The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  “God helps them that helps themselves,” added Storms, “and we must improve to the utmost the chance thrown in our way.”

  Naturally the fear of the two was that their pursuers might repair the accident which was throwing them to the rear for the time, and regain what was lost. They steadily fell behind, and, as soon as invisible, the proa made an abrupt change in her course, with the view of defeating the calamity that they feared threatened them. When this had lasted for an hour, another change was effected, with the result, as Sanders announced, that they were now heading directly for Wauparmur.

  The eyes peering backward through the vivid moonlight failed to bring the dreaded craft to view, and it was not yet midnight when Sanders announced the thrilling fact that the twinkling lights, which appeared in front like a constellation in the horizon, were made by the dwellings in the native South Sea town of Wauparmur. All danger was past, and about an hour later the proa glided in among the shipping in that excellent harbor, made fast to the wharf, and the three disembarked.

  Fred led the way to a house of entertainment near the harbor, in which he found good lodging for his friends.

  Abram Storms carried all the precious pearls to his room and carefully secured the door, after which he threw himself upon the bed and slept as soundly as an infant.

  Inez Hawthorne, in the solitude of her apartment, devoutly thanked her Heavenly Father for His care, and then she, too, slept the sleep of exhaustion and perfect health.

  It was near noon on the succeeding day when both rose and found Fred Sanders awaiting them. The young man had not slept at all, and was uneasy.

  “It won’t do to stay here another night,” said he, in explanation, as soon as the meal was concluded.

  “I am sure we have no wish to do so,” replied Storms. “But wherein lies the particular peril?”

  “That whole crew of the double canoe are scattered through town, and they only await the chance to kill us. They will find the chance, too, tonight, if we remain here.”

  “But what is the prospect of getting away?”

  “I was in despair nearly all the forenoon; but a little while ago I came upon a schooner which sails for San Francisco at three o’clock this afternoon. I have engaged passage on it for us three, for you know I go with you.”

  “How can we ever repay you for your kindness?” said Inez, her lustrous eyes speaking eloquently her gratitude to the youth.

  “There’s no service on earth that I can render you which will compare with what you have done for me,” was the reply of Captain Fred, whose manner showed his sincerity. Inez Hawthorne did not understand what all this meant, but the speaker ventured upon no explanation at the time.

  As the three were about to start upon a long voyage, it was decided that some indispensable articles should be procured, and, since they had little spare time at command, the three set out immediately after dinner.

  Wauparmur, as we have already intimated, is a town numbering several hundreds—perhaps more than a thousand—in population. Among these are a number of foreign shopkeepers, whose places are close along shore, so as to be the more readily accessible to their customers, who are almost exclusively confined to those on board the vessels which stop at the island.

  Back from the town the land rises into hills, and the settlement becomes straggling and scattered. In these portions it is composed entirely of rude huts and cabins, in which none but natives live, and they are a bad lot.

  It was from among those who lived in the “suburbs” that the wretches were gathered with which to attempt to capture and murder the little party of Europeans for the sake of the invaluable pearls they had in their possession.

  Fred Sanders shuddered when he thought of the risk he and his friends ran by going straight to the inn and taking quarters for the night, for these miscreants must, after all, have reached Wauparmur only a few hours after the proa, and the wonder was that they did not manage to slay the fugitives in their beds.

  The first thing Fred did in the morning was to slip out and buy a revolver, and his second act was to load it.

  While engaged in hunting a vessel upon which to take passage, he encountered his own acquaintances continually, and he needed not their black faces and scowling eyes to tell how they thirsted to kill him for his treachery. It was only by his bold front and constant watchfulness that he kept the dusky demons at a distance. Some of them were seen when the three ventured out, and though the pirates dared not attack them in open daylight, they were on the verge of doing so more than once. But their fury was directed principally against Captain Fred Sanders, and there can be no doubt the youth spoke the truth when he declared that if he attempted to stay on land until morning, he would not live till midnight.

  Mr. Storms laid in a good supply of clothing, shoes and knick-knacks for himself and Inez, and with as little delay as possible. When they reached the wharf and approached the plank leading to the deck of the schooner, Mr. Storms noticed a small man standing a few feet off, with a blanket drawn up about his shoulders and neck like an Indian. His legs, feet and head were bare, but a huge bandage was bound around his forehead, giving him a grotesque appearance.

  His position was like a statue, and he held the blanket so high that little could be seen except his black, glittering eyes. Some distance off, on the street close to the shop-houses, was a group of other natives, who looked as if they were expecting some important event.

  So they were, indeed!

  CHAPTER XXXVI

  Homeward Bound

  “Storms, do you notice that fellow?” asked Fred Sanders, as they approached the plank.

  “Yes; it looks odd to see him standing there so motionless, and yet with his eyes fixed upon us.”

  “He’s Weroo, the man who led that gang of pirates last night, and he hates me with such a consuming hate that he sent out his men to kill me, and in case they fail to do so, he has stationed himself there with the determination to assassinate me, for he is ready to run any risk rather than allow me to get away.”

  “Are you prepared?” asked Storms, with no little anxiety.

  “I rather guess so! Walk ahead with Inez and leave him to me.”

  With some hesitation, Storms did as requested, though he placed his hand on his revolver, so as to be ready for any emergency, the crew of the Albatross, who were busying themselves around, seeming to hold no suspicion of the situation.

  Just as Captain Fred put his foot on the plank, the islander took a short step forward, like a panther gathering himself for the leap upon its victim. At that very instant, as if by intuition, Captain Fred turned about and leveled his revolver at the muffled figure, which paused. Every one who was looking on supposed, of course, the boy was going to fire, but, though his finger pressed the trigger, he did not discharge his weapon. With the pistol pointed straight at the savage, Fred slowly backed up the plank, keeping his foe covered until he himself was on the deck of the schooner.

  The barbarian seemed paralyzed. After taking the slight step forward, he paused and stood motionless, staring and transfixed, until his victim was beyond his reach. Then, without a word or exclamation, he turned about, and strode away to where his infuriated and discomfited comrades were watching him with not the slightest doubt he would prevent the escape of the white boy. Within the succeeding hour the Albatross was standing down the bay, with all sail spread; and her long voyage to distant California was begun.

  Ah, that journey from the South Seas across the equator and northward into the stern climate of the Temperate Zone!

  Not one of those who participated in it can forget it to his dying day. They had many hours of fierce, wild weather, in which the Albatross was more than once in danger, but Captain Hardy was a good sailor, he had a good crew, and he safely rode through it all.

  Then came those delightful nights which seem peculiar to the Pacific, when the moonlight takes on a witchery of its own, and the calm sea becomes like an enchanted lake as the vessel glides over it.


  Captain Hardy was a kind man as well as a skilful sailor, and, since he received a most liberal price for the passage of the three persons who joined him at Wauparmur, the best treatment was given them.

  It was on this homeward voyage that Captain Fred Sanders told to Mate Storms and Inez Hawthorne the story of his life, the main points of which have already been hinted to the reader. He ran away from his home in San Francisco when but a mere boy, scarcely ten years old. He was led into all sorts of evil, and was so deeply implicated in a fierce mutiny that, as we have said, he would have been strung up at the yard-arm, excepting for his extreme youth.

  He then joined a trading vessel in the South Seas, but the crew were attacked and massacred by a band of pirates, and he was taken off a prisoner. These pirates belonged to the Wauparmur settlement, and they were so pleased with the bravery displayed by the boy that they adopted him among them. There was something in the life which was attractive to the wild American lad, and he embraced it eagerly, and spent five years among them. His bravery, skill, and natural “smartness,” advanced him rapidly along the line of promotion, until, while yet a boy, he became an acknowledged leader.

  Captain Fred spent a portion of his time in the settlement, where he showed his good sense, in one respect at least, by picking up all the education he could from the instructors who were to be found there. He succeeded well—which will explain the intelligence he displayed in this respect while conversing with his friends.

  He confessed all this, and said further that his mother died before he ran away, and he had no idea where his father was; but, if he were alive, the son determined to find him, no matter where he might be on the broad earth. Now that his conscience had been awakened, his affection came back with it, and his great fear was that he would not see his parent alive.

  It was a source of never-ending wonder to Fred Sanders how it was he could have been so wicked a lad, and how it was that his moral sense could have been so totally eclipsed for years. The gentle, winning words of Inez Hawthorne had first aroused his conscience, until finally it would not allow him to rest until he had made his peace with it.

  CHAPTER XXXVII

  Conclusion

  Many a long hour did the two—Fred and Inez—spend in talking together of the past and their future. They were as brother and sister to each other, and their prospects were discussed as if it were fixed that they should never lose sight of each other again.

  It was on this voyage, too, that Abram Storms disclosed the plan of action he had decided upon.

  “The pearls which I have in my possession I shall dispose of in San Francisco—or at least a portion of them. Those which were my share, according to the original agreement, I shall keep. The single pearl, which will doubtless bring a large price in New York, is the property of Inez, and shall be devoted to her benefit. I intend to place her in a school and make a systematic effort to trace her parentage. The pearls left by Captain Bergen go to you, Fred.”

  But here occurred the first stumbling-block. Fred Sanders refused pointedly, but firmly, to accept a single one of them. He declared he had no claim upon any one of that little party, and he would not suffer himself to be dissuaded from his position.

  He was yet young, vigorous and ambitious, and with the help of heaven he would carve out his own fortune. Seeing it was useless to argue the question, Storms fell back upon the original intention of Captain Bergen, which was to devote the greater portion of his wealth to charity.

  In due time, the Albatross glided through the Golden Gate, and our friends found themselves in San Francisco, whose streets all had trod years before.

  The first thing Storms did after establishing Inez in pleasant quarters was to hunt up the mother of Captain Bergen, and he prosecuted his search with a heavy heart, bearing the bad news which he did. He was relieved to find that she had been dead fully two years, and the nearest relative of the captain remaining was his cousin, who was in such affluent circumstances that Storms decided not to give him any portion of the wealth left by the deceased captain.

  While Abe Storms was engaged upon his duty, young Fred Sanders was busy.

  Although he had revealed a great deal of his past life, there remained one great secret, which he had reserved as a final surprise, especially to Inez Hawthorne, who, as yet, had not formed the slightest idea of what was coming. And what this secret was, and the particulars of not one but two astounding discoveries, we will now proceed to relate.

  The grim old sailor, Captain Strathmore, of the steamer Polynesia, has made many voyages between San Francisco and the Imperial Japanese city of Tokio since we last saw him, more than three years ago. There is little change, however, in his appearance, and the same kindly heart, tempered in the furnace of affliction and sorrow, throbs beneath his rough exterior. There are few officers holding such a responsible position as he who are greater favorites with the multitudes that go down to the sea in ships, and he promises to perform many valuable years of service to his employers, who appreciate the sterling worth of the brave, noble man.

  The steamer has been at the dock several days, and soon is to leave for her long voyage across the Pacific. The captain is sitting in his cabin, reading and writing some letters. By-and-by he lays down his pen, and wheeling his chair around, gives utterance to his thoughts, as he has grown in the habit of doing of late.

  “I shall keep in harness till I die, for idleness would take me off in a short time. I have striven to do my duty to God and my fellow-man—and though much sorrow has come to me, yet I shall never murmur nor complain, when I see so much around me and know that no race and no place in society is exempt from it.

  “Years ago I placed away my beloved wife in the distant New England hills, and then when the fair bud which she left behind blossomed, that, too, was gathered by the angels and I was left alone.

  “The darling son upon whom I centered all my hopes was a wild, wayward boy, and he left my roof and has never come back again. Whether he is or is not, I cannot tell, but I fear that, if he still treads the earth, he is sowing the wind and will reap the whirlwind. I have striven to forget that I was ever afflicted in being the parent of such a child. But alas, the roots of affection are planted so deep that it is hard to withdraw them.

  “Then there came to me a second Inez, and I loved her as I did the first. Just as she nestled around my heart, she was taken away in the most surprising manner. I believed then that I should see and clasp her again in my arms. But the years have come and gone, and still she comes not to me. Ah! could I but hear the music of that voice—could I but feel those dimpled arms about my neck as I used to do—Helloa!”

  Just then Fred Sanders walked briskly into the cabin, doffed his hat, made a bow, laughed and said:

  “Helloa, pop! how are you?”

  Captain Strathmore gasped, stared and replied:

  “No—no—no—Fred. Is that you, my own boy?”

  And Fred laughed, and then, with tears in his eyes, leaped forward and threw his arms about the old captain’s neck and cried like a child, while the parent, fondly caressing him, cried too, and for a minute neither could speak an intelligible word.

  “Pop,” finally said the youth, raising his head and sitting upon the strong knee, “I have been a bad boy. I have brought trouble to you, but I have come thousands of miles to ask your forgiveness and to try to cheer your declining years.”

  “What are you talking about declining years for, you young rascal? I never was so strong and hearty in my life. You have made me twenty years younger! Ah, if your mother could but see this! But she is smiling in heaven over it, and so is our darling Inez, who joined her long ago. God be thanked! my boy is dead but is alive again!”

  And, laughing and crying, they shook hands, and talked and talked.

  “Tell me everything that has befallen you, my dear son.”

  And Fred did so, as we have already told the reader, adding that he never so far forgot himself as to dishonor his father by bearing his name. He
was known everywhere as Frederic Sanders, whereas his full name was Frederic Sanders Strathmore—which he was now proud to assume, and which, with God’s help, he meant to honor.

  They sat a long time in loving converse, and, finally, Captain Strathmore told the story of Inez Hawthorne, who came to and went from him in such an extraordinary manner, and for whom he sighed and longed as he had for his own child, taken from him years before.

  Fred smiled in an odd way, while this story was being told, and then asked his father to walk down to the Occidental Hotel with him.

  “I have some very particular business,” he added,“and will take it as a great favor if you will so so.”

  “Of course I will,” responded the cheery old captain, springing to his feet. “I will walk if I can, but I feel more like flying; and if there’s any more good news, I’ll set up a dancing and yelling carnival.”

  “Well, there is good news awaiting you, so you had better get ready to put on the brakes.”

  “What do you mean, Fred?”

  “Wait, and you will see.”

  A few minutes later there was a gentle tap on the door of Inez Hawthorne’s room at the Occidental. She was busy sewing, and she called out in a somewhat startled voice:

  “Come in!”

  Fred Strathmore threw the door wide open, and, taking hold of his father’s arm, gave him such a vigorous shove that he was forced several steps into the apartment before he could stop himself.

  He caught sight of a beautiful, scared face, which stared with something like terror at him for a moment; and then there was a scream, and she made one bound forward.

  “Oh, father, father! my own dear father! I am so glad!”

  Again the arms were about the neck of the weather-beaten sea-dog; again the kisses were showered upon his bronzed face; again his own lost Inez was in his arms.

  Poor Captain Strathmore broke down completely. Instead of shouting and dancing, as he threatened to do, he sat in his chair, and, with Inez on his knee, overrunning with joy, delight and supreme happiness, he could do nothing but cry, cry, cry, and murmur his gratitude and thankfulness.