‘Three fingers gone!’ he remarked proudly, holding out the wounded hand for the encouragement of his followers. ‘Will ye lie there and let your captain be shot to pieces?’ This seemed to be exactly their intention, for they made neither movement nor answer. ‘Very well,’ said Blackheart, puffing out his chest, and looking as magnificent as his somewhat unfortunate features permitted, ‘I’ll take the fortress single-handed, and the treasure, too, by botheration!’ With these bold words he made a mighty rush at the door. Rex fired again, but missed his mark. The door burst open, and Gory Jake Blackheart tumbled in, flinging Rex on his back. At this the pirates in the grass jumped to their feet yelling with savage exultation. Then several things happened all at once. Before the other pirates could rush the doorway, Elizabeth had closed and fastened it; and at the same moment Guy, leaping over his brother’s prostrate wriggling body, caught Gory Jake neatly by the ankles. The pirate went down like a ninepin, but was up again in a trice, his eyes bulging with bad temper, his lips uttering lurid language. But now Rex, too, had regained his feet, and all three boys danced round the enemy, while Elizabeth, to discourage his followers, fired once again through the gap in the door. Gory Jake swung his cutlass murderously; his black teeth grinned in glee. Three times he rushed at one or another of his young adversaries; three times he nearly overbalanced himself by aiming a mighty slash at their heads. Rex and Guy, working together for all the world as though their defence had been carefully planned in advance, succeeded in drawing his attack always upon themselves, hoping that he would not notice young Martin, who, with an unloaded musket for a club, pestered the villain from behind.
Whenever Gory Jake threatened Rex with the upraised cutlass, Guy darted in and punched the piratical ribs; and whenever Guy seemed in danger Rex emitted a terrifying yell and struck with a spade at the pirate’s head. At last, finding his weapon more hindrance than help, Gory Jake dropped the cutlass and ran at them with his naked hands. Just then Martin’s club descended with a tremendous thwack on the fleshy part of Gory’s left leg. He wheeled about. ‘Ha, little flea! For that I shall squash you with my little finger nail.’ He shot out his claw and grasped Martin by the shoulder. Martin, striking at him again with more enthusiasm than accuracy, lost his balance and got himself and the musket hopelessly entangled with the pirate’s legs. Gory Jake, swaying dangerously this way and that, managed to keep his balance just long enough to receive a hearty smack on his bald head with the flat of Rex’s spade. Then he fell heavily on his face, and lay groaning and cursing feebly, one arm doubled underneath his body.
‘Sit on his head!’ yelled Guy. ‘And mind he doesn’t kick.’
But Rex did not sit on the captain’s head. He preferred to stand over him, with spade persuasively uplifted, and say: ‘If we let you go, will you play fair and take your beastly lot of rotters away, and leave us alone?’
Gory Jake went on groaning.
‘If you don’t promise,’ added Rex, ‘I shall have to give you one or two with this spade.’ Rex spoke without much conviction, hoping against hope that Gory Jake would surrender, because he knew in his heart that when a man, pirate or no pirate, is lying on his stomach groaning with pain, it is impossible to hit him with a spade, however richly he may seem to have deserved it, and however many women and children his existence endangers. Receiving no answer except another groan, Rex said: ‘Well, anyhow, Mr Blackheart, we can’t have you here. So you needn’t think it. We haven’t got any rope to tie you up with, if you want to know. And prisoners are such a nuisance. Always want watching, and they eat you out of house and home. We’ve had two of your lot before. So will you go quietly, or have I got to kill you? Martin, load me up another gun, there’s a good lad.’
‘All right,’ said Martin. As he set about his task he remarked: ‘I say, Rex, I believe the old gentleman’s hurt his arm, don’t you? That was a pretty neat collar of mine, wasn’t it?’
‘He’s broken his arm,’ Guy corrected him.
‘Oh, poor man!’ said Elizabeth, without, however, turning round to look. And bang went her musket as she sent another ball whizzing into the midst of the gang outside. Gory Jake’s merry men were now divided into little parties of twos and threes conferring together with much nodding and winking and biting of nails and spitting on hands.
‘Elizabeth,’ said Rex, ‘I propose we open the door and let this chap crawl out, if he can. Have a shot ready for them, in case they try again to rush us. And just mention to them, will you, that I’ve got their captain covered, and if they try any tricks while the door’s open, I shall shoot his head off. Of course I shan’t really, you know,’ he added. ‘But tell them I shall.’
‘They’ll believe it all right,’ said Guy, in great disgust. ‘It’s the sort of thing they’d do themselves. Do you remember that tale Father told us about how…’
‘Ready, Elizabeth?’ cried Rex. ‘Open the door when I say “Go.” And you, Mr Gory Jake, quick march! March on your belly like old Satan did, in the Garden of Eden.… If he doesn’t move, Guy, you let fly with the spade…. Now, Elizabeth, just sing out and tell them what I said.’
Elizabeth piped up: ‘Hullo, you pirates. Robinsons calling. We’re going to open the door and let your captain out. But if you try to rush us, if you move so much as a little finger, we’ll … we‘ll…’
‘Blow his head off,’ prompted Rex.
‘…blow his head off,’ repeated Elizabeth. ‘Do you understand?’
There was no reply. The muttering outside continued, and the spitting increased.
‘They’ll understand soon enough,’ said Rex. ‘Open the door, Elizabeth. One, two, three, go! Off with you, Gory!’
Elizabeth gingerly opened the door, then whipped her musket up to her shoulder and stood a little to one side, commanding the passage. The pirates gazed at her open-mouthed. Some few slunk further back; the rest contented themselves with scowls and muttered curses. Gory Jake, groaning louder than ever, crawled slowly into the sunshine, and the door was shut on him.
‘First round to us,’ said Rex. ‘What’ll they do next, I wonder?’
Chapter 18
Elizabeth’s Footprints
They all returned to their posts in time to see Gory Jake lifted to his feet by two of his men. Contrary to the Robinsons’ expectations he was able to use both arms quite freely, for with one hand he snatched a cutlass from the nearest of his men, and, having disarmed him, with the other hand boxed his ears. Those who had first clustered round to greet him began edging nervously away, and finally, with hang-dog looks, they turned tail and fled into the shelter of the forest. Gory staggered in their wake, uttering maledictions.
This the Robinsons observed from their spy-holes, and it was with the greatest relief that they saw the last pirate, Gory Jake himself, disappear from sight among the trees. But Rex, that stern old campaigner, would countenance no relaxation of vigilance. ‘They’ll be back in a minute,’ he said, ‘I’ll bet you anything. Two of us had better keep a good look out while the others load up again.’
‘I don’t think,’ said Elizabeth in a voice that tried not to tremble—‘I don’t think there’s any more ammunition.’
‘No more ammunition!’ exclaimed her brothers, speaking both together.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Elizabeth. ‘In fact, I’m sure. Hadn’t we better get away from here while we’ve got the chance, Rex?’
It was Guy, not Rex, who replied quickly: ‘We haven’t got the chance. Those pigs are coming back.’
‘Yes,’ exclaimed Rex, ‘so they are. They’re dragging a lot of brushwood along behind them. What’s the meaning of that, I wonder?’
‘They mean to burn us out,’ said Guy. ‘That’s all. What are we to do, Rex?’
‘What’s the good of asking me?’ said Rex. And his voice at that moment, thought Elizabeth, sounded just like Father’s after a specially long day at the office.
For several minutes there was complete silence in the log-cabin. The three elder ones
stood peering out through the spy-holes, and Martin watched them with alarmed eyes. Seeing him troubled, Fandy jumped on to his shoulder and began purring.
‘Shall we shoot?’ asked Elizabeth.
‘We may as well,’ said Rex. ‘It’ll be the last round, but we can’t save it up for ever. Wait till they’re nearer, though.’
‘There’s no ball in my musket,’ said Guy. ‘So I’m going to the north side—Elizabeth’s quarters, you know—to see if I can make a gap there for us to get through. Then we can slip out one by one. Save your last shot, Rex, so as to cover the retreat.’ He ran to the north wall and began vigorously digging under it, trying to loosen with his spade one of the slim tree-trunks of which it was constructed. He had not been so occupied more than half a minute when his attention was caught by the sound of approaching tom-toms.
‘I say,’ he called excitedly, ‘the cannibals are coming to make a meal of the pirates! What a lark!’
Barbaric cries were now mingled with the noise of the tom-toms, and Guy, peering through his wall, at last saw the savages themselves advancing towards the log-cabin.
‘But won’t the cannibals eat us as well?’ asked Martin timidly.
Guy, repressing a shudder, only answered: ‘Oh, the pirates ought to be enough for them. They’ll gobble them all up for us, Martin, boots and buttons and all. That’ll be nice, won’t it?’
Further conversation was impossible, and Martin’s reply was lost; for at that moment the cannibals caught sight of the pirates, and the pirates caught sight of the cannibals. The two parties rushed together with blood-curdling yells, the savages fighting with spears as tall as themselves, the pirates thrusting and slashing with deadly effect. Indeed, the skull-and-crossbones battalion seemed suddenly to have gained fresh courage, or perhaps it was that they were wreaking vengeance on the black men for the disappointment they had suffered at the Robinsons’ hands. But a battle so unequal could not last long. The whole affair occupied scarcely more time than the striking of a match. In fact it was rather like the striking of a match. The pirates hurled themselves on the savages; there was a sudden hideous din; and the battle was ended. The pirates, hopelessly outnumbered, again turned tail and fled, this time in the direction of Gunpowder Creek; and the pursuing black hordes were far too deeply interested in the chase to spare a thought for the log-cabin less than ten yards to the west of them.
‘Hooray!’ cried Rex. ‘They’re gone.’
‘Yes,’ said Guy. ‘But it looks as if they’ve gone to Gunpowder Creek. What if the pirates sneak our boat! I say, Rex, it’s time we cleared off this island, I think.’
‘Not before we’ve got the treasure,’ Elizabeth objected.
‘Oh, blow the treasure!’ said Rex. ‘How do we know there is a treasure at all? We’ve never seen it, any of us.’
‘If it comes to that,’ said Guy, who had just altered his opinion about leaving the treasure behind, ‘we’d never seen the island, or the log-cabin, or Cannibal Bay. But we knew about them, didn’t we?’
‘It’s all very well for you, young Guy,’ said Rex. ‘You can afford to keep changing your mind. But I’m captain, worse luck, for the time being. You’re not. If anything goes wrong I shall get into the row. Suppose I go home to Mother and she says: “Where’s Martin?” And I say: “Oh, Martin got killed by the pirates.” And then supposing she says: “Where’s Elizabeth?” And I answer: “I’m sorry, mum, but Elizabeth was eaten by cannibals.” And then, if Mother says: “But what about Guy? Surely you’ve brought my precious Guy home to me?”…’
‘Punch your head if you don’t shut up,’ said Guy. ‘Anyhow, you’re talking rot. If any of us get killed there won’t be any going home. If any of us get killed,’ he repeated defiantly, ‘we shall jolly well all get killed. And, since we can’t put off in the boat while those pirates are hanging round the creek, we may as well go and hunt up the treasure while we can. I had a go at it myself this morning.’ He blushed, for he suddenly remembered that he had left a spade sticking up in the earth—a valuable clue for the enemy. He quickly added, to hide his confusion: ‘It’s no use staying here. Those rotters will come back sooner or later, you bet. And then we shall all be caught like … like … like rats in a trap,’ he finished with mournful triumph. He seemed to like the phrase.
‘All right,’ said Rex good-humouredly. It was one of Rex’s great virtues that he was always willing to listen to reason, and never remained cantankerous for more than a few minutes. ‘I don’t mind, if you children are all set on it. You seem to know a lot about this treasure, Elizabeth. What do you suppose it is?’
But it was Martin who answered, reciting in a kind of pensive rapture: ‘The treasure’s in a great big black sea-chest with brass things all over it. There are pieces of eight, and necklaces, and old lace, and a sundial for Father, and a catapult for me, and a huge lovely iced cake for us all, with our names written on it in pink. And it’s buried four fathoms deep. That’s what you said, Rex.’
‘Did I?’ Rex grinned. ‘Well, if it is, it’ll take a mighty lot of digging for. I must have meant four feet. Now let’s have a look at the map and see where it is.’ So Rex took the map out of his pocket, together with a piece of toffee to which it was sticking, and a length of string, and a pocket-knife with two large blades and a corkscrew, and his champion conker; and they unfolded the map and spread it out on the ground, and all went down on their knees in front of it as though they were going to say their prayers to it.
‘Now the treasure,’ said Guy, ‘is just here, where this cross is.’ To make matters plainer he put his forefinger on the spot, leaving a soiled fingerprint that almost obliterated the clue. ‘Just here, see? About half a mile east of Look-out Hill. If we’re quick it won’t take us more than half an hour to get there, and we’ll take spades and picks. What do you say, Rex?’
‘If we’re going,’ said Rex, ‘the sooner the better. We can fill our pockets with the pieces of eight, and eat the cake, and Martin can get his catapult. But you don’t catch me carrying a sundial, Martin, so I warn you.’
Rex armed with a spade and pick, Guy with an unloaded musket for the sake of keeping up appearances if any stray pirates were encountered, Martin with a cutlass as big as himself, and Elizabeth with nothing at all, the Robinsons sallied forth, making their way into the strip of forest that lay between the log-cabin and Look-out Hill. Just outside the cabin the grass was torn and trampled where the battle between pirates and cannibals had briefly but furiously raged. Elizabeth, attracted by a long dark thing that lay in the shadow of a tree, a little to one side of their path, hung back to investigate the mystery; but the boys pressed forward, excited by the prospect of treasure. Even Rex by now was bubbling over with eagerness, and he, as leader of the party, hurried them along at such a pace that they had no breath left for speech. At first they followed the path that Guy had taken only a few hours earlier. But suddenly Rex stopped dead, waited for the others to catch up to him, and then pointed dramatically to the ground. On the dark leaf-mould was an enormous hobnailed footprint.
‘Look at that,’ said Rex.
‘I am looking,’ answered Guy. ‘I shouldn’t like to be kicked by that fellow, would you? Whose on earth can it be?’ He ran a few steps forward, calling out in accents of delight: ‘Look, there’s another! There’s a whole lot of them.’
Martin, who had been gazing awestruck at this portent on the ground, and thinking of Robinson Crusoe, all at once gave vent to a loud ‘Hooray!’ The others stared at him. ‘I know what they are,’ said Martin. ‘They’re Elizabeth’s footprints.’
‘Elizabeth hasn’t got feet like that,’ said Rex.
‘He means,’ explained Guy, ‘the footprints she put on the map, the false trail in green ink…. But I say …’ He looked round quickly, dismay written on his plump face. ‘Where is Elizabeth?’
Rex looked aghast. ‘She can’t be far away. She was following. Wasn’t she with you, Martin?’
Martin shook his head, his eyes big
with fear. ‘I’m sure she was at first,’ he answered. ‘Perhaps we ran too fast for her, Rex.’
They all began calling: ‘Coo-ee, Elizabeth! Coo-ee, coo-ee!’
Was it echo that answered them, or another voice? ‘There she is!’ said Guy hopefully. ‘Coo-ee, Elizabeth!’ This time the answer was clear enough, though very distant.
‘Come on,’ said Rex, and started running.
They ran in the direction of the voice, calling as they went; and every time they called the answer was a little clearer. At last they made sure that Elizabeth could not be more than a few yards away. ‘And yet,’ said Guy anxiously, ‘it doesn’t sound quite like Elizabeth after all. It’s different from what it was.’ Once again they called, and once again, loud and clear and high-pitched, came the answering ‘Coo-ee.’
They were now in a strange part of the forest, and the next moment they burst through into a little open space. ‘Stop!’ whispered Rex, clutching Guy’s arm with his disengaged hand, and with the other taking a firmer grip on the spade and the pick that he carried over his shoulder. ‘Wait a minute. Look! Who’s that?’
Seated side by side like turtle doves in the middle of the sunlit glade were two men: one tall, with a sandy beard sticking to the end of his chin; the other short and prim and wearing the expression of a curate. And as Guy’s glance followed his brother’s pointing finger, Mr William Murder, the celebrated pirate, lifted his long face towards the sky and called in a high falsetto voice: ‘Coo-ee! Coo-ee!’
Nautical Tallboy regarded this performance with respectful admiration. ‘I’m sure, Mr Murder,’ said he, ‘you’re the best mimic in the world, Mr Murder. Only don’t answer them again, I beg you, for they’re such rude rough children, they might do us a mischief, and then Mother would never forgive me.’
‘And I’ll tell you another thing,’ said Bill Murder, evidently resuming his story. ‘There’s treasure somewhere on this island, and them little brats is after it. As I lay sleeping by that camp fire of theirs, on the one hand I wasn’t asleep, Nautical, but on the other hand (a) I had my eyes shut, (b) I was lying still, and (c) you couldn’t have told the difference.’
The Happy Mariners Page 13
