The Third Officer: A Present-day Pirate Story

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XXIII

  Where the Pig Went

  "Now show me how you start the jolly old fire," requested Burgoyne onthe following morning.

  Already the two officers had bathed in the sheltered creek, revellingin the warm water in spite of the fact that not so very long beforethey had been in dire peril in the self-same element. They recognizedthat there is a vast difference between "being in the ditch"involuntarily and taking a swim simply for the health-giving pleasureit affords.

  And now, feeling fresh and in the best of spirits, they were about toprepare the morning meal.

  "Right-o," agreed Peter, and proceeded to uncover a quantity oftinder-like wood from beneath an inverted bucket, where it had beenplaced to shelter it from the heavy dew. "I'm not very keen on thetwo pieces of wood method. I prefer drilling--like this."

  He produced a strip of bamboo about two feet in length, with bothends rounded off. Arranging the tinder in a hollow piece of wood, heinserted one end of the bamboo, bending the latter by the pressure ofhis chest, which he protected by means of a hollow shell. Then,rapidly twirling the bow-shaped bamboo much after the fashion of acentre-brace, he persevered with the operation. Presently, thanks tothe friction, a faint smoke arose from the heap of tinder. Gentlyblowing, he still continued to revolve the bamboo until the soft, drywood burst into a tiny flame.

  "That's the trick!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "It takes a lot ofdoing, I admit; but with a little practice one soon learns the knackof it. Now for breakfast: cold boiled fowl, taro bread and eggsroasted in hot ashes--how will that do?"

  "Scrumptious!" declared Burgoyne. "You must be rated _chef_ of thisestablishment, old son."

  Mostyn shook his head.

  "It's all very fine when you do it for fun," he said. "When it's amatter of routine it's deadly monotonous. I vote we take turns."

  "I might poison the lot of us," objected Alwyn.

  "I'll risk that as far as I'm concerned," declared Peter cheerfully."Now, then, let's search for eggs. There are dozens under the bushes.This island's like Covent Garden or Leadenhall Market. It's a wonderto me how these birds get here. Few of them seem to be able to fly."

  With keen appetites, the four castaways sat down to breakfast. DeftlyPeter extricated the eggs from the warm embers and distributed themamongst the hungry crew. Then in the height of his culinary triumphcame the anti-climax. Every egg was addled.

  "We're not running a parliamentary election, Mr. Mostyn," declaredHilda, when the high-flavoured relics of by-gone days were consignedto the sea.

  "Aren't we, though?" rejoined Peter. "Burgoyne was proposing theelection of a chef. I'm disqualified straight away, so that's allright."

  "I believe you knew they were duds," said Alwyn.

  "'Pon my word, no," replied Mostyn emphatically.

  "Another time you might try the water-test," suggested Hilda. "Ifthey float in fresh water, then they are either stale or bad. Newlaid ones ought to sink."

  "Thanks," said Mostyn. "I'll try and bear that in mind. Now, MissVivian, cold fowl? Sorry there's no bread sauce, and I've mislaid thesalt."

  "We'll try and obtain salt by evaporation," suggested Burgoyne. "Howabout that bully beef with the fowl? It won't keep, and it's a bitsalt, too."

  Breakfast over, Alwyn proposed a thorough exploration of theisland--a task interrupted on the previous day when Mostyn was found.Burgoyne had great ideas about keeping all hands busy. Provided theyhad plenty to do to occupy their minds, they would be happy enough.He had a horror of "slacking", contending that it was the first steptowards discontent and misery; and the possibility of each of thecastaways being at loggerheads with everyone else was to be sternlydiscouraged.

  Accordingly the four set out on their tour of investigation. The menwent barefooted. Their footgear was worn out, but, as Alwyn remarked,they might just as well get accustomed to do without as wait. Hilda'sshoes were badly worn. She had left the secret base wearing canvasdeck-shoes already rather dilapidated. At Mostyn's suggestion theytore strips of canvas, which the girl bound round her shoes. This,she found, wore remarkably well, but Mostyn promised to find an earlyopportunity of making her a pair of leather sandals, for which heintended using the leather from the oars.

  Burgoyne took with him his revolver. He had carefully dried it afterits immersion. The cartridges, being well greased and guaranteeddamp-proof, should be serviceable, but his reserve of ammunition wastoo small to justify a trial.

  Mostyn carried a coil of rope that had once been the boat's halliard.Beyond remarking that it might be useful, he gave no reason for thisapparently unnecessary encumbrance.

  Jasper Minalto took his improvised fish-spear, which quickly provedto be of use in clearing a path through the brush-wood.

  Following a narrow glade which had been recently traversed by anumber of hoofed animals whose tracks were fairly well defined, thequartette walked in single file, Burgoyne leading, followed by Peter;then Hilda and Minalto bringing up the rear.

  Their first objective was the hillock Burgoyne had previously noticedfrom farther along shore. It stood well above the palm tops, risingabruptly on three sides and shelving gradually towards the east. Afew coco-palms grew on the southern side, but elsewhere it wascovered with comparatively short grass.

  Arriving at the summit, the explorers found that the island was but amile or so broad but nearly twice that distance in length, the landon the north side forming a long tapering neck averaging but ahundred yards in width, with the whole of the neck thickly wooded. Itwas on this strip of land that Burgoyne, Hilda, and Minalto had comeashore.

  The reef entirely surrounded the island, although there were numerousgaps affording a communication between the open sea and the lagoon.It was on the edge of one of these channels that the life-boatstruck. Had she been a couple of yards more to the south'ard shemight have driven ashore on the island with very little damage, ornone at all had she been swept into the small harbour where Mostynwas fortunate enough to land.

  As the tide was almost at its ebb all the outlying reefs wereexposed, disclosing a veritable death-trap for any vessel unfortunateenough to become entangled in the intricate shoals. At high-water thereefs surrounding the smaller island that Burgoyne had previouslynoticed were awash, only the mere hummock crowned by three palm treesbeing visible.

  "There's one disadvantage that this island has and which Porfirio'sisland hasn't," observed Burgoyne. "In calm weather a boat can landhere almost anywhere. Properly we ought to maintain a look-outstation on this hill, especially if the pirates do attempt to findus."

  "Do you think they will?" asked Hilda.

  "They may try," replied Alwyn. "That's almost a foregone conclusion.But they'll think we've tried to make Honolulu, which is the nearestknown civilized town in this part of the Pacific. If so, they'reright off their course."

  "Why didn't we?" inquired the girl.

  "Head wind and adverse current almost the whole distance," saidBurgoyne laconically.

  "I'm not questioning your seamanship, Mr. Burgoyne," Hilda hastenedto add, imagining by the Third Officer's somewhat brusque reply thathe thought she had cast aspersions upon his sound judgment.

  "I never had the slightest idea that you did, Miss Vivian," rejoinedAlwyn earnestly. "I ought to have explained. Briefly, in a sailingcraft the shortest distance between two ports is not always thequickest passage. One must take prevailing winds and currents intoconsideration But to get to the look-out question. I think we oughtto make a point of having someone up here four times a day, just tomake sure that no suspicious craft is bearing down on the island. Andthere's another question: will Porfirio make use of that seaplane ofhis to try and spot us?"

  "That'll be awkward," remarked Peter "unless we can collar theblighter when she's sitting."

  "Not much use that," said Alwyn. "None of us could fly the thing evenif we did capture it. No, I don't want to see that seaplane againexcept through the sight of an anti-aircraft gun. Now, suppose wepush on."

  "Aren't
we going to give the island a name, Mr. Burgoyne?" inquiredHilda. "It's the usual thing, I believe."

  "Right-o," agreed Alwyn. "I propose we leave the selection of a nameto you."

  "Then why not 'Swan Island'," said the girl. "From here the outlinelooks awfully like a swan with an exaggerated neck."

  "So it does," agreed Peter. "Done it in one, Miss Vivian."

  "An' thet rock out along," said Minalto. "Ut ought to have a name.They three trees make un look like an ole man-o-war. How'd 'Man-o-warRock' suit?"

  "The very ticket," agreed Burgoyne. "So that's that."

  Descending the hill, the four castaways proceeded in the direction ofthe west side of Swan Island. Here the coco-palms were thinner inpoint of number, but the scrub was if anything denser than on theeastern side.

  Suddenly there was a commotion in the undergrowth, and three or fourfat porkers dashed frantically across the path.

  "Pork for supper!" shouted Peter. In his excitement he hurled thecoil of rope at the animals, without doing the slightest good.

  But before the last pig had disappeared in the brushwood Jasperhurled his spear with tremendous force. The aim was good, and thenail-shod tip struck the luckless animal just behind thefore-quarters.

  Squealing horribly; the pig rolled over on its side but before Jasperor anyone else could secure the prize it recovered its feet and divedunder the thick scrub.

  Reckless of the consequences and loth to lose the brute, Minaltocrawled under the spiky bushes, while Burgoyne and Mostyn made theirway round the patch of scrub in order to try to cut off the woundedanimal's retreat. Hilda, holding her hands to her ears to shut outthe piteous squeals, remained on the path.

  The two officers were baulked in their attempt, for on the remoteside of the belt of scrub the ground rose steeply to a height ofabout twenty feet, running right and left in an almost unbroken wallof soft rock.

  "The brute can't climb that," declared Alwyn. "You stop here, Peter,old son. I'll work round to the other side and we've got him cold.How goes it, Jasper?" he shouted to the intensely excited andexasperated Minalto, whose efforts to follow the pig wereconsiderably hampered by hundreds of aggressive thorns.

  "'E be gone down to girt big hole, sir," replied Minaltobreathlessly. "Don't 'ee take on. Us'll get 'un."

  "A hole, did you say?" inquired Burgoyne. "Go slow then."

  "Ay, ay, sir," replied Jasper; then after a pause he added: "Couldyou be comin' here, sir? If so, would 'ee bring my spear?"

  Alwyn agreed to the suggestion rather hesitatingly. In default ofsuitable spare clothing, he was reluctant to sacrifice his alreadyragged garments to the attentions of the spiky thorns. Recovering theweapon that had wounded the pig, he crawled under the thicket untilhe rejoined Jasper.

  Sounding with the pole, Minalto found that the floor of the hole orcave was level, but the extreme reach of the spear failed to find theextremity of the hollow. The while the squeals of the porker weregrowing fainter and fainter, showing that it was on the point ofdeath.

  "What's doing, old son?" inquired Mostyn from afar.

  "Come and see, my festive," replied Burgoyne. "No more of your 'waitand see' business. Bring your rope with you."

  Undergoing more than his fair share of laceration, Peter crawledunder the brushwood. The three men crouched in the dim light thatfiltered through the thicket, and silently contemplated the mouth ofthe cave.

  Minalto looked upon it as a place where fresh pork was to be obtainedand that soon; Peter, in the light of romance, tried to conjure upvisions of the long-gone buccaneers; Alwyn, in view of possibilities,regarded it and its approach as a hiding-place should Black Strogoffand his satellites succeed in finding the castaways.

  "May as well see the thing through," observed Burgoyne. "It's no usehanging on to the slack."

  "Certainly, sir," agreed Minalto, and proceeded to secure the roperound his waist by means of a bowline. "Du you pay out, sir, 'n casethere's a big drop."

  Prodding the ground with the haft of his spear, Jasper cautiouslyentered the cave. For the first eight or ten paces the sides of thetunnel-like entrance were fairly regular and less than a yard apart.Then he found that the cave expanded both in height and width, untilit was impossible even with the spear to reach from one wall to theother. Standing upright, Minalto found that he could just touch theroof with his extended hand.

  Guided by the faint squeals, Jasper followed the right-hand walluntil his knees came in contact with what he thought to be a largeledge of rock. Groping with his hands, he discovered that theobstruction was a large box with a hinged lid.

  Instantly all thoughts of the pig vanished from the man's mind, andagain the long-dormant strain derived from his wrecking and smugglingancestors reasserted itself.

  "Ho! ho!" he shouted in stentorian tones. "We'm in luck, sir.Treasure an' all!"

  He fumbled with the lid, then, struck by the thought that a lot ofthe glamour of the discovery of hidden specie and bullion would belost unless he viewed his find in the glare of a torch, he retracedhis footsteps and rejoined Alwyn and Peter.

  "Girt sea-chest!" he announced excitedly. "Lifted 'en lid, I did."

  "And the pig?" asked the matter-of-fact Burgoyne.

  "Drat that pig!" exclaimed Minalto explosively. "The chest, sir. Efus had a light, like... sort o' torch, now say?"

  "How about it, Peter?" asked Alwyn, turning to the Wireless Officer.

  "We'll manage that," replied Mostyn confidently. "Let's get out ofthe thicket. Suppose we ought to beat a clear path through thisstuff?"

  Burgoyne shook his head.

  "No," he decided; "we won't disturb it more than necessary. The lesswe do the better. If we're careful we ought to be able to take alighted torch into the cave without setting fire to the brushwoodoutside."

  Returning to the open, they explained the delay to Hilda, whoseeagerness to explore the cave was only quelled by the knowledge thatthe dying pig was somewhere in that gloomy vault. She would haveendured the thorny passage without complaint; but there were limits,and the expiring porker was beyond them.

  Hurrying back to the camp, Mostyn returned with his fire-making gear,and proceeded to work. Meanwhile Burgoyne and Minalto had wrenchedoff some resinous branches to serve as torches.

  "All ready!" announced Peter.

  With a torch burning faintly, Minalto forced his way under the scrub,Burgoyne and Mostyn following in his tracks. At the mouth of the cavethey coaxed the flames into greater activity, and from it lighted twomore torches.

  Jasper advanced boldly. He had been there before. His companionsfollowed cautiously, until the glare of the reddish flames revealedthe treasure-chest.

  It was in fairly good condition, having been painted white with ablack lid. There were rope beckets at each end, rove through twolarge half-round wooden chocks.

  The lid creaked on its hinges as Jasper threw it back. Then he gave ahowl of disappointment. All the chest contained was a rusty cutlass,a clay pipe with a broken stem, and a number of brown paper bundlescontaining candles all stuck together by the heat.

  "So much for your treasure, Jasper!" said Burgoyne with a laugh."Never mind; we found something useful, the candles especially."

  "P'raps 'en buried et," suggested Minalto hopefully, casting anxiousglances at the walls and floor of the cave.

  Burgoyne made no remark. He was deeply interested in the constructionof the cave. It was partly natural and partly artificial. Human handshad enlarged the entrance and "faired off" the walls. In length itwas about forty feet, and twenty in breadth, with a hewn pillar inthe centre to give greater support to the roof. Except for the chestthere were no other relics of the previous occupier. In one cornerlay the pig, by this time quite dead.

  "No use stopping here," decided Alwyn. "Bend that rope round the pig,Minalto, and we'll haul the brute out. Yes, bring the cutlass, Peter,and a couple of packets of candles. The others can stop, in case wewant them here."

  "Want them here?" repeated Mostyn.

 
; "Rather," replied his chum. "This cave will make an ideal retreat ifwe have to hide. I hope we shan't, but we must look things fairly inthe face. That's why I didn't want the brushwood cleared away. Had itnot been for the pig we should not have found the cave, and so mostlikely no one else will."

  "Someone did at one time," remarked Peter.

  "Yes, but how long ago we don't know, unless that cutlass gives us aclue. I'll have a look at it when we get into the open. You see, theperson or persons who enlarged this place threw the excavatedmaterial on a mound just outside. That shows they hadn't any idea ofconcealing the cave. Since then this scrub has sprung up and hiddenit. Now then, Jasper, all ready? Heave away!"

  At the mouth of the cave they extinguished their torches, leavingthem leaning against the wall in case they might be required again.Then, carrying and hauling their various trophies, the three menrejoined Hilda in the open.

  "Now, where's that cutlass?" inquired Alwyn, after relating the storyof how their high expectations had been thwarted. "H'm, thought so.Our predecessors on Swan Island weren't so very ancient after all.This is a cutlass-bayonet, Peter, issued to the Navy in the late'70's and '80's. That ring in the guard is where the muzzle went, butI see the spring socket is rusted away. Nice job for you, Peter. Youcan clean the thing up. It'll do to carve the Christmas dinner ifwe're here long enough."