the voyage has miscarried a bit; but them beams is a good deal better off here than at the bottom o’ the sea, so I take it we’ve done the best we could by the owners.”
I sat down and took the coffee Nux poured for me.
“How about the crew?” I asked. “Are the men all right?”
“Nobody hurt but Dick Lombard, and his arm’ll mend nicely.”
“Have you any idea where we are, Ned?”
“Stuck in a river, somewhere. Wild country all around us, but I guess we can find a way out. Lots o’ provisions and a good climate. We may say as we’re in luck, Sam.”
I shook my head dismally. It did not appear to me that luck had especially favored us. To be sure, we might have gone to the bottom of the Caribbean in the gale; but it struck me we had landed the cargo in an awkward place for the owners as well as for ourselves. Mr. Harlan would have done better had he not taken the long chance of our making the voyage to San Pedro successfully.
“Well, I cannot see that we have failed in our duty, in any way,” I remarked, as cheerfully as I could, “so we may as well make the best of it.”
“This bein’ a tourist, an’ travellin’ fer pleasure,” said Uncle Naboth, “is more fun than a kickin’ mule. Sam’s got to worry, ‘cause he’s paid fer it; but we passengers can look on an’ enjoy ourselves. Eh, Mr. Moit?”
“It is a serious situation for me,” replied the inventor. “Think of it, gentlemen! The most wonderful piece of mechanism the world has yet known is stranded in a wilderness, far from civilization.”
“That is your own fault,” remarked Ned, bluntly.
“Not that, sir; it is fate.”
“The machine is all right,” said I. “You will have no trouble to save it.”
“As for that, I must, of course, make the best of the adverse circumstances that have overtaken me,” he replied, with more composure than I had expected. “It is not my nature to be easily discouraged, else I could never have accomplished what I have in the perfection of any inventions. My greatest regret, at this moment, is that the world will be deprived, for a longer period than I had intended, of the benefits of my Convertible Automobile.”
“Having never known its excellent qualities, sir, the world can wait,” asserted Uncle Naboth, philosophically. I have noticed one can be quite philosophical over another’s difficulties.
Having hurried through my breakfast, which our faithful Bryonia had prepared most excellently in spite of the fact that his galley was at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees, I went on deck to obtain for the first time a clear view of our surroundings.
The tide had changed and the wind fallen. We lay in the center of a placid river — high and dry, as Ned had said — with the current gently rippling against our bow. Not more than ten yards to the right was a low, marshy bank covered with scrub underbrush of a tropical character. On our left, however, and some fifty yards distant, lay a well defined bank marking the edge of the stately forest which I had observed the night before. The woodland gradually sloped upward from the river, and above it, far to the south, a formidable range of mountains was visible.
Between us and this left bank the water seemed a fair depth, but it was quite shallow on our right. It seemed wonderful that any gale could have sent so big a ship so far up the river; but I remembered that the billows had followed us in, and doubtless their power alone had urged us forward.
Here we were, anyway, and here the Gladys H. must remain until demolished by time, tide or human endeavor.
For the rest, the air was warm and pleasant, with a blue sky overhead. Aside from the loss that would follow the salvage of the valuable cargo, we had good reason to thank Providence for our fortunate escape from death.
I felt that I had done as much to promote the interests of the owners as any man could do; but the conditions had been adverse, and the responsibility was now theirs, and not mine.
The gravest part of the situation, so far as I was personally concerned, was to get my men into some civilized port where they could find an opportunity to get home again. Also I must notify Mr. Harlan, by cable, and that as soon as possible, of the location and condition of his cargo. The loss of the ship I knew would matter little to him, as he had asserted this several times.
And now to solve the problem of our location. I had reason to believe that we had not varied to any great extent from the course my chart had indicated. Somewhere, either up or down the coast, was Colon, the Atlantic terminal of the Panama canal, and to reach that place ought not to be especially difficult, because our small boats were in fairly good condition.
The river made a bend just ahead of us, and my first thought was to get out a boat and explore the stream for a way. We might find some village, I imagined, or at least some evidence of human habitation.
So I ordered the gig lowered and took with me four men, besides Duncan Moit, who wanted to go along and begged the privilege. The current was languid and easy to breast, so we made excellent progress.
Bend after bend we made, for the stream was as crooked as a ram’s horn; but always the forest towered on the one hand and the low, marshy flats prevailed upon the other.
Rowing close to the shore, under the shadow of the trees, we could hear the stealthy sound of wild beasts in the wilderness, and once we espied a sleek jaguar lying flat upon the bank to drink. But no sign of man or civilization of any sort did we encounter. Even the woodman’s axe was nowhere in evidence.
We hugged the forest for several miles, finding the river easily navigable for small steamers. Then we decided to return, and followed the edge of the opposite marsh, which was much less inviting and less liable to be inhabited than the other shore.
We were scarcely a mile from the ship when Moit suddenly exclaimed:
“Isn’t that a canoe?”
“Where?” I asked.
He pointed to a small inlet, and I could see plainly a craft that looked like an Indian dugout lying among the reeds.
“Let us get it and see what it looks like,” said I, hailing with some satisfaction this first evidence of human handicraft.
At the word my men rowed in, and the sailor in the bow, as he grasped the gunwale of the canoe, uttered a startled cry.
“What is it?” I asked.
Without reply he drew the canoe alongside our boat, and we could all see the form of a man lying flat upon his face on the rough bottom.
CHAPTER SIX
THE DEAD MAN’S STORY
“Turn him over, Tom,” said I, softly, and the sailor clambered into the canoe and obeyed — rather gingerly, though, for no one likes to touch a dead man.
The bearded face and staring eyes that confronted us were those of one of our own race, a white man who had been shot through the heart with an arrow that still projected from the wound. His clothing was threadbare and hung almost in rags, while his feet were protected by rude sandals of bark laced with thongs of some vegetable fibre. He was neither a Mexican nor a Spaniard, but I judged him a North American of German descent, if his physiognomy could be trusted.
The man had not long been dead, that was quite evident,
and the arrow that had pierced his heart must have killed him instantly. I pulled out the weapon and found it of skillful construction, — a head of hammered bronze fastened to a shaft most delicately shaped and of a wood that resembled yew. It differed materially from any Indian arrow I had ever before seen.
The mystery of this man’s life and death seemed impenetrable, and I ordered the canoe attached to our stern and towed it in our wake down to the ship.
A sailor’s burial ground is the sea; so I decided to sew the corpse in sacking, weight it heavily, and sink it in the deepest water of the river.
Before doing this one of the men searched the pockets of the tattered clothing and drew out a small book that looked like a diary, a pocket-knife, several bits of lead-pencil and a roll of thin bark tied with wisps of the same material.
These things I took charge of, and then watched the obsequies. These were quickly performed, Ned reading a short prayer from his Bible by way of ceremony while all our company stood with bared heads. Then the men rowed the body out to the deepest part of the river, and as I watched them from the deck I noticed they were thrown into a state of sudden excitement and heard cries of anger and alarm. Lifting my glass into position I discovered the cause of this. The boat was surrounded by sharks, their dark heads and white bellies alternating as they slowly swam round and round, attracted by the scent of prey. I yelled to the men to bring the body back, but they were too excited to hear me and the next instant had dumped the weighted sack overboard and begun to row back to the wreck at racing speed.
It was just as well, however. I am quite sure the poor fellow reached bottom before a shark could seize him, and once on the bottom they would be unable to either see him or grasp him in their jaws.
Seated on the deck with the others and shaded from the sun by a heavy awning, I glanced at the diary and found that the murdered man had not made a daily record, but had written upon the pages a sort of narrative, which seemed likely to prove interesting. So I asked Duncan Moit to read it aloud, which he did. I have it beside me now, and copy the following word for word as it was first read to us that day in the tropics with the wilderness all around us.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 655
