Joan of the Island/Chapter 13
CHAPTER XIII
PERILS SHARED
CHESTER, in spite of discouraging results, held firm in his determination to give the pearling another month's trial before abandoning it as useless. There were several days on which it was impossible to go to the reef owing to a southerly gale, and during that time he "cleaned up" all the shell that remained on the drying ledge. Besides insignificant small fry, he was rewarded with one pearl, of pure quality, but little larger than a pea. This gave a temporary fillip to his enthusiasm, and he placed it, with loving care, among the baroques and seeds in a wallet which he carried.
"I suppose this little fellow ought to go with the two big ones in their hiding place," he said, "but I think I'll keep it in my pocket for luck."
As, however, the weeks slipped past with no further success, Chester became more and more depressed. His case was becoming that of the gambler who has staked all on one throw—and lost. Financial resources were almost at an end. Stores had to be paid for with cold cash. At any time now a trading steamer might appear, bringing things which were urgently needed. The planter could pay for them with his pearls, but that would be a ruinous way of disposing of them, for no trading skipper would give more than a third of their true value. Keith reckoned that, given a proper market for them he could realize between ten and twelve hundred dollars apiece for the two large pearls, and, say, another hundred and fifty for the balance. South Sea values are not those of the Rue de la Paix, nor Bond Street, and Chester didn't take to the notion of haggling over the side of a schooner with some stony-hearted master mariner, and letting the pearls go for a tithe of their real value. His capital was coming to an end just about eighteen months too soon. Were he able to hang out till his first crops were ready to be shipped that would enable him to turn the corner. As it was disaster was staring him in the face. He became moody and taciturn, eating his meals in silence and spending much of his time alone when ashore, smoking and brooding over his troubles. Joan and Keith tried to rouse him from this slough of despondency but with little effect.
"Shift your ground again, man," Keith urged. "Have a go at the northeast side of the reef for a change. You haven't given that part a trial yet, have you?"
"Not yet," said the planter. "Maybe I will, though, but it seems to me there's a hoodoo on the thing. Damn it, it's hard luck. Do you know, it looks as though after all, I shall have to—" His voice trailed off, and his eyes wandered away to the south, in the direction of Tamba.
"Have to what?" Keith asked. His interest was genuine, but there was nothing to prevent Chester from acting as he thought fit in his own business affairs. Keith would gladly have gone into minute details with the planter, and talked over every possibility, but Chester was becoming increasingly morose.
"I don't know," he said, shrugging his shoulders and walking away; after which, more than ever, Keith felt that the planter did not wish to discuss his affairs.
A few days after this Joan experienced an unpleasant shock. Her brother had been more grumpy than usual at breakfast, and before he went down to the Kestrel he kissed the girl on the forehead and muttered an apology for being such a bear. Then he put off to sea, and Keith went over to the far side of the plantation to consult with Taleile. Joan was busy for a while with household duties, but about an hour afterwards she went out on to the veranda.
The Kestrel was nowhere near the reef, but a good six or seven miles from Tao Tao, scudding in the direction of Tamba.
"Chester! Chester!" the girl said aloud in a reproachful voice; and then a look of dull misery crept over her face. The corners of her mouth were drooping and her face was pale when Keith returned to the bungalow, and he read the signs instantly.
"Something has gone wrong," he declared. "What is it?"
For reply Joan pointed out to sea at the ketch, now only a speck in the distance.
Keith frowned.
"Well," he said, glancing from the Kestrel to the girl, and back at the Kestrel. "Sailed for supplies, hasn't he?"
"I should like to think so, but I doubt it," Joan replied.
"Let's hope so. I suppose he didn't tell you he was off to Tamba?"
Joan shook her head.
"He didn't even hint at it," she declared. "That's what makes me feel so afraid—for his sake. Of course there is the chance that supplies are what he is after. If necessary he need not go to Moniz for them, though so long as Moniz gets his extortionate prices he would trade with anyone. Did he say anything to you about going?"
"Not a word," said Keith. "I suspect he's hard up, and worried like the dickens about his affairs, but I fancied from something he said a few days ago, that he had a sort of notion of seeing Moniz."
"Why didn't you tell me?' the girl asked.
"Well, it was only a surmise. I put two and two together and concluded that was what he was hankering for, but I thought perhaps the mood would pass off."
Chester Trent did not return to Tao Tao that night, and both his sister and Keith felt restless in his absence. The very fact that he had not spoken of his intention was ominous. Keith paid scant attention to the plantation next day, but remained about the bungalow with the girl, whose uneasiness increased hourly. Personally he was not greatly concerned with Keith's absence, although he was heartily sorry that the youngster was making an idiot of himself again. It was because of the girl that he looked out over the sea to the south so often and occasionally muttered under his breath things which were far from complimentary to Chester Trent.
"This won't do," he declared to the girl as evening approached. "I'm going to get a crew together and row over to Tamba in the whale-boat."
"If you go I go too," the girl said resolutely.
"No," replied the man with an assumption of authority. "It's no trip for a girl in an open boat, and Heaven only knows what sort of trouble we may have there. I shan't come back without him, and there may be some delay."
The girl was very quiet, but her square little chin showed no sign of submissiveness.
"I mean just what I say, Mr. Keith. If you go in the whale-boat I go too. There is going to be no argument about that."
"You know how suddenly heavy weather comes up in these waters," the man protested. "It is full forty miles there and back. I shouldn't like to have it on my conscience that I had drowned you."
"You wouldn't, because if I were drowned you would be too," the girl replied, sticking unflinchingly to her guns. "And if you were drowned I—I'd rather—" She broke off, confusedly.
"Rather what?" he asked with a searching glance at her, and yet feeling a brute.
"Suppose Chester never comes back and you're drowned," she replied, parring, "what sort of a time do you suppose I am going to have by myself on Tao Tao? But that isn't the point. Please understand if you go to Tamba I refuse to be left behind."
The man shrugged his shoulders. As a matter of fact he intensely disliked the idea of going away and leaving her alone, but of two evils he had chosen what he considered to be the lesser.
"Very well," he said, resigned. "We will wait till to-morrow in that case, and see what happens in the meanwhile."
Toward noon on the following day, as there was no sign of the Kestrel, Keith took eight oarsmen and put off in the whale-boat. He cast an anxious glance at the sky as they started. A few wisps of fleecy cloud were passing overhead, indicating that there was a good deal of wind above, but the sailor decided they would be safe for a few hours at any rate. They were cutting along, about a dozen miles from Tao Tao, however, when a squall struck the little craft, followed almost immediately by another. They were fierce gusts which made rowing and steering increasingly difficult.
Keith altered his course a few points to allow for drifting.
"I'm afraid it's going to blow hard," he said. "It may pass off in a while, but the best thing we can do now, anyway, is to keep on for Tamba."
Joan nodded, but sat silently in the stern. She knew enough of the mad antics of South Pacific weather to anticipate anything, and did not need to be told there was probably a wetting in store for them before they reached shelter. She placed reliance, however, on Keith's judgment and seamanship.
The next quarter of an hour brought a disagreeable change for the worse. A succession of violent squalls quickly raised a nasty chop on the sea. Again he had to alter the course to make more allowance for the wind. A hissing wave seethed against the quarter, slewed the stern round, and cascaded over the gunwale, drenching Joan and her companion at the same time. They were still miles from the island, and though the blacks were straining at their oars they were not making enough progress in the right direction to satisfy Keith.
"You bale out with that can, Joan," he said, unconsciously addressing the girl by her Christian name. Two or three inches of water were running about in the bottom of the boat, and while Keith gave all his attention to the tiller the girl baled as fast as she could, but another hissing comber slapped the side angrily and poured in over the gunwale.
The water was almost flush with the seats. In that instant of peril the eyes of the girl and the man sought each other. Even a small wave toppling over the side then would have sealed their fate.
Keith threw all his weight against the tiller, and slowly brought the water-logged craft round into the wind. Stopping rowing, the blacks began to bale for their lives, using their hands as scoops; and after a few minutes of suspense the little craft rode more lightly again.
"Washee, washee," Keith ordered at last, and the black crew bent to their work with a will once more. Now, however, they were no longer making for Tamba but were just able to hold their own against the strength of the gale. With her bows turned toward the seas, the boat shipped little water. Keith's thoughts were concerned chiefly with the problem of whether the strength of the crew or the gale would first give out. In another couple of hours as the blacks' muscles grew weary, the boat would begin to be carried remorselessly away from Tamba and Tao Tao.
The wind lashed the water savagely, sometimes cutting thin slices clean off the surface and hurling them hundreds of feet.
In an hour the blacks had lost ground to the extent of about a mile. The strain was beginning to tell on them. Keith feared to urge them on too much lest they should use up all their strength and become virtually useless.
Another hour, and Tamba was further away than ever. Keith put his hand on Joan's shoulder.
"Don't be scared, Joan," he said reassuringly. "The niggers aren't beaten yet, and maybe we'll be having supper in a while on board the Kestrel."
Joan smiled faintly. Though she had not lost courage there seemed to her little immediate prospect of any such thing happening.
"Shall we make it?" she asked calmly.
Keith wanted to lie to her—wanted to lie more than anything in the world except get the boat under shelter. Her brown eyes were looking up into his trustfully.
"It—it doesn't look much like it for the moment," he said. "There's no danger of our being swamped, though—yet."
"Thank you," Joan answered simply; and she relapsed into silence.
Keith's attention was fully taken up with the task of keeping the craft head on to the seas. Now he only obtained occasional glimpses of the island of Tamba. The blacks were almost rowed out.
"I'm sorry," Keith said at length, "but we're dropping further to the east. Niggers are poor creatures to depend on when it comes to physical strength. We'd have been ashore by now if these fellows had been white. If we keep afloat and this goes on all night we shall be in a bad fix. You see, there's no compass aboard, and the Pacific is a pretty big place."
"Then you don't think there is any hope for us?" the girl asked, with a look of deep concern.
"I won't say that till she sinks," replied the man from the Four Winds, grimly.
Suddenly the violent wind eased up. For two full minutes there was a dead calm, and then a gust of wind blew from the other direction.
Keith's heart gave a leap; as yet he dared not think of it as anything but a playful prank of the gale. But now there came a steady pressure directly from the east.
"Washee, washee!" the man cried exultantly. "Pull, you lazy black scum! Put some beef into it, or I'll knock you into the middle of the starboard watch. Miss Trent, this crazy wind has shifted right round. How long it'll stop there the angel Gabriel may know, but I don't. If it doesn't jump round again we ought to bump up against the side of the Kestrel within an hour."