Joan of the Island/Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII
MONIZ COMES BACK
DRESSING hurriedly, with a perplexed frown on his forehead, Keith hunted in the living-room for the binoculars he had seen Joan using, and passed out on to the veranda. Then he levelled the glasses at the reef and its visitors. At that distance he could not distinguish individuals clearly, but there was no doubt that diving was in active progress.
He was standing, his eyes glued to the schooner, when there came a light step on the veranda and Joan stood by his "side.
"It is Moniz, I fancy," she said quietly, as the man handed the binoculars to her.
"Beyond a doubt," Keith replied. "I don't suppose he knows the Kestrel is away yet, but he'll soon tumble to that."
"Chester won't be back until to-morrow at the earliest," the girl said.
Keith rubbed his chin reflectively.
"That is so," he agreed. Then: "There's a whaleboat drawn up on our beach," he added. "Is she seaworthy?"
"Quite," the girl replied, "but it's no use your going off in her to tackle Moniz and his schooner."
"Why not?" Keith put the question crisply. It was galling to him to stand there and see the Portuguese calmly working the oyster beds that might contain a fortune.
"Because you may depend on it Moniz never came back without being better armed," Joan declared. "Even if he only had the two rifles that he used the last time, he could pick you off in the whale-boat, where you would be without cover. But it is more likely that he will have half a dozen boys armed now."
"Miss Trent," Keith said, "I can't stay here and do nothing. If I had no faith in the pearl fishery I'd feel different about it, but up to a point I take the same view that your brother does. I'll have to ask you to stop behind, though."
Their eyes met for several seconds, and Keith, knowing that the girl's chief thought was for his personal safety, felt curiously elated. But her look of concern did not cause him to weaken in his purpose.
"I won't take any unnecessary chances," he said. "I'll bring the boat back safely, and your boys too, if possible; but something's got to be done."
"Wait until to-morrow," the girl urged. "You could drive him off so much better in the Kestrel."
But Keith shook his head regretfully.
"I'm sorry to go against your wishes," he said, "but now's the time for action. It's what I'd expect your brother to do for me if the positions were reversed."
Telling Taleile to pick out eight rowers, and taking up a couple of rifles and filling his pockets with cartridges, he went down to the beach. Joan uttered no further word of protest. As the boat was pushed off she bade him good luck, and even smiled; but before the ebony hued oarsmen had taken a score of strokes the smile gave place to an expression of grave concern. The trip was a hazardous one, for it was evident from what had gone before that Moniz would not hesitate to take life rather than be driven off the reef. She stood on the beach watching until the measured plash of the oars was lost, and the whale-boat was little more than a dot in the distance. Then she went back to the bungalow and, propping her elbows on the rail of the veranda, watched its progress through the binoculars.
Keith made a wide sweep round the edge of the rocky ledge. When he came within half a mile of the schooner it was evident to him that his movements were being carefully watched. Moniz's small boat was now nuzzling the side of the schooner and for the time diving had been suspended. Keith bit his lips, while he held a rifle in readiness and toyed longingly with the trigger.
Only five hundred yards separated them—now four hundred. The oarsmen, each with his eyes fixed on Keith, continued to row steadily.
There came a puff of smoke from the schooner. A bullet struck the water fifty yards ahead of the whale-boat and ricocheted past. As the sound of the shot reached their ears the oarsmen stopped rowing.
"Washee-washee," Keith commanded sternly. The blacks bent obediently to their task again.
Sitting bolt upright, and swaying slightly to counteract the motion of the boat, Keith levelled his rifle at the schooner. He could see nobody on board, for all hands had sought cover, so he fired at the deck, more or less at random.
An instant later a shrill scream came from the schooner. A black sprang to his feet, threw up his arms, spun round and fell. A grim smile of triumph lit up Keith's face. It had been a lucky shot—one he could not hope to equal in a dozen—but it had given Moniz something to think about. Keith held up his hand as a signal to his rowers to stop. Immediately they all ducked below the gunwale, as though the frail shell of the boat were impervious to rifle fire.
Keith, however, remained in the same position, and pulled the trigger again. Two or three bullets spurted from the schooner almost simultaneously, one of them splashing into the water within a foot of the boat.
A dozen times Keith fired, but so far as he could see only his first shot had been effective. Then a shot hit the whale-boat just beneath the water-line. It split a plank, allowing a stream of water to trickle through, and lodged in the shoulder of a crouching black, who groaned, but lay still. Keith still continued to pepper the schooner for several minutes, in the vain hope that Moniz would abandon his position rather than run any further risk; but the schooner's anchor remained down and a steady stream of lead was directed at the whale-boat. Chips flew as the bullets ripped their way into the hull. Several minor injuries were inflicted on the crouching blacks and Keith himself sustained a long flesh wound on one cheek. Then a lucky shot put a second hole below the water-line, and Keith, realizing the futility of further efforts, ordered the whale-boat to be swung around.
As the blacks bent again at their oars a burst of taunting laughter came from the schooner. Keith, however, did not look back, though more than one shot was sent after him. His face was grim. He had failed. True, the task had been a well-nigh impossible one, but there was little consolation in that. Moniz had been left in undisputed possession of the field and now knew that he could fish to his heart's content—at any rate for the present.
Joan was at the water's edge when the whale boat grated on the beach, her gaze fixed on Keith's bleeding face.
"You're hurt!" she cried.
"Only a scratch from a flying splinter," he answered lightly as he sprang out. "Nothing of consequence, really."
"You're sure?" she asked anxiously.
"Quite. One of the boys, though, needs some mending."
"I heard a lot of firing," she said, relieved, "and I lost sight of you after you got round the edge of the reef. Tell me what happened."
"There isn't much to tell," Keith replied glumly, "except that Moniz is in complete command of the situation. If you'll be kind enough to get me some antiseptic dressing I'll fix this fellow's shoulder up first. It isn't serious."
"I am glad you came back safely," the girl said to Keith when they were once more on the veranda and he had told the story of the skirmish. There was unmistakable sincerity in her voice.
"There wasn't much danger," he said awkwardly.
"I know there was," she declared; "and now I hope you will leave that blackguard alone until Chester comes back."
His eyes wandered over the ocean to the masts of the schooner rising behind the purple loom of the reef, and then back to her.
"Miss Trent," he began, "Moniz isn't going to get the best of us. He's scored the first trick, and I expect it has tickled him to death. It's no use butting up against him single-handed, but I'm not going to lie down and call the deal off. Maybe your brother will turn up early in the morning, in which case there'll be something doing out there. Until he does come, though, Moniz has everything his own way. All we can do is to hope he won't find any pearls."
Throughout the forenoon he paced the beach restlessly, pausing now and then to look out in the direction of the reef. It was maddening to be so utterly impotent. Towards evening he was quick to notice a change in the direction of the wind. It had been coming in light breezes from the south all day, but now it was due southeast, and increasing in strength. Moreover the sky was overcast, and the night promised to be a dark one. As the wind steadily grew stronger an idea came to him. He was in the frame of mind to take bigger chances than he might have done usually. By midnight, he reasoned, everybody on the schooner would be sound asleep except, possibly, one or two on watch. The schooner was lying in such a position that if her anchor cable were severed she would drift straight on to the long reef before a southeast wind, and with a sharp knife he could cut through her cable in three or four minutes.
"They are still there, I see," Joan said as he entered the bungalow for supper. "You look awfully pleased about something. What is it?"
"For the first time in my life I envy a nigger the colour of his skin," Keith said.
The girl looked at him, puzzled.
"Why?"
Keith briefly outlined his project.
"If the sentries on the schooner weren't half asleep they'd be sure to see me in the water, and they could drill holes in me as they liked."
"I have it—Peter Pan!" Joan exclaimed.
"Would he do it?"
"He would do anything in the wide world for either Chester or me," the girl declared. "The only question is whether I ought to put him to the risk. Peter wouldn't mind, but I should never forgive myself if I sent him out there and he got killed."
"What sort of a swimmer is he?"
"He's like a shark in the water."
"Then you needn't have any fear for him, if only it keeps dark enough. They wouldn't see him in a month of Sundays, and if necessary he can dive underneath to do the cutting."
The girl's eyes sparkled. The idea appealed to her immensely.
"I only stipulate one thing," she said.
"What is it?"
"I go in the boat too."
"There's no objection to that," Keith said, after a moment's consideration. "We shall only go near enough to land at one end of the reef. The rest is up to Peter Pan. Suppose we ask him?"
The girl clapped her hands to summon the house boy, and sent for Peter Pan, who appeared at the veranda in a few minutes.
"Peter," she said, "you plenty good swimmer, eh?"
The black grinned. He vas tall for a South Sea islander, and his body was lean and lithe.
"There's a little schooner anchored off the reef there," Joan said, pointing seaward.
The black uttered a guttural assent, nodded, and also pointed seaward.
"I take you out in whale-boat to the reef. Then you swim plenty too much quiet to the schooner and cut the cable, eh?"
The black again nodded. It was not for him to reason why his white mistress should make such a peculiar request. Sufficient that she made it. Doubtless those on the schooner were her enemies, and that being so he would willingly board the ship and fight the whole crew single-handed for her.
Joan went indoors for a moment and returned with a large bone-handled knife.
"You cut rope with this, Peter Pan," she said, "and then I give you knife to keep. Go away now. I send for you bimeby."
For the next few hours they could only wait with all the patience they could muster. The night proved to be perfect for their purpose. The wind was now blowing strongly, straight toward the reef from where the schooner lay, and the dwindling moon was obscured by heavy clouds. Keith's chief fear was that he might not reach the reef in the darkness.
It was two hours after midnight when the whale-boat was pushed off the beach. Keith did not consider it necessary to have the oars muffled, as the wind would carry any slight noise they made away from those on the schooner. The blacks pulled for over half an hour before Keith stopped them and listened intently. Presently he distinguished the swish of the waves as they hit the reef away to the right. Steering was largely guess-work in the darkness, and at any moment a jagged peak might pierce the bottom of their craft. They were, however, under the lee of the reef, and fortune favoured them, for presently the bows ran on the short, shelving beach. It had been arranged that Peter Pan was to swim back to the reef after severing the schooner's cable, and then, if he did not readily find the whale-boat he was to call until Keith answered.
The black glided away into the darkness, crossed the narrow ledge and then stood like an ebony statue, peering into the gloom toward where the schooner lay some three hundred yards to windward. Presently he lowered himself into the water, knife in teeth, and set out with long, easy strokes. So far he had not made out the schooner, but after going straight into the wind for a few minutes he turned and swam parallel with the reef. Before long the dark form of the boat loomed up not far away. Without a sound he propelled his body forward, made a slight detour, and then dived as silently as a seal. Grasping the cable, he lifted his head to the surface and filled his lungs. Then he lowered himself once more and slashed at the tough manila. Twice he had to come up to breathe before the last strand gave way. Then, with the precious knife he had earned with his skill and cunning clenched again in his teeth, he paddled softly away, leaving the schooner to her fate.