.. -*- encoding: utf-8 -*-

.. meta::
   :PG.Id: 55663
   :PG.Title: The Sauciest Boy in the Service
   :PG.Released: 2017-10-01
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Al Haines
   :DC.Creator: \W. Gordon-Stables
   :MARCREL.ill: Henry Austin
   :DC.Title: The Sauciest Boy in the Service
              A Story of Pluck and Perseverance
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1911
   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

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THE SAUCIEST BOY IN THE SERVICE
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   .. _`"Knives glittered, and the two were in deadly embrace."`:

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      :alt: "Knives glittered, and the two were in deadly embrace."

      "Knives glittered, and the two were in deadly embrace." (Page `68`_.)

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      THE SAUCIEST BOY
      IN THE SERVICE

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      A Story of Pluck and
      Perseverance

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      By
      \W. GORDON-STABLES M.D.; C.M.
      (SURGEON ROYAL NAVY)

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      *Author of "In Regions of Perpetual Snow," "The Ivory Hunters,"
      "In a Great White Land," etc., etc.*

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      COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS BY HENRY AUSTIN

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      WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED
      LONDON, MELBOURNE AND TORONTO
      1911

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   PREFACE

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Boys' books do not really need a preface.  I
only write a line or two to say my "Sauciest
Boy" is a character drawn from real life.

Most of the adventures are from experiences of my own.

Scenery all painted from Nature, seascapes, cloudscapes
and landscapes, with the glamour of old ocean
over all.

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   \W. GORDON-STABLES
       THE JUNGLE, TWYFORD, BERKS.

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   TO
   LADY ANNE

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CONTENTS

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CHAP.

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I `The Glamour of the Ocean`_
II `Kep was Gone`_
III `"Any Spot on Earth is a Home for the Brave"`_
IV `In Search of a Ship`_
V `The Ship "Macbeth"--Horrible Mutiny`_
VI `The Hurricane--Crusoes in Great Snake Island`_
VII `Sunken Gold--Jack's Career in Sidney`_
VIII `A Breezy Ship, a Breezy Captain, and a Breezy Crew`_
IX `Through the Hawse Hole`_
X `The Broadsword-Men of the Breezy--Kep Cuts off a Leg`_
XI `On the "Scout"`_
XII `A Startling Adventure in the Woods--The Chief's Plot`_
XIII `Preparing for the Fight`_
XIV `Within a Yard of them lay poor Fisher's Head`_
XV `The Attack upon the Barracoon`_
XVI `Poor Bungle!  Just let him Sleep`_
XVII `The Midget Fleet--Bombardment--Fearful Scenes`_
XVIII `Furious Fighting on Sea and Land`_
XIX `Kep Commands a Dhow--A Deposed Sultan`_
XX `"That Bar of Gold was Stolen from Me," Said Kep`_
XXI `Tragedy on an Island--A Cannibal Witch`_
XXII `In Slumbering Woods--Kep Captured by Savages`_
XXIII `Fierce Fighting with the Cannibals`_
XXIV `"Good Heavens, this is my Sister Madge!"`_
XXV `A Great Ocean Race--"Goddard began to Shoot"`_
XXVI `Something Extraordinary Happened`_
XXVII `The Home-Coming of the Sauciest Boy`_
XXVIII `Not another "But" about It`_





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.. _`THE GLAMOUR OF THE OCEAN`:

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   CHAPTER I


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   THE GLAMOUR OF THE OCEAN

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There were few things that gave Kep Drummond
more real pleasure than the graphic little
descriptions of sea-scapes which occurred every here
and there in the boys' stories he read.  He knew the
true from the false, and avoided tales by authors
who had probably never been further from shore than
one could pitch a biscuit.

Oh, if ever the glamour of old ocean had got right
round a lad's heart and altered all his life and thoughts,
that lad was Kep Drummond.  The passages he
chiefly delighted in were those that seemed to bring
the scene right up before the boy's mind's eye, like
pictures from a magic lantern.  Though but little
over fourteen years of age, he had a wonderful imagination
and was full to the brim with the poetry of true
feeling.  *En rapport*, in fact, with all that is charming
in nature, part and parcel of all the life and love he
could see around him on such a sunny summer's day
as that on which I now present him for the first time
to my readers' notice.

Seated he is on the high and grassy top of a rocky cliff
that beetles over what he calls his own sea, because
the land all around here belongs to his father.  Those
tremendous rocks are the guardians of his father's
Cornish estate.  Behind him stretch wild moorlands
and rising hills, while down below--peeping over the
greenery of elm woods--red rise the turrets of what
the boy knows as home.

But he leans his back against a hillock of tasseled
turf, and opens a book; and as he reads his thoughts,
his dreams, fly straight away through space, six
thousand miles and over to the sylvan-bound silver sands
of the Indian Ocean.  And this is what he is reading:
"How windless and warm it is!  One's shoes take
up the pitch and soil the ivory-white quarter-deck.
We are only a gun-boat, but there isn't a yard-arm
one inch out of the square, a rope's end uncoiled, nor
a capstan bar awry; the wood work scintillates, the
brass work shines like burnished gold, and our guns
have the shimmer of papier maché.  But our men
to-day all look fagged and lazy.  They are sun-weary.
Yet every Jack amongst them is as neatly dressed
as if he were about to take part in a nautical opera.

"The water round the ship, which is lying at anchor,
is clearer to-day than gum copal.  Five fathoms
beneath we can see the bottom well; see the coral
rocks, see patches of coral sand and the ever waving
mysterious-looking seaweed, the home of crustaceans
black or blue and grey, and of curious fishes that
glide and dart, clad in every colour of the rainbow.

"Nearer the surface are scores and scores of splendid
medusæ or jelly-fishes; under their waving limbs
glint and radiate rubies, emeralds and sapphires.
On this brightest day of tropical sunshine they float
lazily along with the tide, but they are perilously near
to the shore, and hundreds will be stranded on the
beach.  Many a little azure nautilus or 'Portuguese
man o' war' sails hither and thither on the
gently-heaving waves.

"Seawards, if we look, the ocean's breast is flecked
and patched with tender graze greens and with
opal tints, but towards the horizon it is as blue as
the sky itself.  Landwards, in long white lines, the
breakers roll in on the snow-white sands that are at
present all but deserted by both negro and Somali,
who will sleep in the shadows till the sun sinks lower
and lower and kisses the sea good-night.  Yonder
are the silvery house-blocks of Zanzibar, but the flags
on the various consulates droop listlessly roofwards,
and our own white ensign is almost trailing in the
waters astern."

Kep closes the book, closes his eyes, too, but he
is not going to sleep, but only just to day-dream, and
his long brown fingers keeps the place for him.

There is the thunder of waves beneath the cliffs
leaping lion-like on the black and weed-trailed rocks;
there is the scream of the British sea-mew too, and
the long lorn wail of many another sea-bird that
floats all day 'twixt sky and sea.  They are all the
boy's friends and favourites, and when at morn or
noon he dashes into the water and breasts the billows
far off the shore, they fly friendly around his head,
or float so white and near he might almost touch
their paddling feet.

The glamour of the ocean!

Yes, and all things of the ocean that he has ever
seen or read about appeal to Kep.  Realities, I
mean.  He thinks himself a man, and would be
ashamed to recite "The boy stood on the burning
deck."  That was sheer nonsense.  Why could he
not have leapt into the blue bosom of kindly Mother
Ocean?  That is what Kep would have done.  Some
of the folk lore of the sea, however, still enamoured
him.  He wanted to believe, or liked to believe, there
were real mermaids and sirens also, that sung by
night on the rocks of fairy islands to lure the
unsuspecting mariners to their doom.

But there were real sea-poems, that night after
night in his turret chamber among the elm trees he
loved to fall asleep thinking about.

Well for Kep Drummond, I ween, that he had
such little sea-poems to call upon, especially during
the long dark nights of winter, for he was a somewhat
excitable brainful boy.  His chamber was an eerie
one, but he had chosen it himself chiefly for that very
eerieness.  After bidding his father good-night and
kissing Madge, his sister, and her pet Newfoundland,
Bounder, he had to climb high, high up the winding
stone stairs.  There was said to be a ghost at Martello
Castle, as the place was called, and if by any chance
you had met the pensive dark-eyed boy, candle in
hand, in the narrow stairway, you might have been
somewhat startled.

The room itself was not large, and it was round.
Kep's hammock was slung at one end near to two
long narrow windows, and in winter time the leafless
fingers of the elm-trees had an uncanny way of tapping
on the panes.  There were no blinds to these windows,
because the boy liked to see out when skies were clear
and stars shone, or the moon glinted laughingly
through the branches.

One night as Kep was going to bed he met old
Elspet coming down.  A faithful old retainer she,
but to-night her eyes were round and glassy, and the
very flaps of her mob-cap seemed to have been
stiffened with fear.

"Go not up, Keppie, darling; there is that in your
room no boy should see!"

"Oh, if it is the ghost," cried Kep, "here's a boy
who does want to see it, badly."

She tried to hold him.  "It was a white face glaring
in through the black, dark window!" she hissed.
But Kep was off.  She might as well have tried to
restrain an eel.

The window was dark certainly, and yonder sure
enough was the white face.

No ghost though, only the wondering eyes of a
great white owl that often came to see the boy, for
he laid up a little store of meat for this strange visitor,
and sometimes a dead mouse or rat.

"It's you, is it?" said Kep, throwing open the
casement.  "Come in, Bob, and have your supper."

And Bob did.  He ate and seemed thankful, and
then spread his great white wings and flew out into
the night and the darkness, taking the largest piece
of meat with him.

As, like a true manly boy, Kep slept with open
windows, and didn't put his light out until he had
done reading by his small table, great bats often flew
in, and did not leave until the candle was extinguished.
Then seeing a distant star perhaps, they flew out towards
that.

In this turret chamber Kep was high above the
rookery, and could in February look down into the
nests.  But the birds all knew Kep.

When the boy tired of reading, then he crept into
bed.  He said his prayers, repeated some Latin
hymns to himself, and soon after that--the sea-poems.
One after another these sea-poems of his used to
spread themselves out before him, and indeed he
seemed part and parcel of the poem itself, and is it
any wonder that he should go to sleep right in the
middle of one of them, the waking thoughts merging
into delightful sea, seldom terrifying, dreams, and these
into the sweetest, soundest kind of sleep that any young
lad e'er enjoyed.

Mermaids were not realities.  They belonged to
the folk-lore of the ocean.  Yet there were some
nights he used to delight to dwell with them in their
diamond-lit caves far down among the brown trailing
sea-weed.  He would imagine their revels and mingle
with sea-fairies in their gladsome dances, or sit on rocks
full fifty fathoms deep with strange wee water babies,
listening to their stories or telling them stories of his
own.  Meanwhile there would be music everywhere in
those fairy submarine gardens, for even the floating
sea-weed emitted sweet sounds; the very sand was
musical, and from under rocks or from caves came the
songs of the sea-folk and the tinkle of lutes.  And
down there the mermaid peoples dwelt and would
dwell ever and ever and ever, always, always happy
and gay.

But the scene is changed--it is another sea-poem,
but true, and tells its own story of the wonders of
the mighty deep.  For sailors who had been to the
far-off northern seas had told him that oft-times when
the ship was becalmed in a lonely expanse of ocean,
mayhap a thousand miles wide, a solitary whale would
be sighted, rising and falling on the sea's dark bosom,
but heading steadily southwards, never varying a
single point.  What guided the lonesome leviathan?
What story had it to tell could it but speak?  Had
it no friends?  Had the great beast been deserted
by all it had loved, and was it, with the sorrow of
night at its heart, moving, sailing, plunging
southwards and southwards, reckless, forsaken, unheeding,
to be stranded on a reef and to die?

Mother Carey's chickens, the stormy petrels, were
another sea-poem to Kep.  He could see in his mind's
eye the rise and fall of the stern of a big black ship,
the quickly obliterated wake, the spume of a
wind-tortured ocean, and across and across, darting over,
darting under, these mysterious chips of darkness,
the petrels, and he could hear their quick sharp
shriek--was it a song or was it a wail?  Did it portend
joy to the crew, or sorrow and a sailor's grave?  Bird
of mystery!  Ah, yes, but what a poem!

A shoal of porpoises.  They seemed always busy
always merry--diving, gambolling around a ship on
voyage.  Then dashing off again or disappearing over
the horizon, followed by blessings from the seamen
for the luck they always bring.

These are but samples of this strange boy's
sea-poems.  He would hear many more before he left
his teens.

But now on the grassy cliff-top, Kep sits up once
more and continues his story.  Not for very long,
however, because over the cliff-top yonder, or from,
some part of the precipice itself, he can hear a young
voice hailing him.  Then two great black paws, like
those of a bear, claw at the cliff-brink.  There is a
serious black face with a long pink tongue and flashing
ivory teeth between these paws, and, dropping his
book, Kep dashes forward and at some risk to himself
seizes Bounder's collar and brings the noble fellow
to bank.

Then, facing the sea, the dog stands up to bark at
Kep and towards the cliff.

"Poor Madge is down yonder," he seems to say.
"Aren't you going to help her up also?"

But wild Madge needs no help.  Next minute,
with her lustrous black eyes a-sparkle, her cheeks
aglow with exercise and pleasure, she stands beside
her brother.

"It was a feat of rare daring, I suppose," she said,
laughing, "and father will scold when I tell him.
But Bounder is a poor cragsman, and I had to help
him half the way."

Tall for her age--sixteen--hair and eyes as dark as
night, an Italian night, and she was half Italian,
ripe parted lips that showed even teeth as white as
Bounder's, Madge Drummond was really a beautiful
girl.  Slender, though round in features, and with
garments that draped naturally to her shapely
limbs.

Kep saw little of all this.  He only saw his big
sister Madge and Bounder.  And he felt but like a
baby beside her.

"So you ran away from us, Kep," she said.

"Ran away to read, Madge."

"Well, come back from the cliff and sit down.  I've
had enough of that, and so has Bounder.  And what
have you been reading?  Oh, a sea-story.  Well, I
like those, too, but I love a school-story with a
somewhat naughty girl in it better."

It was the most natural thing in the world that Kep
should slip his hand into Madge's and be led back to
his seat.

"Well," she said a little later on, in answer to a
remark of Kep's, "we are both of us sailors already.
Haven't we been everywhere in father's yacht?
Haven't we lived in sunny Italy, more on its waters
than on shore?  Have we not lived in France and
Spain, and in Algiers itself?  Father would let you
go anywhere in his yacht, Kep, but you don't want
to leave our father's Cornish home.  Oh, I should
miss you so.  There would be nobody but me and
Bounder and old nurse Elspet.  Bounder is sympathetic,
and sits and listens to my stories and licks
my cheek or ear now and then, to show he
understands.  Ah!  Kep, if you run away from home as
you want to, I'd miss our mother more and more.
I'd want to go back and sit and sing on her grave to
keep her company."

Kep was silent for a short spell.  His eyes were
turned towards the horizon, his thoughts were far
beyond it.

Oh, that glamour of the ocean!

When he spoke again it was more to himself than
to his sister Madge.

"Yes, I must go to sea.  Father will not send me.
But they call me!"

"Who calls you?"

"The spirits that ride on the clouds, spirits of the
wind and the waves.  The sea itself is calling me
now--listen to its friendly boom.  It is the waves
that speak.  'You are son of ours,' they are crying.
'Come to us.  Come to us.'  And the wild mews;
Madge, hear you not their voices?
'Come--come--away--away--away--ay!'"

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Slowly down the glen, hand in hand, sister and
brother, to Martello Castle, and across the Martello
lawns, but the lad's mind is made up.  Kep will be
a sailor.





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.. _`KEP WAS GONE`:

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   CHAPTER II


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   KEP WAS GONE

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Far round the point yonder, though it could not
be seen even from the cliff top, was a town,
an old-fashioned seaport, into which even big ships
often came for shelter, such times as the sea-birds
flew far inland.  A town of narrow streets and
quaintly gabled houses, a town that smelt of tar from
end to end, and a beach with boats and broad-beamed
fishermen who wore jerseys or baggy breeches and
braces only, sou'-westers, and the everlasting short
pipes that they leaned against post or pillar to smoke.

These seafaring folk looked lazy, dreamy and very
quiet in manner, yet never were they afraid to face
the stormiest billows on the stormiest of nights if
danger or duty called.  There was the might of Old
England and its daring and pride of pluck in their
half-shut eyes, and this only wanted waking.  In the
season, a signal from a hill would set them all astir
like a swarming hive of bees.  The mackerel or
pilchards had been spotted in silvery millions, and if
the French themselves had been threatening a landing,
the stir and commotion could scarce have been more.

Kep Drummond loved that old town.  There was
the odour of brine about it.  Sometimes, I must
admit, even the odour of unburied fish that might
have been better out of the way; but still a run over
to Marshton to yarn with the fisher-folk was always
a most pleasant trip for the boy.

The fishermen idolized him, so did their honest,
rough and witty wives, because Kep possessed the
power of making them laugh at will.  That is at his
will, they had to laugh whether they willed it or not.
There was not much about a ship of any kind that
Kep wasn't up to long before he was fourteen.  One
might therefore have dubbed him a sailor born, and
not been very far wrong.

But Kep had another reason for visiting Marshton,
and that lay in the fact that here he met men of many
various nations, and delighted in talking to them in
their own languages.

Apart from his marvellous musical powers, he had
one great gift, namely, that of language.  To say
nothing of English, French, Italian and Spanish, he
could converse in several other tongues, and could
pick up almost any language in an incredibly short
time.

My own opinion is that music and the gift of tongues
go hand in hand, and that they are far more common
in foreign European countries than they are in Britain.
Iverach Drummond, the children's father, was
a true type of the wealthy Scotsman, and of the
wandering Scot.  One of the best yachtsmen who ever trod
on the weather side of a quarter-deck, his devotion
to travel took him everywhere, and when he got
married to a noble Italian lady, for her sweet sake
he bought the estates of Martello, so that she might
be as near to the Mediterranean as possible.

Madge and Kep had been born here, but hitherto
had been educated by worthy priests at their
grandfather's home on the shores of the blue Levant.

When his wife died Drummond was inconsolable.
He seemed to care no more for yachting, because at
sea everything spoke to him of that gentle lady and
mother of his children who had always been by his
side in fair weather or in foul.

He was, at the commencement of this story, as
handsome a specimen of the true Highlander as one
could wish to see.  But honourable, strict, and sternly
religious.  He had, moreover, that pride of birth
and lineage which we find clings to the scions of
Scottish chiefs, be they ever so poor.

The result, therefore, of an interview that Kep had
with his sturdy father, some days after Madge's
adventure on the cliff, is not to be wondered at.

"Father," said Kep, peeping round the edge of the
library door, "may I come?"

"Certainly, my dear boy."

"Sure you are not too much pre-occupied to listen
to what I have to say?"

"Unbend, my boy, unbend," cried Drummond,
laughing, "that is hardly conversational English.
What do you want?  A new pony?  Or have you
taken the motor-car fever?"

"Oh no, my handsome and dearest father.  I
should smash a motor-car to pieces in a week.  A
steam-launch would be more in my way."

"And that shall be yours, Keppel, if you really
think you can't live without it."

"I can live without it, father, and mean to.  But
I am a man now--fourteen last month--and so I
want to go down to the sea in ships and see the Lord's
wonders in the mighty deep."

"Well, my yacht is as taut and trim as she was
on the day she was launched.  Ah, lad, it was my--it
was your dear mother who provided and baptized her."

"But----"  The boy hesitated, as well he might.
"I want to go farther afloat than any yacht could
ever take me.  I wish to go and see wild places such
as my best authors speak of, to kill wild beasts, to
fight with savages, and snakes, and sharks, and
tigers."

"Pile it up, boy.  You're not at all ambitious, are
you?  But, Kep, I'm not rich enough to buy you a
ship, and I have other views for you.  You are my
only son, and heir to all my property.  I want to take
you into London society.  I want you to have a
career, to become member for the county, and
probably eventually Leader of the House."

"Father, *you* are not at all ambitious, are you?
But I hate society, I hate London, I hate M.P.s, and
I hate the Leader of the House.  I'd rather," he
added determinedly, "go to sea before the stick,
and if you do not send me to sea, I fear I'll run
away."

Iverach Drummond was trying to keep down his
prideful wrath.  He sat silent and stern now, so stern
that Kep was frightened.

"Oh father, oh daddy, you're not angry at little Kep?"

He was kneeling by the chief's side, passionately
holding his father's hand and weeping.

"Your anger would kill me, dearest and best."

"Then you won't speak of sea to me again."

The boy let go his father's hand.  There was a
flash of Italian pride in his eyes.  But he speedily
turned them downwards, then glided away and closed
the door.

And something at that moment told Drummond
he should not see his boy more.

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Martello Castle was really a fine old place, and
historical also.  Drummond--what will not love do--was
as patriotic a Celt as ever drew blood in the
Stuart cause, but for his wife's sake he had expatriated
himself and come to live here, far away from his own
mountain wilds.

And yet he had the satisfaction of remembering
that Cornwall itself had been a land of Celts, and, to
some extent, the same blood that burned so fiercely in
the bosoms of the ancient inhabitants was still alive
in the people around him.

Drummond had shooting on this estate all the
year round, and was lord of the manor, and yet, like
Walter Scott, he would have died had he been prevented
from seeing the heather that blooms on the
Highland hills at least once a year.

He had, up to the time of his dear wife's death,
mingled cheerfully with the landed gentry and best
families of the county, but at present and lately he
had been somewhat more of a recluse.  He was
feeling old now, he avowed, though he was but little
over forty.  And all his hopes and fears centred in
his boy Keppel and his daughter Madge.  For their
sakes he was at home to all who did him the honour
of calling.  And Madge was as contented and cheerful
as ever a girl needs to be, and had more than the
average girl's opportunities of living an ideal life in
her own grand gardens, or in woods and wilds.  Though
not so romantic and poetic at soul as her brother Kep,
and with none of his extraordinary longings to see
foreign life and seek for adventures abroad, she was
nevertheless one of nature's children.

On the same day upon which Kep had held that
meeting with his father, he picked up his little rifle,
kissed his sister, and told her he was going for shooting
practice over the hills.  There was something in his face
that told Madge he was not happy, and but for the
fact that her governess was with her she would have
accompanied him.

Kep went to the hill to practise making bull's eyes
at boulders, as he phrased it, but his heart was not
in the sport to-day, and presently he threw down the
gun, and lay down himself to look at the sea, and to
think.

What was he going to do? he asked himself.  Going
to run away from his parent, his sister, his home?
There was only one word to answer the question, and
that was "Yes."

But the morale of these questions was what puzzled
his most, for he had been strictly religious trained.
Was he about to commit deliberately a sin for which
he might never be forgiven?

This was a question that took him a long time to
argue.  There were many sides to it.  He was going
to sea in obedience to an impulse.  Nothing was there
to prevent him.  There are fathers and fathers, some
of these would send forth a hue and cry and bring
a boy back *nolens volens*.  His father, Kep knew well
enough, was not one of these.  He would be too
proud to search for his lost boy, and he knew also
the nature of that boy, knew that restraint and
compulsion could only tend to harden him, and that the
disgrace of being brought back a prisoner would
break his brave heart.

No, there was little, if any, fear of pursuit, and he
had some money of his own, enough at any rate to
purchase his kit and rig-out.  Yes, the world was
all before him.  Yet the "sin" attached to his
flight--ah! that was the word he could not keep from ringing
in his ears.

His father's priest was Kep's best friend, and his
tutor besides.  Should he go and tell him?  Perhaps
he should, but he would not.  You may get pardon
for sins you have done--if you are genuinely penitent--but
not for those you have it in your heart to commit.
He would not see his priest.  What, never
again?  The lad's heart gave an uneasy throb.  That
"never" is a long, long saddening word.  So he told
himself that he was not running away for good and
all, only just for a few years, then if his father forgave
him and asked him to return he would.

But his sister Madge--ah! how she would cry, and
how bitter and hot and blinding would be those tears,
for they loved each other, those two mitherless bairns,
as only young sister and brother can.  Kep was all
the world to Madge.  No boy ever so kind and gentle,
so brave.  None ever so pleasant and so wildly
mirthfully, gleesome and humorous.

As he thought of this he took from his side pocket
a tiny little black orchestra flute or piccolo.  Not much
bigger nor thicker was it than a fountain pen, but oh,
the marvellous music he was wont to elicit from it.
Mostly all Italian and German, chiefly operatic, yet
the birds that perched on the golden scented furze
in spring used to stop their songs to listen when Kep
played, and little anxious creatures in fur used to
peep wonderingly out of their holes.  He took his pipe
from his pocket, I say, and began to play--merrily
at first, but soon mournfully and sadly.  The music
that he breathed into it or that welled out of it was
such as he himself had never heard before.  It seemed
to come from his very soul, to be the very own voice
of that soul; and what more sweet, if pure, than the
soul of a boy of his still tender years?

This did not, could not, last long.

He dropped the magic pipe, and threw himself on
his face to weep.

"Oh, Madge, oh, Madge," he sobbed, "I am going
away, away--I am following destiny--and you--you--how
I love you, sister! but distance can never, never
divide nor sunder us.  Never, Madge, never."

He spoke through his tears, as if his sister were close
at his elbow.

"I'll write often and often, and you shall write to
me.  I may not always get your letters, but you
shall always have mine.  What is this?" he added,
speaking more to himself now.  He picked something
off a bush of ling.  It was one of wild Madge's
hair-ribbons--they often sat down to rest, the brother
and sister, in this very spot.

He looked at it.  He held the bonnie blue silk to
his lips, and sighed a sigh which gave him comfort.
Then he attached the ribbon to his wee flute and
tied it to a button hole.

He would never part from either ribbon or flute,
go where he might, over sea or land.  The ribbon would
be his mascot and charm danger away, the tie that
would knit him to his sister and to home.

Don't laugh at poor Kep, if I tell you that he must
now kneel down by the bush and pray.  He marched
off down the glen after this, but no farther than the
house of Duncan Rae, one of his father's keepers.

Duncan was at home and glad to see Kep.  Would
he not step inside and have a bowl of milk, his wife
would be so pleased.

"And there," continued Duncan, "comes Colie
to bid you welcome and my two little lassies
evermore.  But has our good laird's boy been crying?
But see, Keppie, my lad, go to the brook and wash
your face, and it is myself that will run for a towel
for you."

Kep always felt easy at that homely fireside, and
in five minutes' time he was sitting with a child girl
on his knee and two more curly-haired tots listening
to and laughing at his strange stories.

"But you'll play a bit to us, Keppie, and sure the
bairns will dance, for it is you that is the grand whistler.
Never could scream of plover in the mist equal the
shrill sweet music of your flute."

And Kep did play, and forgot his sorrow for the time.
Then he got up to go, and handed Duncan Rae his
little rifle to keep until he called for it.

"But eh! boy, there is the big sorrow in your
heart this moment, and there is something there you
won't tell your poor Duncan."

"No sorrow, Duncan.  Only joy to come."

And he forced a smile as he waved his hand.

And Duncan stood looking after him till the hazel
copse hid him from view.

Then he sighed and went in doors.

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Bob, the great white owl, came that night to stare
in at the window of the little turret chamber, but all
was dark.

And the cawing of the rooks to greet the rising sun
brought no young face to the window next morning.

Kep was gone.





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.. _`"ANY SPOT ON EARTH is A HOME FOR THE BRAVE"`:

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   CHAPTER III


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   "ANY SPOT ON EARTH is A HOME FOR THE BRAVE."

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About a week after this, rather a crack little
cruiser was lying with steam up, or fires alit
anyhow, in Plymouth Sound.  Long, low, rakish she was,
and looked just the craft to go anywhere and do
anything, howsoever daring.

Kep Drummond stood gazing at her from the Hoe.

There was a sailor sitting on the end of a bench
near by, and him Kep addressed.  "What ship is
that, mate?" he said.

"That is the *Breezy*, my son.  She sails to-morrow."

"Do you belong to her?"

"Not I.  Just come from China station."

"I think I should like to sail in that craft.  There
is a bit of romance about her, lying with her bowsprit
pointing to the breakwater.  I like her looks, and
what a lot of boats are passing to and fro.  How
had I best get on board?"

"Why, with a shore-boat, of course.  You don't
imagine, do you, that they would call away the first
whaler for a kinchin like you, though you do look
pretty fit."

"Well, anyhow, I'm going to join that ship and
sail in her."

The seaman laughed aloud.

"As what?" he asked.  "Second lieutenant,
paymaster, or what?  Mebbe you'd like to take
command of her.  I'm sure you have only to wire
the Admiralty to get appointed right away."

Kep's eyes were riveted on the *Breezy*, and he was
all a-quiver with a new-born excitement.

"How old are you, sonny?"

The man now laid a kindly hand on his shoulder.

"Fourteen and begun again."

"Run away from your parents, haven't you?"

"That's my business, matey."

"Well, but take a man-o'-war sailor's advice.
Don't go on board the *Breezy*; if you do, you'll get
copped and sent home again.  And it is there you
should be.  If I did my duty now----"

"Come and have a pint, Jack."

"Oh, I'm nothing loath," said Jack.

"Then we can yarn about it," said Kep.

They were soon seated in the parlour of an inn,
where Jack seemed to be well known.  There was a
foaming tankard in front of the sailor and one by Kep,
which he pretended to sip, but fought shy of.

Kep told Jack little bits about himself, but no more
than Jack could conveniently swallow.

"Have you been much abroad, sir?" said Kep.
The "sir" almost stuck in the boy's throat, but then,
this man had many stripes on his sleeve, and Kep
thought it as well to err on the safe side.

"Been kicked about a lot, sonny, if that's what you
mean.  I'm eight and twenty, and next commission
may be my last--"

"Why, you think you'll be drowned then?"

"No, no, lad, only if I do two years more, my time
will be about up, but I'll join on again, 'cause I dearly
love the sea.  I say, young fellow, you're not drinking
yours."

"Never meant to.  Ordered it for company's sake."

"Thought so.  There's a pal o' mine in the bar, he
could let daylight inside that tankard if your lordship
will allow me to call him in."

"Certainly--delighted."

The pal, a young man, clean-shaven and very baggy
about the lower garments, did let daylight into the
tankard after nodding frankly to Kep.

The boy had heard of boozing kens, and he wondered
if he was in one now.  Anyhow, he believed he could
take care of himself.

A buxom middle-aged landlady presently came in,
and Jack said something to her in an undertone.
She smiled most pleasantly, and patted Kep's hand.
"Poor boy!" she said, "nothing must come over
him then."

Kep called for more stout all round, and threw
down a sovereign.  But this fresh supply stood for
some time untouched, for the lads of the Royal Navy
are not now what they were in the days of Dibdin.

"I'll call Katie, my daughter," said the landlady,
"as I must attend to duty.  Katie dear, come this way."

Kep thought he had never seen so winsome a girl
before and he asked her to have something, but she
took positively no notice.

Only a minute after, she pulled Kep on to her knee.

"The sweet little lamb," she said, "and oh, the
black eyes of him.  Jack, he is his mother's
wopsy-popsy, I'll bet."

"What--how--why," the boy cried, wriggling
away from her.  "Can't you see I'm a man?
Fourteen and began again?"

But Katie soothed him.  "I'm sure you'd like a
cup of tea," she said.

Kep would.

Yet he had some suspicions that if this were
in reality a boozing den, the tea might be drugged,
and that being hocussed, he might be robbed.  But
one look at sweet Katie convinced him that his
suspicions were really unmanly.

"You'll sleep here to-night, won't you?" she said.

"Yes, if they don't keep me on board the *Breezy*."

Jack roared with laughter and Katie couldn't help
joining in.

"I think," said Jack, "that even the first lieutenant
has been appointed, and they will have to dispense
with your services, sonny.  Why didn't you 'phone
to the Port Admiral, and say you were coming?"

"You *funny* boy!" said Katie.  "But how much
money is in that purse of yours, that makes your
trousers pocket bulge out so?"

"Oh, enough to pay for the tea, twenty times over."

"Why dear, I don't mean that," and the girl
reddened a little.

"Well," she added, "you'll count all your gold out
there on the table, and give it to my mother except
just a handful of silver.  She'll give you a receipt for
it, and you'll come back here to sleep."

Kep looked at Jack, and Jack nodded.  Then the
boy counted his gold and notes out as innocently as
a boy of nine might have done, and Mrs. Monck, the
landlady of the *Blue Ensign*, took it in charge.

Jack told him he would meet him here again that
evening, told him also where to charter a shore-boat.

"Hillo you, what's the fare to the *Breezy*?"

"Three bob to you, cap'n."

"Take ye for 'arf," cried another.

"Jump in," said Kep.

The men jumped in and off they pulled.  There was
a rudder, and Kep took the tiller.

"Been at this game before, young sir?"

"I know what a boat is."

"Be ye a-goin' to join, sir?"

"Don't know yet.  Going to see the first officer."

"Humph! well, that means the commander or first
luff.  The *Breezy* is a warship."

The way Kep steered that boat along-side the
*Breezy*--sta'board side mind you--was a source of
great fun to some middies.

"Admiral's sweep, by Jove!  Why, he thinks
himself quite a little toff.  Wonder who the devil he is?"

"Couldn't say, I'm sure.  May as well have sideboys,
anyhow."

And down the steps the side-boys rattled and handed
Kep the pipe-clayed ropes.

He was half-way up, when the man hailed, "Am
I to wait, sir?"

"Er--um--you may as well, I think."

The side-boys were caught on the giggle and Kep
frowned at them.

He saluted the quarter-deck as if to the manner born.

"What--er--can I do you for, youngster?"  This
from the midshipman of the after watch.

"I want to see the commander or Captain."

"Neither on board.  Here comes the second lieutenant.

"Hullo, my lad"--he wasn't much more than a
lad himself--"have you friends on board?"

"Soon will have, I hope, sir.  I want to join the
service, and this ship.  Rather like the looks of her."

The middies pulled their handkerchiefs out, and
seemed strangely convulsed.  The officer raised his
eye-brows, but appeared much amused.

"Come down to the ward-room, my boy," he said.
"There is really nobody on board, yet.  Sit down.
You are smartly dressed, is your father a gentleman?"

"Yes, and all my forefathers, and I'm a gentleman myself."

"Undoubtedly, but you've run away from home,
haven't you?  What is your father's name?"

"Not over anxious to divulge, sir," replied Kep.

"Well, what name do you sail under?"

"Not particular.  Call me Mr. Bowser."

"Well, Master Bowser, you say you are desirous
of doing us the honour of sailing with us.  May I
presume to ask in what capacity?"

Kep jumped up.

"You are making fun of me, poking fun at me," he
cried, now furiously red in the face.

"Sit down, you spitfire, and don't be a little fool,
else, but there! now calm yourself and answer my
question.  What use do you think you'd be on
H.M.S. *Breezy*?"

"Oh, I'm so willing, sir!  I can be anything, or
do anything.  Could take charge of a watch or my
turn at the wheel, or help the cook, or clean the boots.
I can reef and steer, and box the compass, splice the
main-brace, or work out the reckoning or----"

"Suppose, now, our captain were taken ill?"

"Oh, sir.  I could soon learn to do the simple duties
of a Naval Captain."

"Is there any other capacity in which you could
serve?"

"Oh yes, I can speak six or seven languages
fluently, and I could play on this little pipe while
the sailor men danced."

The lieutentant was more amused than ever.  He
wanted a little fun, anyhow.

"Play something to me."

"What shall it be?  Nocturne, Sonata, Valse, or,
just name your opera.  Come, here is a little bit
of Wagner."  The officer leaned back in his chair, really
or truly delighted.

"Why," he said, "you are--why you are a juvenile
freak.  Come on deck with me."

"Quartermaster, just take this lad forward, and
he'll play you a hornpipe."

He did.  Kep played, and didn't the men dance
too.  It was half an hour of the best fun ever seen on
board a man-o'-war.

Then the young lieutentant gave the boy ginger
wine, grapes, and much good advice, and bade him
be sure to go home to his parents.

No, Kep had not succeeded in joining the *Breezy*,
but he really had made an impression on board, and
those who met him would not soon forget him.

The boy did not go directly back to the *Blue Ensign*.
The day was very beautiful and though already far
spent there was plenty of time of stroll around and see
things.

Now Plymouth down by the docks is always a busy
place.  It was ten times more so just at present, for
complications had once more arisen betwixt this
country and Russia.  Since the close of the terrible
war against the Japs, the Russians appeared to be
intriguing very much in European politics.  She
desired a war with Britain, she longed to invade
India, but the trouble was that unless supported by
another power there was little chance of her being
able to regain her lost prestige.

Be that as it may, orders had only a few days
before Kep's arrival been received at Plymouth
dockyards that make things hum, as the saying is,
and the lad wondered a good deal at all he saw in the
dockyards.  A swarm of bees about to swarm could
not have been more busy and bustling.

The tall policemen who guarded the gates eyed
everyone who sought entrance with considerable
suspicion unless wearing the king's uniform, and even
Kep came in for his share of this.

"Are you a young officer, sir?" said one, as the
lad essayed to pass in, just as coolly as if the place
were all his own.

"Halt!  Are you a young gentleman, sir?"

Kep smiled his blandest, though with a slight air
of hauteur in his manner.

"I hope so," he replied emphatically.

The policeman touched his hat.

And an Irish marine who was doing sentry-go,
seeing this, shouldered arms as he passed, and Kep
returned the salute with a flourish of his hand
capwards as he had seen real officers do on the street,
when the blue-jackets saluted.

"This is all very sweet," thought Kep, though
the fact was that he was sailing under false colours,
for the policeman's "young gentleman," really meant
"junior officer," although it ought to have struck him
as strange that even a naval cadet, if appointed,
should be marching through the dockyard in mufti.
And this incident, trifling though it appears, pleased
Kep.  It proved that he looked a little gentleman,
and not a second-class boy, nor shop-keeper's apprentice
out for a day.

But everybody was not quite so polite to our little
hero, for during his peregrination he happened to
stumble against a red-faced pompous looking old
officer, and made bold to salute.

This officer was in uniform and stopped to eye Kep
for a moment.

"Hillo! young fellow, who are you, and what are
you doing here?"

"Just having a look around, sir."

"Cool.  You don't belong to the service?"

"No, sir.  That *is not* yet."

The officer laughed.

"Here is sixpence for you," he said.  "I rather
like a cheeky boy.  Yonder is a gate, they'll let you
out and they shouldn't have let you in.  Go and
buy buns."

Poor Kep reddened to the roots of the hair.  He
took the coin, though it seemed to burn his fingers and
marched on towards the gate.

A bo's'n'smate accosted him next.  "What ho! younk,
whither away?  What's your tally?"

"I'm only just a little boy going to buy buns,"
said Kep, and they parted.

The first thing he did, when he emerged, was to
give that sixpence to a small gutter-snipe girl.  She
examined it wonderingly.

"'Taint a reel un, is it boss?"

"Yes, quite, go and buy buns for yourself."

"Well, you be a softy, anyhow," she cried and
darted off, shrieking with delight.  And, next
moment, Kep ran right up against Jack himself.

"Come to bring you back home, sonny," said the
kindly fellow.  "Make sure, you know, that you don't
fall into mischief."

About two hours after this, Kep might have been
seen in the tap-room of the *Blue Ensign* piping to
a lot of jolly young sailors, as he stood on the top
of a table.  A position, which I must admit was a
trifle *infra dignitate*--beneath the dignity--of Keppel
Drummond, only son of a lord of a manor.  But Kep
enjoyed it and so did the blue-jackets.

Well, Kep had supper with the landlady, Katie and
Jack, in the cosy bar parlour, quite a private party,
be assured, and a very merry one as well.  This
happened after ten o'clock, when the house was shut up
for the night.

To have seen Kep now, and heard his ringing
laughter, as Jack spun his droll service yarns, you
could scarce have believed that he had any sorrow at
all at his heart.  He did have though, and it is not
easy to forget so happy a home as that which he had
just forsaken, only care lies lightly on the shoulders
of a lad of fourteen.  He compounded with his
conscience, moreover, by promising to write nice letters
home the very next morning.

He bade his friends good-night at last, and was
shown up to his little room, a bit rough, perhaps, but
everything as sweet and clean as new silver.

Never a dream, and it was far into the morning
before the sun shimmering in through the window
awoke him, and soon he was down to breakfast.
There came word now that the *Breezy* was off, and
so she was.  Jack and Kep started for the Hoe to
see her sail past.

And Kep sighed.  How he would have liked to
be on board that low long craft.  Not perhaps so
poetic-looking was she as a ship under sail with every
inch of canvas set to woo the wind, but her build
and shape, and clean cut bows suggested terrific force,
terrible possibilities.

The variegated flutter of her signal flags as she
flew through the blue water, her great white ensign
floating astern, and the sweet music of her band
playing, "Good-bye, sweetheart, good-bye," everything
about her in fact, thrilled poor Kep till the tears filled
his eyes.

They watched her getting smaller and smaller as
she went stretching seawards.  Yes, and many more
than they were watching her, for when our sailors
leave their native bonnie British shores, they leave
many a tearful face and many a breaking heart behind
them.

There was more of sadness in Kep's breast as he
walked back to the *Blue Ensign* than he had ever
felt since the day his mother died.

He would work some of that off, however, by writing
to his sister, and his father, to say nothing of the good
old priest and Duncan Rae.  He had much to write
about to Madge, and, indeed, he felt somehow as if
years had elapsed since he had sat beside her on the
green cliff-top.

The landlady of the inn vouchsafed to Kep some
very good advice.  He must, she said, go back to his
parents--Kep had not told her his story--there was
nothing else for it.

Kep patted her white podgy hand, and thanked her.
"Your advice, mammy," he said, "is very excellent
in its way, but it is advice of the feminine gender, and
I shall go to sea, whatever happens.  I shall not return
home until I can do so with honour.  My proud
father shall never have to say that his son is unworthy
of his grand old name."

"And you really will go," said Katie mournfully.

"I must, Katie, but cheer up, my dear.  O'er many
seas and lands I'll roam.  Yet the heart of your sailor
shall ever be true, and when my wanderings are over,
I'll return to Merrie England and marry my Katie."

This wasn't bad for a boy of fourteen, was it?

"Well, go if you must," said the landlady, "where
are you bound to?"

"Yes," said Jack, "what is your next port, sonny?"

"I shall consider.  Have you a Bradshaw, Katie?"

He opened the book at random, at the place where
it tells one of steamers that sail away to every part of
the known world.  It opened at Southampton.

He closed his eyes now fast and hard, and stuck a
pin into one of the pages.  It struck the West Indies.

Even Jack, old sailor though he was, was taken
aback at the boy's boldness.

"I shall go there!" he said.  "My dear and charming
Katie," he added heroically, "Any spot on earth
is a home for the brave."





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.. _`IN SEARCH OF A SHIP`:

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   CHAPTER IV


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   IN SEARCH OF A SHIP

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That same day Keppel Drummond bade his
friends of the *Blue Ensign* goodbye.

The good landlady gave the boy her blessing.
Katie gave him a bunch of ribbons and he gave Katie
a kiss.  He was saucy enough almost for anything.

"Goodbye, sonny," said Jack, "the world isn't
so very wide, and we may meet again."

Then with his bag over his shoulder Kep bore up for
the railway-station straight away, and in due time was
deposited at Southampton.

The ship would sail in two days' time, so he went
straight away and booked himself a second-class
passage.  Then set out to purchase his travelling box
and kit.  Kep did not mean to let the grass grow up
between his toes it he could help it.

I suppose the lad really had a good share of Scottish
forethought in his nature, as well as Italian frugality,
and he counted his cash again, and counted all costs
before he booked.  The landlady at the *Blue Ensign*
on giving him back his money had refused to accept
a single coin for her hospitality, and the boy had
turned red when he remembered that he had at first
positively taken her pretty little hostelry for a boozing
ken.

He did not go on board the *Paramaribo* until the
very last bell, thinking that his youthful appearance
might cause enquiries.  It is so seldom, if ever, that a
boy of fourteen starts on so long a voyage without
a friend or guardian.

He posted another letter to Madge, his sister, before
leaving, and a little pink note to Katie, quite a boy's
love letter in fact and of no more value than most
juvenile love letters.  Only it pleased Katie.  In
addition to Jack Stormalong, she could now boast that
she had a little boy lover far away on the stormy main.

Jack Stormalong was one day--if not eaten by blue
sharks--going to marry Katie, and the two were to
have the *Blue Ensign*.  But she showed Kep's letter
to Jack.

Jack took a pull at his beer and laughed.  "Why,
he *is* a precockshious lad and no mistake," he said.
"He's bound to fall on his feet, Katie.  Bound to
come out top-dog, or die for it."

Once on board, and settled down, our Kep was not
long in making himself friends.  His flute with its blue
ribbon did that for him.  Of course, it was away
forward that he made his first friends.  But soon his
fame became noised abroad and then Kep was invited
aft to play.  The boy's knowledge of music was
really phenomenal, and his execution on the piano
astonished everybody.

He called himself Charlie Bowser because in his pride
he considered it would be lowering his father's caste
somewhat to travel second class with his own name.

But apart from his musical talents some of the ladies
aft took a great fancy for our saucy self-contained boy.
There was a mystery about him, too, which was
fascinating to many.  Nor, when asked, did he hesitate
to say that he was travelling under an assumed name.

"But why should you run away from home,
Charlie?" asked one lady, "so bright a lad as you?"

"Only just to see a little life, dear lady," said the
boy.  "Perhaps there is something radically wrong
with my idiosyncracy, you know, but I assure you
I'm not running away an account of any evil I have
done.  I'm not cut-purse and I never held up a coach
nor even a motor-car."

"You are very young, Charlie!"

"A man," he replied, "is just as old as he feels, so
I must be quite twenty."

"I had the best Italian masters," he replied to
another lady, who was praising his musical talents.
"My father talks several languages."

"And your mother, Charlie."

"Mother talked many more languages than father.
But mother is with the saints in Heaven,
madam."  This with a sigh.

"And in Heaven," he added, "they talk Latin, I
suppose, or a kind of refined Volapuk."

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.. vspace:: 1



How very quickly the days flew by in the *Paramaribo*,
the "old Pram," as the sailors unceremoniously called
her.  But the life to Kep was all so new and delightful.

The voyage came to an end at last, and at Jamaica a
really pleasant old lady, as Kep called her in his own
mind, resolved to carry the boy away inland.  Well, as
he did not object to see a little of the beautiful interior,
he readily consented.

What a tropical paradise it was she brought him to!
And life amidst the sublimity of such mountain
scenery, under a tropical sky, and with such magnificence
of flowers around him, was to Kep with his
ardent temperament and his love of romance and
poetry like a foretaste of Heaven.

The house itself was larger than his father's, as white
as the snows of Ben Nevis, wherever a glimpse could
be caught of its walls, through the wealth of climbing
flowers that surrounded it and clustered over its
verandas.

The gardens were gorgeous, and Kep laughed with
delight to see the bright-winged birds dashing through
and through the white spray of the fountains, that
played here and there on the sward.

The lady had a quiet and gentle husband who seemed
to be her loving slave, so fond was he of her.  She had
children too, boys and girls, dark-eyed like himself and
browned-skinned as Ethiops.

"Live here always, and for ever," said little
Zuleika to him one day, "and be our brother."

But there was restlessness in the boy's heart before he
had been among these enchanted hills and dells a
fortnight.

"No, Zulee," he said.  "I must away and soon," and
then he told the child all about his sister and his own
English home, all that she could understand.

"But take Zulee with you, home to your home, and
your sister shall be Zulee's sister."

"Well," said Kep, returning her innocent embrace,
"I must leave Zulee and come back for her some
day--perhaps."

Kep was really burning to get away to sea in some
capacity or another, so promising to return and bid
his new friends all adieu, as soon as he had got a ship,
our Kep journeyed back once more to Jamaica.

He had spent such a happy time, and they had been
so good to him--but then everybody was.

"Heigho!" the boy sighed.  "Heaven must be
such a nice place, just because when you do make
friends you keep them, and there are no more cruel
partings."

Kep found apartments in a tiny cactus-surrounded
cottage, not far from the busy parts of the city, yet
cool and quiet--a little oasis in a somewhat
objectionable desert.

He counted his cash again, and found to his surprise
that it could not last for ever.

He must find work, and that work must be on board
some sailing ship or steamer.

Now, strangely enough, he did not find this so easy
to do as he had imagined.  No one appeared to want
a really talented boy on board ship, and his repeated
rebuffs began to tell on him.  He grew just a trifle
less buoyant and hopeful.

How different were the shippy parts of the city
into which trading skippers dived here in search of
wretched crews from those of his own dear England.

There were "houffs" here, partly brandy shops,
partly cafés, where these same skippers were wont to call.
And rough seamen frequented these in search of a
job--seamen ever so rough, gallows rogues of all nations,
apparently.  And into these Kep had often to go and
sit at some vile little table sipping his black coffee and
waiting.

These places reeked with the scum of all kinds of
sea-bred rascality.  Reeked with sin and language so
horrible that Kep was often terrified as he sat in his
half dark corner waiting for that something that was
sure to turn up some day, he told himself, but drink
besotted men would swagger in with knives in their
belts that Kep felt sure had been used in many a
horrid melée.  Then men would play dominoes with
others of the same calibre, drinking the while, and
using terrible imprecations.  Or they would quarrel
and fight or, if extra friendly, indulge in the
*aguardiente*, until they reeled and got kicked into corners
there to lie and snore, awaking only to call for more
of their fiery potations.

Kep never took his money to such places, preferring
to leave it at his little cottage.  This was the house
of two Creoles, but they were kindness personified to
their brave little lodger, so he had no fear of
dishonesty.

When Kep wrote to his sister now, he did not tell
her a word about his anxiety and hardships, which
would have grieved her, so all his letters breathed
the poetry and romance of the beautiful island into
which Fate had thrown him.

The boy was sitting one afternoon in a somewhat
dark corner of a dingy café, making his cup last as
long as possible before calling for another, when there
entered and sat down at the long table about half a
dozen men.  One who appeared to be chief called for
coffee and brandy.

The men whom the skipper, for such he turned out
to be, was endeavouring to engage as seamen, were a
mixed lot, and as villainous-looking as any Kep had
yet seen in this particular café.  Badly dressed, hulking
fellows, with a cast of the butcher in every one of them.
The boy felt sure these men would do anything or
commit any crime for money.  But the skipper
experienced great difficulty in bargaining with them.
One was an immense hulk of a negro, who spoke
English after a fashion.  Of the other five one only was
a Britisher, and easily dealt with.  It was different
with the big Turk, the Italian, and the two Spaniards.

"I fear it is no go," grunted the skipper, himself
an American.  "Garçon!"

"Oui, m'sieu."

"Have you anyone in your place that can translate
me the garble these chaps are talking?  Can pay for
an interpreter?"

Kep had been hustled into a corner by this tall
skipper and was only waiting for a chance to escape.

As the garçon was unable to solve the difficulty and
get the skipper out of the clove-hitch, the boy tapped
him modestly on the shoulder.

He turned at once and gave Kep a little more room.

"Strike me lucky!" he said, "if I knowed there
war any crittur there."

Kep smiled conciliatively.

"I know all that these men are saying," he said.

"Well, fire away, younk, and I pay you smartly."

"I don't want pay.  I'm looking for a ship like
the rest of them, and if you can help me, I'll be glad
to do anything I can for you."

"You're true blue?  Nothing of this sort?"

As he spoke he adroitly picked his red silk handkerchief
from his own pocket and nimbly palmed it.

Kep laughed rightly merrily.

"Oh, no, I'm not a thief," he said.

"Waal, then, just look jerky, and tell these beggars
all I ask you to."

So jerky did Kep look and act that in two minutes'
time the men were engaged.

"And that," said the skipper, "makes up my complement,
and when they've signed articles, we'll sail."

"Bothered!" he added, "if I don't think you'd do,
boy, to help our steward and cook.  You look a
play-acting kind of a chap, can ye do anything likely to
amoose us."

"I can pipe if the men want to dance on a Saturday
night, or when you're heaving the capstan."

"Pipe?  Waal, I'd like to hear yer."

Out came the little piccolo, and in half a minute
Kep commanded the whole situation.  Drunken
sailors crawled out of their corners to dance, sailors'
sweethearts all kinds and colours joined in, and even
the doorway was blocked by dusky faces listening.

It was a mad five minutes.

"Hurrah!" cried the skipper, beating the table with
his brown fist.  "Strike me lucky if ever I heard its
equal!  Why, siree, the pied piper of Hamelin wouldn't
be in it with you.  Give us yer flipper, younk.  Will
you sign on?"

"Yes, you are going to queer places evidently.
I'll sign on.  I'll see life."

Something like a cloud shadow darkened the
skipper's face for just an instant.

"You'll maybe see death, too, lad.  But there, you
look a good plucked one.  Come, we'll march these
beggars on board, else they'll get drunk and bilk us."

They had a long way to row, but at last found
themselves alongside a tall dark taper-masted barque.
Though the paint was washed off her sides a bit, she
looked good and sea-worthy, and Kep liked the
golden hue of her copper bottom as she heeled over
now and then to the swell.

The skipper invited Kep down to the cabin, which was
large and roomy with doors off it, leading into staterooms
at each side and the spirit-room abaft.  It was
comfortably, though not luxuriously furnished, and
the great black tom-cat asleep in the captain's
easychair gave an air of extra cosiness to the place.

"Have a drink?  No?  Better not.  Had Nat
Stainer, and that's me, never touched, tasted nor
handled, he'd have been a Commodore in the United
States Navy by this time."

Kep was sent on shore, promising to be off early in
the morning.

He paid his bill, and bade his hostess a kindly
good-bye, and at two bells next forenoon watch, his boat
was rasping against the sides of the *Macbeth*.

A Jacob's ladder was thrown him carelessly, and
up he scrambled and stood once more on deck.

General confusion reigned throughout, but probably
not more than we usually find on ships of this kind
about to leave for a long voyage.  But this confusion
was worse confused, owing to many of the crew
being unacquainted with the language in which orders
were given, for the second mate who had charge of
this watch was a Finn.

To him Kep reported himself, saluting as he did so.
All he received in return was a kind of grunt.

"We don't care much for man-o'-war prattle here,"
he said.  "Go and find something, do.  Translate my
orders to these grub-eaters."

After doing so for a whole hour, Kep, who was willing
and cheerful, bolted down the after companion to
the pantry, where he found the steward, a little
black-haired young man, with a pleasant face.  He was
an Austrian, or Swiss, at any rate he talked good
French, and for this Kep was thankful.

He had not much to say at first, and the boy was
unwilling to force the conversation.  Presently,
however, he wheeled round on Kep, rubbing hard at a
spoon as he did so.

"I think you weel like dis sheep?" he said.

"I don't know yet," returned Kep.  "I hope so.
Do you?"  He spoke in French now.  The steward
shook his head.

"Glad," he said, "you talk French; we will be
companions, comrades.  But I am so poor, I must sail in
anything.  See here."

He took two strides farther forward as he spoke and
picked up an electric lantern.

"Follow me.  The Capitan has not yet come off,
and we sail this evening."  He led the way into the
saloon, and through it to the spirit-room door, which
he opened with a bright and shining key.  He now
let the lantern's glare fall on the deck inside.  It was
splatched and spotted with black, so were the bulkheads.

"Claret?" said Kep.

"Blood," said the little steward.  "They fought
in there.  Now come this way."  He threw open the
door of the Captain's stateroom and kicked away a
grass mat.  Ominous stains again.  "Just there," he
continued, "the first mate died.  Shot down he was by
the master."

"Murder?"  And Kep shuddered a little.

"Who can say, the mate had a knife, the Capitan
was quicker, he had a revolver."

Kep was undoubtedly brave, yet for some seconds
he seemed to be turned into stone.

"Was there an inquest, an enquiry?"

"No, we were far at sea.  The mate was buried
two hours afterwards *sans ceremonie*.  The blood
kept dropping through the blanket we had sewn him
in, and the stains will never leave the stairs."

"But surely such things call aloud for----"

"Hush! hush!" cried Dolphin (his name was
Adolphus), "we speak not so here.  And list, that is
the Capitan's voice, he is just coming over the side."

Dolphin hurried to the pantry and was singing
cheerfully at his work when the Captain came down
below.

He nearly run Kep down, being sun-blind for a
time.  "Hullo, little piper, I can feel it is you.
Can't see much, though.  Dolphin, knock the head off
a bottle of fizz.  We'll be out o' here by five."

"I say," he continued after swallowing a smoking
tumblerful of the champagne.  "I say, Dolphin,
mum's the stuff I'm drinking, ain't it?"

"It is, sir."

"Waal, mum's the word you've got to remember
when talking to any new hand, else----"

The rest of the sentence was hissed into the steward's
ear, and the little man turned a shade paler.

There was some sort of mystery and horror about this
ship that crept coldly round our Kep's heart.  He
had half a mind to ask to be put on shore, but that
would have been cowardly.  He did not even like
the barque's name--*Macbeth*.  There was something
ominous about it, and the word rhymes with death.

"You are to be told off to do all sorts of odd jobs,"
said Dolphin, soon after this, "but I think you'll be
principally the Capitan's servant and interpreter."

"I'll be glad to be busy," said Kep.

The anchor was got up, and sail set, and with much
noise, and terrible shouting.  Then she slid away
towards the open sea, but the first watch had well
begun before the cargo, heavy barrels and boxes,
was stowed away even temporarily.  Should it come
on to blow a bit during the night this cargo would
shift, and there would be more noise than ever.

Adolphus and Kep had a wretched little state-room
next to the pantry.  Hardly six feet square was it,
with a ventilator in the door and one scuttle which
could only be carried open in calm weather.

There was the evil odour of cockroaches here too,
and as soon as the light was put out they rustled and
ran all over the beds in a way which was not at all
pleasant for our hero.

But Kep was tired and was soon in the land of dreams.

He was up at four bells, and went on deck
bare-footed--the men were washing decks--to plash about
and see the red sun rise over hills of rolling water.





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.. _`THE SHIP "MACBETH"--HORRIBLE MUTINY`:

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   CHAPTER V


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   THE SHIP "MACBETH."--HORRIBLE MUTINY

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Wind some points abaft the beam, the *Macbeth*
on the starboard tack, and heeling prettily
over to it, doing about ten knots.

On such a morning as this, in these warm and
sparkling seas, on which showers of diamonds seemed
to be falling, with the light blue overhead and the
darker below, who could help being joyful.

In their curious and mixed "garble" the men
laughed and joked, and even sang as they sluiced
the water about and plied their scrubbers.

Now and then half a watch, obedient to the mate's
command, would take a pull at the traces, "Lee-hoe-ing"
as they did so, as musically as the song of the
sea-birds, until the shout "Belay!" fell on their ears.

By sunset of that first day every man was acquainted
with his quarters, so to speak, and the crew had
settled down.  The skipper, first and second mates,
and bo's'n lived in the saloon, the older and best men,
chips, the cooper, and so forth were in the
half-deck, and forward, below or above deck, as suited
them, the rest of the crew bunked.

Despite the terrible tale which Dolphin had told
him, the tragedy of last voyage, Kep thought he was
bound to be happy.  At the same time he had already
made up his mind that he would try to find another
vessel when they reached Sidney.  So he waited at
table, he helped cook and steward, and he piped or
played to the men in the evening, as well as being
interpreter to the crew.  He found that none of the
officers or crew, except Dolphin, had been in her last
voyage; I suppose the skipper made sure of that.

The men had all nicknames which seemed to grow
upon them, or be suggested by their general appearance.
There was one low-built squat fellow his comrades
called "Kruger."  A black man of gigantic
strength "Slogger."  From the first Kep was half
afraid of this fellow.  His great bare black feet and
ankles, his immense naked neck and tattoed chest,
his brutal figure-head and daring looks, all were
repulsive.  And he was so black that when in the
sunshine he scratched one forearm, he left white streaks
on it.  But he was a good seaman.  There was only
one worse-looking man in the ship, though he was
white.  This was "Bloody Tom."  Then there was
"Long-shanks," expressive enough; "Spider-legs,"
the "Turk," and so on and so forth.

These I have named were the men that really dominated
the rest of the crew, and whom, some time after
this, Kep had good reason to remember.

They all of them, notwithstanding their looks, were
good to Kep.  This almost goes without saying, for
away forward, after sundown, he could spin yarns
that kept them laughing by the hour.

The Turk turned out a decent kind of hulk, and
Kep would tell even him droll stories in his own tongue.

One day this man, while alone with Kep in the ship's
waist, asked the boy to feel the keenness of a huge
knife he carried.

"If anything ever happens," he told the boy, "I'll
be your friend."

This Turk was called the "Prophet."  Why, Kep
could not tell.

The *Macbeth* was partly in ballast, but she landed
a good deal of stuff at Rio and took in much more
heavy cargo.  No man on board, except the captain,
knew what this cargo was.  It consisted chiefly of
huge, square, very heavy boxes.

Some thought it must be specie, but the Turk
declared it was sand.

But why sand?  We shall soon see.  The ship was
now stretching away down the South Atlantic, and in
good time for such a slow and heavy sailer she doubled
Cape Horn, and now bore north and west.  Dolphin
said he had no faith in the skipper, and that he merely
told this story of their being bound for the Cape as a
blind.  He was going to do something bad.  Dolphin
was sure of this.

Dolphin told Kep one night after they had retired,
told him in French and in whispers, that when the
skipper was on deck the day before, and it was "all
hands shorten sail," he had found papers in the old
man's stateroom which proved that the *Macbeth* was
a coffin ship, and that he and the first mate had agreed
for a large sum of money to scuttle and sink her first
chance.  There was to be no bloodshed if possible.
The men were to take to the boats when not far off a
certain island, and would be picked up by another
vessel sent on purpose by the same company.

The *Macbeth*, of course, with her supposed cargo of
considerable value, was heavily insured.

It might not be supposed that in the year of our
Lord 1906, the date of this tale, such things could be
possible; but list, my lads.  Though this story is
predated, the facts actually occurred only a few years
ago.  And what happened in 1901 may well occur in
1906.  As you are not reading fiction altogether, I
like to paint the sea and sea-life in as bright colours as
I can, but ah! while there is a romance about it, which
is beautiful and glorious, the sea also hath its perils
and its grim tragedies; and we are bound sometimes
to look at the dark side.

Kep did not sleep a deal that night.  He lay long
awake thinking, and when slumber did at last seal his
eyelids, it brought with it dreams that had more terror
in them than even his waking thoughts.

The ship anyhow had not only proved herself a
leaky and unseaworthy tub, the rattle of the pumping
engine being heard in every watch, but the crew
speedily became a discontented one.  The skipper and
first mate were only pleasant towards evening, while
in their "cups."  By day they behaved, often enough,
like very fiends to the men.  Rope's-ending was a
daily matter of occurrence; men, lashed to the lower
rigging, especially the young ones, were often heard
shrieking in their agony.

One poor fellow was booted off the poop by the
captain himself, and though his leg was smashed, he
was clapped in irons for what was called mutinous
conduct.

Adolphus now set himself to watch the captain and
mate, who of a night used to be very much together
in the chief state-room.

The steward about ten o'clock would beg leave to
retire.

"Put the brandy and glasses in my room, then, and
you may go, Dolphin," would be the usual reply.

But as soon as the saloon was in darkness and he
could hear the sounds of carousal in the state-room,
Dolphin crept on hands and knees towards the sanctum.
The two conspirators one night had the chart between
them.

"It is down here, just off these islands, we are to do
the job," the former was saying.

He placed a finger on the chart as he spoke; and,
raising himself gently--for death would have speedily
followed discovery--the steward drew aside the curtain
till he could see the very spot the finger indicated.

The mate started.  "I declare I saw the curtain
move, sir."

"The motion of the ship, you donkey."

"But I declare I saw a white face peep in."

"Here--here--drink this quickly, or you'll have
those 'D.T.'s' again."

Adolphus had slipped speedily back, and he declared
to Kep that should he live till doomsday he would not
forget the expression on that evil mate's face.

The ship was steered south and away now, and every
day the weather got colder and colder.  Adolphus had
been long at sea, and probably knew as much about
plain-sailing as the mate himself, and every time he
had a chance he studied the chart, the compass, and
the mate's reckoning slate.

"It cannot be long now," he told Kep one evening;
"the wind is going down.  We'll be becalmed
to-morrow, mark my words, not far from the spot where
the deed is to be done--the ship scuttled."

He was right, and next morning there was almost a
complete calm.  A round heaving swell, however, was
coming in from the south-east, and the vessel rolled
and pitched in a very uncomfortable fashion.  The
third mate came down below to report that she was
making more water than ever.

"Strained herself, I suppose," growled the skipper.
"She's only a bally old clothes'-basket at best.  Waal,
put more hands to the spare pumps and keep the
engine going."

The third mate went on deck, and almost immediately
after there was a hail from the mast-head.

"Land on the port bow!"

A long, low, cloud-like streak, with here and there a
conical hill, that is all the men saw, and probably only
the captain and mate knew what that land really was.

There was a gloom over the ship this forenoon that
not even the bright sunshine could dispel.  Now and
then the land was obscured as if by rising clouds or fog.

Hardly a sound to be heard save that of the pumps
at work.  Never a word of command.  The idle men
in groups here and there about the fo'c'sle or ship's
waist, but all silent and moody, though they cast
wondering glances aft occasionally to where on the
poop the skipper was walking up and down with the
mate.

The quiet to-day seemed ominous.  Nature herself
appeared to be waiting and waiting for something to
happen.

The skipper paused in his walk to leisurely fill his
pipe, casting now and then furtive glances at the mate.

"God! sir," cried the latter at last, "don't look at
me like that.  See, sir, we--that is you and I--are
both shareholders in this ship.  If our plan succeeds
we will win the stakes, but if I thought you meant to
play me false, by heavens!  I'd scupper you on the
spot.  You say it is all square between us?
Then--don't eye me again like that."

"It is all right, mate, and you know it.  There! don't
be a fool.  Go below and have some rum to
straighten you out a bit."

"I've had too much.  I'll be seeing things soon."

"Hillo!  Dolphin.  What do you want?"

"I came to know if I should draw enough grog to
splice the main-brace."

"Do as you please.  Go to the devil if you like."

The steward said no more.  Leaving the two together,
he hurried below, and entered the skipper's
state-room.  The spirit-room door was already open,
and Kep was waiting for the men's grog.  Dolphin
opened a drawer, the keys of which had been left in
it, and quickly and quietly possessed himself of a
pair of revolvers and several ugly-looking knives.
These he put in the pantry, and, returning, secured
a hammer and chisel which were under the little
chart-table.

That was all.  The skipper came below and looked
at him somewhat suspiciously.

"Been making your bed, sir.  Shall you want some
'fizz'?"

"Yes.  Ah! you know my little ways and weaknesses."

"I do," said Dolphin to himself.

The grog was served out, and, as usual, Kep piped
to the crew while they ate their dinners.  And so the
afternoon wore on till within an hour of sunset.

Dolphin was forward again with a huge can containing
double allowance of rum.

"Saturday night, gentlemen, and the captain says
it is his birthday, and you are to drink his health."

Kep served out the double dose.  Dolphin was talking
down in the galley, talking seriously, but somewhat
excitedly, with Kruger, Slogger, and the Turk.

"There must be no blood.  We'll do things better
than that.  I'll give the signal."

Good luck or the devil seemed to be playing into
Dolphin's hands, for just as he entered the saloon again
he noticed the door of the skipper's state-room being
silently shut.  Both he and the mate were in there.
Like a tiger on its prey, he sprang silently aft, and
next moment the door was locked--the conspirators
were prisoners.

They had heard the click of the lock, however, and
at once began shaking the door.

"What in thunder does this mean?" roared the
mate.  "Dolphin, you devil, I'll have your life's
blood."

"Listen!" replied Dolphin calmly; "if you remain
quiet you will be safe; if not, I cannot be accountable
for your lives."

The men by this time were fully alive to the horror
of the situation.

The ship was slowly sinking.  By either mate or
master or by both she had been scuttled, and now
these men were prisoners.  They must get out the
boats and leave her and those devils to their doom.
Why work the pumps a moment longer?

There were many discontented voices, but evil took
the lead, and Slogger, the terrible-looking negro, took
command--the black would rule the white as an evil
spirit ruled all.

"Aft, men; aft!" he shouted.  "Let us up with
the boats, get provisions and arms, and down with
the men who would prevent us."

The brute bared his arm and flourished a knife as
he spoke.

The Turk had run towards the saloon just as the
mischief began to brew.

"You won't be safe, friend boy," he cried to poor
Kep.  Then he hurried the lad into his little cabin
and locked the door.

He met the leader and mutineers as they were
making aft.

"No blood," he cried.  "Shed no blood."

.. _`68`:

The black man dashed him to the deck.  Not
stunned though, it would take a deal to quiet so
powerful a Turk, he was on his feet in a moment;
knives glittered, and the two were in deadly embrace.
Both fell, but only one rose, and a rivulet of blood
was straggling towards a scupper hole.  The black
man was triumphant.

It was the spirit-room that was first stormed, and
soon the rum began to do its deadly work.  Kep
trembled in his den to hear the singing, shouting, and
stamping.  But there were wiser men on deck, and
very quickly and even orderly the boats were hoisted
to the davits and loaded.  Some of the cases were
opened, and found to contain sand, not specie.

I do not wish to redden my pages by describing the
fearful scenes that followed, when the mutineers in the
saloon quarrelled and fought.

Sounds of thuds and blows and shrieks and groans!
It must indeed have been a terrible pandemonium.

After this, silence for a time.  A consultation was
evidently being held on deck.  It was followed by a
rush of feet down into the saloon again, and Kep could
hear that the captain's stateroom was being opened--could
hear the captain's voice, too, appealing for mercy.

Mercy from mutineers!  He was being dragged on
deck.  A wild scream and a splash alongside--that
was the mercy.

But for the mate a more ghastly doom was reserved.
Dead men tell no tales, but a derelict ship may.  The
*Macbeth* might not sink soon enough.  She might
float till sunrise and be found by the islanders, the
very islanders on whose shores the mutineers were to
land with a lie on their lips.

The mate, then, was gagged and bound and laid on
the state-room deck.  Not far from him was placed a
barrel of gunpowder, and in this a lighted candle was
stuck.  When it tilted or fell, or when it burned down
say in two hours' time, the gunpowder would explode
and the mate, who had kicked the poor young sailor
off the poop, would go to his doom, and the ship be
blown to pieces.

A whole hour went past, such a silent, such a
nightmare hour, and Kep knew he was alone in a sinking
ship with the dead.

Poor boy! he could do nothing there but weep and pray.

But he started up presently; there was a scuffling,
rasping noise overhead, and coming nearer and nearer
to the companion.  Now he could hear a groan, then
some one staggered or half fell down the companion.

The key was turned in Kep's cabin-door, and next
moment he was free.

"Thank Allah!  I could not come before."  It was
the voice of the poor faithful Turk.

He never spoke more.  He lay there dead and still
in the passage.





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.. _`THE HURRICANE--CRUSOES IN GREAT SNAKE ISLAND`:

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   CHAPTER VI


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   THE HURRICANE--CRUSOES IN GREAT SNAKE ISLAND.

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Kep stepped lightly over the body of his friend, and
found his way into the saloon.  He sat down
there, burying his face in his hands, and thanking God
for something he hardly knew what.

Then the glimmer of the candle alight in the skipper's
state-room attracted his attention.  It was shining
through the partially open doorway, and on tiptoe
fearfully he approached it.

He saw at a glance what had happened and what
had been intended.

Steadily now, slowly, almost mechanically he lifted
out the guttering candle.

A little flat red crust had formed on the top of the
wick, and this fell off just as he entered the saloon again.

Then the poor lad fainted.

Daylight was streaming in through the skylight
when Kep re-opened his eyes, and found Dolphin
himself bending over him.

"Oh, it is all so terrible!" were the first words Kep
uttered when Dolphin helped him on deck, and the
fresh air revived him.

"There is hope though," said the steward.

"Hope?"

"Yes, hope, friend, hope.  They had locked me in
forward, but I forced my way out and came aft.  I
thought you dead, so passed you by and entered the
store-room.  The mutineers had rifled this, and in
doing so severed a rope and saved the ship."

"I do not understand?"

"No; but I will tell you.  It was, of course, by
mere accident that the rope was severed, and the men
could not have known what they had done; but that
rope communicates with a sea-valve in the bilge--a
hellish contrivance.  I got down to the hold with the
electric light, and when I pulled that rope the water
was at once agitated as if by a huge spring beneath;
when I let slack all was quiet again.

"And now, Kep, there are no living responsible
beings on this ship but ourselves.  For the mate----"

"Ah! yes; he is dead, is he not?"

"No; he was simply bound and gagged, but now,
oh, horror, he is a gibbering maniac.  He had been
watching that candle getting shorter and shorter,
knowing well what must follow.  Is it any wonder
he went mad?"

For long weeks Kep and the steward drifted to and
fro with wind or tide in the derelict ship.  They had
managed to get up the dead from the charnel-house
saloon, and, one by one, they were thrown overboard.

But over the Turk, who seemed peacefully sleeping,
Kep shed many tears, and he was the only one they
sewed up in a hammock and ballasted so that it might
sink speedily down to the bottom, beyond the reach
of the blue sharks with which this region abounds.

Then the mate.  Well, they had cast off the ropes,
for though he jabbered, he was quiet.  He had apparently
lost all memory, and it was sad to see him smile
as he wandered about the deck touching things and
trying to speak.

But on the third day he died, and was at once
thrown overboard.

Strange it is, reader, that though the saying "Murder
will out" does not often come true on shore, at sea it is
nearly always so, and murders and mutinies on the high
seas have been discovered in the most miraculous ways.

Well Dolphin, or Adolphus, as we had best now call
him, in order to get the odour of that ghastly ship out
of our thoughts, had taken the bearings of the land
near to which the tragedy had occurred, as well as--from
the mate's own slate--its latitude and longitude.

After a time, the weather being clear and fine,
Adolphus and Kep managed to set a jib and a bit of
square canvas also, and glad enough they were to find
that she obeyed her helm.

So they took trick and trick at the wheel, and all
day long were for ever on the watch for a sail.

But they had somehow drifted far out of ocean highways,
and it was weeks before they could possibly get
near one again, for they were doing little more than
three knots an hour.

In their spare time they did all they could to clean
ship, but the terrible stench still hung around the
after cabin or saloon, and so they concluded to bunk
aft.  This was more cheerful, and Kep found heart
enough to play on his marvellous piccolo again.

He called himself Captain Vanderdecken, and so
baptized the ship the *Flying Dutchman*.

"Ah," he would say, "I fear, Adolph, we will never
round the Cape."

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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

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One day the sky grew thick and dark to windward
and the barometer went down and down, the mercury
column sinking cup-shaped, and rapidly.  Something
was coming.

And something did come too, with a vengeance.  Cold,
bitterly cold; so cold that Adolphus had to blow on
his hands at the wheel; dark, too, though it was but
mid-day, and hail, which was accompanied by a storm
of thunder and lightning, lay on the deck inches deep.

But the strength of the two of them could not
command that wheel when the tempest began to blow and
roar in earnest.  Their bits of sails were soon torn
into rattling rags, and they themselves, drenched and
worn out, sought refuge below.

Would she founder?

They expected her to almost at any moment, but
the *Macbeth* was heavily ballasted and broad in beam;
she tumbled and rolled like a log or a dead porpoise,
but staggered on or was driven on.  They had managed
to batten down fore and aft, and perhaps that saved
her, for overcome by fatigue both slept at last, and
when Kep, who was first awake, managed to get up on
deck, he saw that his *Flying Dutchman* was sadly
battered; bulwarks like sheep hurdles and yards
fallen; but he saw something else that astonished him
still more, for around the wreck were high rocks and
cliffs, with bushes on top, and upon and among these
rocks the ship was hard and fast, but on a very even
keel.

It did not take him long to awaken Adolphus.

"Adolph," he shouted, as he let himself down the
ladder.  "Come on deck.  Come at once.  Here is a
sight!  Here is a plight!"

Adolph was quickly by his side.

"Well," he said, after a glance about him, "this is
really better than foundering, Kep."

"Yes," admitted Kep, "we are still above the
crust; but what are we going to do?  What----"

"What--indeed.  There are so many 'what's'
about it, that I don't know which what to ask first.
You've never seen a tidal wave, Kep?"

"Aren't all waves tidal?"

"Well, I don't know.  The tides are caused by the
suction of the sun and moon, a German philosopher
told me once.  Especially the moon; and I think it
was suction he said.  Never mind.  Sometimes a black
spot grows suddenly up in the sun--that is the
sun-mouth perhaps.  Then he takes a bigger suck than
usual, and this raises up tornadoes and whirlwinds
and big, big tidal waves down below in the world here."

"I understand."

"Well, then, here is just what has happened.  A
huge, great tidal wave has been raised during the
hurricane, and has rushed in up here into a kind of
dry dock.  It has gone now, and such another wave
may not come again for a hundred years."

"You are much wiser than I thought, Adolph."

"No doubt, Kep; but no ordinary tide can touch
us or poop us here, so we are not so badly off.  We
have provisions enough to last us for a year and more."

"But we are a kind of Crusoes, aren't we, comrade?"

"Kind of ----.  Yes, true."

"And there will be a bit of fun in being Crusoes,
won't there?"

"No doubts of that."

"And mayn't there be some savages on this island,
if it be an island?  Mayn't there?"

"There may be."

"And that would mean some danger, wouldn't it,
Adolph?"

"Yes--yes--yes.  But really, from the way you
talk, Kep, one would think you really wanted savages
and danger too."

"Oh, if we are to be Crusoes, I should like
everything ship-shape, and even the mark of the naked
foot in the sand."

"I suppose, Kep, you could manage to get up the
cliffs?"

"Dear me, yes, Adolphus," answered Kep somewhat
proudly; "my sister Madge and I were awfully good
cragsmen.  Oh, shouldn't I like if Madge and Bounder
were here."

"Well, Madge isn't here, and you can't write home
if you wished to.  So content you."

"But goodness knows, Adolph, there are scores and
scores of empty bottles on board.  Suppose we write
scores and scores of letters and send them adrift in the
scores and scores of bottles?"

"What would be the use?"

"Oh, some would be picked up, and then a ship
would be sent to take us off."

"Off?  Do you know where we are, latitude and
longitude and all that?  If not, how could you tell
them where to come to?"

Kep scratched his wise head.  "I daresay that is
the drawback," he said.

"We'll just have to wait till the ship comes, Kep,
as patiently as a penguin on a rock."

"But the ship is sure to come, ain't it?"

"I reckon it will, some day."

"And we'll take turns at lighting fires on the rocks,
and make a broom and hoist it.  I think, Adolph, we
can look forward to some real good fun."

"I wouldn't be too sure.  But, I say, let us go
below now, and I'll cook a nice comfortable bit of
breakfast, and then we'll go on shore and spy out
the land."

"That's it--spy out the land.  We'll take our guns
and creep from bush to bush like real wild Cuscorora
Indians, and if we meet a savage we will say, 'O golly,
foh true!' and he'll say 'Ugh!'"

"Well, here are some nice red herrings and hard
biscuits, and preserved eggs and coffee."

"Any butter, waiter?"  Kep was lively now.

"Yes, sir; butter, sir.  Can't quite recommend it
though.  Has been to sea, sir, three times before."

These two shipwrecked mariners threw over a
Jacob's ladder and descended one at a time.  Adolph
went first, but found he had to jump fully eight feet
to the rock below.

"Hold on, Kep," he cried.  "Don't you jump, else
you will never get up again.  Haul up the Jacob and
lash a rope to it; we can shin up that."

The lad slung their rifles, and they found it easy
enough to get up the rocks, though they were inhabited
by malicious-looking snakes, who had come out to sun
themselves.

Now, as I like to adhere most strictly to the truth,
it is my duty to inform the reader that from a Crusoe
point of view this island was a trifle disappointing.

First and foremost, it was only about two miles wide
by three long, one bare and inhospitable-looking hill
in the centre, which, from its conical shape and
table-top, had doubtless been at one time, volcanic.

With the exception of this hill, all the rest of the
land was covered with dense thick scrub and alive
with snakes.

But there was a little lake of remarkably cool water,
that was no doubt fed by springs from the higher and
more hilly land they could see lying like clouds upon
the horizon.

There was very little sand at the foot of the cliffs,
so the mark of the savage's foot was not likely to be
traced.

No inhabitants; nothing much to speak of in the
fauna line, bar a species of rock rabbit and the snakes.
Birds on the rocks though, and in some parts of the
woods flowers of rare beauty.

"I'm disheartened, Adolph," said Kep.

"Yes; you look so."

Then the boy brightened up.

"I say, Adolph, my ancient mariner.  Yonder is
land, isn't there?"

"That is land.  Bigger islands, I reckon, than ours."

"Well, it might be that Crusoes might come from there.
And if there were too many we could retire to our
ship and give them fits from over the bulwarks.  I'm
just spoiling for some fun, Adolph.  Here, I know
what I'll do.  You saw that big grey snake that darted
into a hole in yonder hillock?  Well, just see if I can't
entice him out again."

Out came the boy's piccolo.  Down he sat, and
began to play some melodies from *Faust*.

No effect.

"You'd better," said Adolph, "switch on Wagner."

Kep did, and the effect seemed magical.  Not one,
but three of these grey horrors appeared, and their
horrid though graceful movements showed that for
the time they were really fascinated.

"Come back on board," cried Adolph, "else I shall
dream of these all night long."

I'm not sorry, however, that Kep did not find the
Isle of Snakes altogether to his taste, because this is
not a Crusoe story.  Suffice it to say, after a few weeks
they found the dead and awful monotony of the place
almost unbearable.  Moreover, there were but few
books to read, no sport to speak of, and positively
nothing to do.

But weeks and weeks passed by, and still came no
sail in sight.  They kept fires burning as much as they
could, but neither the pillar of fire by night nor the
pillar of smoke by day attracted anything.

Several times they thought they saw ships in the
far distance, but looking at them through a telescope
these turned out to be either floating sea-birds or the
dorsal fins of some solitary basking shark, with birds
perching on his back.

"Why," said Kep one day, "it is three whole months
since we were cast away on this dreary shore, and
never one single vessel has come near us.  I tell you
what it is, Dolphin, I am very weary of it all.  Being
a Crusoe is not half such good fun as I thought it
would be."

"And I, too," said Adolph, "am weary."

"Tired of shooting those big tasteless rabbit-things;
tired even of catching fish, though they are nice to
eat, and so are rock oysters."

"But I say, Kep, I have a plan."

"Oh, have you?  How delightful!"

"Well, you know we have had many a wild storm
since we settled here, and you remember how the ship
shook with the wind only last week."

"I won't forget that."

"No; and there is a bit of a list on her.  She has
heeled over a little to starboard."

"Yes."

"And the next storm that comes from the same
direction will blow her over."

"Yes."

"Yes; and there where will we be, Kep?"

"Why, we'll be--we'll be blown over."

"You don't know the real danger, Kep.  She won't
simply heel over on her beam ends; she will go clean
and clear over this cliff where the tidal wave
drydocked her so neatly, and ten to one we will never get
out again.  We should be buried alive."

"Oh, I should hate being buried alive.  Couldn't
we find a cave somewhere among the cliffs here, and
shift our camp, in case of an accident."

"But," said Adolph, "I have found one already.
Yesterday, when you were fishing from a boulder;
only, you know----"

"What, only?"

"There will be the snakes to contend with."

"Yes; that is it, and they're thicker than the
rock-rabbits.  Do you think," he added, "I could lure
them away somewhere with my little flute, and
murder them?"

"Well, you might try; only don't let them get too
familiar with you, else they'll follow you everywhere,
and get into your bed at night."

"We can do our best, anyhow, Adolph.  A fire in
the cave to begin with would start them.  Whatever
men dare they can do.  And there is nothing charms
these snakes like Wagner."

"Umph!  Wagner never charmed me, Kep."

"It's all a matter of idiosyncracy, comrade.  It
wouldn't do if we all went in for Bach or Beethoven
nor even for 'Annie Laurie.'  But now let us go on
shore and see that cave of yours.  A change is what
we both need."





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.. _`SUNKEN GOLD--JACK'S CAREER IN SIDNEY`:

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   CHAPTER VII


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   SUNKEN GOLD--JACK'S CAREER IN SIDNEY

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"The cave seems first class," cried Kep, looking
round him delightedly.  "We shall be troglodytes
now, Adolphus."

"What are they? some kind of frog aren't they?"

"No, people who live in caves, although frogs might
be troglodytes, and sometimes are."

They now set to work at once.  Though, to begin
with, Kep tried Wagner just outside the cave.  No
snakes came out to dance, but behind them they heard
a hissing noise, and found about half a score of the
terrible reptiles had come from other rocks to be
entertained.  So that plan wouldn't work.

The cave was about half-way up the cliff, so, withered
wood being very plentiful, a lot was gathered, and a big
fire lighted in the centre of the floor of the place, Kep
and Adolph taking good care to get outside when it
began to crackle and burn.

But they stood by with fowling pieces, and as the
reptiles came hurrying out, they took pot-shots, and
killed quite a heap of them.

The ants of the shore picked the bones of these bare
in two hours' time.

When the fire was out, and the cave swept, they set
about getting things on shore, principally hammocks,
provisions, a small cooking stove, boxes of candles,
and in fact everything usually needed to make life
enjoyable in tents.

They slept on board that night, and it took all next
day to finish furnishing.

They slung hammocks and passed next night in the
cave.  But I cannot say that, after the light was put
out, Kep felt particularly comfortable.  He had an
eerie creepie-creepie feeling, and more than once ere
morning felt sure that serpents were crawling over
him.  Towards morning he put down his hand and
touched something cold and round, He started with a
shriek, and next moment heard the thud of something
falling on the floor.

He had brought an electric telescope-shaped
flashlight with him, and placed it in the hammock, and
early in the morning--he hadn't slept again--he looked
down, and saw it lying on the soft floor.  So that was
Kep's poisonous serpent.

Only the place seemed so hideously associated with
these scaly horrors, that both Adolph and he made up
their minds to use it only by day, and continue for a
time to bunk aboard at night, taking all risks.

But they slept soundly.  The ship had never moved.

It was Kep's turn next day to be struck with a new
idea.  He believed it possible, he said, to get out the
one remaining boat, and pass her, by means of the
davits over the side.  Luckily, the latter had been left
by the hurricane in good working order.

Kep was very strong and hard for his age, and
Adolphus was a man.  Yet it took many hours to overcome
the difficulties they had to encounter.  Things had
been terribly jammed and knocked about, but at last
the boat hung straight, and clear right over the rocks
and then they began cautiously to lower away.

It was found, after all, that the ropes or guys running
through the blocks were not long enough.  The boat
hung twixt heaven and earth, like Mahomed's coffin.

There was nothing for it but to haul up again, and
belay.

But further operations were stayed by fatigue and
hunger, so they went on shore to dine in the cave.

Adolphus was cook, and there was some splendid
fish to-day, to broil or roast over a clear fire, and they
had found some plantains in a grove on the other side
of the island.  Of course there was very little romance
about Adolph just at present, there never is when
one is cooking in either cave or camp.  But the day
was so dreamily beautiful that the glamour of old
ocean held Kep spell-bound.  There was brightness
and music everywhere; the brightness of sun on wave,
the azure blue of the cloudless sky, the wild music of
seabirds, and the music of the sea itself, breaking
listlessly, drowsily on the rocks.

The boy seated himself high on a boulder, that was
shaped for all the world like an arm-chair, and the
white-winged gulls swept nearer and nearer as he played
"Low and sweet, Sweet and low."

A song of Bret Harte's came into his mind as he
watched the birds.  Only a simple thing.  As simple
and sweet as the soul of the bard himself.

   |  Sauntering hither on listless wings,
   |    Careless vagabond of the sea,
   |  Little thou heed'st the surf that sings,
   |  The bar that thunders, the shale that rings.

   |  Little thou hast, old friend, that's new,
   |    Storms and wrecks are old things to thee,
   |  Sick am I of those changes too;
   |  Little to care for, little to rue,
   |    I on the shore, and thou on the sea.

   |    Lazily rocking on ocean's breast,
   |  Something in common old friend have we;
   |    Thou on the shingle seek'st thy nest,
   |  I to the waters look for rest,
   |    I on the shore, thou on the sea.
   |

But Kep now began to think, to dream of home.
What a long, long time had elapsed, reckoning by
events, since he sailed away from the white cliffs of
England.  What would his brave, proud father be
doing at this moment, and dear Madge and her
playmate Bounder; Madge would be missing her letters,
she would be praying for him too, every night.
Wonder if ever she went up alone to his turret chamber,
high above the waving elms.  Wonder if Bob, the
great white owl, ever came more now to look in of a
night, or if he had forgotten Kep entirely.  Wonder
how long it would take a sea gull to fly to England.
If *he* had wings he wondered if--if----

"Koo--ee--ee!"

He started to his feet.  He had fallen asleep in that
grey old arm-chair.

"Koo-ee!"

"Coming, Adolph; coming, comrade, coming?"

That dinner was very good to eat.

But now they gat them back to the ship, and it took
all the afternoon to lengthen the guys, by splicing on
additional pieces, for the work had to be very strong
to stand the strain.

The boat was lowered and launched next day, and
it really was new life for them to paddle around the
coast in her.

The boat was anchored in a little cove every night
now, and in her they slept.  It was a capital arrangement,
and they had no more bother with the snakes.

But on nights when the sea was rough--which was
not very often, because when it blew, it did so in dead
earnest, and soon had done with it--they hauled her
well up on the sand, and slept peacefully as usual.

They went to the hill-top almost every day--but no,
no, no, they never saw a sail, and they began to think
they would live and die on Great Snake Island.

But as far as the boat was concerned, they grew
bolder and bolder.

They stepped a little mast and a brief jib-boom, and
set sail therein, and when the wind was favourable
went quite a long way out.  At last they determined
to visit the far off and greater island.  So one day,
when the wind was favourable, they loaded up with
everything needful, hoisted their canvas and started.

They had taken their rifles and plenty of ammunition
with them, but Kep prayed that they might not
have to use them.

This prayer was heard.  But they found no savages
on the islands, which they reached at last, nor was
there any other land visible all the wide horizon around.

So they slept in their boat as usual, and next day
set out to explore, and to climb the hills.

Everything most unsatisfactory.  No beauty nor
romance anywhere, except that of the sea itself.

So they determined to return next morning.  But the
wind had died down to a perfect calm, which held for
three days, the stars at night blazing with a brilliancy
such as Kep had never witnessed before in all his long
life, of "fourteen years, and begun again."

On the third day of their imprisonment on this new
island the sun shone with greater fierceness than ever,
and Kep, who was a most daring swimmer and diver,
stripped and dashed head first from a rock, down, down
fathoms and fathoms into a blue-green pool beneath.

For just three minutes this boy had trained himself
to hold his breath beneath the water.  At the bottom
he clutched at and held on to something, and for
seconds remained motionless.

But what had he clutched at?  Why, it was a piece
of shell-encrusted iron--a ring-bolt.  He stood on the
deck of a sunken ship, and one, too, of olden build, and
olden times.

All thought of returning to Great Snake Island was
for the time abandoned, and about once an hour, until
quite exhausted, Kep dived down, and each time
returned to the surface with something strange and
stranger to tell.  She had sea-worn guns on board.  She
looked like an old Spanish galleon, or a pirate, or a
specie ship.

This last guess proved to be right; for the wreckage
about the decks proved that the seamen, whoever they
may have been, had tried to save heavy boxes, and
from the side of one of these, a piece of gold had fallen,
only a small bar, but this the boy took up with him.

He was tremendously excited.  "Oh Adolph!" he
cried, "we have discovered a treasure ship."

"*You* have, Kep, not I."

"But we shall be rich, Adolph.  Rich beyond
compare.  In that blue-green pool millions may be
awaiting us.  Are you not glad?"

"We'll get back to our Island of Snakes, Kep, and
when the ship that must come some day, arrives, they
will tell us the latitude and longitude, which at present
we can't even guess.  Then, some day, perhaps--we
may return and raise the gold.  But there is many a
slip, Kep, twixt the cup and the lip."

Kep wouldn't hear of slips and lips; he was very
young and very buoyant.  Yet he had grit in him.
"Look here, Adolph," he said, "I'm a man of
determination.  If ever we leave these regions alive, depend
upon it we shall return.  This is as certain as sunrise.
So there!"

Well, the boy really said what he thought, and meant
all he said.

A fair wind at last, rather much of it, but life had
suddenly become more joyful and hopeful, and they
had no fear, when they hoisted their jib and little
mainsail, that they would get safely across.

But, alas! the wind changed almost suddenly, and
they had to tack.  This was slow work, and dangerous
too, for they shipped much water, and had they not
baled and kept on baling, their boat would have been
swamped.

Darkness came on.  They had nothing now to guide
them, for they had not thought of bringing a compass.

They had the electric lantern, a strong one, and this
they flashed from time to time across the awful sea,
the waves of which looked doubly dreadful in the darkness.

It must have been some time past midnight, when
suddenly Kep clutched at his comrade's arm.

"Adolph, Adolph!  O God! what is that?"

It was a light.  No, but lights, steadily advancing
towards them.

They shouted now, yelled and shrieked, and flashed
their light.

Was it seen?  Were they heard?  Yes, yes, even as
God Himself hears prayer.

In less than ten minutes they were on board a strange
Australian-bound ship, and telling their marvellous
adventures to passengers and crew.  But, it is needless
to say, that one portion of their adventures they kept
silent about, the discovery of the sunken treasure.

And more of sunken gold, I do believe, lies in the sea,
or hidden on islands, than we are aware of.

   |  In dim green depths rot ingot laden ships,
   |    While gold doubloons, that from the drowned hand fell,
   |    Lie nestled to the ocean-flowers' bell
   |  With love's gemmed rings once kissed by now dead lips.

   |  And round some wrought-gold cup, the sea-grass whips,
   |    And hides lost pearls, near pearls still in their shell,
   |    Where sea-weed forests fill each ocean dell,
   |  And seek dim sunlight with their countless tips.
   |

But adventures so terrible were not altogether
credited by the skipper of the *Wampiri*, nor by his few
passengers either.  Else the probability is, that the
former would have gone some distance out of his way
to salvage a portion of the *Macbeth's* cargo.

He was on a passage, and bad weather had blown
him considerably out of his way.  It would have been
folly, therefore, to have delayed.

This ship was outward bound, and had rounded the
Horn, and was under all sail for Adelaide and Sidney.

Sidney, why, the very name of the place made Kep's
heart jump for joy.  The *Breezy* might be there!

Both Adolph and Kep lived forward with the men,
and were very snugly bunked indeed.  They had come
to like each other very much, and Kep felt a little sad
when he thought that in the ordinary course of things
they might soon be parted.  In one thing they swore
to each other to be true.  Namely, that neither should
divulge the secret of the ingot-laden ship unless the
other consented.  Something grand might come of this
secret, but it must, for the present, be theirs and theirs
only.

Once more, even in the *Wampiri*, Kep's flute found
him friends.  The ship was a clipper of an almost
obsolete type, and really belonged to one old man.  She
was good enough to have had engines put into her, but
her owner, who had been at sea himself in his younger
days, would not hear of his beautiful white-winged ship
being turned into a blessed smoke-jack, and she never
would be.

Suffice it to say, she got there all the same, and so
Kep and his comrade were at last safely landed at
Sidney.

And this beautiful and busy city, with its beautiful
and busy great harbour, crowded with the ships of all
nations, its streets thronged with well dressed people,
its spacious public buildings, and its street cars, what
a change all was from life on the lonesome ocean, and
the death-life of those inhospitable and barren islands.

How Kep, in his boyish gratitude, thanked God for
all He had done for them.

Sidney, but no *Breezy*.

And yet, somewhere in or about these seas, or on
the shore of Eastern Africa, or the coral coast of New
Guinea itself, something told Kep that the *Breezy* was.
He had never forgotten the kind smiling face of the
young lieutenant, who had taken him down to the
wardroom; no, nor the reception that had been accorded
him by the crew forward.  He still harboured the
impression that his fate would be to get appointed to the
*Breezy* in some capacity or another.

But now he remembered that he must seek for
employment of some kind.  He had some money left,
but this he shared with Adolph.  He could not see his
comrade badly off, and they meant to try hard to get
berths in the same ship again.

It would have been easy for Adolph to book as
steward's assistant, or even as steward in some
homeward bound ship, but no one seemed to need Kep's
peculiar talents.

His appointment to the *Macbeth* appeared to him,
now, to have been but a fluke.  Heigho! would he ever
make such a fluke again.

Adolph got a position at last, as waiter in a good
hotel, and Keppel Drummond, the son of a lord of an
English manor, a place--as what?  Why, as a boy to
clean the knives and run messages at a neighbouring
restaurant.

What a downfall!  But really, such downfalls, if in
cases such as Kep's they can be called so, are by no
means uncommon in Australia.  And, after all, honest
work is no disgrace.

So he kept up his heart, and was happy, and even
hopeful--wasn't the *Breezy* coming some day.  He had
written to Madge during the voyage in the *Wampiri*, a
mail-bag from which went home by a passing steamer.
He had told her all his joys, but never a word about
the horrors of the *Macbeth*.  He would not shock her.

He was expecting a letter almost every day, and the
time seemed long indeed.  But then anything might
have happened to prevent the delivery of his own
letter to her.  The address he had given was simply
Poste Restante, Sidney.  He went there every day for
weeks, and noticing his woe-begone expressive face, a
kindly clerk at last took pity on him, and promised
in the event of a letter coming, to forward it at once to
his lodgings.

But wonders will never cease, and one day, while
hurrying to send off a telegram, who should Kep see
coming, swinging along the street on the opposite
pavement, but Jack Stormalong himself.

What a happy meeting!  Kep begged a whole day
off, namely, that evening and next forenoon, and he
got it too.

"I knew we'd meet, my little friend.  By the way,
is your name still Bowser.  And you haven't repented
yet, and become a prodigal son."

"Well, I can't easily be a prodigal son, Jack, on ten
shillings a week, and a tip once in a blue moon.  But
how is Katie and her mother?"

"Splendidiferous sonny, simply splendidiferous.
Going to get married at the end of my time."

"Why, I thought *I* was going to marry Katie, and
that you would marry the mother!"

Jack laughed so heartily that people looked at him
and laughed too.

"You precockshious boy!  But hold on a few years,
my youngkie, and we'll raise and rear another Katie
specially for you."

"But how came you here, Jack?"

"Well, you know, I couldn't well walk, and I like
this station, so I volunteered like for the *Newt*, and
yonder's the *Newt*, two guns, square and trig, and a
regular one to jump the seas.  And I'm one of the
gunners, and good pay too.  You've just got to wait a
bit, and something will turn.  Oh yes, sonny, something
is sure to turn up.  I say, though--I--I--that is, I
am overflowing with useless money, lad, can I give
you some?"

"Oh, thanks, a thousand times, Jack, but no, it ain't
pride, Jack, it ain't pride.  But I've sworn to work up
the rigging of life without a helping hand, and I mean
to do it.  Why, Jack, since I saw you last, I've
learned another language--the Arabic," he added.

"Why, you be a freak, sonny, and Jack Stormalong is
proud to know you.  And you've still the little black
flute, and its ribbon blue.  Strike me lucky, lad, if I don't
think you have a bit of a sweetheart in Old England."

Kep was merry to-day, madly merry.

"Look here, Jack, I've never done such a thing before,
but just for a lark, I'll try the passers-by with a
bit of Wagner, and see the effect.  You stand by, will
you?  Don't laugh, but I've charmed snakes before
to-day."

Kep was in beautiful form.  He stood a yard or two
off the pavement, it was a rather quiet street, and began.

Then goodness me, readers, how the music and melodies
of the great composer did bubble and gush, and
ripple and rush, from out the little black flute!  He had
a well-dressed crowd of listeners around him in a brace
of shakes.

He finished off with a low, sweet, mournful air, that
thrilled the listeners.  Then, with downcast eyes and
face a little red, he appeared to be putting back the
flute in order to walk away.

"Here," cried a gentlemen in the crowd, "none of
that.  Over-modesty never pays, boy."

Off came his straw hat.  He tossed a big silver bit
into it, Jack threw in a shilling, and in less than a
minute at least, five shillings found its way into the
boy's pocket from out that hat.

But Kep's face was like a burning coal now.  He
bowed and thanked all hands, and Jack was following
Kep, when the same gentleman tapped him on the
shoulder.

"You seem to know the lad?"

"Yes, and his story too."

"Give me his address, there's a good sailor man."

Jack did so, and neither he nor Kep thought any
more about it.

"By the way," said the latter, as if it did not matter
much whether he received an answer or not, "ever
hear anything about the *Breezy*?"

"Why," cried Jack, "the *Breezy* has been on this
station for months, or here and hereabouts.  She is
going to do big licks," he added, "when the time comes,
the *Breezy* is."

Well, they spent some jolly hours together, and as
long as the *Newt* was in the harbour, they managed to
see each other every evening.

But one day, soon after the street adventure, a
gentleman called and asked to see Kep.  He was the
same who had collected the coin for the boy that day
on which he had played on the street.

Very straight and business-like was this Mr. Howe,
and concluded the interview in a few minutes.

"Wanted to know if you can manage to come to my
house at seven, and play a bit to my wife and me."

Kep told him he would be very pleased indeed to
do so.

"Here is my card then."

And this is what came of it.  Kep was engaged at
one of the best music halls in the city, to play solos, and
not only this, but to tell in his own simple language,
the terribly tragic story of the ship *Macbeth*, at a salary
of three pounds a week.

Few believed the terrible tale.  People seldom will
believe what is true; but flowing so winningly and well
from the lips of the handsome dark-eyed sailor boy, it
was a bait.

Kep cleaned no more knives nor boots.

But his music hall career came to a conclusion
almost as suddenly as it had commenced.  Anyhow, his
old pal, Jack Stormalong, had brought him good luck,
and things looked brighter now, for he had a letter from
his sister, and the *Breezy* came in.





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.. _`A BREEZY SHIP, A BREEZY CAPTAIN, AND A BREEZY CREW`:

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   CHAPTER VIII


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   A BREEZY SHIP, A BREEZY CAPTAIN, AND A BREEZY CREW

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A sailor is quite within his rights in boasting
about his ship.  So is an author.  Well I modestly
advance that I have some little claim to be called
sailor and author both.  You must forgive me, then, if
I do brag a little about my ship--the *Breezy*, and
presently I will tell you how she came to be known by
that name.  Even a landsman would naturally
conclude that a craft with such a name must be an airy
and brisk little bit of steel.  A naval officer might
possibly think twice before coming to any such
conclusion, for I myself have known tubs of things with
pretty high-sounding "tallies," built let us say for
coast defence, that went snorting and snoring round
our shores, with the water gurgling up their "nostrils,"
as a boy once called the hawse-holes, and out of which
no commander ever yet succeeded in knocking eight
knots an hour.

But on the other hand our British Navy ships are
generally well-named.  The small craft have wicked
wee names, and many are called after insects and birds.
In my own earlier days in the service there was a
*Wasp*, and she was a wasp too, and made it hot many
and many a time for gentlemen Arab slave dhows.

Well, there is a *Hornet* to-day, a 240-ton torpedo
destroyer.  And a twin-screw gunboat yclept the
*Kite*.  A bigger one is the *Landrail*, and of course
there is a *Locust* and a *Lively* and a *Lizard*.  You get
to something higher when you find the *Orion*, higher
and heavier is the *Hawke*.  But such names as the
*Implacable* 15,000 tons, the *Irresistible*, the *Majestic*,
or *Bulwark* thrill you to the marrow if it be a soul you
have at all and not a gizzard.

I love that name *Bulwark*.  It is grand.  It is ringing,
and brings to your memory the most splendid sea poem
that has ever been written,

   |  Britannia needs no bulwarks,
   |    No towers along the steep.
   |  Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
   |    Her home is on the deep.
   |

Well, Britannia has one *Bulwark*, and woe betide the
first enemy's ship she talks to in anger.

But about the *Breezy*.  You won't find her in the
present Navy List because you are supposed to be
reading a story of 1907.  Yet, for all that, I have to
use the past sense.

Well, Jack the ordinary seaman, or Able seaman, I
mean--doesn't like a long name.  So when this
war-vessel was nearly all ready to slip off into the water a
name had to be sought for her, and somebody suggested
*Briareus*.

"Sounds well," said the Admiral, father of the
little tottie who was going to baptize her, touch a
button and let her go free.

"Sounds well," he said, "but what was *Briareus*?"

"Oh," was the answer, "he was a terrible Greek
giant of bygone times, who wandered over the
mountains and by the sad sea shore and was possessed of
one hundred arms, and fifty heads."

"My word," said the Admiral, "he must have been
a bruiser!"

"Well, Admiral, if he had fifty heads the probability
is that he had nearly a hundred eyes, though a few of
them had no doubt got knocked out, but for all that he
must have been able to see well.  And this ship is built
for special surveying service, do you understand, sir.

"Capital!  *Briareus*?  A hundred eyes.  First rate!"

There was only one hitch, and, not for the life of her
could little Marie remember the word, though she lay
awake half the night saying it over and over to herself.

She thought she had it at last, yet when the time
came and just at the last moment, as one of the smartest
sailors was holding her up in his arms to enable her to
push the button, she forgot it again.

"Oh, what is it dear sailor," she whispered.

And Jack whispered too.  "Call her the *Breezy*, my
love, and be blowed to her."

And to the astonishment of everyone near by, Marie
lisped out these very words: "The *Breezy* and *be blowed
to her*."

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Now when the *Breezy* left Plymouth Sound she was
starting on her very first cruise--newly commissioned.

She had new guns, six of them; none very large but
all fearful spitfires.  She was steel--steel all over, but
this same steel whether in masts, or tops, or decks, or
plates, was a new invention, and to all intents and
purposes impenetrable.  There was no wood about
her that was inflammable, and the officers' cabins were
lined with a species of newly invented papier-maché,
which by itself could resist rifle bullets.  But above
all, the marines or bluejackets who might be wanted to
fight in exposed positions had light shields and
breast-plates of this same marvellous material.

The *Breezy* was going surveying, but she had
moreover special diving machines, of which more anon.

I have always looked upon a ship as a living,
sensitive thing, and it seems right to call her "she,"
especially if she is sprightly and beautiful and obeys
her helm well (I was very nearly saying "obeys her
husband").

I am sure of one thing; that when on that bright and
sunny morning the *Breezy* went clipping through the
water and heading for the waves, she knew she was
the cynosure of all eyes and every opera glass on the
Hoe.  She was as proud as a girl with a pink silk
petticoat, as a sailor observed.

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They were all young in the *Breezy's* wardroom, and
the Commander himself, who, as befitted his rank
lived in solitary grandeur in his quarters farther aft,
was considerably under thirty.

To a great extent the grey-beards, as they were
somewhat irreverently called, were cleared out of the
Service as far as smaller ships on foreign stations were
concerned.  That is they had been placed on the
retired list.

It was found that old men, though possessed of more
experience, more grey matter on the brain, were
hardly active enough in their lower extremities.  They
had the courage right enough, but they were somewhat
deficient in dash and go.

In the wardroom there lived and moved and ate
their beef, two lieutenants, a marine officer usually
called our "soldier," the engineer lieutenant, the
assistant pay-master in charge, and last, but certainly
not least, for he stood six feet one inch in his home
made hose--the Surgeon.

When I tell you that the Captain--a Commander
he really was in rank--was one of the jolliest round-faced
and boyish-looking officers in the service, you will
understand how pleasant it was to sail with him.

But his name was, or rather had been, Brazier before
he took over the *Breezy*.

"Don't much like that name," said Jack Jewell, a
sturdy built A.B.  "Do you, Tom?"

Tom Davis said, "No, I don't either."

"Let's boil him down, Tom."

"Boil away, Jack."

So Captain Brazier was allowed to simmer a while
in the brains of Jack Jewell, and lo! he came to the
top of the pot as Captain Breezy.  The name worked
gradually aft.  The boatswain got hold of it, the
gunners also, then the officers and skipper himself.

The Captain didn't mind it a bit.

Captain Breezy of H.M.S. *Breezy* sounded smart.
From bowsprit, then, to binnacle the *Breezy* really was
a smart ship.

Surgeon McTavish, M.D., of the great Northern
University of Aberdeen, had been the very last officer
to join the ship.  He came soon after Kep had left on
the day of his visit.

Everyone had been wondering what manner of man
the surgeon would turn out to be, and small innocent
bets were made on the subject.

Mr. Sneyd, the assistant-paymaster, who was small
himself, and wore a little nut-cracker of a face that
would have done for a door-knocker, betted he was a
short chap and red-haired, and couldn't speak
intelligible English.

The marine officer said he was blue-faced and
bulbous-nosed.

The engineer lieutenant thought that he could not
know much, coming from so heathenish a country as
Scotland.

"I don't bet," said Bertram Wynn, the first
lieutenant, "but let me tell you, gentlemen, that
proportionately more clever and scientific men come from the
Scottish Universities than from any three English
ones put together."

Well, at all events it was evident that his would-be
messmates did not expect a very great deal out of the
doctor.  He would be disappointing.

His traps came on board hours before he himself did.

Little Mr. Sneyd came down below with very big
eyes in his head.

"By gum!" he cried.  "I've seen the doctor's traps
and I've lost my little bet.  Run in to his cabin, Sodjer,
and see them."

The marine officer, who was still very young and
therefore obedient, disappeared.

"Well, Sodjer?"

"I'm puzzled.  Guess I'll lose my bet.  Here are
some of his things that I saw his servant putting
away.

"Item:--Two Highland broadswords.

"Item:--A full kilt Highland dress, including dirks
and sporrans, brogues and a bonnet and crest, and
skean dhu mounted in cairngorm.  (The kilt is
presumedly a clan McTavish tartan one.)

"Item:--A set of great Highland bagpipes."

"Oh, Lord!" cried Guilford the second lieutenant,
putting his fingers mechanically to his ears, "go on,
Sodjer."

"Item:--A pair of dumb-bells, the fellows you've
got to put up you know--80 lbs. each.  And,"
added Sodjer, "my bet's lost, for no man with a
bulbous nose could put up things like that."

"Heave round, Sodjer.  Anything more?"

"Item:--About fifty volumes of scientific books
including the British Encyclopædia."

"My bet's lost!"  This from the engineer while
the first lieutenant smiled.

"Item:--A ram's head snuff box.  Twisted horns,
tips mounted with silver and cairngorm.

"Item:--A big Bible.  It is very likely--

"'The big ha' Bible ance his father's pride.'"

Well, when the surgeon himself did appear, he
certainly commanded respect.  He was handsome as well
as well-built.  Indeed among the others he appeared
a perfect Hercules as he undoubtedly was an athlete.

Englishmen cannot help admiring an athlete no
matter what his nation may be.  Then his uniform
fitted him well.  He appeared to have been melted
and poured into it, while little Sneyd's seemed to have
been put on with the aid of a hay fork.

The surgeon's smile was a winning one, and there was
a quintessence of kindliness lying half asleep in his
dark-blue eyes that was very pleasant to behold.

He saluted the first lieutenant most respectfully, and
the two men shook hands.

"Glad you've come at last, Surgeon McTavish
We shall be friends.  You are, I hear, a man of
scientific attainments, and I dabble in science myself
a little."

In the mess that evening Sneyd had said--

"Look here McTavish, I owe you an apology.  I
thought no good thing could come out of Nazareth--I
mean Aberdeen, but now I cave in."

"Well spoken!  Bravo, Sneyd," cried the others.
Indeed there was a murmur of approbation all round
the table.  Sneyd was manly and truly English
despite his queer little face.

But McTavish stood up.  There was moisture in
his eyes.  But he stretched out across the table an
arm half a fathom long and shook little Sneyd by the
hand.

Sneyd suppressed a cry of pain, and there came moisture
into his eyes next, though its origin was not quite
the same.

The *Breezy* was to be something more than a mere
surveying ship and that is the reason why her officers
were one and all chosen from the best young fellows in
the Service.

For Britain even now was--well apparently drifting
gradually into war, and though the Admiralty believed
it would be averted, a good deal of what might be
called naval police work would devolve upon the
*Breezy*.  She had to be watchful and her duty would
not consist entirely in sounding and chart-making.

The surgeon's cabin was not very large, but his
books were, and of scientific instruments he possessed
not a few.  However there was the dispensary at his
disposal and Lieut. Wynn also offered him space for
books in his own cabin.  So McTavish was soon very
happy and quite settled down.

It was a merry mess, although very little wine was
consumed except when guests came off, as they did at
Madeira, St. Helena, Ascension and the Cape.

The middies' mess was just as jolly, and had five
right hearty young lads in it, ready at any time to do
anything for anybody or for their country.

In this year of 1907 pass exams for the Service were
stricter than ever.  There was a splendid staff of men
at headquarters, and they would only have the *crême
de la crême*.

Well, although nobody except the captain and first
lieutenant were supposed to know what the *Breezy's*
special instructions were, her duties were soon an open
secret.

German ships of war were careering about and along
both the west and east coasts of Africa.  They wanted
looking after.  Then marvellous to say the Sultan of
Zanzibar had somehow become very wealthy--diamond
mines--and had built himself a really smart
navy.  But his ships were sentinels to the British
Government for all that.  It was deemed good and
wise for Britain to have a scout fleet like this within
jumping distance of India and the Red Sea.

The Admiralty had learned experience since 1904
and were making use of it.

They were, as every great nation should be, on the
outlook for future eventualities.  So, long before they
reached the Cape everyone on board the *Breezy* had
quite settled down into his place, and all the officers
felt at home.  Moreover they all knew each other
thoroughly by this time, and knew each other's points
of character also, whether hard or soft.

It is a good thing on board a ship during a long
commission for officers to be like brothers.  They are
together in sunshine and in storm, in peace and in
danger.  Moreover, they ought to respect even each
other's foibles.

With so kind a captain and one so interested in the
welfare of those under his command the *Breezy* promised
from the very first to be a little community afloat,
all willing to please and be pleased, and to adhere
strictly in discipline and etiquette to the rules and
regulations of the King's Navy.

As they were all young they naturally wanted to,
and were determined to, see everything there was to be
seen at every port.

They were treated well wherever they went, and if
they stayed but a week at a place there was some social
function or another every day, and sometimes twice.
Dances and dinners, picnics, cricket-matches, or
football-matches, fishing parties, shooting parties, or
anything the Breezies, as they came to be called, were
always in it.

Sometimes, too, they gave a dinner and a dance on
board, and this was a real merry evening for all
concerned.

Sailors, let me tell you reader, are far more hearty
and as a rule better liked at ball or party than soldiers.

Sailors come and sailors go, but soldiers keep on for
ever.  The poor you have always with you.  It is
hardly fair of me to speak so perhaps, and I hope to
be forgiven.

Well, the *Breezy* steamed up the East Coast of Africa
and began work in earnest.  They visited the Sultan
and the Sultan's fleet and were very much struck with
all they saw, and had a deal of as good fun as they
could ever hope to enjoy.

About Madagascar and the Mauritius they did much
surveying work, and after several months they were
ordered to Australia.

By this time the Surgeon and Lieutenant Wynn had
become almost indispensable to each other.  Both
were scientists.  Indeed the lieutenant was studying
hard for his D.Sc. (Doctor of Science), and there is no
doubt that he would attain it.

In this year of 1907 and 8 the Admiralty at home
had found the utility of always putting a round peg
into a round hole, and not into a square one.  The
days of promotion by seniority alone were gone by
and every officer knew that his own merits would score
more than influence with big wigs at home.  Good
officers can only be had through a process of evolution.
You cannot make them to order.

And it was just the same with the men forward.  A
smart boy who honoured discipline was certain of soon
having stripes upon his sleeve that brought him respect,
even when he went on a spell of leave back to the
humble country village where his mother and father
lived, and that necessity of life to a handsome young
sailor--his little girl.

Talk of the Navy changing.  The ships may change
and do change, and will keep on changing about every
ten years, but Jack himself--Oh never.

He is still the handy man, and still the British heart
of oak.  "No laggard in love, no dastard in war," is your
bold Jack Tar.





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.. _`THROUGH THE HAWSE HOLE`:

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   CHAPTER IX


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   THROUGH THE HAWSE HOLE

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To the Temple of Varieties in the city of Sidney
went one evening the young and rather girlish-faced
marine officer, Surgeon McTavish, and Lieutenant
Guilford all from the *Breezy*, in order to hear a good
song.  Only in mufti were they of course, but Mac's
mufti was the Highland dress and a grand appearance
it gave this bold and scientific Scot.

Indeed Mac's servant was a Scot, Sandie Reid was
his name, and whenever the doctor told him to lay out
his mufti it was the kilt and sporran he got ready.

"I meant English mufti," said the doctor to him
one evening.

"You'll hae that or damn the thing else?" replied
Sandie with the determination of a Scottish servant
who loved his master.  "You're no' goin to give
Sandie Reid a red face by seein' his master's bonnie
Hielan legs rammed into leathern drain-pipes.  If ye
do, ye'll hae to seek an English servant."

The first day that the surgeon put on the Highland
garb to go on shore in was at St. Helena.  The officers
going on shore were waiting on the quarterdeck for the
boat and talking and laughing, when little Sneyd the
A.P. with the door-knocker countenance came up from
below.

Now Sneyd was sometimes in a nasty temper and
when he was so he was apt to be a little offensive.

He had got out of his bunk that day at the wrong
side perhaps, but when he saw McTavish arrayed in
the tartan of his clan, he pretended to be startled,
stepped back a pace or two and looked at him up and
down.

"Is this the twentieth century?" he cried, "and
do you mean to say that the captain will allow
one of his officers to go on shore dressed in that
uncivilized semi-savage costume?"

Then suddenly pretending to be heroic, "Oh, I
forgot the romance of Walter Scott," he said.

   |  "Ne'er in battle-field beats heart more brave,
   |  Than that which beats beneath the Scottish kilt."
   |

McTavish laughed.  But Sneyd sneered.  His shot
hadn't hit the bull's eye.

"I suppose," he said, "like most Scots that join
our Service, you're the only gentleman in your family,
Mr. McTavish."  This was mean, for the doctor's family
were really only honest crofter folk.

"That's hitting beneath the belt," cried the engineer.

"Apologise, Sneyd."

And the others shouted for an apology.

"I refuse," said Sneyd.

"The reason being," said McTavish quietly, "that
there wasn't even one gentleman in Sneyd's family."

"Bravo, McTavish.  Bravo!"

But McTavish wasn't quite done with little Sneyd.

"What's your weight, Sneyd?"

"Well, doctor," replied the A.P., conscious now that
he had gone too far, "just nine stone."

"Pooh! that's nothing.  I can put up 200 lbs."  And
before Sneyd knew what was up, the surgeon had
seized him by the collar of his upper garments and
stood erect holding the little man straight over the sea.

"For God's sake let me down.  Lower me.  Lower
me.  I apologise!"

"Do you see the blue shark that has been following
our ship for days?"' cried McTavish.

"I see the blue devil.  Do lower me, for mercy's
sake."

Next moment the doctor stood him on the deck.

He did apologise now, and all was forgiven.

"Lower me," he had shouted while suspended over
the sea, and everyone admitted that on the whole he
had been lowered considerably.  Yet Sneyd when not
in the pet was really one of the best little men in the
ship.

But about this night on shore?  Well, in due course
Kep came on the stage, most takingly dressed in the
uniform of a middy of the Merchant Service.

He seemed to see no one, and probably he didn't;
but he told his story--that tragedy of the sea which
now was improved by appropriate scenery--the lantern.

His performance received round after round of
applause, and when he returned with his piccolo, and said
laughing, "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to play
you the very Sonata from Wagner, with which I used
to charm the snakes," the cheering was renewed.  He
was recalled three times.

The last time he played a sweetly melancholy melody
from Faust, and when he had finished and during the
appreciation lull, he drew his sleeve across his eyes as
if to wipe away a tear.

"I've got a little gal in England, ladies, and that's
how."

Then he bowed himself prettily off the stage.

"But I say, McTavish," cried young Guilford,
"you're positively looking a bit pale."

"I'm taken aback," said the doctor.  "I've met that
boy, if boy he be, before.  At Nice I think.  But it is
but a fancied resemblance I can now see to a charming
Italian girl I knew for an all too brief period of my
existence."

"Well, I happen to know the lad," said Guilford.
"That is the boy Bowser.  He came on board the day
before we sailed, and he did make all hands laugh I
assure you, and you should have seen our fellows
dancing.  We'll stroll round to the green room and
see him."  And so they did.

They knocked.  "May we come in for one minute?"
said Guilford.

"You do us honour.  British Naval Officers are
welcome everywhere," answered Mr. Howe.

Then Kep came blushing up, and Guilford shook
him squarely by the hand.  This is young Charlie
Bowser, Dr. McTavish.  He is down in the play bills
as Gerald Montmorency.

"I say, Charlie, can you come off to-morrow
evening?  I'll send a boat."

"It must be at nine then, sir, after I get done here."

Charlie *alias* Kep, or Gerald Montmorency, did come
off, and great things happened.  He didn't get home
till twelve, but that really didn't matter.

He made an impression again, for he was not only
a freak with the piccolo, but the piano also, and he
was a marvel from a linguistic point of view.

Just before he left he had another interview with
Lieutenant Guilford.

"I've spoken to our Captain," he said, "and if you
are still of the same mind I can get you a berth.  Can
you play in our little band?

"I can lead, but would rather not join the Service,
sir, to be rated as a bandsman.  But," he added
quickly, "it is the dream of my life to be in this same
beautiful ship.  Oh, I shed tears, sir, when you sailed
past and left me on the Hoe.  Yet I leave myself
entirely in your hands."  He was smiling merrily as
he added, "I can clean knives and boots, sir."

"Your name isn't Bowser."

"It must remain so."

"You ran away from home."

"Yes, sir, but I won't run back, till I've seen the
world and done something.  My mind is made up."

"You are fifteen?"

"Nigh on it."

"You are of good birth.  I believe you, your manners
are quite a model.  Will you tell us your real name?"

"I promise to do so, I will do so *sine dubio, sed sine
die*.[1]  When you left, sir," he continued, "I just stuck
a pin in a page of Bradshaw's Guide, and it struck the
West Indies.  And thither I went.  So you see.  I came
into the merchant service *ad aperturam libri*."

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

[1] Without a doubt, but without appointing a day.

.. vspace:: 2

"Through the hawse-hole.  Eh?"

"That is it, sir.  And here I am as willing as ever to
make myself useful."

"But you are leaving a good thing.  What do they
pay you at the Variety Hall?"

"Oh, three pounds a week.  But I get tips from
gentlemen and lots of kisses from sweet ladies.  Then
I share some of my money with Adolph."

"And who may Adolph be?"

"Oh, he is head waiter at the C---- Hotel.  He was
steward of the *Macbeth*, and my comrade through all
that terrible time on Great Snake Island."

"Then the mutiny and all that is really true,
Charlie?"

"Yes sir, though the *plebs* hardly believe it, and I
do love Adolph very much.  An Austrian he is, sir,
but we talk in French."

"Well, we have a berth open for your comrade,
Charlie, and we'd like, but it is a matter of business.--We
couldn't give you £3 a week, and there are no sweet
ladies on board to shower kisses on you."

"Oh, sir," said Kep laughing, "I can easily go on
shore for the kisses."

"We are going back to Africa again to make the
slave-dealers hum, and there we need an interpreter,
but he must understand Spanish and Portuguese as
well as Arabic."

"Hurrah!  Pardon me, Lieutenant Guilford, but I
couldn't really help saying 'Hurrah!'  I'm as good
as rated--interpreter to H.M.S. *Breezy*."

"Good-night, boy.  Come in the first dog watch
to-morrow evening, and you shall hear our conclusion."

"Good-night, sir."

Kep went away in the dinghy.

It was a lovely starry night, with, high above, the
southern cross, and the moon's rays shimmering on
the water.

Kep, who was a good diplomatist, took out his
piccolo, and quavering over the waters came now the
unearthly music of that proud old song which touches
the spine of every true British sailor or soldier, namely,

"*Good-night.  All's well.*"

"By George!" said Guilford to McTavish, "he is
a broth of a boy."

"Yes, and we must have him.  He is bound to be
the sauciest boy in the Service."

Kep was rated all right--interpreter.  And he so
pleased the gun-room officers that he was invited to
become an honorary member of their mess.

And Kep was happy now, more especially as Adolph
was chosen to supersede the Captain's steward, who
had died in the Mozambique channel.

One day very soon after, brown-faced Gunner
Stormalong sought audience of the Commander of the
*Newt*.

"If you'll excuse me, sir, I want to speak a moment."

"Certainly."

"Well, sir, the *Newt* I hear is ordered home, but
the *Breezy* will be out for some years longer, and I'd
like to be in her to serve out my time, and Gunner
Myers would take my place, if so be, sir, that you'd
let us exchange."

"Readily, Jack, readily, and if he is only half as
good a man as you, he will do for us."

"Thank you, sir, and God bless you, sir."

And Jack bowed and retired, and next day he was
a gunner on the *Breezy*.

That's how things turn out in the Service.





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.. _`THE BROADSWORD-MEN OF THE BREEZY--KEP CUTS OFF A LEG`:

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   CHAPTER X


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   THE BROADSWORD-MEN OF THE "BREEZY"--KEP CUTS OFF A LEG

.. vspace:: 2

Young Kep Drummond's work on board the
*Breezy* was no sinecure from the very beginning.
Not that any one forced him to do things, but he was
good-hearted, and had all a well-bred boy's willingness
to work and help as well.

From the very first he had taken to the doctor,
probably from that law in nature which causes large
bodies to attract smaller.  This merely in a physical
sense, but it is true from the mental side also.
Dr. McTavish had a large and lofty mind.  One of his
chief studies was astronomy, or rather a study of the
heavens and the illimitable star-depths.  Like all
students of science, he liked to be listened to by his
juniors.  Well, he had a good listener and an ardent
admirer in Kep.

The *Breezy* was sent on a special mission back to
the Cape of Good Hope, whence they would receive
further instructions from the Admiral of that station,
and whose house was at Symon's Bay, but his home
really on the rolling deep on board the huge flagship
*Greater Britain*.  She was one of a class then being
built--30,000 tons, 30 guns, 30 knots an hour.  She
had a specially constructed bottom, and feared no
danger from bursting torpedoes, for the Admiral of
the ship and the others of its family could, when in
action, so protect the ship that they would explode
harmlessly in the water before they could touch her bilge.

The biggest of our present-day ships would look like
pigmies beside a monster of the deep like this.  The
*Union* was needed in these waters, because the
Germans and French had possessions in Africa.  And
in fact these two countries, although not our open
foes, were jealous of our power at sea, and the vast
amount of territory occupied.  In some of their
would-fain-be comic papers the Germans cartooned
Britain as the young cuckoo who, as it grows, hustles
all its other little comrades to whom the nest in
reality belongs, out of it to die.  Britain with
America really meant not only to occupy the whole
of Africa, and civilize it, but the whole world was in
time to become an English-speaking world; then all
wars would cease.  It was a big scheme, but then,
like everything else, civilization is, as far as this earth
is concerned, infinite.  It is a seed that once sown
grows and expands with marvellous rapidity,
especially when aided by the fostering power of true
Christianity.

Well, in their way across the six thousand miles of
lonesome water which stretches from Australia to
the Cape, although the *Breezy* encountered many a
storm, there were many and many beautiful nights,
when the sky was clear, and the stars so near
apparently, that the main truck appeared to be moving
amongst them.

It was on such nights as these that Kep loved,
figuratively, to sit at the feet of the sailor surgeon,
and hear him tell the story of the star-depths, those
greater universes that exist so far from ours, that
even trying to imagine the distance has before now
sent even a scientist mad.

But Kep assisted the doctor in the dispensary also,
and this was quite as necessary on board the *Breezy*
as a study of the star-depths.  And Kep was ever
handy with water, sponges, bandages and thread
whenever an operation was being performed.

There is no harm in a boy having a good opinion
of his abilities, so long as he does know a few things
well.

One day the doctor, who was really and truly
swinging himself hand over hand towards a main-top
battery, when he sprained his ankle.  He was so
strong and so healthy that he felt he could almost
fly, and this was the result.

Next morning early Kep entered his cabin on tiptoe
with a bowl of nice ship's cocoa, which the bold
surgeon, who had been awake nearly all night with pain,
gratefully drank.

"You are a good lad, Charlie."

"Yes, I know that.  I suppose I can't help being
so.  I suppose freaks are mostly always
good-hearted.  But, sir," he added coolly, "you won't
turn out to-day.  You may keep your mind
perfectly easy.  I will see the sick."

The doctor laughed aloud at the conceit of the lad.

An hour afterwards, with an improvised crutch
under his arm and his bathing drawers on, McTavish
was forward on the upper deck, with a man playing
the sea-hose on him and his poor swollen ankle.
There were forward also the middies, and one or two
of the ward-room officers, all enjoying the same
healthy fun.  When stripped this marvellous athlete,
who three years ago, when only twenty years of age
and still a student, had wrestled with and overthrown
a champion, was greatly admired.  And though on
that day the ankle was considerably swollen he put
up his 80 lb. dumb-bells just as usual.

He put Kep himself under training, and the boy
began to grow from the first fortnight thereof, though
he was not tall.

His father, however, had taught him swordmanship,
and at this work he could beat every gun-room
officer.

There was one man forward, namely Jack Stormalong,
Kep's friend, the gunner, who was almost as
tall and well-developed as the sailor-surgeon, who
saw him stripped once, and felt his muscles.

"What arms and chest and legs for broadsword
exercise *à la Scottice*," said the doctor.

"Be they, sir?"

"By St. Andrew, they are, Stormalong.  You're
good with the cutlass, I hear."

"Fair."

"Well, I think I've found a hero worthy of my
steel, and with the permission of the first lieutenant,
I shall put you under special training, and teach you
the broadsword.  I've got two of those old Highlanders,
splendid bits of steel, so we shall see."

Well, Jack just set his mind to it, and soon
mastered the art, and became nearly as proficient as his
master.  Whenever it was possible the doctor and
Jack had broadsword play after the wash-deck bath,
and before dressing.  McTavish never towelled down,
and wouldn't let Jack do so.

"It isn't Scotch style," he said, to the middies who
were there in full bathing costume--drawers.  "You
can't have too much salt on your skin, boys."

Even older officers would crowd forward to see the
play at early morning.  They had, as usual, small
bets on, and ridiculous ones, such as "a postage stamp
that has only been used once," or "a hair of the dog
that bit you," etc.

The man who was severely pressed lowered sword,
and the bout was over.  But often Highland targes--two
at the surgeon's directions were made by the
armourer--were used, and long, strong sword-sticks
instead of the claymores.  There was good fun with
these, and they were not so dangerous.  Besides,
umpiring was more easy, because if one man was
marked on the skin above an important group of
muscles, or received the point, he was declared *hors
de combat*.

But soon not only the gun-room officers, but the
engineers became enamoured of the play, and in time
as many as ten couples might be seen fighting like
Red Indians on the deck at one time.

Finally, by the time they reached the Cape, a corps
was formed of the best athletes, men with timber on
hip and calf, and these were called the Broadsword
men of the *Breezy*.

But there was an engineer from Cumberland, a
splendid fellow, and another of the same build
belonging to Glasgow, who were both desperate wrestlers,
though this was unknown to any save themselves.  Well,
one day there was a kind of gala performance took
place on the *Breezy*, to be followed by music and
dancing in the evening, and the two engineers resolved
to vary the performance.  They told the doctor, and
he sanctioned it.  It would be a bit of extra fun
anyhow.

It was, moreover, the captain's birthday, and the
ship was beautifully dressed with gay bunting below
and aloft.  The party was very select, and many
soldiers were there, and beautiful women, chiefly to
see the Broadsword-men of the *Breezy*, and to listen
to Kep's piping of his favourite *Faust* and *Wagner*.

The deck was so seated that everyone had a good
view, while the crew clustered everywhere.  There
were fifteen couples entered the arena with targe and
broadsword stick.  And the performance was a
never-to-be-forgotten one.

The athletes on this occasion wore the costume of
stage wrestlers, but the light jerseys of one half were
crimson, the other yellow.  After an exhausting and
beautifully exciting combat the yellows were declared
winners, but bouquets of splendid wild flowers from
the mountains were handed by the ladies each to the
champion she favoured, whether victor or vanquished.
The giant surgeon and Jack Stormalong fought with
naked claymores, and after a time the former received
a scratch on the left shoulder.  Blood ran over his shirt,
but Kep was at hand, and speedily put matters to
rights, and the combat was renewed.  After a display
that brought down the house, swords were lowered,
the combatants saluted and retired.  The battle was
a drawn one.

Then came Cumberland and Glasgow.

The onlookers received them with rapturous
applause and admiration of their splendid formation
and muscle.  Theirs was claymore and targe, and
after a short spell of this, with defiant shout each
athlete dashed claymore and targe away, and crouched
like panthers watching for the chance to spring.

It was catch where you can wrestling, but Donald
Dinnie rules, that is, one man must not only throw
his opponent, but keep him down for one minute.
The struggle lasted for sixteen minutes, and
Cumberland was victor.

Scotland stood with arms folded across the chest
grimly surveying his friendly foe.

The doctor approached to where the Admiral and
his two daughters were seated.

"They want to have one more tulzie," he said,
saluting.

"Only one then, whoever wins," said the Admiral.

Ten minutes more, and Scotland stood erect.
Cumberland was carried off the deck.

He had only been put to sleep, and soon recovered.

The Admiral recalled all the combatants now, and
thanked and praised them.  So long, he said, as
Britain had men like this, both Scotch and English,
to say nothing of the brave Irish, she need never fear
a foreign foe, afloat or on shore.

And the cheering almost drowned the music of the
band that had struck up "Rule, Britannia," the men
singing to the melody.

   |  "Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves,
   |  Britons never, never, never shall be slaves."
   |

It all ended in dinner and dancing, but every one
was happy, the Admiral's girls especially.

They had never, they said, spent a breezier evening
than among the Broadsword-men of the *Breezy*.

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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

.. vspace:: 1



But this cruiser was too smart a ship to be allowed
to remain at peace in any place for more than a week.
And now receiving orders that some underhand work
was taking place up Zanzibar way, the ship was
coaled hurriedly.

This coaling in double-quick time was not a real
necessity be it known.  It is, was, ever, and will be,
a species of extra drill in the service.

There was a large number of Kroomen on board,
and to them fell the largest share of the dirty work.

These sturdy blacks came from the neighbourhood
of Sierra Leone.  They were not borne in the ship's
books, being working hands pure and simple.  They
were under the command of their own head Krooman.
This man was a forest chief in his own wild back
country.  He ruled his men not with a rod of iron,
but the end of a stout manilla rope, and woe betide
the backs of any who tried to shirk his duty.

But if one gave his chief an insolent word, or even
look, he was tied up and had forty lashes there and
then.  That was called by the Kroomen "fum-fum."

On this particular day Surgeon McTavish had gone
on shore to shoot anything he might come across
among the heath-and-geranium-clad mountains that
cluster like the hills of an earthly paradise all around
the gulph or bay.

He was an ardent student of Natural History, and
his gun helped him in his studies.

But he blamed himself to-day for taking leave on
a coaling day, for some poor fellow might have an
accident.  And this made him hurry back, with his
bag mostly filled with rock-rabbits and big snakes
fully two hours before sundown.

About half an hour before this a bag of coals had
fallen from the dock down upon a poor Krooman,
smashing his leg in a very dreadful fashion.  The
man was carried at once to the sick-bay bleeding
terribly below the knee, and a boat despatched
forthwith to seek for surgical aid from the nearest ship.
There was no doctor on board that, nor on another
one.  The day was exceptionally fine, even for the
Cape in summer, and nearly all surgeons had gone
on shore.

"We'd better go straight to the Naval Hospital
now," said the middy in charge of the boat.

Meanwhile the man was bleeding to death in the
sick bay, when Kep, with all the coolness of a man
of fifty from St. Thomas's, came upon the scene.
The lower part of the leg was "smashed to
smithereens," as the sick-bay attendant said.

"Have to come off, I think, sir?"

"Mind your own business," cried Kep haughtily.
"Why on earth did you not apply a tourniquet to
the femoral artery?"

"Was taken aback, sir, and couldn't manage the
thing."

"How long have you been in the Service, sir?"
asked Kep indignantly, as his busy fingers were
fastening the instrument and stopping the bleeding.

"Five years, sir."

"A jolly sight too long.  I'll have you disrated.
Bring the anesthetics at once.  Here, you're too slow.
I'll manage that.  Get out the instruments.  Lively
does it.  Bear a hand, while I send the man off."

"Yes, certainly, the largest amputating knife;
this poor man has a thigh like an ox."

The attendant bustled now; at the same time he
was utterly surprised at the audacity of this boy of
barely fifteen.

The man was asleep, and would be kept so.

Kep had taken off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves,
and looked at the instruments.  He knew that every
one of them was chemically clean, and saw that
everything was handy on the table.

"What, sir!  Excuse me, sir, but *you* are surely
not going to operate?"

"Undoubtedly I am.  Don't you know that on
board of the old *Victory* in Nelson's day a loblolly
boy cut the limbs from no less than five sailors while
the battle was raging?  Now then," he added, "stand
by to hand me what I want."

He made the flaps *Secundem Artem* and sawed
the bone.

"The doctor's boat!" was the shout from aft one
minute after, and when the hospital surgeon entered
the poor man's leg was already raw side down in a
pail of water, and Kep coolly picking up and tying
the arteries with the shaky assistance of the attendant.

"The devil!" cried the doctor.

"No, sir," cried the attendant, "only the boy
Bowser, the sauciest boy in the Service."

"Well," said the hospital doctor, as he began to
complete the operation, laughing as he spoke, "the
devil himself couldn't have done the job half as well."

"How old are you?" he said to Kep after the
poor Krooman had been put in his cot.

"Fifteen in five days," he answered proudly.
"Quite old, isn't it, sir?"

"Did the surgeon leave you in charge of the ship?"

"Oh no, sir.  Dr. McTavish is away in the mountains
shooting cobras and things, but really, he is
such a nice, affable fellow, that I shall always be only
too pleased to do any little job like this in his absence."

The doctor was more amused than ever, and had
a rattling good story to tell that evening to his
mess-mates.





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.. _`ON THE "SCOUT"`:

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   CHAPTER XI


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   ON THE "SCOUT"

.. vspace:: 2

Because Dr. McTavish was a scientist and a
thinker was no reason why he should be
otherwise than hearty and jolly.

Indeed, he was admitted to be the life and soul of
the mess.  He had travelled a good deal before
joining the Service, but had never quite lost his accent.
He rather preferred to retain it.  But this was only
when chaffed about his tongue, and when little
Mr. Sneyd, for example, rubbed it in too hard.

But the anecdotes, often against his own country,
which the surgeon used to retail of an evening, couched
in this broad accent, were often highly laughable.
As a raconteur there was little chance of his being
beaten in the *Breezy* for some time to come.

The Captain himself never spliced the main-brace;
it was his duty or pleasure to ask the surgeon if the
men needed that extra glass of grog.  But Mac loved
the old tales of the sea that he had read when a boy,
and sometimes, especially on a Saturday night, he
would inform Captain Breezy or the first lieutenant
that the men looked rather pallid from the heat of
the day, and that splicing the main-brace would do
good.

The Captain laughed at the idea of his men looking
pale, for they were as weather-beaten as New Forest
oaks, and as red in face as a full moon setting in a
fog.

But on certain Saturday nights, if the weather was
all that could be expected, Captain Breezy himself
came as an invited guest into the ward-room, and often
thus assembled the officers would have what was
called a night with Burns.  At dinner the band--a
string one, and led on such occasions by Kep
himself--played little else save Scottish music.

Kep would play a solo on piano or piccolo, and then
recite, as he well could do, selections from Burns,
notably "The Cottar's Saturday Night," or "Tam
o' Shanter."

The anecdotes must all be Scotch, some serious and
terrible enough, but some highly ludicrous.

More than once did McTavish play solos on his
great Highland bagpipes, or dance the sword-dance,
if the ship were steady enough.

Pibrochs such as this sailor-surgeon could play
were not simply the jig sort of pieces you find in books,
and labelled "Pibrochs."  No, they were real Highland
battle-pieces.  And nowhere else would he play
these except high on the bridge, where he could walk
slowly to and fro, and a fine figure he looked arrayed
in the full Highland dress.  In these Highland pibroch
pieces you seemed to hear everything connected with
the gathering of the clans and the raid, from end to
end.

There were the wild cries of the men who ran
through the glens holding the fiery cross in their
hands, the hurrying hither and thither of the clansmen,
then the farewells to their wives or the girls they
left behind them, for as the music welled forth they
were marching away

.. vspace:: 1

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   Maybe to return to Lochaber no more.

.. vspace:: 2

But soon, wild and terrible, you seemed to hear the
slogan cries of the Highlanders, as a quick-step was
changed into a charge, then the shouts of battle, the
cry of the victor, the groaning of the wounded; then
a brief pause, succeeded by the most mournful music
it is possible to listen to, the coronach or lament for
those who had fallen in battle in their country's cause.

There was no Englishman in the ship who did not
sympathize with music like this, and Scottish sailors
forward did not seek to hide their excitement, or even
their tears.

The band would play up again after this, and both
officers and men, the latter forward, the former aft,
would mingle in the mazy dance.

Kep, as interpreter, was dressed in very neat uniform,
that of a midshipman, but without distinctive marks.
He frequently went forward of an evening with his
marvellous piccolo to play hornpipes to the men, and
give them a change of swinging their legs about, and
really to witness the motions of some of the *Breezy*
best dancers one could not have helped wondering
why they did not shake their legs off, as the
jellyfishes sometimes do.

So we must admit that the *Breezy* was a merry as
well as a happy ship.

There were times, however, when there was very
little merriness in their heads.

Terrible storms sometimes raged, especially in the
regions round Madagascar, where surveying had to
be carried on day after day, if possible, for weeks at
a time.

Into gulfs or bays the surveying boats had sometimes
to fly, and probably barely save their lives, so
suddenly did squalls, that ended in fierce hurricanes,
come on.

The squalls would come first, and, raging and
tearing hither and thither for a time, churning the
sea into a chaos of froth or spume, suddenly retire,
when there would be an ominous lull for a time.  They
had been but acting as vanguard to the advance of
the great army of cloud and storm that followed,
startling the fish of the sea and beasts of the
mountains with its thunders, lighting the darkness of day
with the red-blue blinding glare of the electric
hurricane--the thick and fearful darkness of the day.

But the boats that were away surveying usually
had a pleasant time.  Kep was always on board one
of these, for his gift of tongues often came in handy
with the natives, many of whom were French or
Portuguese.

Once no less than three men were washed overboard
from a boat, which was almost capsized.  No,
their bodies were never recovered, and there would
be sad hearts somewhere in England when the news
reached home.

From the ship itself in many places soundings were
taken, and the executive officers and navigating
lieutenant had plenty to do in the making of fresh
charts.

For a country like ours to know every part of the
sea's bottom is highly important, because in a naval
battle, say somewhere round the coast of the
Mauritius, or in coral seas of the far Pacific ocean,
the side that had the best charts of reefs and deep
water would almost surely manoeuvre the enemy into
a tight corner, from which there would be no exit.

The *Breezy* carried a new invention in the shape
of a diving bell with strong plate-glass windows, with
a telephone by means of which the officer on board
could converse with the workmen below.  In this
wonderful bell men could examine the bottom either
by night or by day, and wonderful were the sights
they saw at times, and awful nightmare faces used
often to glare in at them.

All sunken wrecks were sometimes examined with
the aid of the bell, and more than once gold was found.
This was treasure trove; nevertheless, though it
belonged to the king, much of it would be paid back
in prize-money to the officers and crew.

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For two long months did the *Breezy* haunt the
eastern shores of Africa.  There were men in the
Admiralty then, and they would have things done
well, no matter what the cost might be.

It is needless to say that the ship received mails
periodically from home, and a tiny dispatch boat--a
kind of steam-and-sail dhow--used to be sent to
seek for the *Breezy*, and deliver the letters, papers,
and sealed orders to the crew.

Needless to say, it was a red-letter day when a
mail-bag came, and though both officers and men
sometimes received news that did not please them, or even
caused them grief, no one, unless asked, was unmanly
enough to speak of his own troubles.  It was the
custom rather to seek to know the sorrows of others,
and try to console them.

Kep's letters from his sister were always long and
delightful.  But one day he was startled to be told
that his father was in difficulties, and in terrible grief
in consequence.

"And oh, dear Kep," the letter went on, "though
I am eighteen, I feel but a child.  I care for nobody
now save father, but two years younger I thought I
did care for some one.  I have never told you this;
I would not even now, but father considered him
unworthy to marry the daughter of a wealthy
Drummond, and forbade him the house.  He never came
again; but if a girl of sixteen, my age at the
time--you were in Scotland, dear--can love, he took my
heart with him.  My grief was more poignant and
lasting than when our dear mother passed away.

"But, Kep, to save us from the ruin that like a
thunder-cloud must burst over Martello Castle, father
wants me to, almost commands me to, marry a
wealthy Jew, whom I can never, never love.  He is
not only wealthy, but handsome and distinguished,
and my union with him would save the situation, and
perhaps poor father's life.  I cannot, oh, I cannot,
yet do not be surprised to find that I am driven to it,
etc., etc."

The steam dhow was to wait for letters, and Kep
had to write against time.  But the gist of his letter
was--"Marry no one you cannot both respect and
love.  Death is to be preferred.  Trust in God,
Sissie dear.  I am very young, but I do think God
will forsake no one who puts his trust in Him.  If
father is so ill-advised as to try to force you into a
marriage with this man, leave Martello, and reside
with some friend or friendly relative until my ship
comes home."

Kep was naturally a happy-minded, hopeful boy,
and though he prayed longer that night in his
hammock than usual, and even in his fervour shed a few
tears, he fell soundly asleep, and next morning was
his own old self again, feeling satisfied that no storm
would ever burst on the Martello estate.

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For many years there had been a lull in the
slave-trade.  Few dhows were now captured, and it was
believed the Arabs had almost given up the terrible
game.

But lately, strange to say, it had broken out with
greater vigour than ever.

There was some secret power behind the daring
raids of these Arab gentlemen.  This was supposed
to be Portugal, for she--though ever fair-tongued
and cringing to the British--had always been in
favour of slavery, and would have given a good deal
to see even Germany predominant along the shores,
and on the sea as well.

But there had very recently been a new Sultan
raised to the throne of Zanzibar, and so frequently
was he found to be in league with the German
Consulate there, that acting on orders from home the
Captain of the *Breezy* paid the Palace a visit.

His arrival was by appointment made by the
Sultan, and the visit paid was, to all appearance,
unofficial.

But after the usual courtesies, and meat and betelnut,
Captain Breezy, with his first lieutenant, and
Kep as interpreter, opened the real "talkee-talkee."

There was much shilly-shallying, and much untruth
and fighting shy of the subject on the part of
the youthful potentate, so that the honest sailor was
disgusted, and through Kep told the Sultan that as the
British had placed him on the throne, so the British
would pull him down if he attempted to kick over the
traces.

"Down goes the Palace about your Sultanic ears,
and up goes another Sultan, if you do not within
twenty-four hours sign a treaty with us, and henceforth
leave Germans and Portuguese severely alone."

That treaty was signed, for the Sultan was little
more than a boy, but the intriguing was continued
from another direction.

For the city of Lamoo on the equator, and many
miles up the river, had of late years become greatly
improved and powerful.

It had been but a protectorate of Zanzibar and its
Sultan.  Now it suddenly began to be independent,
and shortly after the events I am now going to relate
showed signs of unusual activity.

Rich diamond mines had been found, it was said,
in the far interior, and why should not Lamoo go in
for its navy as well as Zanzibar.

I fear that most of Zanzibar's ships were put there
by means of British coin, and not diamond mines,
so if Lamoo's men-o'-war were lent her or given to
her by Portugal or Germany, it would be simply a
matter of diamond cut diamond when the crisis came.

Meanwhile Britain was, to all appearance,
hoodwinked.  On the coast of Africa her only policy
appeared to be to sweep slaving Arab dhows from
off the Indian Ocean.

In this she was assisted by other ships of the station,
all of which by means of wireless telegraphy were
within hail of each other.

Officers going on shore from a ship are usually met
by a nigger, who may be of any age from fourteen to
forty, only he is always called a boy, and acts for the
time being as a city guide or guide through the
beautifully-wooded island.

The gentlemen Arabs had their own plan of
espionage.  In intellect they considered themselves
far above a Briton, and in this same art of espionage
they undoubtedly were, as well as in every devilish
device that might be applied to it.

Never an officer who landed on the white sands but
was shadowed, and never even an ordinary seaman.
Of a party of these latter they took but little heed,
well knowing that as a general rule they betook
themselves to some hotel, where they might drink a glass
or two, have a song and smoke and yarn and be down
in time to the beach to meet the liberty boat.  A
single officer, or even two, were warily followed
whereever they went.

Kep's boy was a clever little rascal, not a day older
than himself.  A Somali he was, but knew a little
English, and plenty of Arabic.  As they generally
set off to the woods to gather butterflies or
lizard-hunting, the Arabs took very little heed of them.

But all the while Kep was picking up the Swahili
or Somali language.  Out in the forest the two
together performed all kinds of monkey tricks, and Kep
could soon climb cocoa-nut trees and pitch down the
fruit as cleverly even as quick young Bungle.  He
had some other name, but Bungle suited him well
enough, and the lad was rather proud of it than otherwise.

Kep on these little rambles managed to mix a good
deal with both low-class and high-class Arabs, but
he always kept his ears pricked and his weather-eye lifting.

When in an Arab's house, presumably to drink the
splendid coffee which only an Arab can make, Kep
pretended not to know a single word of either Somali
or Arabic, and thus he gained a considerable deal of
information, which was of great use to Captain Breezy.

The Arabs watched the *Breezy* put to sea to the
nor'ard.  They had counted every man and officer
who went on board, then they sighed sighs of relief,
and thanked Allah that the villainous Britons had gone.

But one thing none of them had noticed, for when
night had fallen, and the *Breezy* was opposite a wooded
point of the island, she was stopped.

A light was flashed over her side just once, and
presently out from the dark forest shadows stole a
tiny black out-rigger boat, and was rowed silently
across the star-lit sea, till she reached the ship's side.

"Good-bye, dear lad; good-bye, and Heaven
bless and keep you."

It was Kep whom the officers were saying farewell
to and seeing over the side.

He was an adept at disguise, and now it seemed no
longer Kep that was standing among the officers, but
a very handsome Arab boy.  He had even stained
his feet, legs, arms and face an olive tint.  He wore
sandals on his feet, a little turban on his head, and
carried a spear.

It was McTavish himself that spoke the last farewell.

"Take care of yourself, boy," he said.  "May God
bring you safe back to us.  Good-bye."

And waving a salute, Kep passed silently over the
side, and the ship went on.





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.. _`A STARTLING ADVENTURE IN THE WOODS--THE CHIEF'S PLOT`:

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   CHAPTER XII


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   A STARTLING ADVENTURE IN THE WOODS--THE CHIEF'S PLOT

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Without Kep on board, the *Breezy* didn't seem
the same that night either to officers or men.
He was missed in the gun-room mess, and missed in the
ward-room, while the crew sadly missed the merry
notes of his little black flute.  But Kep was by this
time alone in the woods with his faithful little black
guide Bungle.

Brave though Kep undoubtedly was, he felt a little
nervous to-night in those dreary woods.  There are
strange weird sounds in them by night.

Bungle could find his way here on the darkest night,
but the dread that they might be watched was in both
hearts, and several times they stopped and crept
farther into the gloom as the sound of approaching
footsteps fell upon their ears.  Kep had two tiny revolvers
of the best make, and meant to use them if attacked.
His life was of some little value to him, and he would
sell it dearly.

They saw figures glide past them, but these passed
on, and they resumed their journey.

It was five long miles to the suburbs of this
half-barbarian city.  But once they began to come among
the glimmering lights, Bungle and Kep separated.
They knew when and where to meet again.

Kep held on now, boldly exchanging a "Yambo"
or "Yambo Sana" with a stranger, until he entered a
side lane and darted quickly into a house.  The house
of an Arab friend it was.  He lived there all alone
with his child, a soft-eyed little Arab maid of some ten
years, whose life Kep had saved in the street by
shooting dead in his tracks a hulking black naked and
low-caste Arab, who had seized the child with the
intention of abducting her.

She had been able to tell Kep, frightened though she
was, where she lived, and the strong, hardy British
boy had mounted her on his shoulder and carried her
to her grateful father's house.

The fellow he had shot was buried out of the way,
and no questions asked.

Such a favour as this no Arab could forget, so Kep
knew he was safe enough there.  But at first the Arab
did not know the boy in his disguise.

The child knew him first, and ran to embrace him.

"You are very beautiful now," she said in her pretty
Arabic, "and little Zeena loves you."

A steamer from India was due at Zanzibar next
day, and all unsuspected, though gazed at by a
thousand eyes, Kep betook himself to the beach and soon
was engaged as guide to a lady who seemed fascinated
with him.

He talked to her in broken English, called her
"Meesie" (little Miss), and took her all through the
town all day long and into the woods.

On parting with him, Kep certainly was not the
loser, for he found half-a-crown in his hand, and a kiss
on his cheek.

"Mamma," the girl told her mother frankly when
she returned, "I've had the sweetest Arab boy for a
guide ever any one saw, and he seemed so pleased when
I kissed him."

The ship lay coaling, etc., for four days, and every
day Kep was on the beach to guide the young lady.

Though Arabs did not know him, they put him down
as simply a boy of a different tribe, trying to make
some money.

But in this way Kep was able to confer with Bungle
any day he liked, and every night he lay *perdu* in his
friend's house.

He was soon able to mingle freely in the best and
worst Arab society, and one night, to his great joy but
quite by accident, he made a marvellous discovery,
which, as it turned out, was of the greatest importance.

His residence with this faithful Arab Kep enjoyed
most thoroughly.  In fact, he was very much at home,
and did not for the present, at all events, long for the
return of the *Breezy*.  She was gone on a cruise up
Aden way, and it would be six weeks before she could
again cast anchor in Zanzibar waters.

Kep had a capital opportunity now of improving his
Arabic and Swahili, and he was not slow in taking
advantage of it.

The Arab himself taught him a great deal, especially
as to writing, and the construction of words and
phrases.  But Zeena taught him much more, and her
language was probably more useful, as it was of a
conversational kind.  Zeena was very clever, as well as
very innocent and charming.  But Arab children in
these tropical countries are like tropical flowers, they
come early to maturity, and Zeena, though but ten,
had all the wisdom of, and perhaps a good deal more,
than an English girl of sixteen.  Yet she was as sweet
and innocent in all her ways as a baby.

There are white Arabs, swarthy olive Arabs, and
black.  Zeena and her father were white and of high
caste.

I don't think I should be going a bit too far if I told
you that Kep came to love the child almost as much
he loved Madge his sister.

Zeena's rapt attention to all he told her about his
own far-away land was very flattering to the boy.  She
seemed to hang on every word he said.  When the
great lamp was lit, she sat cross-legged on a pretty
ottoman beside him, and when tired of listening, she
leaned back and fell sound asleep, looking then in her
crimson evening robes of silk, so Kep told himself, as
beautiful as an houri of the Arab's paradise.  This
room, with its strange furniture and rich hangings
was paradise enough to Kep.  Meanwhile, the father
sat quietly by, reading, ever reading.

It was one night when belated in the forest or jungle
that Kep had a strange adventure.  He came upon a
group of Arabs, all armed to the teeth and talking
round a fire.

The boy crept nearer and nearer, till he could hear
every word spoken.  Yet well he knew that discovery
meant imprisonment or even death itself.

They were gentlemen Arabs, soldiers and slave-raiders
all in one, and some, Kep could tell from their
uniforms, were servants of the Sultan of Lamoo himself.

Their meeting here in the open forest probably
showed a want of caution.  But they believed they
had no need to fear anything.  There was not a
warship anywhere on the coast, and all in this island were
friends.  So they drank their coffee and squatted
round the fire, conversing freely.  Just beyond the
spot where under a bush Kep lay hidden, a sentinel
had been placed, and into whose arms the boy at first
had almost precipitated himself.  The duty of this
man was to keep walking round in a circle, stopping
occasionally to give vent to a long, low, bird-like
whistle, as a signal that all was well.

Kep smiled at this.  Had the sentry only known
how near to him Kep was!

By raising a little of the foliage that screened him,
the boy could not only hear better, but see the faces of
the men as well.  One was a bold and peculiarly
good-featured man.  His sword and sword-belt were
bejewelled.  He wore a gilded turban, and the huge
dark-green cloak that covered him, showed he was a scion of
the prophet's.  The others addressed him with tokens
of great respect, and listened almost in silence to his
proposals.

One of these was of so terrible and daring a character
that Kep could hardly believe that they were made in
earnest, and he shuddered as he listened.

The plot that more immediately concerned Kep was
one to get the British cruisers sent off from the
equatorial part of the coasts, in order that they might run
an immense cargo of slaves from villages far in the
interior, and get safely away before they could possibly
be discovered.

This chief was well known to the gun-boats and
cruisers on the coast.  A price had been set on his
head.  If caught, his would indeed be a short shrift,
for he had been guilty of wholesale murder and
slaughter.

At this moment he had a fleet of dhows under his
command, of which he was admiral; he had a whole
army of Arabs and Somalis on shore, of which a
brother of his was general; and the two between them
had managed to make fools of the British times
without number.

Abdularram, as the chief was called, and his brother
had been very active lately.  The latter had journeyed
into the far interior of Africa with his followers.  In
this wild foray the brother of Abdul had been more
than usually fortunate.  He had made a *détour*, and
had come to pastures new, swooping down upon defenceless
village after defenceless village, laying them
waste with fire and sword, and bearing thence the
strongest and youngest of the men and women.

These attacks were accompanied by all the horrors
incidental to the slave trade, but probably worse even
than ever they had been in the older days.

They were worse, for this reason.  As a rule, the
Arabs do not at once attack primitive villages.  They
prefer to pretend friendship for the unsuspecting and
innocent natives.  They follow the same tactics as did
the brutal soldiery at the massacre of Glencoe.  When
they succeed in lulling to sleep every suspicion, and
causing the poor blades to believe firmly that the
strangers are their friends, then they rise.  And for a
night or two hell itself seems let loose upon earth.
The midnight darkness is lit up by the blazing of the
grass huts; in the lurid glare the wild and beautiful
scenery, its rolling hills, its waving woods and lakes,
look strangely weird; but in the stillness of the night
the most heart-rending screams and mournful pleadings
for mercy may be heard even miles away, the
pop-pop-popping of rifles also, if resistance has been made
to the onslaught; if not, sounds that are more sickening
still--dull, heavy thuds that speak of brains dashed
out and of old men and women lying murdered in cold
blood.

But in the present instance there had been no time
to form sham friendships with the natives.  The attack
on each village had been therefore made suddenly, and
without warning of any kind.  The fighting natives
were speedily driven in, the conqueror followed, and
the butchery began.

The best of the natives were soon weeded out and
placed in chained gangs, paralysed with fear, smitten
to the heart with the awful calamity that had come
upon them like a bolt from the blue, and hardly daring
to utter a cry, though low moans and piteous cries
escaped the poor women as they saw perhaps their
babies tossed on the spears of the Arabs, and their
grey-headed fathers and mothers clubbed as ruthlessly
as if they were but cattle led out for slaughter.

Village after village was raided and laid in ashes, and
probably the biggest haul of slaves ever taken eastward
was soon *en route* for the distant coast.

All this and much more Kep learned from the
conversation of these Arabs to-night.

He was thanking his stars for his good fortune, when
close beside him in the bush there was a rustle and the
sound of a breaking twig.

The sentry had heard it too, and suddenly gave the
alarm.  Every Arab sprang to his feet and laid his
hand on his sword.

Poor Kep's heart seemed to cease beating.  He
thought his last hour had come, but he kept his place
and remained quiet and still.  Suddenly the chief broke
into a fit of laughing, as an enormous grey and warty
lizard crept silently into the light.

Kep's life was spared.  Had this lizard gone the
other way and not been seen by the Arabs, spears
would have prodded the bush, and his doom would have
been sealed.

As it was, he was glad when they left, glad to find
himself alone once more, and gladder still when he
reached the friendly Arab's house and received his
evening welcome from him and little Zeena.





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.. _`PREPARING FOR THE FIGHT`:

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   CHAPTER XIII


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   PREPARING FOR THE FIGHT

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Two weeks passed away, and happy though he
was, Kep was longing for his ship to return in
order that he might report what he had found out, and
so frustrate the plans of the savage Arab chief.

He watched for her in vain however.

But one evening while alone with his friends, the
door was quietly opened, and Bungle himself entered
as silently as a gecko lizard.

That he had something important to communicate
could, however, be seen in his very look and gesture.

"Hist!" he said, pointing towards the door, which
he had carefully closed.  "P'haps bad man he follow
Bungle."

He spoke in a solemn whisper, and coming nearer to
Kep's side, uttered just two words that caused our
little hero's heart to rejoice.

"Ship come."

"Truly?"

"Foh true, sah.  She dere now."

Kep forgot everything else in his excitement.  For
the time being even his little Zeena counted for nothing.

He hurried beachwards alone.

There was a ship in the roadstead certainly, but it
was not the *Breezy*.

He was not even certain she was British, but he
waited and waited.  And not far off Bungle was
waiting too.

By and bye a white boat came rushing through the
water shorewards, and Kep could tell even by the
sturdy thump-thump of oars in rowlocks that they
were hearts of oak who manned her.

She was smartly hauled up, and a young lieutenant
sprang out.

Kep rushed up to him.

"You wantee one boy guide, sah?  I plenty goodee
guide, plenty goodee!"

The lieutenant looked down.

"Thank you, little man, but I know my way.  I
am going no further than the Consulate to-night."

But Kep followed, as if importunate, and when they
were alone--

"One moment, sir," he said in a low voice, "I am
not what I seem, but interpreter to H.M.S. *Breezy*.  I
have most important news to give or to send."

"Can you not come off with me then, and see our
Captain?"

"No, sir, if I did so I should be suspected as a spy
and my throat cut, for I must remain in this town until
the *Breezy* returns.  I will now pretend to be guiding
you to a hotel, and tell you all as I trot along by your
side."

"All right, boy.  You seem to be trustworthy."

"I am true as steel."

Then he shouted as Arab guide boys do.

"Dis way den.  Dis way, sah, to de best hotel in
Zanzeebar."

And in this clever way he was able to tell the officer
this whole story.

The ship lying in the offing, the officer told Kep, was
the cruiser gun-boat *Marten*, and she was on her way
to the Cape with important despatches to the Admiral
of that station.  But he must first see the British
Consul, and report to him what had already happened.
The *Marten* was on her way, it appeared, from Bombay,
and had received orders to look out for and
capture if possible a large three-masted ship called the
*Annabel Lee*.  This capture the *Marten* was only to
effect if she fell in with the ship (which was flying
American colours), before she, the gun-boat, reached
Zanzibar.  However, the *Marten* had broke down for
a time, and while undergoing repairs a current had
drifted her nearer to the coast than she ought to have
been, and her fore-foot got on a bank.  This was bad
enough, certainly, but what made it all the more
provoking was the fact that it came on to blow to the
extent of a ten-knot breeze, and that during the
night--it was one of the brightest moonlight--a large ship,
answering in every way to the description given of the
*Annabel Lee*, sailed past within a quarter of a mile
of her.

The *Marten* had fired a gun or two; but the vessel
took not the slightest notice, simply keeping on her
course.  She was seen, however, to hoist more sail,
and soon she disappeared.  After a delay of a day, the
*Marten* got off the bank with merely the loss of a
portion of her false keel, and made the best of her way to
a town not far from Zanzibar; but only to find that
the American ship--if she was American--had been
there and had hurriedly bought and shipped stores;
after which she speedily hoisted sail and bore up for
the south.  It was the opinion of every one, therefore,
that the *Annabel Lee* was a slaver.  So the *Marten*,
hardly delaying an hour, set off in chase, but in three
days' time came here unsuccessful, to Zanzibar
roadstead, and anchored.

So Kep promised to meet this officer next day,
meanwhile going as far with him as the British
Consulate, for everything bordering on suspicion must be
avoided.  The Arabs even then might be watching.

Kep then returned to his home, and thinking that
something terrible had happened, for it was now long
past eleven, the Arab had sat up for him with little
Zeena, who was on the ottoman weeping when the lad
entered.

He had to tell all his story now with the girl on his
knee.

Bungle sat thinking.

"He is one devil," he said at last.

"Who are you talking about, Bungle?"

"About de wicked Chief Abdularram."

"From what I heard him say that night in the
jungle," returned Kep, "he is not one devil, but a
thousand devils rolled into one."

The *Marten* was busy coaling next forenoon, but men
were allowed on shore after twelve o'clock, and when
the liberty boat returned at six o'clock from the shore
two of them were missing.  Very early next morning
a party of marines, under the charge of a sergeant,
landed to hunt these men up.

They found them at last, or rather they found their
dead bodies.  The poor fellows had been inveigled
into a compound, some little way off one of the main
streets, and then stabbed to the heart, and their faces
frightfully gashed and mutilated.  They had not been
robbed.  Both men possessed watches and had money
also, but nothing had been abstracted.  It was a cases
of revenge pure and simple.  Not that the Arab
perpetrators had borne any personal grudge against these
men.  They were Britishers, that was all.

Next day, with others, Kep went to the spot where
the men were murdered.  Bungle was there also, but
they pretended not to know each other.

Kep noticed that this clever little fellow picked up
something with his toes, and slipped it into his hand,
and that same evening he came as before to our young
hero's quarters and showed him the something.

It was a beautiful large ring, set with sparkling
stones, and evidently of great value.

When Kep saw it he started.

"Good gracious!" he cried, "that very ring I saw
on the chief's finger as he squatted by the forest fire."

The *Marten* started next morning.  The despatches
would not wait, but the officer left letters at the
Consulate for the *Breezy*, which was now overdue, and left
orders also with the Consul to investigate the murder
and punish, if possible, the perpetrators of this terrible
crime.

Just three nights after this, and at the very time
that Kep was thinking of turning in, the boy Bungle
again appeared.  There was joy on his face this time.

"One oder ship come," he cried.  "'Tis you ship
foh true dis time."

Kep bade the Arab and his little daughter a hurried
adieu!  He must get on board at all risks immediately.

Poor little Zeena was inconsolable, and he only got
away with a promise to come back again some day.

"Ah!" he thought to himself, "that some day may
never come!"

Yet he really meant to return to see his little Araby
maid, as he called her, if ever he got a chance.

Bungle met him on the beach, and together they
walked fully a mile along it, and here they found
Bungle's dug-out, and quickly entering it shoved off.

There was a strong current running, but they managed
to stem it, and in due time got near to the *Breezy*.

"Boat ahoy," shouted a sentry.

"No, no," was the answering hail, which meant that
the occupants would come on board at the port side.

Most of the officers had turned in.  Only the doctor
and Wynn sat together, working out some sort of
problem.

"I'll be shot," cried McTavish, "if that isn't young
Bowser's voice."

He didn't need to be shot, for next moment Kep,
still dressed as an Arab, walked in and saluted.

You may be certain the welcome he received was a
hearty one.

"May I bring Bungle in?"

"Certainly, lad," said the first lieutenant, "and
meanwhile I'll report your arrival to the Captain."

When Wynn returned the captain was with him.
The assistant paymaster and the young marine both
crept in with only their pyjamas on.

Then the boy told his story, pausing here and there
to permit Bungle to work in a word or two.

Then Kep, during the brief spell of silence that
followed, handed the ring to Captain Breezy.

"What is this?"

"That is the chief murderer's ring."

The chief murderer, however, had sailed days ago,
probably to join his brother.  Indeed, from further
evidence brought next day by an old interpreter, there
was little doubt left that Abdularram was in hiding
somewhere about the line or farther north, with a fleet
of northern or fighting dhows, and also that his
brother was marching upon the coast with his slaves, if
indeed he had not already reached his barracoon.
Their object, therefore, was to strike a blow both on
shore and at sea that the Arabs would feel the effects
of for many and many a day to come.

Fore and aft, on this very account, the officers and
bluejackets were the merriest of the merry; swords
and cutlasses were being sharpened; guns received an
extra polish; revolvers were cleaned and cartridges
were served out; while, though they were all busy
attending to the duties that devolved upon them,
laughing and joking were heard all day long.

A row was coming, and they would be in it, and
from the fight they felt certain they would come out
victorious.





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.. _`WITHIN A YARD OF THEM LAY POOR FISHER'S HEAD`:

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   CHAPTER XIV


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   WITHIN A YARD OF THEM LAY POOR FISHER'S HEAD

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Admittedly the best warrant officer on board
the *Breezy* was the chief boatswain, Fisher.  He
had been on the coast years and years ago, and knew
the Arabs well, and all their tricks and manners too.
He hated them with a fiery kind of hatred that nothing
could have quenched.

Nothing ever did, he once told McTavish, except
blood, and that blood had to be Arab blood.

"If you had seen what I have seen in the old days,"
he added, "but now I'm wearin' on, sir, and soon will
get my pension, or my last shot."

"You've been wounded before, then?"

"Good lord, yes!  You see this slash across my
brow, doctor?"

"A blind man could see that, Fisher."

He drew up his right trouser leg and disclosed an
ugly hole below the knee.

"A bullet, sir.  No, it didn't splinter.  It went
clean through.  I have another in the right wrist.
Another skirmish, sir.  And I had a spear-wound right
through me.  I stuck to my man that day though,
and pretty nigh cut him to the chin.  Oh yes, I've
knocked about a piece.  Most of the swell Arabs know
me and would pot me anywhere if sure of getting away
with whole skins or an unstretched neck."

In the coming affray this man had command of a boat.

Well, the *Breezy* stole away in the evening, and those
that watched her from cocoa-nut trees saw her heading
south and went to bed contented.  But after darkness,
the *Breezy* put all lights out and passed Zanzibar once
again.

There was another cruiser on this coast not far off,
and to her Captain Breezy sent a wireless message to
follow on after and assist.

Instead of landing his forces south of the Lamoo
river at Durva, and proceeding thence to the interior
to attack the brother of Abdularram with his wild
hordes of Arabs and Somalis, the Commander of the
*Breezy* ought to have awaited the arrival of the other
cruiser, which had been hourly expected at Zanzibar,
and gone north in her company.

McTavish had even proposed this to him, but he
only laughed.

"No, Doctor, no," he said.  "I won't wait.  Do
or die is my motto.  You don't catch me sharing
prize-money or honour and glory and hopes of promotion
with any one.  Not if I can help it."

They landed at night, and a dark and starless night
it was, although towards morning the moon would sail
silently up from the sea.  But they did not wish for
her light to guide them up the tree-shaded creek, for
the presence of the moon might but serve to reveal
their position to the eyes of a watchful foe.

They were all armed to the teeth; even Bungle had
been entrusted with a cutlass and a revolver.  They
rowed silently and with muffled oars towards the shore,
and no one spoke a word above his breath.

Their whole force consisted of but sixty blue-jackets
and ten marines.  Captain Breezy, their commander,
being himself in charge, with Guilford and Fisher
under him.

Bungle was their guide, and right faithfully and
well he did his duty.  It certainly was no fault of his
that the expedition, which from the very beginning
was one of great peril and danger, came to so
disastrous an end.  Nor was it from any lack of courage
and daring on the part of the brave sailors and marines
and those who led them.

The boats were hidden under the trees, five men
being left in charge of them.  But these five men were
probably the best in the ship, and they left them with
their Maxim gun, which they found it would be
inconvenient to take with them inland.

Then began the long silent march through the woods
towards the barracoon, which was full fifteen miles
from the shore.

It was a forced march, and one that only men in the
very best form could have accomplished in the
comparatively short space of five hours.

When within about three miles of the barracoon a
halt was called, or rather whispered, and sentries being
set, the men lay down to rest, after partaking of food.

They had dressed Bungle, while on board the *Breezy*,
in a tailor-made coat and trousers, which latter he
afterwards abandoned, and now, when of his own accord
he proposed to go forward and reconnoitre, he divested
himself even of his coat.

The moon had by this time risen, so that the men
had to lie close among the long rank grass and stunted
bushes, for they were now in a kind of open country.
But more than once that night, before the sun rose
up over the woods, Kep thought he could perceive
dark figures skulking in the bush or stealing through
the grass.  Was their presence in the forest already
discovered?  This, was a question it was impossible as
yet to answer.  Alas! it was answered all too soon for
their comfort.

What a long, long time Bungle seemed to be absent.
One hour, two hours glided by, and still there was no
sign of his return.  Meanwhile, and just as day-dawn
was beginning to reveal itself in the east, like the
reflection of some far-off city, Jones, a sturdy marine,
crept up towards the Captain and whispered--"Bungle
is amissing, sir!"

Meanwhile the sun had risen, and with it a babel of
sounds from the woods, which was very far indeed
from being musical, for they were not far from the
river, and birds of all kinds abounded, and inquisitive
chattering apes as well.

The men now made a hurried meal, and prepared
to advance.

"Bowser," Captain Breezy said to Kep, "do you
know what I begin to think?"

"Perfectly well," Kep replied.  "You think my boy
Bungle has led us astray, and probably into an
ambuscade.  But, sir, I will stake my life on his honesty
and faithfulness."

Hardly had he finished speaking when a shout was
heard from the bush ahead, and every man immediately
fell into order prepared for an attack.  But next
minute Bungle himself, wounded, and limping along,
entered the little camp.

"No timee talk, no time," he cried excitedly, half
rising from the ground on which he had thrown
himself, "in two tree minute, plaps, de wild Arab man
come fightee.  He two tree tousand strong!"

Here was news with a vengeance!

Although the boy had lost much blood, the wound
was not serious.

Kep stayed behind to attend to him, and his
companions went on.

Just before they started, Fisher came running up.
He pulled out his flask.

"Here, Bungle," he cried, "have a drop of my rum."

Whether it was the rum or not I cannot say, but
in twenty minutes' time Bungle was able to bring up
the rear guard with Kep.  That is, Bungle and Kep
formed the rear guard; their friends were far ahead.

They had not proceeded a mile when they heard
firing in front of them.  The gallant fellows were at it,
hammer and tongs, and the boys redoubled their speed.

But Bungle stopped short.

"No good go dat way, sah!  Def lie in dat
dilection, foh true."

Thinking it was wise to be guided by the boy, Kep
followed him, and they made a wide *détour*.  If he
had been obstinate the probability is that both would
have been killed.  They reached the barracoon at
last, just in time to enter with the bluejackets.

And these were victorious; but, alas! victory had
cost them dear.

For more than three hours the men had fought with
clouds of Arabs and spear-armed Somali Indians.
They had at last cut their way right through them;
and, scaling palisade after palisade, captured the
barracoon, driving the defenders into the woods at the
point of the bayonet.

All throughout that long, hot day, McTavish laboured
hard among his wounded men, of whom no less than
twenty had been brought in, and at least fifteen lay
dead in the forest.  Among these last was poor Fisher.
Nor had it been possible to recover his body.

The enemy had drawn off, although we knew it
would be but for a time.

The doctor had so much to do that it was within an
hour of sunset before he could find time to look about
him.  But at last he finished making the poor men as
comfortable as circumstances would permit, and then
went in search of the Captain.

He was busy enough, so were the men under the
charge of Guilford, the gunner, and the officer of
marines.

But the palisades, both the inner and the outer, had
been already repaired, and the whole place put into
position to stand a siege of days--so they hoped, at
least.

Guilford came up to him, smiling.  "Why, Doctor,"
he said, "how pale you look!"

"Tired," McTavish answered brightly.

"Have a drop of my rum."

Next minute the flask was popped into his hand.

"We've got a thrashing, haven't we?"

"Rayther," he replied.  "Out-numbered, you see.
Only five-and-thirty men left in whole skins.  And
poor Fisher, he--he----"

He turned away to hide a tear.

"Come," he said, fronting McTavish again.  "Let
us take a turn round the camp before it gets dark.
Can you spare me, sir?"

"Certainly," said the commander.

Then away they went.

They had captured 720 slaves in all.  And so
quickly had the bluejackets, after cutting their way
through the Arab horde, scaled the palisades, and
driven the barracoon-keepers out, that these had had no
time to scatter the rice and waste the water, which
otherwise they certainly would have done.  The water was
bad enough in all conscience, but it was better than none.

"Come in here," said Guilford.

McTavish entered a compound with him, and there
to his astonishment found a grass tent, furnished not
only with luxury, but with some degree of elegance
also.  And there, too, was a supply of excellent water,
with plenty of fruit and even wine, so that his wounded
men would be in clover.

This tent doubtless belonged to the general himself.

Once more the sun went down, and almost immediately
afterwards it was night.

Soon the Captain himself entered the tent, and all
hands had dinner.

"Doctor," said the Captain, "I have sent the boy
Bungle back to report to the ship the fix we are in.
If the Arabs attack us to-night, or even to-morrow,
nothing I fear will save us.  But if a few more
bluejackets can reach us, and the Maxim gun, we can defy
these Arab fiends, and give a good account of them."

After dinner, Guilford and the surgeon went towards
the spot where, under a canopy of green boughs,
the latter had placed his wounded men.

They found Kep wandering about busy enough in
his own way, soothing and sympathising with the
patients, administering a drop of water or wine to one,
and an orange or lime to another; but shedding comfort
in every place where the light from the hurricane
lamp he carried fell.

However small this boy's capabilities as a surgeon
or physician might be, he made a very excellent nurse.

Guilford kindly took the first watch with the
wounded men, so that the doctor might have a few
hours' sleep, and Kep as well.

McTavish awoke quite refreshed about four o'clock,
and took watch himself.

"I have a mind to sit with you a short time," said
Guilford, and down they both sat, after the doctor had
taken a turn or two among the men.  Meanwhile the
moon had risen and was shedding her silvery light all
over camp and barracoon, beautifying and spiritualising
everything.

They had hidden the hurricane lamp behind a bush,
and were talking low to each other, as they sat beneath
a banana tree.

Suddenly McTavish clutched Guilford by the shoulder.

"Hush!" he whispered.  "Did you not hear a
sound as of advancing footsteps?"

They had both drawn their revolvers and sat
waiting, fearfully, hardly daring to draw breath.

A moment after something fell with a dull thud
almost at their feet.

"What was that?" said Guilford.

"A cocoa-nut, I think."

McTavish lit a match and held it above his head.

Judge of the feeling of horror that took possession
of them now.

There, within a yard of them, lay poor Fisher's head.





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.. _`THE ATTACK UPON THE BARRACOON`:

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   CHAPTER XV


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   THE ATTACK UPON THE BARRACOON

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More accustomed to seeing fearsome sights than
his friend Guilford, the doctor called to him
to make all speed and alarm the sentries, to cut off if
possible the retreating enemy.  Then he took up the
head.  Superstitious themselves to a degree, it is
no uncommon thing for an Arab foe to endeavour
to strike a strange terror into the hearts of their
enemies by such ghoulish tricks as this.  But it had
certainly failed in its object for once.

McTavish stroked the cold, hard brow and pressed
down the lids on the half-open eyes; and then laid
it aside, covering it with a cloth and bushes, so that
it might receive Christian burial when they should
succeed in finding the body.

When daylight returned there were no signs of an
attempt to renew the fight.  Indeed, from the outlook
station, which was the top of a tall cocoa-nut
palm, there was nothing to be seen of the enemy.

Not a sound came from bush or forest except that
made by birds or beasts, nor was there any smoke
curling up into the now clear air.

Being accustomed from his boyhood to climbing
trees, Kep got up into the feathery crown of the palm.
The exercise revived him, the fresh air, breathed
at this elevated situation, calmed the nerves and
brain.  The scene all around as far as eye could
reach was very impressive, very beautiful; but nearer
at hand, near to the palisades and here and there in
the bush close beneath, was many a dark spot, that it
needed not lorgnettes to tell were the bodies of the
slain.  He would not let his eyes rest on these.  They
saddened him, and one should never seek for the sorrow
it is possible to avoid.

But was the forest and bush as deserted as it seemed?
Well, all knew it was not.  Every bush concealed a
foe.  They were thirsting for blood, and their object
in lying hidden was but to entice the British out.
These felt thankful, however, in their very souls, that
the attack which they knew would be made was
delayed.

Meanwhile, there was plenty to do in the camp.
The doctor had his wounded to attend to, and those
poor slaves were in charge of all.

It was difficult at first to make them understand
that they were really free.  But they had knocked
those galling chains off, and they fed them and talked
to them kindly.  True, they might not understand
the words, but the actions and the tone of the men's
voices were unmistakable.

There were several dead among those poor, unhappy
wretches, and these their companions buried.  Luckily
they found Arab spades and other tools in the barracoon,
and hours were spent by the male liberated
slaves in attending to the sanitary condition of the
whole camp.  And much, indeed, it had needed such
attention.

The day wore slowly by.  Before eventide, despite
every attention, despite even the nursing of Kep, no
less than five of the wounded men had crossed the
bourne whence travellers ne'er return.  But the others
bade fair to do well.

Meanwhile, they counted the hours that must
elapse before poor wounded Bungle could possibly
return with relief.  At the very shortest another
night must pass before he could come--if come he
ever would.

Towards sunset it was determined to make a sally,
and to bring in the dead for burial.  The graves were
already dug.  They took with them a very large
carrying party, consisting of the sturdiest of the
freed slaves, under command of a gunner, an old
coast hand who could talk a little of nearly all the
native languages.

Would the Arabs attack? that was the question.
Luckily they did not; and not only was poor Fisher's
body found, but the bodies of every one of the brave
fellows.

It was not difficult to understand why the Arabs
had refrained from attacking.  Their object was to
lead to the belief that they had gone.  Could they
but succeed in enticing the *Breezy's* people from the
barracoon, then, hampered as they would be with the
wounded and the slaves, their victory would be an
easy one indeed.  It would be nothing less than a
massacre.

And sad was the burial scene.  The dead were laid
out in rows, and before a prayer was said the men
were allowed to walk round, to speak to, to apostrophise
and bid farewell to their dead chums and messmates.
Many of the severely wounded were assisted
to the spot where the bodies lay, just that they might
say "Good-bye" to "poor Jack" or "poor Bill,"
or whatever might be the name of a dead comrade.

Captain Breezy himself read the burial service from
memory.  He got no further than "We give their
dead bodies to the dust," before stopping suddenly,
with choking voice.

Nor was there a dry eye amongst the crew.

But the last sod is laid over the dead.  No one
will ever disturb them in this lonesome spot, so the
burial party come sadly and silently away, and leave
them to sleep.

Then fell night and darkness over the forest land.

Would the Arabs now attack?

Extra ammunition was given out, and those of the
brave fellows not on watch or doing sentry-go slept
beside their loaded rifles, their bayonets fixed and
loaded revolvers in their belts.

But all the men that could be shared to watch
were hardly sufficient to guard against attack, so
the freed men were requisitioned.

And indeed all of these that were strong enough
to fight were armed with weapons of some kind;
empty rifles to use as clubs, tools of various kinds,
and the spare cutlasses that had belonged to those
now dead or to the wounded.

Slowly and wearily the night wore away, and I do
not think that anyone really slept.

Guilford and McTavish were watching among the
wounded, and towards morning the latter had fallen
into an uneasy kind of doze, when he was suddenly
awakened by Kep himself.

"A negro wants to speak to you, sir."

Beside the boy Kep, and full in the light of the
newly risen moon, stood one of the freed slaves, wildly
but silently gesticulating and pointing to a far-off corner
of the barracoon.

Something must have happened; in a few minutes
the camp was astir, and the men had fallen in,
prepared for anything.

The quick ear of the savage had detected the advance
of armed men.  But whether friends or foes as yet they
could not tell.  Birds, however, were flying over the
camp in dozens, and it was this fact that had told the
clever savage that people were approaching.

The British sentries would have taken but little,
if any, heed of a sign like this, and the probability
therefore would have been that an attack in force
would have been made before the men were half awake.

They now lay concealed in the bush, rifles pointed
towards the still coming flights of birds.

Nearly a whole hour passed.  The moon was high
and the night very clear.  Now and then a wild and
uncanny scream was heard far away in the forest
depths; but whether it proceeded from man or beast
no one could tell.

A whole hour!  Yes, and what an interminable
time it seemed to be.

But list!  Beyond the palisade there are sounds
now.  Ay, and shouts too; and next moment,
between them and the moonlight, they could see the
whole top of the barricade covered with yelling
Arabs.

But the men had their orders, and not a shot was
fired on these.

They were allowed to leap inside.

Mercy on us, what an end was theirs!  The freed
men caught them almost before they had alighted,
and the wild screams and demon shouts told of the
fearful tragedy that was being enacted.

But another row of devil Arabs lines the palisades,
and now rifles speak out.  Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop.
It is one continuous rattle, and as fast as
the Arabs scale the height, just as fast do they fall;
while those who succeed in leaping down are quickly
seized upon and butchered by the very men to whom
they had dealt out such fearful treatment in their
far-off peaceful land.

Worsted for a time, the Arabs withdrew, after
making several attempts to carry the barracoon by
storm.

But that they would return ere long right well
those Breezies knew.

Although the Arabs had fired volley after volley,
yet, strange to say, they had not in this attack a
single man wounded, so well did they keep to the
bush and so steady was their fire.

All the Arabs that fell into the hands of the blacks
were slain; indeed, they were almost rent limb from
limb, and it was with the greatest difficulty Captain
*Breezy* succeeded at last in preventing the freed men
from expending their fury on the mutilated corpses,
which they even bit and tore with their teeth, till,
dancing there in the moonlight, they looked more
like devils incarnate than human beings.

There was but little chance that the enemy would
attack again at the same place, so a little black slave
was sent up the tree, instructed to signal whenever
the foe was approaching, and point out his position.

They found they had still about seventy rounds of
ammunition left per man, but, as this would not
stand a long siege, orders were given not to throw
way a single shot.

The next attack was made about half an hour before
sunrise, and a sudden determined and terrible one it was.

The first the Breezies knew of its commencement
was from a fusillade delivered from the bush.
Although such splendid swordsmen, the Arabs are not
good marksmen, and their rifles are usually bad.  In
this case it appeared they had determined to make
sure.  Not fewer than twenty rifles must have been
aimed at the cocoa-nut palm, hidden in which was
our little black sentry.

Next moment his body fell at their feet with a dull
and awful splashing thud, the sound of which could
never be forgotten.

The Arabs attacked about five minutes after, and
from a side of the barracoon--so wily were they--that
the white men fancied they would never attempt
to scale.

Before they had fired two volleys they were over
the palisade, not in scores but in hundreds apparently.
One more rifle volley was filed, then the Breezies
advanced at the double to meet the foe.

I cannot describe that terrible *mêlée*.  The charge
of those sword-armed Arabs seemed like "the shock
of Hell" that Scott speaks of in Marmion.

Sword in hand, McTavish was in it.  He was
stunned very early in the engagement by a blow
from something, he knew not what, and fell between
two dead men, namely, an Arab whom Kep's sword
had gone clean through, and a freed slave that the
Arab had cloven to the chin.

When the surgeon recovered consciousness and
looked up, the tide of battle had rolled away from him.
Strangely enough, as he gazed for a few moments,
still confused and bewildered, at the fearful fight
that was raging, a passage from Scott kept running
in his mind and memory--

   |  They close in clouds of smoke and dust,
   |  With sword-sway and with lance's thrust,
   |    And such a yell was there,
   |  Of sudden and portentous birth,
   |  As if men fought upon this earth,
   |    And fiends in upper air.
   |

While he was staggering to his feet, a sound fell
upon his ears that told him they were saved.  It
was the rolling, rattling sound of a maxim gun.

The Arabs heard it too.  Next minute the great
gate of the barracoon was burst open, and not twenty
bluejackets, but fully a hundred came pouring in.
That brave British cheer, as the bluejackets came
rushing onwards, cutlass in hand, was the signal
for the enemy's flight.

Seeing the gate open, they made a slight *détour*,
which was but a feint; then rushed madly for the
opening.

Outside was the maxim gun!

Does not that one little sentence tell a tale.  That
maxim gun!  How awful its voice.  How deathlike
its rattle!

Well, the battle was won.

Did they extend mercy to the retreating Arabs?
Not *very* much, I fear.  In fact, the freed slaves
took up the chase, and in the bush completed the
deadly work the maxim gun had begun.

Right faithfully and well had poor Bungle done
his duty.  But, poor fellow, it was noticed at once he
was not among the new comers, who consisted chiefly
of men from the other cruiser under the command
of the first lieutenant, a larger vessel than the
*Breezy*.

Kep hastened to inquire about his little friend.

"He arrived at the place where you left your gun
and boats," was the reply, "almost dead.  He had
only time to tell your fellows that assistance was
sorely needed and that they must take the gun and
follow your trail, when he fainted.  Your men came
off to our ship, and here we are."

"But the boy is not dead?" Kep asked anxiously.

"I fear that by this time he is."

"Why, Guilford, who is this?" said McTavish next
minute, for as they walked slowly towards the tent
they came across the corpse of a richly-dressed Arab,
who, the doctor felt certain at first, was Abdularram
himself.

Guilford only laughed.  "That's the general."
he said.  "And I guess he's only waiting patiently
to be buried."

"Who killed him?  Guilford, *you* did!"

Guilford only laughed again, but said nothing.

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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

.. vspace:: 1



It took them two whole days to reach the coast
with the wounded and slaves, and very anxious Kep
was to know the fate of Bungle.

They arrived at the creek safely at last, and here a
temporary camp was formed and fortified, in which
to house these freed slaves until an opportunity came
to ship them off to Zanzibar.





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.. _`POOR BUNGLE!  JUST LET HIM SLEEP`:

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   CHAPTER XVI


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   POOR BUNGLE!  JUST LET HIM SLEEP

.. vspace:: 2

Sail in sight!

It was a shout from a man on the outlook
on the fore-topmast cross-trees.

"Where away?" sang Guilford, who was on duty.

"On the starboard bow, sir.  Well in towards
the land.  Just coming round the wooded point
yonder."

"Why, sir," he hailed a few minutes afterwards,
"it ain't one, but three, four o' them there is."

Guilford went scrambling up into the maintop with
his glasses slung over his shoulder.  He was too tall
to make a very graceful sailor, but he got there all
the same.

It was in the forenoon watch, just two days after
they had left the slave camp in the creek.  The other
cruiser had gone on before with a large cargo of the
freed slaves, and would be in Zanzibar ere now.

At the very first hail from aloft everyone had
hurried on deck, to get if possible a peep at the enemy,
for no one doubted for a moment that these great
dhows, now slowly rounding the point, were the
fighting fleet of the daring Arab Viking, Abdularram.

They were prettily manoeuvred, and at first it was
hoped that they would bear down upon the *Breezy*
and attack.

But Abdularram--who had not been killed after
all--was too good an admiral to do anything of the
kind.  His tactics were those of naval guerilla warfare,
and now he filled sail and stood out to sea, bearing
up for the south and east.  The reason was simply
because the wind blew in this direction, and before
a breeze a well-rigged dhow is as fleet as a drifting
cloud.

"Prepare for action!"

Right merrily now the bugle rang out over the clear,
blue rippling water.  The very sea-birds seemed to
rejoice at the sound, and came sweeping nearer and
nearer, apparently trying to repeat the call.

In a few minutes' time all was ready as far as arms
were concerned.

Full speed was now the order on board the *Breezy*,
and steam was got up, for the fires had only been
banked.

Meanwhile, it is needless to say that the doctor
was not idle, nor his able assistant, Kep, either.  The
wounded men, with the exception of a few of the
worst cases that had been sent on in the other ship,
had been placed under a canvas screen, forward near
the bows on the upper deck, and these had to be
carefully moved below.

Your British tar makes a most kindly and gentle
nurse, and it was a pleasure to note how tenderly
the seamen McTavish had called to his assistance
bore their shipmates down below, and laid them on
the deck.

Meanwhile the chase went on.  The dhows had a
long start; but by afternoon the wind had gone down
somewhat, and the *Breezy* was soon coming up hand
over hand.  At three o'clock she succeeded in
disabling two with shot and shell.  A third had escaped.
Seeing boats lower to board the crippled dhows,
No. 4 bore down upon them and prepared to render
assistance, but a shell from the *Breezy* went screaming
through her rigging; then she filled and fled, leaving
her comrades to their fate.  They made a gallant
resistance; but their defenders were finally beaten off
their own blood-slippery decks and battened down
below.  Prize crews were put on board with orders
to bear up for Zanzibar; and then the *Breezy* went
on after the largest dhow, the flagship of Abdularram
himself.

.. _`"A shell from the *Breezy* went screaming through her rigging."`:

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   :alt: "A shell from the *Breezy* went screaming through her rigging."

   "A shell from the *Breezy* went screaming through her rigging."

Abdularram in his great dhow escaped entirely
when the darkness fell like a pall over sea and land, for
to-night there was never a star, the glass was going
down, and there was every likelihood of a storm.
And it soon began to blow.

This made it hard for every one.

"Bad luck," said Guilford, "not to catch that
scoundrel."

"Bad luck for the wounded also," said McTavish;
and so it turned out, for several of these died before
morning, the pitching and rolling of the *Breezy* being
very great.

"How is your boy Bungle?" asked one of the
middies as Kep, looking somewhat crest-fallen, entered
the gun-room.

"He is very low indeed," replied Kep, "and the
doctor thinks he cannot live."

"Going to slip his moorings, is he?  Poor little
devil!  Is he sensible?"

"Oh, yes, and bears his sufferings like a small hero,
as indeed he is."

"Ah, well!" said the middy, "that's the tack
we'll all be on--some day.  Mellor, give that decanter
of wine you seem to stick to, a fair wind this way."

"I'm holding on to it," said Mellor, "because
it has a ball-bottom and won't stand on the table."

"Of course it won't.  It was made like that on
purpose, you untamed idiot, so that dolts like you
should pass it round."

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The *Breezy* arrived at Zanzibar all right in two
days' time, in spite of the storm.

War-worn and weary, that same night the good
surgeon had sunk to sleep among his wounded men
on deck, and some kind-hearted sailor had drawn
a tarpaulin over him.  It was broad daylight when
he awoke him.

"I let you sleep, sir.  I thought you needed it.
Another man dead, sir, and poor boy Bungle going
fast, I fear.  Insensible now."

"Just let him sleep," said McTavish.

But when Kep went back to the brave little lad's
hammock Bungle opened his eyes, and smiled faintly.

"Is there anything you would like, Bungle?"

"In dis world, no," was the faint reply.  "But
you speakee my ole mudder.  Tell she, dat Bungle
nevah fo'got."

Then his left hand was half raised to his brow as
if to touch his forelock.  Next moment it fell heavily
on the coverlet.

Bungle was gone.

Only a little black boy?  True, but may we all do
our duty as bravely and well in the world as Bungle
did his.

The wounded were all sent to hospital.  They
would be conveyed to the Cape by the very next
steamer.

But something was in the wind surely, for the fleet
on this station now received orders by cable to return
to Symon's Bay with all speed after taking in
sufficient coal.

Kep had time to go on shore.  He went in mufti,
not his Arab dress.  In mufti and after dark.  He
could do nothing to find out the whereabouts of little
boy Bungle's "ole mudder," and so she would never
know what had been the fate of her little son.

Perhaps it was better so.  For she would do now
as most mothers do--just live on in hope of one day
seeing him back again.

Taking great care not to be seen, Kep now went to
pay a visit to his friend the Arab and to wee Zeena.

I need not waste a sentence in telling of the
reception he had nor of the happy evening he spent,
or the farewells said.  Zeena was Kep's little romance,
and it would be very long indeed before he could forget
the child.

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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

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Why had the ships been ordered down to the Cape?
It is a question I cannot really answer.  It was now
the year 1908, and notwithstanding the great
advances in every kind of science, there will still be a
few blind men at the Admiralty and in the Government
generally.  The consequence was that there
was far too much wire-pulling.  Much was lost by
our fleets on the various stations having to wait for
orders from home.

The scare on this particular occasion was brought
about by what was called an unpremeditated attack
by a supposed German cruiser on some British
merchant steamers.

In fact some of the latter had been looted and
sunk, and their crews and passengers landed almost
starving on the nearest land.  But as the Germans
disclaimed all knowledge of the cruiser, which they
advanced in their arguments must be a sort of pirate
or *Alabama*, then the British bull-dog began to growl,
and the peace-at-any-price tried to appease him, and
said he must not fly at poor Germany, for that heavenly
land and all in it were most friendly to the bull-dog.
Negotiation, negotiation, that, they said, would settle
all disputes.

Well, it eventually did in this case at all events.
But there were wheels within wheels, political
mining and counter-mining, and intrigues deep and
shallow.

Be all this as it may, Zanzibar was for the present
left unprotected save by its own fleet.  Now this
fleet was a very good one, as I have before hinted,
and if manned by British seamen it could really have
done some splendid execution when it came to be
wanted.  At present it lay in the open roadstead,
and was even anchored without much system.

The new Sultan was very easy-minded.  The
ships made a fine show.  That was delightful, and
especially did he love to look upon them on gala days.
In fact, he made gala days and kept birthdays and
high days, just for the pleasure of seeing his war-ships
dressed all over with bunting.  And such a blaze
of colour had really a fine back-ground by day in
the blue bright Indian Ocean.

Then when darkness came the Sultan spent a deal
of his pocket money precisely as boys do in the first
week in November.  He went in heavily for fireworks,
and the ships were all lit up with blue or crimson fire.
The Sultan of Lamoo was not a fool, and he had
some heavy men (of other nations be it whispered)
who backed him.  He had, moreover, a splendid
admiral in Abdularram.  Perhaps he knew more
about dhow-fleets than gun-boats or cruisers, but
he had men on board the spit-fire shiplets of Lamoo
that knew far more about the newest class of torpedoes
than they did about the Koran.

There is a tradition (as in a former book of mine
I mentioned) that one time--date forgotten--when
Zanzibar was not so valuable a possession, but a city
nevertheless of some 300,000 inhabitants, an enormous
fleet of armed dhows suddenly appeared like a cloud
of locusts on the distant horizon.  And like the
locust-cloud, it bore right down upon the city, and
an army of strange men was thrown upon the beach
and at once attacked the Sultan's forces.  These had
soon been made an end of, and the palace was robbed.

The whole town was looted--women carried off,
and all who resisted slain.

But, so says the tradition, the army at last
re-embarked, carrying with them their dead and wounded,
then this Armada put to sea again.  They disappeared
beyond the horizon and were never seen nor
heard tell of in this world again.

They were foreign men, they were foreign dhows,
foreign devils all, but who they were or whence they
came may never be known.

However, history was now going in some measure
to repeat itself, without so much of the mysterious.

Down the beautiful river, therefore, which after
gliding through a quiet landscape of green and
charming forest, rolls over a sandy bar and empties itself
into the Indian Ocean, there dropped one day the
midget fleet of Lamoo, and one by one braved the
danger of the only opening in the reef, and got clear
and safely out.

They were small vessels, very, but every one of them
carried death on her decks, and death between decks,
in the shape of guns and torpedoes.

They numbered only ten and were all of the same
class.

If they were lacking in anything it was speed,
and although they had good gunnery men on board
their engineers had none too much skill.  In addition
to sailors proper their decks were crowded with
dare-devil fighting Arabs, many of the chiefs of whom
had old scores to settle with the inhabitants of Zanzibar.

They had orders from the Sultan of Lamoo to
bring back with them the Sultan of Zanzibar--alive.
He must be alive, Lamoo said, for in the fierce heat
of the tropics, "if dead he would not keep a day."

The Sultan of Lamoo found great pleasure in
preparing quarters for his coming sovereign guest.  The
palace, which looks a very noble one and quite
imposing from the broad river front, was specially
refurnished, and all that the art of the twentieth century
could suggest was lavished thereon.  He had even
ordered new dresses for himself all ablaze with the
most precious stones, and the ladies of his harem
were also, much to their delight, refitted as it were.
For this wicked Sultan was to lead his august prisoner
all through the palace--securely manacled of course--in
order to dazzle his eyes with its gorgeousness.

He had bought the best new gramophones and
pianolas for this especial purpose, with pictures galore,
and carpets as soft as feather beds.  Indeed he
had not regarded expense in any way, and determined
even to permit his majesty to have a peep
inside his beautiful harem, the ladies of which he had
specially trained to close on his entry in every form of
gracefulness imaginable, and on these as they posed
colour flash lights were to be turned.

This was all very delightful, especially for Lamoo
himself, but his guest's bedroom had also to be
refitted and replenished, for here he was to remain for
a week, or as much longer as he chose to live without
food, unless he chose to devour the awful rats and
reptiles with which this slimy dungeon was purposely
stored.

When the fleet was once fairly at sea, the three
happiest men anywhere on the coast of Africa were
Admiral Abdularram, who gloated on the thoughts
of the coming bombardment, the Sultan of Zanzibar
because he was in blissful ignorance of what was to
happen, and Lamoo himself, as he mused all day
and dreamt all night about the treat he had in store
for his kingly guest.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE MIDGET FLEET--BOMBARDMENT--FEARFUL SCENES`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XVII


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE MIDGET FLEET.  BOMBARDMENT.  FEARFUL SCENES

.. vspace:: 2

When nations or peoples go to war, they invest
the Supreme Being with a new title, which is, in
my opinion, blasphemous in the extreme.  They speak
of Him, address Him, pray to Him, as the God of War,
or God of Battles.

And, indeed, the priests of both sides do a large
amount of praying.  Each thinks his own cause the
most just, and endeavours to invoke from Heaven
strength for armies and navies, and blessings on every
shot, so to speak, that shall be fired.  And yet, every
bursting shell may send hundreds into eternity and
seal their doom for ever.

The Prince of Lamoo certainly did his share of praying.
He prayed so much on that holy carpet of his,
that he narrowly escaped having housemaid's knee.

But--and it is just here where the absurdity of the
situation comes in--between the hours of prayer he
went to have another look through his splendid palace,
or gave orders for a few more loathsome reptiles to be
introduced into the coming king's bedroom.

And as his fleet sailed south and away, Abdularram
prayed also many times and often, never failing
between whiles to note whether or not the scimitars and
swords of his men, and his own pet dagger, which had
so often wept blood, possessed sufficient keenness of
edge to please him.

In four or five days' time the midget fleet were within
an easy distance of Zanzibar, but stopped dead now
till the darkness should fall.

About six o'clock, as usual in those regions, the
sun sank behind the horizon, casting a red gleam of
light across the waves, crimson as the blood that would
flow ere he once more appeared in the golden east.

Wireless telegraphy had reached its highest pitch
of perfection by this time.  Indeed, it was possible then
to wire wirelessly round the world, as an Irishman
expressed it.

And long before the arrival of the little Armada,
a passenger steamer, which had it seen it, came tearing
into Zanzibar, and made her report to the British
Consul.

There was not a moment to spare.  A rumour of
something terrible on the wing had already reached his
ears, and he lost no time in dispatching messages in
every direction.

He warned the Sultan also, and his fleet.  Then he
warned different consulates.

The Sultan had the utmost confidence in his fleet.
The fleet hardly scarcely troubled to prepare.

The insolent Armada could be sunk very easily when
it came--to-morrow.

The torpedo nets and booms were all in beautiful
confusion, but, of course, they could be easily put into
order and lowered if necessary--to-morrow.

It was observed, however, that the German and Portuguese
consulates had already retired into their forest
homes, and as for the Americans, well, they took the
hint so kindly given.

The U.S.A. Consul, in a polite note to the British,
thanked him for the tip, which would be taken forthwith.
The consulate, luckily, he said, was well insured
against burglars and fire, in five or six offices.
Meanwhile, would the British Consul be good enough
to give *his*, the American Consul's compliments to the
ladies, and say, under the circumstances, it would be
impossible to play that game of poker next evening,
but that he hoped, etc., etc., etc.

But before either battle or bombardment began,
needles began to waggle and prattle on no less than
three British cruisers that were on their way from
India, also in the wireless telegraphic office at the Cape,
and from that messages flew over the sea to send back
the *Breezy*, and on towards Zanzibar with all speed.
If the midget fleet had done any mischief, they were
to capture, burn, or in other ways destroy it, wherever
it could be found.

Nor were the Americans behind hand.  The signalling
station might be knocked down, or fired, so they must
make good use of it before such an accident befel it.  As
good luck would have it, two Yankee battle-ships of
tremendous strength were well within hail.  The
consul wired them at once, well, he wirelessly wired them,
and the message ran somewhat as follows:

"If this Marconi reaches the American battle-ships,
*Niagara* and *Delaware*, alias *Blue Blazes*, and the
*Plunger*, will they please make all speed hither to save
us, and other American citizens, from the wrath to come
to-morrow.  Come with your thunders and defend the
flag.  A fleet of pirates is now on its way to bombard
us, and in Zanzibar to-morrow the devil himself
will be let loose, and the whole show painted red."

Nothing more could be done.  For shortly after
dark, cleared for action, the midget fleet was once more
on the wing.  A darker nor more dismal night had never
been seen in the roadstead before.  Nor a wilder, for
as if to aid the Armada, a breeze had sprung up, which
rapidly increased to half a gale, with the usual
accompaniments in these latitudes, of loud thunder and rain,
that at one time more resembled the bursting of a
waterspout than anything else.

The Sultan's ships twitched and tugged at their
anchors, which some of them even dragged.

On so fearful a night surely the Armada would dare
to do nothing, could do nothing.  Like the Spanish
Armada of the brave days of old, Lamoo's midget fleet
would be scattered or sunk.

The *Breezy* was making good way southward, when
old Marconi began to speak.

Sometime after, little Sneyd ran into the ward-room
with a bit of flimsy in his hand.  The officers were
discussing nips of sherry and bitters, or curaçoa and
brandy, or anything good and handy, that would
encourage the appetite.  Very wrong this was indeed,
but dinner would soon be laid, and there was a sad want
of excitement among all hands, the depression that
always follows a fight, whether victorious or the reverse.

"Honolulu!" cried Sneyd, "I'd give a day's pay
to know who on earth does hold the ribbons in the
British Navy."

"If you did," said Guilford quietly, "you would
make things hum, wouldn't you, my dear little
jumping Moses?"

"But look here.  Here's a pretty go.  Here is a
blooming muddle!  First, we were ordered to fly to the
Cape, now we are called back, ordered back, kicked
back, confound 'em, I say,

   |  "Confound their politics,
   |  Frustrate their Navy tricks."
   |

"Hurrah!  Hear, hear; but what is it all about?"

"They're going to board and burn Zanzibar, as far
as I can see of it--a fleet from Lamoo is going to
bring down the sleepy Sultan by the run."

The Captain at this moment sent for the first lieutenant,
and in two minutes' time, if not less, the *Breezy*
had turned almost on her own length, and was rushing
through the waves at full speed, on her way back to
the city of the Arab Sultan.

At this time it was quite the fashionable thing for
the foreign resident gentry of this place to have lodges
in the sylvan interior, to which they could retreat for
real quiet, and real hygiene, for as regards matters
sanitary, there was still in the city itself much to be
desired.

There were good roads thereto, so men mounted
their motors, and hurried their families into what they
looked upon as places of safety.

But for the most part, they themselves returned to
see the fun, as they phrased it.  Then came on the
terrible storm.  Whatever might happen now, they
must bear the brunt of it.

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Abdularram was as fierce in his wrath as any Viking
of old, for his hatred of his foes, the British, no amount
of blood could ever quench.  He had felt highly
honoured when he was appointed Arab Admiral of the
midget fleet.  His Sultan told him that he admired
his courage, his wisdom, and fighting qualities.  But,
there was one proviso that, brave as he was,
Abdularram did not quite care about.  He, this mighty
chieftain, would remain Admiral of the fleet as long as
he lived, on one condition only, namely, that he
returned to the palace with his enemy alive, if he did not,
he should be deposed, and cast into the dungeon, so
well prepared, there to die and rot.  He even permitted
Abdularram to take a lantern, and enter the dreadful
place, and have one look around.  This, he felt certain,
would impress his Admiral.  Abdularram did as he was
bid, had one peep round, and rushed out again,
apparently in all the terrors of some ghastly nightmare.
The dungeon had certainly impressed him, so much
so, that he made a vow never to enter there again.

On such a night as this no officer of the Sultan's fleet
dreamt of an attack.  If the enemy were really
approaching, they would wait for sunrise, then the
Sultan's fleet would be under weigh to meet theirs.

Had it been calm, it would have been impossible for
a ship of any kind to approach the anchored fleet
without being heard.  There were the roar of the wind,
the rage of the lashing waves, lit up every now and then
by spectral lightning, and the artillery crash of the
thunder.

But shortly before midnight, and while the British
Consul himself, with one or two friends, sat in an unlit
room, smoking and occasionally gazing seawards,
suddenly the pitch darkness out yonder was lit up with
the fires of death and destruction.  An explosion was
heard, far louder and awe-inspiring than any that ever
before had shaken the city's foundations.

One of the biggest ships was blown up, literally
broken into two gigantic fragments, the red ends of
which shot up into the air in the centre of a perfect
volcano of light and fire.  In the midst of this, could
be seen, along with debris of every description, the
mangled and dismembered bodies of scores of poor
wretches, who had not been given time even to utter a
cry or explanation.

Then a seething plunge, as the wreck sunk down,
followed by a darkness that could be, metaphorically
speaking, cut with a sabre.

But pieces of the wreck were hurled as far as the
sands, on which they fell, still hot and blazing.

Another explosion took place very soon after.  It was,
if anything, more horrible.  A third, a fourth, and
a fifth.

The torpedoes had done their terrible work with a
completeness that had never before been equalled.

Two vessels, had not been sunk, but one of these
had taken fire, white smoke spued up from her first,
then flames quickly spreading fore and aft.

And by the light of this blaze of war the Sultan's
flagship could still be seen swaying safe and stately
at her moorings.

A more terrible, because less sudden fate was
reserved for her.

Abdularram knew his business.  He knew that three
or four times a week the youthful Sultan was in the
habit of sleeping on board this battle-ship, the after
quarters having been furnished for his sake with all
the luxuriousness of an eastern palace.

"He may be there to-night," thought the great chief,
"and I have orders to make him prisoner.  Never a
torpedo must be fired in her direction, never a hair of
the monarch's head must fall to the ground."

Guided by telephonic communication with Admiral
Abdularram's ship, the midget fleet had pierced the
darkness in two lines, and taken up positions in the
same formation in which Nelson had placed his ships
at the battle of the Nile.

Arab's eyes are more used to darkness than a European's,
so with their twinkling lights, that the Zanzibarees
had not even taken the precaution to put out,
each ship in the anchored fleet could be correctly
positioned.  Apart from this, the lightning that flickered
and flashed ghost-like about their hulls would have
given the clue to the enemy.

This great flagship now began to vomit forth fire
and shot and shell, and the rattle of her belching guns
was louder far than the loudest thunder.

But in the inky night there was now no visible
target, for the burning ship had soon blown up.  They
might as well have fired in the empty air.

Then flashlights were turned upon her by the enemy,
lighting her up fitfully, and for a moment or two
only.

For the time being, the streams of electric light were
only necessary to guide the midgets towards her.

Five of these latter surrounded her, and a hellish
legion of fierce cutlass-armed fighting Arabs swarmed
on board of her.

There had been a sudden lull in the storm, the
thunder had also ceased to rattle, though the seas still
lashed in fury.  It was as if Nature appalled, held her
breath to witness the horrors of the fight that was now
raging on the battle decks of the Sultan's flagship.

The cries, the yells, the wild appeals for mercy, could
be distinctly heard at the Consul's window, and added
to the horror of this terrible night.

But it was soon over.  The crew had all been slain,
or leapt overboard in wild panic, and those who
remained alive were rushed below and imprisoned,
The Sultan was not found.

The flagship's fires had been found banked, and soon
after her capture, with every light extinguished, she
was steaming out to sea.

About the same time flash lights began to gleam
from the Sultan's palace, and the forts opened fire at
last.

A bit of useless braggadocio, for had the enemy been
visible, which they were not, those gunners could not
have hit a single ship.  In fact, there is strong reason
for believing that when a gun was trained, or a broadside
to be fired by electricity the men placed their
fingers in their ears and fell flat on the gallery floor.

The midget fleet, it was believed, had gone for the
night.  It was swallowed up in the black beyond.
The Sultan, terror-stricken now, and weeping like a
boy of ten, had been shut up in the inner recesses of his
palace, and his bodyguard tripled.

The enemy had retired, it is true, but in three hours'
time it gave ample evidence that, instead of having
gone for good, it lingered out yonder for evil.

Without doubt it had come to stay until it had
accomplished the object of its mission.

But now the sky had cleared, and the calm had come.

Out shone the radiant stars, and a moon in its last
quarter shed silver radiance on the sea.

The beach at Zanzibar is of clearest sand, the blocks
of buildings facing the roadstead whiter than granite,
and in the dim light of the stars and scimitar moon they
could be easily seen at a distance of two miles, and
even at this long distance, with his midget fleet,
Abdularram, knowing well the accuracy of his gunners' aim,
commenced the bombardment of Zanzibar.

Their plan was to watch and wait till a volume of
white smoke with a centre of fire showed out on shore,
and to aim and fire at that particular spot.

The Admiral of the fleet thought that by this means
he would manage soon to silence the forts.

He knew the British Consulate, and guns were laid,
and, indeed, for every white block of building it was
possible to distinguish, with the exception of the palace
itself.

His desire was to show the Sultan that so long as he
remained there he was safe.

Zanzibar's guns, however, took much longer to
silence than Abdularram could have credited; and
when the sun once more rose over the sea, the shells
from the fort being now better planted, he considered
it prudent to take up a position farther away, where
he knew his vessel would be safe.

This Arab Viking, if the truth must be told, was
more at home in a sailing fighting dhow than in a ship
of war.

He had, nevertheless, performed one of the most
wonderful feats of modern times, namely, the boarding
and carrying by cutlass and revolver of a great and
mighty battle-ship.

After a time there was a lull in the firing from both
sides.

Abdularram felt himself sure of that city.  Zanzibar,
he told his captain, was sure to fall, and its Sultan, to
say nothing of the best part of his harem, would be in
his power.

"And after that, your Highness?" the captain
asked, with an evil glare in his eye.

"After that," replied Abdularram, "the looting and
sacking of the city."

He smiled grimly as he thought of it.  The cruelty
of the pirates in days of old has hardly any parallel in
the twentieth century, and I now ask myself, ere
penning the concluding lines of this chapter, whether I
should tell my young readers anything of the tragedy
that now took place on board the conquered battleship.
I shall do so in the simplest language I can command,
and in the least graphic.  And I do this much, because
I know and feel that our British boys, who I trust will
grow up good and brave defenders of their fatherland,
may realize some of the horrors of naval warfare.

And savage and ruthless as Abdularram was, he was
no worse than Napoleon Buonaparte, who slew his
prisoners by thousands.

Few Arabs are such devils at heart as Buonaparte was,
and even this man before giving orders for the deed of
horror to be committed, led gradually up to it in a
conversation with Captain Suleiman.

"My Captain," he said, "those men of the *Mahomed's
Pride* (the flagship) fought well and bravely."

"Alas! yes, as our dead and wounded can testify,"
was the cautious reply.

"They nevertheless encumber us greatly; but though,
no doubt, you have them securely battened down they
were sealed up so quickly that it was impossible
disarm them.  They have still their swords and
cutlasses?"

"Yes, sahib."

"I mean to man the guns of *Mahomed* with our
own brave fellows, and turn them against the city.

"Yes, good sahib."

"But what if, at the very commencement of the fight,
the prisoners break loose from the hold, like a horde of
foul fiends, and attempt to retake the ship, and if
successful, turn her powerful guns on our midget fleet?"

"I do not fear for that; we could overpower them, I
think," said Suleiman.

"Yes, I believe we might, but the slaughter would
be harrowing."

His captain did not answer.  He waited.

"It would be best of all," said the Admiral, at last,
"to get rid of them in a more humane and safer way.
Suleiman," he added, "it must be done!"

And Suleiman knew what was meant, and that the
order for the execution of two hundred prisoners had
to be given by him.

"The die is cast!" said Abdularram.

And he walked aft to smoke a pipe of opium.  The
plank was rigged, it was long, wide, well-balanced, and
commanded at the ship end by a strong rope.

The further end was made slippery with vegetable oil.

The prisoners were then ordered up in batches of
ten--disarmed, of course.

The poor fellows knew their doom, and most of them
went quietly to death.

But the scene was soul-harrowing, for some of them
refused to mount, and even attempted to fly at the
necks of their enemies.

I'll go no further, only to say, that all throughout
this awful and sickening execution, the battle-ship was
*going ahead at full speed, lest some of the unhappy
wretches should attempt in their agony to clamber back on
board again*.

When it was all over, the decks were sluiced down,
but not properly cleaned, so that blood still lurked dark
in cracks and seams.

Then laying down his little pipe, Abdularram, in his
jewelled uniform, stalked stately forth from his room.

"They have gone?" he said.

"Yes, sahib."

"Thank Allah!  He has delivered His enemies and
ours into our hands.  Breakfast, and prayers, now,
Suleiman."

The breakfast was no mockery, but surely the prayers
were.

After all this, well knowing the advantage and
restorative power of rest, Abdularram ordered every man
who could be spared to lie down and sleep.

And motionless for hours upon the blue bosom of the
great deep, lay the midget fleet, and the huge and
stately battleship.





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.. _`FURIOUS FIGHTING ON SEA AND LAND`:

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   CHAPTER XVIII


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   FURIOUS FIGHTING ON SEA AND LAND

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The bombardment began in earnest about midday.

The midget fleet remained at a respectable
distance, keeping up a plunging fire.  Abdularram meant
to keep his own ships afloat though he cared nothing
about the mighty leviathan that had been flagship to
the feeble-kneed young Sultan of Zanzibar.  Indeed,
she was advanced later on in the day very close indeed
to the city.

She was prettily manoeuvred too, and poured broadside
after broadside into the principal part of the town,
which now lay completely at its mercy.

The British Consul had remained and also the
American, and about four in the afternoon they
succeeded in getting audience of the Sultan himself.
They had been unable to see him sooner.  He had a
headache, and was lying down, his prime minister told
them.

The Sultan received him in what we may call his
reception room, for want of a better name.

He remained seated and looked ghastly pale and old.
Indeed, though little more than twenty, he seemed
quite an aged man, with the exception of his black and
flowing locks.

The British Consul stopped to bow at the audience
chamber door.

So quickly had he stopped that the tall raw-boned
American Consul, who appeared always to be in a
hurry, and who was coming up behind, ran foul of him
with such force that both were precipitated on the
carpet.

The carpet was exceedingly rich and soft, yet, to say
the least of it, this was rather an undignified way of
entering into the presence of so great a Sultan.

"Come, I say," cried Munro the American, as he
gathered himself up, fold after fold, from off the floor,
"why the old Harry did you stop and protrude your
stern like that?  I believe I've split my blessed
breeches."

Before Mr. Johnson could gather himself up, for he
was somewhat John Bull-ish fore and aft, Munro had
stepped over him, and advanced to the regal chair.

"Shake," he said, holding out a long, bony,
twelve-inch hand.

The Sultan moved not, nor answered.  Was he not
a king?

"Shake!" shouted the Consul, in a voice that made
the jewelled ornaments round the room ring and tinkle.
"How long have you been deaf?"

The Sultan now condescended to shake hands with
both Consuls.

Munro wheeled quickly round to a liveried or
uniformed attendant.

"I say," he cried, "fetch us two brandies and a
split, I see this is going to be dry work."

The gentleman whom he addressed was really one
of the Sultan's ministers and advisers.

He smiled as he looked comically at Munro.  "Would
ye no hae a drap o' the auld kirk," he said.  "It's
prime stuff and a' the wey fae Glendronach."

"Ho, ho, ho," laughed Munro.  "You're Scotch
are you?"

"Ay, man, and a Banffshire laddie for bye.  But,
dod, man, I have ma ain adees (troubles) wi' that
fushionless sinner, yonder."

A shell at this moment burst in the air outside, and
the concussion shivered the glass in the window.

"Losh!" said the Scot, "that's gey near and vera
emphatic."

The Sultan leapt up and would have bolted had not
Sandie caught him by the skirts and thrust him back
into his chair of state again.

"Off you go, my friend, and order the drinks; I'm
going to talk big to this little Arab."

There was no respect for "nigger Sultans" in
Munro's mind.

"I say, young fellow," he cried, "this is a pretty
kettle of fish, ain't it?  You're in a jolly tight corner
you know."

"Oh!  Can you save me?" whimpered the Sultan.
"That pirate king will slay us all."

"Not he.  He will pay some degree of respect for the
Stars and Stripes and the Yewnion Jack, you may bet
your bottom dollar on that.  No, young fellow, it is
you they are after, and they're going to catch you
alive too.  Your fleet is all down below among the
jelly-fish except your flag-ship.  They are knocking
everything about but sparing your palace."

"Where shall I hide? whither shall I fly?  I must
hie me to my harem.

"Nary a hie my dear boy; if that pirate king, as
you call him, comes on shore, one of the first places he
will visit will be your harem.  He will soon have you
out of there."

"But where--where--can I go?"

"Well, to tell you the truth the coal cellar would
be the best place for a potentate like you.  Ah, here
come the drinks.  I suppose your Highness won't join
us?  No?"

"Now then," he continued, "let us finish this
talkee-talkee.  I'm not giving John Bull here a show, but
he can put in his oar when he pleases."

"I'll leave the talking to you, sir," said Johnson.

"And, young fellow, have you called out your troops?"

"They are assembling.  They are now in the bush,"
said the Sultan.

"Well, I'd keep them there for a time.  How many maxims?"

"Only a few."

"Get them under weigh.  Then I think we may be
able to repel these fellows if they attempt to land.
Write us a note now, introducing us to your general,
and John Bull and I will take it."

"Meanwhile where shall I hide my august person?"

"There is a rare lot of the august about your
high-and-mightiness I must say, but 'pon honour, old chap,
you'll feel safer and more at home in the coal cellar.
I'm not joking, really."

Then both consuls bowed, and made for the door.

Mr. Johnson lingered a moment to smile and say,
"Keep up your heart, Sultan; it is sure to come right
in the end."

"Allah be praised for those words of comfort!"
whimpered the Sultan, "I shall do what is best in His
sight."

At this moment the bombardment seemed to be at
its fiercest and the inhabitants of the doomed city
were terror-stricken.  Never before had anyone here,
Arab, Parsee, Hindu, or negro slave, heard the sound
of a gun fired in anger, nor the sound of a bursting
shell.  For the most part they lay low in their houses,
fearing to go into the open or trust themselves in the
bush, so that the usually crowded streets were now
almost deserted.

Johnson and Munro got horses from the Sultan's
stables and went tearing out to the sylvan suburbs.

They found here about 5,000 Arab soldiers.  Only
the ghost of an army, for of late years it had been
much neglected, and many of the men were now
unarmed while others had merely the long, old-fashioned
Arab guns.  But they had all spears and swords.

Darkness fell before the two consuls were able to
evoke something like order and arrangement in this
force.  Only their presence had been a comfort to the
officers, while the men were in good spirits and
evidently burning for a fight.

Would the enemy land, and if so where and when?
A complete row of sentinels were spread within hail
of each other as far round the beach as they could be
extended, and the Sultan's troops were held in readiness
to march, upon any given spot.

But the night passed quietly away.  Abdularram
saw the futility now of wasting his ammunition in the
darkness.

The name of the gunner who fired the shot in a
moment of forgetfulness at the palace itself, was taken,
and for the present he went unpunished, as the Admiral
could not spare him, but he was to fight now under the
not very comforting assurance that the moment the
city capitulated or was carried by assault he would be
hanged or thrown into the sea, which after the fearful
tragedy of the day before was now alive with monstrous
sharks.  The hundreds of poor fellows who had become
their prey had only whetted their appetites as
a few oysters before dinner would that of a gourmand.

Many of the houses far beyond the beach had been
knocked down by shells, and set fire to over the heads
of the buried inmates, alive or dead.  The glare from
these lit up the sky, but as yet there was no general
conflagration.

Another night wore on, and at sunrise the
bombardment was recommenced and kept up intermittently
all day long.  The shooting of the Zanzibar gunners
was very bad indeed.  But the forts themselves, which
had only been built to replace older walls about a year
ago, were of great strength, and faced with metal, so
that it was evident they would take a much longer
time to silence than Abdularram had calculated on.
As some of these commanded the entrance of the
palace, silenced they would have to be before Lamoo's
great admiral could capture the Sultan.

Day after day the desultory fire was kept up, but on
the sixth it became fierce and fearful, and it was
evident to everyone that Abdularram was about to
attempt a *coup de main*.

That night shells rained and burst over the old
town itself, and soon it was on fire from end to end, and
the flame-stricken inhabitants, hundreds of whom had
been slain, were fleeing to the bush for their lives.

From the sea the conflagration was an impressive
and awful spectacle.

It must be seen from the mainland even from B---- itself
and Abdularram had two of his best vessels to
intercept any vessel who might send assistance.  These
did patrol duty and warned off all ships of all sorts.

Meanwhile in the darkness, and in a distant part of
the island, Abdularram had landed 2,000 of his fighting
braves.  This from the flag-ship and with very great
caution, his object being to make a forced, but
silent march on the city, taking it in flank or rear.

The sentinels, there were six of these to one mile of
beach, were keeping their lonely vigil, honestly enough,
but they neither saw nor heard a black and armed boat
glide in and land about a dozen warriors.  The oars
had been muffled, and the men were half naked and
black from head to foot.  Armed with daggers only.

They crept silently through the bush in pairs, and
approached as stealthily as tigers till within a yard or
two of their victims, and these were knifed before they
could utter a cry or give an alarm.

The beach thus cleared offered an easy landing to the
troops, and long before daylight they had reached
the camp of the Sultan's army, and attacked it with
such fearful determination that in a few minutes what
remained of it were scattered panic-stricken into the
woodlands, or hurled back towards the flaming city.

Few who witnessed even a tithe of the horrors of that
dread night will be likely to forget it till their dying day.

Those victorious tigers of the sea cared neither for
drink nor food, it was blood, blood, blood, they thirsted
for, money that they sought, but vice and lust also
held their souls enthralled, and it is well to draw a
veil--it needs a big one--over the scenes that took place in
almost every street that the fire had spared.

But in the darkness they must attack and carry the
palace.

Little did they know what was prepared for them.
For here by the gates maxim guns had been stationed
manned by men, both British and American, men who
knew what maxims were too, for some had been
volunteers in well-beloved Britain, and others had
served in American regiments.

Abdularram's little army was foiled.  It was driven
back decimated by the hell-fire of these guns without
having been able to cross a bridge or force a gate.

They retreated in some sort of order, however, and
made their way to the beach, and here they speedily
threw up trenches some distance away from the frowning
forts.

They were making signals, too, for assistance.  And
just before daylight assistance did come.  But it was
not for them.

The brave *Breezy* had come in by stealth, attracted
by the lights of the flagship some time after she had
landed the fighting forces.

They understood now at once what the position of
affairs was and, before Abdularram realised what
was up, torpedoed the ship, which, although she but
lifted her bows a little way out of the water, it was
evident had received her death blow, for she began now
to fill rapidly and to settle.  Abdularram himself was
seen on her deck, coolly giving orders for guns to be
fired at the *Breezy*.

Before the broadside could be delivered, however, the
doom of the mighty battleship was sealed.  Even after
she had sunk, men were seen struggling in the seething
waters, and boats from the *Breezy* were at once sent to
save them.

Many, glad of their lives, were quiet enough, but
others drew their knives as soon as they got over the
gunwale and attacked the sailors.  They wounded
several before they had their quietus.

Swimming powerfully in the glare of the searchlight
and heading for the shore was a tall and powerful
Arab officer.  His turban had fallen off and his long
black hair was floating on the water like sea-weed.

He was caught by the boat commanded by Guilford
himself, and in which Kep had entered to help the
rescue.

He drew his dagger, and the blow he aimed at Kep
had it descended would have closed this story as far
as that poor boy was concerned.

But Abdularram, for it was no other, was struck down
by a blow from the fist of the stroke-oar.  And that
man was Jack Stormalong.

The Arab Admiral fell on his face at Kep's feet, and
to all appearance dead, for he had been put to sleep
and had an ugly gash on the forehead caused by
coming in contact with the side of the boat.

"Thank you, Jack, a thousand times and o'er,"
said Kep with a smile; "my old friend here, who now
so lowly lies, certainly didn't mean to be sparing in
his attentions to poor little me."

"You're kindly welcome, sir," said Jack; "you
would do as much for me any day, that I know."

"Ay, that I would."

It was the boats of the *Breezy* that were coming in and
that the piratical soldiers mistook for their friends.
They were at once undeceived, as soon as the
quick-firers opened upon them.

They were driven into desperate confusion.

But now the Sultan's troops, whom the American
Consul had succeeded in getting together, approached
and quickly attacked the pirates at the point of the
bayonet.  And the battle was soon over.

There was still the fleet to deal with, and for hours
it looked an ugly business for the *Breezy*.  She had to
make a running fight of it all day long, but after getting
two of the midget fleet well away from the others, she
attacked now with her heaviest guns, and was not long
in sinking both.

Meanwhile others of the fleet had made a *détour*,
and cutting her off from the south and seaward began
to close in upon her from all round.

"By George!" cried the Captain, "this is being
between the devil and the deep sea with a vengeance."

But suddenly the enemy ceased firing, and went off
at full speed towards the south.  And while everyone
on the *Breezy* was wondering what this extraordinary
move meant, there came a hail from one of the fighting
tops.

"Two powerful battle-ships just in sight on the
horizon.  No, sir, I can only raise their tops."

A middy was sent up at once and presently he hailed:

"I can see the flags, sir."

"Well, what can you make of them?"

The middy had another long look.

"Why sir, they are Stars and Stripes."

"That must be the *Niagara* and the *Delaware*."

On board the *Breezy* there was shaking of hands all
round, and laughing and talking and general jollity
fore and aft.

Then up marched the doctor.

"Pardon me, sir, but I think that the crew now
will be none the worse of some medical comforts.

"Certainly, by all means," replied Captain Breezy.
"Pipe to dinner, officer of the watch, and we'll splice
the main-brace, Surgeon McTavish."

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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

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The end had not yet come however.  The midget
fleet must not escape.

So now, although she was somewhat damaged, the
*Breezy* put on all speed in order to meet the Americans
as quickly as possible, and hold a conference, and in
about an hour's time the two nations, Britain and
America, were exchanging salutes.

When Captain Breezy of H.M.S. *Breezy* went on
board the *Niagara*, he found the Captain of the *Delaware*
there already, and Captain Breezy, wasting as few
words as possible, told the whole sad story, and it was
unanimously agreed that something must be done at
once.

"There is no doubt," said Breezy, "that the Lamoo
fleet will get back to their own Sultan as soon as possible,
and there is only one way for them to get there, they
must cross the bar one by one, and," he continued, "it
is better, in my opinion, that we should sail for the
mouth of that river and wait their appearance.  Their
sailing south was only to avoid meeting you.  They
will make a wide *détour* after they are out of sight, and
come straight for the equatorial coast again."

This was agreed to.  A steam launch was sent back
to Zanzibar to advise the consuls as to their movements.

They were going on a punitive expedition now--that
was the message--they were to be found near to
the mouth of the river, and should a torpedo boat or
destroyer come in as well as the large man o' war which
had been signalled, the former were to come to the
river's mouth, the latter to lie at Zanzibar to defend it.





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.. _`KEP COMMANDS A DHOW--A DEPOSED SULTAN`:

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   CHAPTER XIX


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   KEP COMMANDS A DHOW.  A DEPOSED SULTAN

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The weather was now splendid, and the sea smooth
and blue like the sky itself.  Just a snow-flake
of a cloud here and there, and that was all.

So quickly did these three grand ships dash through
the water that they reached their destination in little
over a day's time.

They kept well out to sea however.  Had they gone
close enough to the shore to be seen by a sentinel from
Lamoo, no doubt the Sultan would have been apprised
of their arrival, and suspecting that something had gone
wrong would have adopted some means or other of
warning his ships.

With steam up they lay at a little distance north of
the river, for if some tell-tale dhow had met them to the
south, it was within the bounds of possibility that the
master thereof might have reported their presence.

But only one dhow appeared, and she was requisitioned,
much to her disgust.  She was two-masted and
very fleet.  Her men were taken on board the battleship
to be well tended and cared for.  Then the dhow
was manned with enough Kroomen to sail her, and to
his great delight Kep himself, once more got up as
an Arab, was put in charge.

This clever lad had spent nearly all his spare time
since he joined the Service in learning the duties of a
midshipman, and so hard a student had he been, that
already he could have done all that was required of
such an officer.

He was now to cruise in his dhow near to the mouth
of the river, and on the appearance of the midget fleet
coming east again make all sail far enough to signal
to the warships.

It was a glorious thing, Kep thought, to tread the
decks of his own ship.  For the time being he felt a
real captain and monarch of all he surveyed.  It
would be only for a short time, but Kep would have
liked to be skipper of this dhow for a year he thought.
The owner of the craft, had a most superbly furnished
poop saloon.  The dhow was one of the largest of its
class, and its owner evidently a man of wealth.

By day and by night watches were kept and a constant
look out.  But it was the morning of the fourth
day before Kep caught sight of the midget fleet creeping
up in line and as near to the wooded shore as it could
get with safety, but slowly, because two were
crippled.

"Ready about!" shouted Kep, and at the touch of
the helm the great sails came round and the dhow was
soon dashing eastwards.

As soon as the tops of the warships were visible he
signalled, and in a very short time he had the pleasure
of seeing them bearing down towards him.

He waited until he could point out the right direction,
and as he was not ordered to come on board he thought
he might as well follow on in his dhow and see the fun.

It was terrible fun, for the warships certainly gave
the enemy little time to say his prayers.  The result
was that half the fleet was sunk, and four captured,
others escaped to be captured another day.

It was lucky they had captured those four midgets
for the *Breezy* could never have crossed that fearful
bar.  There was but one opening in and that not wide,
and breakers roar and dash to starboard and port as
you enter.

The day was spent in manning and re-arming those
midgets, and there could be no getting up the river in
the darkness.

But when another glorious day awakened those
silent forests to life and love, the bluejackets and
marines, to the number of seventeen hundred Americans
and British, and with a few sturdy Kroomen, were put
on board and started with three ringing cheers; there
was little else but standing room, for Jack Stormalong
knew every inch of this river, and he was made pilot.
Captain Breezy himself took command, Guilford was
there as well as the tall athletic surgeon, and Kep, still
in his Arab dress, was taken as interpreter.

In dealing with savages or semi-savages, and the
inhabitants of Lamoo were little better, there is nothing
beats audacious coolness coupled with firmness.

This scoundrel Sultan was taken unawares, the
flower of his little army had gone with the expedition.
Those he had left he could not trust, so, as Jack
Stormalong phrased it, he was up aloft and the rigging cut.

Captain Breezy in full uniform landed with Kep in
his own, with only a few marines as a body guard, and
landed on the beach with the greatest *sang froid*.
This sailor had never known what fear was, and the
British navy owned no braver man.  He asked for a
guide to the Sultan's palace and half a dozen sooty
scoundrels begged for the honour of conducting him.

They were dressed only in cummerbunds or little
canvas kilts, and each carried a spear.  Corner boys
were they of this wild city, the only thing stately about
which were the forts and the lofty palace.

When the Sultan heard an hour before this that his
fleet was returning triumphant, he rejoiced and was
exceedingly glad.  His greatest enemy would soon
be in his clutches and he would have the rarest fun on
earth.

He was resting in his audience chamber when Captain
Breezy with Kep--leaving the marines outside--were
shown in.  If a half-black Arab could turn pale that
Sultan would have done so now.  The Captain and Kep
bowed low and the Sultan advanced and held out
his hand.  Captain Breezy did not see it.

"Tell the fellow all I told you," he said to Kep.

Kep appeared to grow suddenly three inches taller.
He held his head erect and cleared his throat.

"Ahem! you see before you, Mr. Sultan," he said
in his best Arabic, "the might, and pomp, and power
of the British nation."

That seemed a good beginning, and the Sultan, who
really was a splendid specimen of the dark Arabs,
looked at Kep from toe to top somewhat curiously.

"You see before you," continued Kep, "the offended
dignity of that nation.  Your accursed fleet has laid
most of the city of Zanzibar in ashes, has destroyed
and burned the British and American Consulate, and
we come in our might and strength to demand redress."

An amused and somewhat haughty smile was visible
for a moment on the Sultan's face.  Then an angry
frown.

"What is to hinder me," he cried, "from throwing
the might and power of Britain, in the persons of you
two badly armed men, into my handsomely furnished
dungeon.  One word and----"

"You dare not.  If we are not safely back in one
brief half hour, our fleet shall silence your forts, set
your palace on fire, and your city as well, and you shall
see the inside of a British ship as our prisoner, on your
way to Ceylon or St. Helena.

"And now we leave you to your reflections.  If we
have no answer in one hour's time we shall proceed to
action."

Next moment they marched out with marvellous
coolness and soon reached the boat.

Breezy took out his watch.

"A quarter to twelve," he said.  "By a quarter to
one the men will have finished dinner, and then for
business, for I expect no answer from that fellow."

The forts, although the guns were good, were badly
positioned, and the little fleet lay just round the bend
of the river in a most commanding situation.

Now this Sultan--Said Hassam to name--was the
most unpopular man on the coast at this time, and his
own people were only waiting for an excuse to depose
him.

It was half-past twelve when a magnificently adorned
gondola-looking barge swept round the corner, and
three richly dressed Arabs requested audience of
Captain Breezy.

The interview took place aft on the upper deck, and
was just as brief as it was important.  One a very old
man, who looked like a prophet, Kep thought, told
the Captain, through Kep, that they had been opposed
to the sending of an expedition against Zanzibar, but
were over-ruled by the Sultan himself, and that the
city had been about to rise and depose him even had
the ships not arrived.

"This is very satisfactory if true."

"You have our word of honour."

"We shall have to be paid a large indemnity, which
my Government," said Breezy, "must fix."

"We will pay it willingly if not too large and if time
be allowed us."

"And the present Sultan must be deposed immediately.
We shall take him prisoner with us to the
Cape."

"He is already deposed," answered the old minister
smiling grimly, "and his son reigns in his place.  It
was all done very quietly."

"He must be brought here," said the Captain, and
Kep translated.

"But he is here.  I will give orders to have him
up at once."

He stepped to the side, and next minute a powerful
and burly black staggered up the ladder with a heavy
sack, and, much to the astonishment of all, threw the
body of the late Sultan at the Captain's feet.

There was no mistake about it.  He had been
deposed with a vengeance.

But this is only an example of the neat and effective
way they have of settling political difference in those
regions.

There was no danger now in landing, and not only
the officers but even boatloads of the crews were
allowed to go on shore and stretch their legs.

All agreements having been arranged to the satisfaction
of Captain Breezy, and visits interchanged with
the great men of the town, the fleet dropped down the
river next morning, and their friends very much
astonished as well as pleased at their early
return.

On the other hand Captain Breezy was not surprised
that during his absence Abdularram had
succeeded in committing suicide.  He preferred death to
imprisonment.

On board the mighty American ship the British
officers dined that evening, and to his great delight
Kep was among the invited.

The Admiral himself took a great pleasure in talking
to him.

Kep dined in his handsome Arab suit, and after
dinner delighted the Americans with his marvellous
fluting and piano-playing.

He was permitted to go forward while the elder men
sat at their wine.

As in the British Service, the men had all extra grog
to-night, and a merry hour was spent in dancing when
Kep came amongst them.

Among the toasts of the evening was one which I
hope will never be forgot.  It came from the lips of
Admiral Gray himself.  "This is the first time," he
said, "that the British have fought shoulder to shoulder
with the Americans.  Together may we stand in many
a stout fight yet to come."





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.. _`"THAT BAR OF GOLD WAS STOLEN FROM ME," SAID KEP`:

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   CHAPTER XX


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   "THAT BAR OF GOLD WAS STOLEN FROM ME," SAID KEP

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In six weeks' time they were once more leaving
Zanzibar and heading southward for the Cape.

The men of the midget fleet, whom they had taken
prisoners, were left at Zanzibar, and in due time would
be tried for piracy and murder on the high seas, and no
doubt many of them would meet the doom they so
richly deserved.

Kep had searched for his Arab friend high and low,
but he was not to be found, and neither he nor dear
Zeena would he ever see again.  He would have given
a good deal to know they were safe, or even to know
something of their fate, whate'er it may have been.

Kep's little romance was ended.

There were no letters from either Madge or his father,
for whom he cared so much, but he felt sure that both
must have written and that their letters had been
destroyed in the bombardment.

The *Breezy* entered Symon's Bay in triumph.  No
wonder, for under her wing were the four captured
gun-boats of the midget fleet.  And all the
English-speaking world had been singing the praises of the
broadsword-men of the *Breezy*.

Dispatches, of course, and private letters from men
in the Admiralty.

Very simple had been the narrative which the bold
sailor *Breezy* had sent to the Lords Commissioners.
But they could read between the lines, and he was
promised his promotion at once if he chose to leave
the ship and go home to take it up.

He decided to hold on to the end of the commission.
The officers, too, would certainly be promoted, and
even Kep, it was hinted, was to receive an appointment
when he arrived in England that doubtless would be
very much to his taste--this was mentioned in private
letters only.  The Admiralty never forgets its dignity.
But what pleased the Captain most of all was an
autograph letter from the King himself, thanking him and
his officers for so bravely upholding the glory of the
Royal navy.  The King commanded him also to visit
him on his return, if God in His goodness should spare
both their lives.

A mail came in from England before the *Breezy*
once more sailed for the still-farther east.

There were letters from home for nearly all hands,
and one from Kep's father inside Madge's.  Sore and
sad was Kep's heart when he read it.

Both were well and likewise Bounder, but Martello
Castle and lands were let, and they were living in a
small cottage near the sea.  "Very happy, though,"
Madge's letter said, and poverty made her love her
father all the more, and he is now proud of you, Kep,
so he told her, and we all long so much to see our dear
boy again.  There was a postscript, as there is in most
young ladies' letters.  It ran as follows: "P.S.--Old
Elspet sends her love, and I haven't married the
wealthy Israelite yet."

The last word was strongly underlined.  Kep kissed
the letter, and there were tears in his eyes as he
refolded it.

He would put it under his pillow to-night just to see
what he should dream about.  Well, I for one cannot
laugh at Kep, for often enough when far away at sea
I've kept letters from home under my pillow for weeks.
It was hours and hours before Kep fell asleep that
night, notwithstanding.  Madge's letter brought the
past back again so vividly.  Ah! he had been happier
than he knew of.

The splendid old castle, the cliffs and rocks and
moorlands wild and wide, and his own little turret
chamber high above the rookery in the rustling elms.
Was he never to see them more?

Never as a boy, and, ah! boyhood is life's brightest
happiest season.

The *Breezy* had been in commission nearly two and
a half years, and there was at least a year to go by yet,
and then Kep was to have an appointment.

It could not be as a middy, or anything of that sort,
of course, because the laws of the Admiralty are
inflexible.  The executive officers have all to enter the
service between the ages of twelve and thirteen.

Never mind, Kep determined to continue his study
of languages, and of everything else, and who could
tell what he might not rise to in course of time.

Kep, the reader does not need to be told, was very
clever, and moreover he had a first-class idea of himself,
and I never blame any boy for that.

At all events one never does get to the top of the
tree unless he tries to, and Kep made a vow that night
that he was going to try and keep on trying hard as
ever he knew how to.

As to the letter under his pillow well--he never
dreamt a single dream.

That was droll perhaps, but a fact.

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Before stretching away out into the limitless ocean
again, the *Breezy* lay for a few days at Cape Town.

Do you know Cape Town, boys, and the charming
scenery around?  The wild mountains that frown
over it, ablaze with greenery, and the crimson of
heaths and wild flowers, such as we in this tame
domestic England can only cultivate in our hot-houses.

The brown soil and the bare brown bluffs that peep
through here and there, only adding an extra charm to
their beauty.  To see these grand old hills even at a
distance and gaze up into their enchanted glens and
valleys, is something worth journeying six thousand
miles to behold.  Beautiful under the midday sun,
still more lovely when sunset sheds its rainbow hues
over them and over the sea; something to dream about
when the mystic moonlight tones and softens their
lines.  Have you seen them at a distance?
Nay, but have you wandered among them, wandered
and wondered at all you saw!  Then have you in
reality seen a bit of life.

A fig for some men and women, who have rushed
such places, hurriedly and excitedly "doing" them.
These know no more about their true grandeur, beauty
and solemnity than does a child with a South African
picture postcard in its chubby hands.

Well, Kep asked leave to go on shore one day here,
and of course obtained it, and was permitted to take
his friend Adolph with him.

They were going to have a little pic-nic all to
themselves.

"Take your gun, Charlie," McTavish said, and
bring me off the biggest black snake you can find.  I
want to skeletonise the beggar, in order to solve a little
problem in Natural History that Mr. Wynn and I are
not on the same platform about.

They landed in a shore-boat, he and Adolph, as they
wanted to be all by themselves.  Past the busy
quays and docks and along through the busy
well-thronged streets--Kep loved not these, loved not
civilization of any kind.  It was nature, and its wilds
alone that had charms for this strange boy.

They did not speak a deal until they got out of the
suburbs, and up, up, up to the top of a high mountain.
Adolph was a little out of wind ere he reached the
summit, and had to lie down for a breather.  But Kep,
as light as a lark and as hard as heather, felt fit to soar
to any height.

"Oh, look around you, Adolph.  Look at the sea.
Doesn't its beauty thrill you?  Ah! who could settle
down as a landsman, who has ever felt the glamour of
old ocean in his heart.  But now, old comrade, let us
eat and drink, and then talk.  It is just like old times
to have you all to myself.  Do you mind the Island
of Snakes, Adolphus?"

He spoke in French.

"Oui, oui," said Adolph, "and I remember the gold
also.  I knew when you brought me here that you
meant to speak of that.  But the gold is all yours, Kep.
It was you who found it.  You who dived and
discovered the treasure, and----"

"Hold one minute, comrade.  That gold is not yet
found.  Don't forget that; or there may be so little
to find, that it may not pay the expense of searching
for it."

"Ah, but, Kep, I know you mean to try."

"Mean to?  Well, yes, and I long to do so so far
more now than ever.  I have had letters from home
and they have stirred and subdued me.  Nay, but they
have aged me.  I'm a boy no longer, but a thinking,
busy-brained man."

Adolph was silent.

"My father has let and left his fine estate.  He has
come down in the world, Adolph, and I fear it may break
the old man's heart.  He is living by the sea which
he loves so well, living in peace and quiet, that is if
a seaman-bred can ever be restful.  And I fear that
Madge, my dear sister, may now think it her duty to
marry a certain wealthy man whom she hates, in order
to please father.  He is older far than she, and on his
death all the wealth would be hers."

"I should say she could not do better.  That is my
continental view of the matter, Kep."

"Ah! but comrade, poor Madge has had a little
*affaire de coeur*, which I did not tell you.  Only a
child's romance."

"That might alter the case," said Adolph demurely
enough now, because he saw that Kep was very much
in earnest.

"See," said the boy, "I have worn myself almost
thin, brain-working and studying, for a time to come,
when I shall be great, though never perhaps wealthy."

"What, not even if we recover those sunken millions?"

"I don't even allow these to count for anything,
Adolph.  Money can do much, but it never can satisfy
the longings of an ambitious boy.  I have," he added,
"a double incentive now to struggle to rise.  I have
always loved my father and he loves me, although we
are both too Scotch ever to have shown it.  But,
Adolph, I never felt I loved him half so much as I find
I now do.

"He, the quiet, the unobtrusive unselfish man, who
never in all his life lived half so much for himself as
for those around him, he, a true-born Nature's King,
to be hurled from his high estate and forced to live in
a cottage.  He whom--Oh, but I cannot bear to speak
of it, Adolph, and I groan in bed when I think that my
conduct may have contributed extra sorrow to his
blameless life.  But listen, Adolphus----"

Here the boy sprang to his feet on the mountain
top, extending his right arm heavenwards in the
impressive attitude the Scottish people assume when
taking an oath--

"Young in years though I be, I shall now live for
the father I have wronged, live for him, work for him,
until he is once more restored to his princely Martello
Castle.  Don't smile at me even in your heart, Adolphus.
I am romantic, impulsive, foolish, but, oh comrade,
I am sincere."  Then Kep became the boy again.

"I'm happier now," he said laughing.  "I've
found a peg to hang my mental hat upon.  I feel I
have now something to live for.  Come, I shall pipe to
show you I am quite recovered."

"A touch of Wagner then," said Adolph merrily,
"and we'll imagine we're back again on the island."

It was like the piping of Pan.  It appeared not to
come from any earthly instrument.  In the silence it
seemed to stir the mountains all around.  Shrill yet
poetical, as the song of the lark, or sweet and sad, like
the love notes of Philomel in his native England.

Then suddenly it ceased, and Kep threw himself
down to gaze for a moment at a white-winged ship on
the blue of the far-off horizon.

"Ah! my old comrade," he said at last, "we must
let our millions slumber for a time down in old ocean's
slimy bed, and when we have time we may go in search
of them.  You got the latitude and longitude, didn't
you, and have written it down?"

"There it is, Kep, that is your copy; I have mine,
and I keep it under the lining of my sea-chest lid.  It
must neither be lost not shown to anyone."

"True."

"Yes, true, because I have more hopes than you."

"But even should there be gold there, it is safe.  No
one could dream of diving for sunken treasure in a
place like that."

"I suppose," said Adolph, "you still have the bar of
gold, though it was not large, which you brought up."

"Oh!  I forgot to tell you.  That bit of stuff was
stolen from me on board the ship that saved us!"

"Bad news, Kep.  I don't half like it.  Did you
suspect anyone?"

"Only that first mate.  He drank on the sly, and he
was the only one who ever came in to yarn with me."

"Well, Kep, it *may* be all right.  But that
evil-looking man, if ever his mind was a moment clear,
would naturally wonder where you got that bar.  It
was a shelly-looking piece, and he would judge it came
from the sea-bottom, and----  Well, there are a good
many 'ands,' for it is always the improbable that
happens on the ocean-wave, Kep."

"Nothing is going to trouble me," said Kep, "one
way or the other.  But now come, let us be going.
I've got Dr. McTavish's snake to shoot yet."





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   CHAPTER XXI


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   TRAGEDY ON AN ISLAND--A CANNIBAL WITCH

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The *Breezy* would have reached the shores of that
marvel island, New Guinea, far sooner, had she
not to go south, to lonely Kerguelin, on her voyage, to
take some soundings there, and also chart some rocky
bottom on the coast of New Zealand, as well.

Kep was permitted to go down to the sea bottom
sometimes by day.  He wanted to get thoroughly up
to the workings of the bell.  The invention was
altogether so perfect, and at the same time so simple, that
he soon mastered it.

It sunk sometimes as low as 350 feet.  Strong though
the plate-glass windows were, had it sunk much lower
the pressure of the water would have smashed them,
then you may judge yourself, reader, what a horrible
death those inside would have met.

It was at night, when off the New Guinea rocks, that
Kep loved best to go down.  What a terrible sight it
was, the illimitable marine aquarium he saw around
him.  There was a silent solemnity about it that is
indescribable.  And not in Dante's *Inferno* itself
could more horrible monsters exist than those which
occasionally flitted to and fro in the glare of that
submarine flash-light.  Here also was beauty mingled
with the fearful, for the foliage and flowers of the
deep-sea gardens waved and moved in a thousand tints and
colour, on the white sands.  Sea ferns grow here, ocean
cactuses, trees and flowers and shrubs.

But there was a spice of danger down here, for great
sharks, three fathoms long, with terrifying open
mouths, made for the windows, and grabbed at Kep.
They knew not what glass was, and thought that to
swallow the boy was the easiest thing in the world.
When they found that they had not succeeded, they
would swish their tails about, and dash off angry and
disappointed.

Fishes with large glaring eyes and heads clad in
shields of bone at times dashed against the plate-glass.
They looked like miniature iron-clads, as they sailed
towards Kep, and the marvel was that they did not
break the diving bell to pieces.

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If you look at a good map of the world, gentle
reader--by the way, *are* you *gentle*, I wonder?--you will be
able to discover at a single peep where New Guinea is.
But the map is not made yet that can show you all the
outs and ins, the gulfs and bays and locks of the
island's entrancing fore-shores.

You will look up north from Australia for New
Guinea, and be surprised at its strange, ungainly shape,
its points and promontories, its immense size, and the
multitude of small islands around it on every side.
Nor'ard and west, if you wandered along its beautiful
shores, north and west and far away, you would find
yourself--if you had not previously been killed and
eaten by cannibals--at McLuer inlet, or Triton Bay,
or at Cape Spencer on the shores of Dampier Strait,
looking out across a fiery blue ocean at clusters of green
cocoa-nut crowned islands, on almost any one of which
you could have but little difficulty indeed in becoming
something of a real Crusoe.  But after a time, I guess,
it would not be one marked footprint on the wet
sand you might find, but fifty.

You would naturally imagine then, that you were
come for, and that you were soon to figure as a cold
sirloin or side-dish at a feast and wild dance given by
some Papuan chief.  N.B.--The inhabitants of New
Guinea are called Papuans.

Oh dear, what a region of beauty and romance is
embodied in these simple words, "the South Sea Islands."

But if up there, you got a dhow, and went cruising
west, and had the good luck not to be eaten, and thus
enjoy yourself instead of being devoured for the
enjoyment of some else, a blue shark for example, the trip
would be delightful, though dangerous.  You would
have plenty of food, and the seas are studded with
green islands, that appear from a distance to be floating,
like great emeralds, twixt sea and sky, so that, when
thirsty, you could go on shore, and get little black boys
to climb the tasseled trees and pitch down cocoa-nuts
for you.  It would be a charming holiday, and you
would not want much to wear.  But in time you would
reach Celebes itself, another great spreading insect of
an island, on which many and many a terrible murder
has been committed, and many a missionary massacred.

Resuming your journey, you would in time reach
Borneo.  Well, by its shores you would find that
civilization and trade, and all that has made the marvellous
progress of our world, was there to greet you.  You
would meet English-speaking friends there, but you
would have to run up a pretty heavy tailors' bill before
you could, with any show of modesty, visit their houses.

You've heard of the "Wild Man of Borneo"?  Well,
he is still up there, among the midland mountains, and
though he might still lick his lips after eating some
roast long-pig, he is now a much more respectable
member of society than when I first knew him.  At
that time he was a real and terrible head-hunter.  He
wanted me to part with mine.  I told him I could not
see where the fun came in.  Then he tried to convince
me, by waving a terrible iron-spiked club.  But not
being used to carry on a conversation through such a
medium, I shot him through the shoulder, and he bolted
home to thrash one of his fifteen wives.

But when I last met him, he was wearing a long,
somewhat shabby top-hat, and a frock-coat without
any sleeves to it.  Nothing else earthly, except his
long black bare legs and his black bare arms.

He was quite chatty, too, and asked kindly after "de
Breetish King ob Englan'."

"I quite civilise now, all same," he said, and had I
any rum?

Well, so far so good, and a map is a handy contrivance,
but, alas! a map tells you nothing of the magnificence
of New Guinean forests, woods, and wilds, of the
heights of its ranges of mountains that are everywhere,
nor the solitary grandeur of its scenery, whether in
inland glens or mirrored in the deep bosom of its lonely
lochs and bays.

The home these latter are of the strangest-looking
fishes in the sea, and millions of birds of the ocean,
whose nesting places are on the rocks, above the rocks,
or in the woods themselves.  Some of these sea-gulfs,
I feel sure, are haunted.  I've taken a little boat and
rowed me all alone for miles up darksome inlets,
o'erhung with wild woods thickening green, but so drearily
silent in the sunshine, that when I have lain on my oars,
as sailors say, not a sound could I hear except the drip,
drip, from the blades.

Yet sometimes a wild, unearthly scream would come
out of the forest, so wailing, so agonizing, that I have
felt sure some terrible tragedy had just been enacted
within its darkest shades.

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It was among such scenery as this that the gallant
broadswords of the *Breezy* lived and laboured,
surveying, charting, and learning the tricks and manners
of the vast varieties of natives we find in these islands,
but all the while keeping a good look out for British
interests.

The old days of kidnapping were then about over.
If there was now any such thing, it was on a smaller
scale, just as smuggling is still carried on around our
little island at home here.

But Captain Breezy and his officers, did not forget
that nearly every-man-Jack in the ship was supposed
to be studying to become a pilot of these maritime
regions.

Our men-o'-war's men are the best and most daring
seamen in the world, and so carefully are they trained,
no matter should they come in the first place from the
lowest slums of Edinburgh or London, that they become
wise and thinking men.  And I believe that seven
month's cruising and surveying among the South Sea
Islands, and around New Guinea generally, would
enable even an ordinary seamen to pilot a ship through
the channels or along the shores.

Moreover, of so much consequence did the Admiralty
consider good sea-charts, that copies of those made
were sent to the lower decks, and the men were advised
to study them, and copy them as often as they chose.
Of course, a deal of chart-making was done in the
ward-room.

Kep was marvellously clever at this kind of thing,
though the navigating officer was better.  On the other
hand, the marine officer, or Sodjer, was a capital
sketcher in water-colours, as well as an excellent
photographer.

Many of the men made small collections of "curios,"
but McTavish himself studied the geology of the
coast; its flora and fauna, and its peoples.  Even
their folk-lore was not neglected by him.

The language was different on almost every island;
but Kep, with his wondrous gifts, was not long in finding
out, that through all there ran a thread which, when
found out, made a good clue for the study of all.

Independently of this, there were many men and
women who had been recruited here--bought and sold
in fact--and who, after spending years in Queensland,
had been sent back, and getting clear for ever of the
white man's clothes and the white man's religion,
returned again to the life of a happy-go-lucky naked, or
nearly naked, savage.  And these understood English.

But the cruise of the *Breezy* had a political side as
well; for the eastern side of New Guinea belonged to
Germany, the west to Britain, with, in some places,
only in the far interior, a kind of no-man's-land, usually
mountainous, between the two countries.  In these
inland recesses still existed, which no white traveller
had ever entered, or if he had, was only too glad to get
away again with a whole skin.

The Germans could do what they liked with their
territory, they are bad colonizers at best, but we
Britons have long necks; we look into futurity, and
we see and know that, in years to come, this same island
will be a gem in the crowns of our coming kings.  Even
at the date of this part of my story, 1909, the real riches
of the great land was only being discovered, its splendid
agricultural districts, and above all, its mineral wealth.

"Our surplus population," as Lieutenant Wynn
well said one evening, "needs some great outlet.  We
cannot be content even with Africa, and in this far off
New Guinea it yet will live and thrive."

You will note then that the *Breezy* was not only a
happy ship, but a very busy one.

There were few places now where they could receive
letters from home.  But letters were sent to England,
and despatches also, by every opportunity, and such
opportunities come to ships long at sea far oftener than
landsmen would or could imagine.

It was only by overhauling mercantile vessels that
any news of the country at all could be obtained.  But
some of these had somewhat recent newspapers, and
what a grand gift to the *Breezy* was a bundle of them!

They were read and re-read by the officers.  Their
pages were kept as clean as the leaves of a Bible.  When
the ward-room officers had them about all by heart, the
warrant officers had them, and finally, the best of the
crew, who read them to their respective messmates.

The adventures of the men of the *Breezy* were mostly
those of all men who go down to the sea in ships.  But,
dangers and difficulties more numerous.  They saw,
during those busy nine months, every conceivable phase of
sea life.  They had to battle with winds and currents,
encountered terrible storms, the life of the ship and the
lives of the crew oftentimes hanging literally on the
thread of a screw, or on a bolt.

It was the shoal water and the reefs, however, that
formed the principal danger, and these they were nearly
almost among.

The savages they seldom feared, but the savages
feared them, never having seen such a strange naval
monstrosity as the *Breezy* in their lives before.  Some
of the islanders, both men and women, were meek and
mild, as well as fearless, and though armed to the teeth,
the men at least, with bows and poisoned arrows, and
clubs, axes and spears, it was safe enough to mingle
with them.

They would part with anything for calico, tobacco,
or tinned provisions.  They surrounded the *Breezy* in
canoes laden to the gunwale with all manner of delicious
fruit and vegetables, to say nothing of edible birds,
lizards, etc., some even brought flowers.

On the other hand, they expressed themselves ready
and willing to barter their wives or daughters away, or
even fine fat little baby boys, for anything.

I never have found why savage islanders sometimes
press sailors to purchase a fat little baby boy.  I
suppose they fancy our fellows make meat of such little
chaps, because I've heard of one being offered in barter
along with a bunch of forest fowls, or edible lizards.

Some rather wild adventures our *Breezy* men had
among the wilder and more treacherous of these
islanders, many of them loaded with Brummagem rifles,
which, though they could carry farther than arrows,
were seldom well aimed.

But boats going in search of young cocoa-nuts, yams,
and fruit, and "yum-yums" generally, were more than
once led into an ambuscade.  The *Breezy* men had
learned by experience to be suspicious of beaches on
which only children played or the belles disported their
charms.

They were black sirens, and their braves were hidden
in the bush not far off, only they didn't get over Jack.
Captain Breezy was ever on the alert to avert anything
that was likely to lead to bloodshed, and even
if fired upon by tribes who in all probability had good
reason to hate and fear white men, he did not retaliate,
unless sailors were wounded.  But *then*, he taught the
savages to respect man-o'-war's men in the future.

They dread our firearms, but it is better to go on
shore apparently unarmed.  Some savages are
untameable, and the sight of a rifle, or even a fowling
piece, causes them to think they are to be attacked, and
their wives and little ones carried off.  Yet it is best
always to carry a tiny revolver in your hip-pocket,
presuming that you know how to hit a haystack.
The *Breezy's* men were mostly all crack shots.

It is not so well known as it should be, that to some
portions of the territory that fringes the sea come, at
times, wandering tribes from the very far interior.

In Kanaka days, when among the Sandwich Islands
kidnapping and massacre too was common enough,
the recruiters being most to blame, ships of this sort
often visited the Papuan coasts, and found great
trouble from these wandering tribes.  The more
peaceful 'longshore natives had nothing to do with it.  And
yet, if a white man were killed, boats' crews would
land, and the real culprits having fled back into their
fastnesses, take terrible revenge.

Captain Breezy was a very patient man, but of course
patience has a limit.  That limit was reached one day.
An old chief begged to come on board, to see the
ship.  He talked pidgin English, and had seen the
world.  With him was a very handsome young lady,
though, like the heroine in "Tam o' Shanter,"
she wore but scanty clothing, consisting for the most
part of bangles, anklets, and beads.

He introduced her as his last new wife, and was high
in her praises.

He received some presents, and so did the lady, and
then he wandered forward among the crew, and had a
little gentle talkee-talkee, and the men laughed a good
deal, especially a reckless fellow, called Tom Haslar.
Tom was about the only bad hat in the ship.

He drank too, when he could find liquor, and he
would and did manage to buy their allowance from
those men who did not care much for it.

Tom felt in form, as he called it, that forenoon, and
full of fun.

He chaffed the chief a bit, and even dug him in the
fat stomach, but this savage seemed splendidly
good-natured.

"Ah!" he returned, "you are one goodee boy.
You been dlinkee--dlinkee.  You too muchee laugh
now.  Bymebye you muchee thlisty and sad.  Savez?"

"You've been there yourself," said Tom, "my gay
and reverend seignor."

"You come alonga me, Jack."

"Tom, please, Tom Haslar, at your royal highness's
service!"

"Den Tom, you come along ashore?  I get you
plentee dlinkee.  Plenty dam goodee gin."

The boatswain's mate intimated now to the chief
that his absence would be a deal better than his company,
and after a little further palaver, he got into his
dug-out and landed.

It was a cocoa-nut wooded beach, with a rather
better class of plantain-covered cottages, well back in
the shade, and the natives were supposed to be harmless.

It was very dark that night, and Tom was in the
middle watch.  Next morning he was missing.  He
had evidently swam on shore, to complete his orgie,
enticed by the affable chief's promise.

That same chief was off in his dug-out early next
morning.

"I hab Tom Haseelar," he cried, "I keep 'im fah
away in de bush.  Keepee all same one hostage.
What you pay me foh Tom?"

"Nothing, you scoundrel, and if he isn't returned
in half an hour I will fire your village."  Thus spoke
Guilford, whose watch it was.

There was plenty of bobbery and noise in the village
now, and armed savages were seen rushing about,
waving their spears aloft.

It was a beautiful, but a wild scene.  How white the
sands, how green the forests that climbed up the
romantic glen and to the top of the highest hills.  There
was the bright blue of a calm sea, a cloudless azure sky,
and every tree stem had a shadow black as night.

Another hour was spent, waiting in vain for Tom.
Then the order was given by the Captain:--

"Man and arm boats."

"May I go, sir?" said Kep.

"Most certainly."

And away the boats sped with all the way on them
that lusty arms could lend.

There was now silence in the village, a stillness
indeed, that was ominous.  But fearing an ambush,
Guilford advanced his men with great caution.

Every cottage was empty.  The savages had fled to
the forest, nor in its dark recesses could any trail be
found visible to white men's eyes.

So the men, in some sort of skirmishing order, but
almost within touch of each other, went on and on up
the wooded defile, expecting to be attacked at any
moment.

Nearly at the top of the glen, suddenly out from the
black darkness of a small cave sprang the most
hideous-looking old hag of a naked savage anyone had ever
looked upon.

She stood upon a ledge of a rock, and stretched a
skinny arm towards Guilford.

"What seek you, white man?"

"Who are you, and where are the rest of the tribe?"
shouted the officer.

"I one witch.  I been Queensland.  You not come
kidnap poh Gwalee once moh?  Ha, ha, ha.  I too ole
now, and ugly.  My tribe gone ober de sea in big, big
war canoe.  You seek you white sailor?  He down in
de ribber pool."

Near by, under the cliff, was a still, brown pool in the
stream, and from this was fished out poor Tom's body,
the neck half severed with a battle axe.

Poor Tom, it was his last adventure on this shore.

The island, which was not large, was searched from
end to end, but no other human body was found.

To have fired the forest could have done no good,
only birds and beasts and the old witch would have
suffered.  So before the sudden darkness of a tropical
night fell, the men entered the boats and shoved off.

One boat contained the remains of their unfortunate
shipmate, and next morning steam was got up, and
Tom sleeps in the green depths of the coral sea.

How quickly such things are forgotten in the Service.
Tom's clothes were sold by auction, but his ditty box
and its trinkets of value, including a letter from the lass
who had loved Tom, were kept, and sent home to England,
to his old mother.  These trinkets and the letter
were sacred things, they were holy, no man on board
would have bought them.  Then everything went on
us usual on board the *Breezy*.





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.. _`IN SLUMBERING WOODS--KEP CAPTURED BY SAVAGES`:

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   CHAPTER XXII


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   IN SLUMBERING WOODS--KEP CAPTURED BY SAVAGES

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Brawny Surgeon McTavish, and almost equally
sturdy Stormalong, with Kep, had many a ramble
among the woods and hills of New Guinea.  They
were collecting specimens, they were studying Nature
in the concrete.  God's glorious and thrilling fantasia
of woods and wilds and water and of rolling tree-clad
hills.  But into the deepest darkness of the forests they
seldom penetrated, tempting though it looked.  For it
was not merely bright-winged birds and strange mammals
that these stately forests gave homes to, but
wandering savages, as implacably fierce as any the world
contains.

And still, as seen from the sea, these landscapes
looked so peaceful and serene, one could scarcely
believed that any evil thing could dwell therein.  There
was a charm to a mind like the doctor's about its very
stillness, that often lured him farther into it than it
was at all times safe to venture.  Wherever he went,
the others would follow.

Creeping one day through the slumbering woods and
by the broad river's banks, they came suddenly upon a
somewhat elderly chief, who was seated on a rock, with
a fish net depending from a long rod.  In the evening
of his days he was enjoying himself apparently at this
placid sport.  With the exception of beads and bangles,
and his massive crown of feather-adorned hair, he was
naked as the lizards that crawled on the adjoining trees.

Beside him lay bow and arrows and spear, while an
ugly knife was fastened to his girdle of rope.

Our heroes had been a good ten miles into the interior
that day, and were now returning, Kep carrying
specimens of flora and fauna, Stormalong with a wild
pig slung over his back.

Fishing is so civil a pastime that they at once threw
down their burdens and squatted near the fellow.

A more hideous savage Kep had not yet beheld.
Tattooed all over the body, peleles in his ears, a ring
of gold attached to one nostril, and the upper lip slit in
two to show his terrible red-stained triangular teeth.

One glance at that mouth, and his black hide spotted
with red paint, proclaimed him a cannibal.

He clutched his bunch of poisoned arrows, and
started to his feet.

"Sit down, my friend," said McTavish coolly.  "I
could lift you by the neck, man, and throw you across
the boulders into the centre stream.  Sit down, friend,
and tell me all about yourself."

This chief grumblingly obeyed.

He had in his youth been kidnapped to Queensland
and knew the white man's speech.

Strangely enough this fellow, like all who have come
back from civilization to their native fastnesses, are
the fiercest and most wily savages of all.

"What fob you callee me 'fliend'?  I not lub de
Engleese.

"The natives are all friends of mine."

"Ugh!  Dat because you one big woman."

McTavish wore a plain grey kilt and badger-head
sporran.

"By gum!" said Stormalong, laughing, "there is
enough of you, sir, to make two women instead of one."

"You big bigee woman, and lub ebery man.  Dat is
how.  But," he went on, "Fadder-landee[1] much more
goodee as Bleetish man.  Bleetish man wuff--wuff
(rough and unkind), he call me, Gobolohlo, one dam
niggah.  All same Gobolohlo chief from far ober de
mountain."

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.. class:: noindent small

[1] The German Colonist.

.. vspace:: 2

He struck his painted chest with his fist, to show
that he was Gobolohlo, and that he wasn't to be
scorned.

But McTavish appeased him with tobacco, which he
began to tear and chew.

"Fadder-landee," he continued, "he come on soh
(shore) in he boat.  He seek for Gobolohlo in de fah
inteliol (far interior).  He touch Gobolohlo, he gibee
me mooch dlink to dlink, mooch fine baccy, and so I
lub he.

"Den he say to me, Gobolohlo, he say, 'Fadder-landee
not make goodee meat.  Engleese man mooch
fine long-pig.  Fadder-landee no goodee eat.  Taste.'  Den
I take he hand and lick.  Foo--foo.  Bad, bad.[2]  But,
'poh chief,' he tellee me now.  You lookee
pale.  All you fightee men lookee sick.  Go to de
Bleetish side, and get flesh (fresh) air, you soon be
bettah after dat.


[2] This German officer had no doubt rubbed his hands with
quinine.  A good idea when one visits cannibals.


"So, Gobolohlo he come back.  Plenty fightee man
yondeh in de bush."

Soothed by the baccy, Gobolohlo grew more communicative.

"Kill missionaly one day," he told the surgeon confidentially.
"Missionaly fly in bush to hidee he'sef.  But
my walliols dey soon catchee he, and kill fo' rost.  Ah
dat Bleetish missionaly, he make fine pork.  Yum! yum!"

He patted his stomach as he spoke.

McTavish was a man of quick action, when he saw
his duty clear before him.

He hit that cannibal chief clean off the boulder on
which he sat.  And before he woke, our heroes had
bound and gagged him.

"Leave that wild pig," said the doctor quietly,
"and hoist this wilder pig on your broad back, Stormalong.
Why, we've caught the very cannibal who killed
poor Mr. Tain, just three years ago.  And now, lads,
let us to our boat.  We may be attacked at any
moment.  Sly dogs those Germans! but they've played
into our hands this time."

There was about half a mile of open country near
the beach, with a village in its rear, a village of
friendlies.  If they could but reach this, they thought they
would be safe.

However, Kep was sent off in front, to signal the
ship for armed assistance.  Poor lad, he never reached
the shore, and it was not till an hour later that Captain
Breezy noticed that there was mischief on shore.

The ship lay in deep water not far off, and the day
was singularly quiet and still.

Both McTavish and Stormalong, carried two revolvers
each, and the ringing of these, followed by the wild
cries of the attacking cannibals, told its own terrible tale.

Never were boats manned and armed more quickly.
Hardly three minutes had elapsed, before they were
speeding shorewards.

They found the doctor and gunner besieged in the
strongest house of the village, into which they had
dragged their prisoner Gobolohlo.

A message from the ship, in the shape of a shell, that
burst in the rear of the bamboo village, had startled
the savages, who imagining they were being surrounded,
fled into the forest.

Neither McTavish nor his companion were injured.
They had fought with their clubbed rifles, and more
than one dead cannibal lay out there on the street of
sand to prove their prowess.

The bluejackets chased the enemy a long distance,
and giving them pepper, so there was plenty of food
for rats and ants in the woods that night.

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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

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Meanwhile, where was Kep?

Far enough away by this time.  He had been
captured by the cannibals, and borne off inland.
Indeed, in his haste, he had stumbled right into the
arms of natives, who had been hurried to the beach
to try to outflank the doctor.

Gobolohlo was placed in irons in the cells, as soon as
taken on board, and a sentry set to watch him.  No
wild beast ever looked more terrible behind bars than
did this fearful cannibal.

The mountain savages were in full retreat now, back
to the recesses of their own land.  Kep, bound hand and
foot, was carried on a litter in the vanguard, for even
savages have some method in their military madness.

The cannibals kept up their march until nearly midnight,
and at last lit fires, and huge ones they were.

Kep, who knew a little of their language, lay for a
time in a kind of apathetic stupor.  He did not even
feel afraid.  He had been terribly frightened at first,
but knowing what his end must be, and that, as soon
as he was bludgeoned, he would be cooked and eaten,
all fear had fled.  He only hoped it would all be over
quickly.  He even found himself wondering apathetically
on which of the fires the rude gridiron of hard wood
would be placed to receive his body.

Then two of the very wildest and most grotesquely
tattooed savages approached the spot where he lay.
Each had an ugly naked knife in his belt, and one
carried a large wooden bowl.

.. _`"Then two of the very wildest and most grotesquely tattooed savages approached the spot where he lay."`:

.. figure:: images/img-256.jpg
   :figclass: white-space-pre-line
   :align: center
   :alt: "Then two of the very wildest and most grotesquely tattooed savages approached the spot where he lay."

   "Then two of the very wildest and most grotesquely tattooed savages approached the spot where he lay."

They were coming to kill him.  And a knife is so
much more awful than a bludgeon.

He closed his eyes, and shuddered a little.

They murder their victims with coolness, too, these
cannibals.  They are as pitiless, as merciless, as a
butcher slaying a lamb.  They made him sit up now.

"Be quick, be quick," cried the poor lad.  "Oh God,
be quick!"  But Kep was mistaken.

The bowl was not to hold his blood.  It was filled
with a mess of fruit, mixed with cocoa-nut milk, made
by rubbing the kernel down in water.

"Dlink," they told him, and Kep managed to
empty the basin, under threats of instant death if he
refused.

They now felt him all over, and pinched his arms and
legs.  Kep was hard and firm, but carried no fat.
The boy knew the worst now, he was to be fattened
up for a feast.

Tired and weary, he sank into a deep sleep so soon
as his captors had left him, and could hardly remember
all he had come through, when he at last awoke, just
as the red gleams of the newly risen sun shone like fire
among the tallest trees.

Again was he fed.  This time with some sort of grain,
like arrow-root, boiled, and mixed with a little kava.

Camp was then struck, and the march was a long one
of some fifty miles, but during the day, he was fed three
or four times.  And, tied to one of the most brutal-looking
of the savages, was led as if he had been a wild
beast.  He had to walk nearly all the distance.  Luckily
for him, he was strong enough to stand it, else would he
have been clubbed to death.  Hope now began to tell
him a flattering tale?  Was there not a chance of
escape.  It seemed impossible, but----

The thought of it, anyhow, made the poor prisoner
happier.

He had not forgotten his piccolo, the little black flute
that had charmed even cobras.  They had not taken
this away, for he wore that under his jersey, and though
his captors had felt it, they evidently thought it was a
rib.

His couch by night, was made of green boughs, and
his sleep was sound enough.

One day a band of armed savages came shouting to
meet them, and then Kep knew that he had reached
his new home.

The camp that night was at the foot of a mountain,
that towered high and steep for full four thousand feet
into the blue sky.  It was up to the top of this hill he
had to march next morning, and very much surprised
he was when he found himself in the crater of an
extinct volcano.  It was fully a mile in diameter, with a
very large building in the centre.

The village--a very quaint one--was built around
this palace of Gobolohlo.  There he had dwelt with his
two wives, who if they were not widows already, would
very soon be.

The depths of this crater, and even the sides all
around, were covered with bushes and verdure, and
adorned by Nature with the rarest and most beautiful
of flowers.

Now, right to this palace, Kep was dragged, and
introduced to the cannibal queens, who were well clad
in short, bright-coloured frocks of calico, with
feather-fringed skirts.  Both were young, both interesting
looking, and one really pretty.  Their naked ankles
and bare arms were encircled with bands of gold set
with precious stones.

They evidently admired the boy, just as a farmer or
butcher may admire a calf.  For they prodded him
with their little fat forefingers, then laughed scornfully
and shook their heads.

"He not much meat," said the younger queen, in
English.  She had been captured by the recruiters,
when a mere child, and carried to Queensland, but was
sent back in a few years to her own wild island.

"I'm no good to eat at all, your lovely majesty."

"In three weeks' time, though," she smiled.

Then Kep's food was brought, his hands were freed,
and Gobolohlo's queens screamed with laughter to
behold him eat so heartily, which on this occasion he
really did, to please them.

He was ordered to sit down till they should study
him a little longer.

He really appeared to afford great fun to their majesties.

But when he took out his piccolo, and begun to
breathe his griefs and sorrows into that, their mirth
changed into pensive melancholy.  They listened
enraptured.  He changed his tune, and turned on the
sailor's hornpipe.  They were all smiles once more, and
giving the attendants a sign, they withdrew, and in
about half an hour the hall was nearly filled with
dancing flower-adorned cannibal maidens.

It was a strange wild scene, and stranger from the
fact, that in this case, youth and beauty was dressed in
nothing else save flowers and feathers.

At the end of the ball, the younger queen rushed
forward and saluted Kep, by rubbing her nose against
his.

"You good, good, goodee boy," she cried.  "For
tree week you play to me, den----"

"Then what, your majesty?"

"I lub you so much den, dat I eatee you.  Plenty ob
kava and spice--Yum! yum!"

"This is something to look forward to, with a
vengeance," said Kep to himself.

The next two days and evenings, passed in much the
same way.

Their majesties had been told of the capture of their
united husband, but it didn't affect them a great deal.

"Pah!" the younger said, "Gobolohlo good king,
but he not make plenty good meat fo' de Bleetish mans
ob war."

But the very next day, Boona, the younger queen,
seemed very sad, and after the boy had done piping,
she came and squatted beside him.

"You too good foh kill.  All same to-mollow you
be kill and eat."

This was certainly somewhat disquieting news, and
he naturally wanted to know why this change of plans
had come about.

His voice trembled a little as he spoke.

"De oder queen, she hate pooh Boona.  Den she
think I lub you vely mooch.  She de stronger queen,
and so she killee you to-mollow."

Kep could see now that it was a case of jealousy.
Boona laid her naked arm across Kep's shoulder, and
once more rubbed noses.

"Goodeebye," she said; "only I nebber see you mo,
till you dead and roas', and de odder queen, she eatee
all de bes' bits ob my boy.  No let Boona taste."

For the last two or three nights Kep had been allowed
to sleep without the galling fetters, but this
evening he was more strongly bound than ever.

He did not close his eyes once.  He knew the end
had come, and that his messmates would be able only
to guess how he had suffered.

It was late next day, when he was dragged from his
prison, and made to sit down, not far from a bigger fire
than he had yet seen.  And the great grid was being
got ready.

This was all so horrible, that Kep felt going out of his
mind.  He could only close his eyes and pray.

Pray for death; delivery, he believed, was out of the
question.  If they would kill him first; but he had
received the news, very unceremoniously given, that he
was to be stripped, and tied alive to the gridiron, which
would then be lowered over the fire, when the latter
was fierce enough.

He had been too deep in thought, and too distrait--he
felt that he was going mad--to notice a great cloud
that was rising slowly up in the east.

But now the day suddenly grew as dark as night,
and the rain came down in torrents, while thunder
pealed nearer and nearer, the savages looking like
demons in the lightning's glare.

Then Kep remembered no more.  He had fainted away.

When he came to himself again, the darkness all
around was intense.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`FIERCE FIGHTING WITH THE CANNIBALS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXIII


.. class:: center medium bold

   FIERCE FIGHTING WITH THE CANNIBALS

.. vspace:: 2

Impenetrable darkness!  Nothing to be seen.

Not a sound to be heard save now and then
the cry of a night bird far below in the forest, or the
rustle of a lizard in the now dry grass.  He could not
tell the time.  Morning might already be close at hand,
and up from the sea the sun would leap and silver the
trees and the clouds.

Kep trembled when he thought that this day would
surely be his last, and that the fearful death was yet
before him.

List!  It is a step that comes softly nearer and
nearer.  Then he feels warmth on his cheek as some one
by his side whispers in his ear.  "Hushee.  Hush.
No speak me."

Then his bonds are severed with a sharp knife or
dagger and he is free though weak and feeble in his
knees.

"Are you the beautiful queen?"

"I is Boona.  But come alonga me.  You too good,
vely good a boy to eat.  Sides you no fat yet."

He felt himself being led by a soft, soft hand.
Out and away into the blackness of night.  Out
and away through the flowers of the bushes, and up
the crater's craggy side.

"Run, run, we mus' be fah, fah away before the
sun he shinee again.  Run, cause if dey catches we,
bof must die.  I hab jus' kill de ugly old queen."

Despite his gratitude, Kep shivered a little as he
thought that the hand which held his was that of a
murderess, and that the backs of the fingers might
still be stained with human blood.  Yet who was he
that he should judge of or attempt to weigh the sum
of this girl's guiltiness.

In the days of his real boyhood he had been used to
running barefooted in moors and on hills, so he hardly
missed the shoes the savages had stolen from him.

Long before daybreak they were fifteen miles at
least from Cannibal Mountain, and soon they found
themselves on the banks of a broad river.

The queen made Kep rest far up in the green foliage
of a vast spreading tree while she herself ran off to
find food.  She soon returned bringing many kinds
of delicious fruits.  For a while they rested, then
from the bushes close by the river she dragged a light
black canoe, and beckoned him to take his seat.

He did so, and next moment the boat was rapidly
being paddled down the beautiful river.

Kep was too full of thought to take much heed of the
sweet romantic scenery that changed and changed
at every bend of the stream.  But he observed by
looking at the sun and judging the time, that they were
not taking the direction in which the *Breezy* lay.
Sometimes, indeed, they were facing directly east.

This was indeed a mystery.  But he determined
not even to ask the queen, lest he might seem to doubt
her goodness and honesty.

Just one question however he asked.  Did, he
wanted to know, the lovely young queen Boona kill
the ugly old one with her own hands.

"Pah! no," she answered.  "I not hab her black blood
run ober my hands and spit on my booful dless (dress).
No, no, Boona hab plenty fliends in the palace."

She rose higher in his estimation now.  Much
higher.  He was not sitting near a murderess after all.
So now he determined to let things slide.  And thinking
thus, the boy, just where he sat, dropped into a
sound sleep unlike anything he had ever enjoyed before.

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We must be done now with the cannibal chief,
Gobolohlo.  He was tried just there on the beach by
drum-head court martial, sentenced, tied to a tree,
and a volley of rifle bullets fired into him.  His body
was left for the ants to pick.

Meanwhile Jack Stormalong was missed, but before
an hour had passed his manly voice was heard singing
aloud, as he came staggering along, bearing the wild
pig on his back.

"Catch Jack," he said as he flung it down, "leave
a bit o' good food like that to go to waste."

No trace nor trail had the savages left behind, so
Jack Stormalong, who was perfectly at home among
savages, retreated once more, while at the same time
boats were plying hastily twixt ship and shore and a
punitive expedition was being formed.

He was not long in finding a beach-man who knew
the stronghold of Gobolohlo and his queens.  A bargain
was soon struck, and that very night sixty fully
armed bluejackets and marines with one maxim were
on track and trail of the cannibals, and moving
eastwards with all possible speed.

Their route however could not be the same direct
one which the savages had taken but a longer and
easier.

Kivi, the guide, seemed faithful and honest, but he
was very well watched indeed, in case he might lead
the party into an ambush.

Luckily the weather kept fine and clear.  They
were making forced marches.

They passed through or up wide valleys, forded
rivers carrying the maxim, and clambered over bare
hills and plunged into deep, dark forests.

With them they had brought red paint, beads,
calico, sugar, and tinned meats, with trinkets of
Birmingham gold and silver, so that though the wild
natives would take no silver it was easy to barter for
fruit, fowls, or whatever they needed.

The villagers usually retired at first into their
sago-palm dwellings, but were afraid to attack, but a
present brought them to reason, then they swarmed
around the British bluejackets and were only too
familiar.

The doctor or Guilford warned their guide to keep
strict silence.  If he but opened his mouth to speak one
word, they told him he would have his tongue cut out.

Sometimes they had to cut down great trees to form
bridges across the dark deep streams.

It was a hard and hazardous march, which few save
British sailors could have continued with so little sleep.

At one village of unfriendly savages arrows were
fired and spears thrown.  One of the marines was
injured so that it became necessary to stop to fight
these wild fellows.  After a volley or two, however, they
fled howling into the forest.  Only after this the watch
by night was stricter than ever.

There was but little hope, they knew well, of saving
poor Kep, but they were determined to punish the
cannibals, and to know the youth's fate.

One broiling hot day, the sun so fierce that birds
with gaping bills sat silent on the boughs, and the very
lizards panted, they were suddenly confronted by a
tall burly naked savage.  He was as much taken
aback as the sailors themselves.

He let fly an arrow and then turned and fled.  Jack
Stormalong and a first-class boy took up the running
and kept the savage in sight for miles, till he began to
scramble up a high mountain's side, when they
returned.

"Dat am Gobolohlo palace," said their guide, "all
along de mountain top."

"Hurrah!" cried McTavish, and began singing--

   |  Now's the day and now's the hour
   |  See the point of battle lower.

"We may not find the boy," he said to Guilford,
"but I for one feel brimful of fight, and we will at any
rate revenge his death."

They were guided out now on to the open, and after
feeding, it could hardly be called dinner, they started
away across the moor, for that it was in every respect.

Gobolohlo's mountain soon came in view, and then
the front of battle did begin to lower.

The mountain path seemed alive with wildly
gesticulating savages brandishing clubs and spears and
shouting.

They formed themselves into all sorts of grotesque
attitudes too; they crawled or crept like wild beasts,
and one lot on a bit of flat ground stood, one above
the other, in a spear-armed pyramid.

"Bring down that top fellow, Jones," cried Guilford.

Jones was the crack shot of the ship, and one bullet
brought the savage's body right on top of the spears of
his comrades.

The pyramid dissolved itself after that, and presently
a cloud of these blacks came leaping and yelling down.

Three or four volleys were fired and did good service,
but, finding that the rear-guard was pushing on, the
marines had recourse to the maxim, and soon scores
of cannibals were in a heap, wounded or dead, and the
rest were flying for their lives up the mountain side.

There was only one gateway or rent in the mountain
top to give admission to the crater, and this was
stoutly held.

Showers of arrows came pouring down and several
of the *Breezy's* men fell.

A charge was made now with fixed bayonets, and the
officers' revolvers begun to do their deadly work.

But in less than ten minutes the gangway, as Stormalong
called it, was carried and the enemy were in full
flight down into the crater.  The bluejackets and
marines must follow up their victory till it became
a permanent one.  This they did with splendid heroism,
but the foe had rallied, and at one time it was touch
and go with the athlete McTavish and Stormalong.
They were completely surrounded, but they stood back
to back, and fought like lions at bay, the surgeon with
his broadsword, Jack with his great pet cutlass.

It was a grand but terrible sight, and both sides
paused, as if by common consent, to witness it.

Here was brawny Scotland and brave England
fighting back to back in the same cause, turning round
and round as they hung together, and showering their
blows like wintry rain.

Guilford declared afterwards that no less than five
men were cloven to the shoulders by the claymore of
McTavish.

The fight on the side of the cannibals was but feebly
sustained after this; and when the maxim was once
again brought into play the dusky warriors turned
and fled.

They could be seen on the ridge of the crater escaping,
and many were shot and their bodies rolled over the
hilltop.  The whole place was then cleared and sentries
set to guard the gangway.

Expecting a night attack, no fires were built, and the
men laid themselves down and slept, tired and weary
enough, till at last the sun appeared over the rim of
the crater and saw them safe.

Their own casualties were but small, though seven
poor fellows would never see the chalky cliffs of dear
old England again.

These were solemnly borne down to be buried far
in the forest shade where no foe would ever find them.
The wounded were helped along.

They could find no trace of Kep, except the awful
grid on which he was to have been roasted.  This they
smashed to pieces, the king's castle was fired, then
slowly and sadly the long march back was commenced.

The guide took them a nearer way now.  There was
little danger from enemies and nothing else to be
feared.

McTavish took the very greatest care of his wounded,
and on their account solely he would not permit the
march homewards to be hurried.  The worst cases
were carried on litters.

There would have been plenty of time even to collect
specimens.  But somehow the honest Scot, whose heart
was the quintessence of kindness, never once left camp
for that purpose.

He had become strangely attached to Kep.  He was
certainly a lovable lad, and besides there was still the
mystery about him which had not yet been cleared
up.  Indeed, McTavish knowing that any reference
thereto appeared to hurt the boy's feelings, refrained
from making any attempt to do so.

When they had reached a spot within about ten
miles of the beach shortly before sunset one evening,
a halt was called for the night, and the guide, who
appeared to know nothing of fatigue, was started on
ahead to announce the tidings of their arrival.  He
was to remain on board as the rest of the track was
familiar enough to both McTavish and Jack Stormalong.

All hands were glad of a good night's rest.  The
wounded were doing well, and the very worst cases
could now walk.

So after breakfast next day, all hands feeling happier
now at heart, the journey was resumed beachwards.

McTavish, trudging sturdily ahead of the troop, had
just issued from the forest and sighted the *Breezy*.

She had never looked more beautiful in his eyes, nor
had the sunshine on the soft waters, but the flag was
flying half mast, and McTavish knew by this that the
guide had told the tale of grim fighting and death.

But he started back in amazement to see marching
as slowly along the beach as lovers twain, a handsome
young gentleman and a gaily dressed brown woman.

"By George!"  That is what McTavish exclaimed.
But Jack who had just joined him put it stronger.

"By thunder!" he roared, "if that ain't Charlie
Bowser himself, all alive low and aloft, may the winds
of heaven split my bally old bags."

And Kep it was without a doubt, as smiling and as
saucy as ever.

He and Boona hurried up to meet the returning
heroes, and the shaking of hands and British cheering
that ensued was such as had certainly never been
heard before on these lonely shores.

"And now," said Kep, as soon as silence was partially
restored, "now Dr. McTavish and Lieutenant Guilford,
with your permissions, I will present you to Queen
Boona, widow of the late Gobolohlo, whose skeleton
now adorns yonder tree stem."

With much solemnity both officers lifted their caps
and bowed with befitting dignity.

"She's a deuced handsome girl, anyhow," cried
Guilford laughing, and the doctor nodded.  He felt
very happy now and still more so when Kep handed
him a parcel containing his instrument.  He laughed
at the strange conceit of his boy friend, but willingly
tuned up, and so they marched to the boats to the
wild skirl of the great Highland bagpipe.

As they passed the tree at the foot of which Gobolohlo
expiated his crimes, Kep pointed to the bleached
skeleton that rattled in the breeze.  It had been
wired and fixed up on chains, and above it a large
board on which were painted the words--

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: center white-space-pre-line

   Here hangs
   The mortal remains of King Gobolohlo,
   Who was shot for
   Murder and Cannibalism,
   By
   The Crew of His British Majesty's ship *Breezy*.
   God save the King!

.. vspace:: 2

But when Boona smiling curtsied to the skeleton,
there was some laughing in the ranks.  "Good goodee
bye, ole Gobolohlo, goodee bye," she cried.  "I is
goin' back to Queensland.  Not mourn long foh you.  Pah!"

Then she flung a kiss from her chubby fingers at the
grinning skeleton, took Kep by the arm, and marched
cheerfully down to the boats.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`"GOOD HEAVENS, THIS IS MY SISTER MADGE!"`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXIV


.. class:: center medium bold

   "GOOD HEAVENS!  THIS IS MY SISTER MADGE"

.. vspace:: 2

The *Breezy* was back once more in the grand old
harbour of Sidney.  The mails from home had
come on board and been distributed.  It was the
reading, thinking hour on board, which invariably
comes, and comes immediately, after news from England
has reached a ship of war on a far-off foreign
station.

Everyone on board had retired with his own letters
into his own cabin, den, or cosy corner.  Everybody
in fact seemed to evince a desire to be as remote, for
the time being, from everybody else, as possible.

But gradually, on this bright and sparkling day, with
the bonnie white flag aloft, draping itself on the breeze
in every conceivable shape of beauty, the ship returned
to its ordinary equanimity.

Captain Breezy came now quietly into the ward-room.
He was smiling bashfully somewhat.  Trying in fact
to hide the pleasure afloat and flowing in his heart,
that couldn't be controlled.

Every face was turned towards him.

"Ordered home, sir?"

"Ordered home.  Yes."

"Hurrah!"  And the good news spread like wildfire
from end to end of the ship.  All hands had it, from
ward-room to galley, from the officer on watch to the
cook's slush boy.  Ordered home!

Yet mingled with the joy that was general, was one
little blue thread of sadness.  In storm or tempest, in
fair weather or foul, for three long years and a half, the
broadsword-men of the *Breezy* had hung together.  Their
dangers had been one another's on sea or land, and
they had fought shoulder to shoulder in many a bloody
tulzie, and a spirit of camaraderie had always pervaded
the ship, walked the decks, and dwelt in the hearts of
the crew.  The *Breezy* had been to them a real home
and a happy one at that, a home on the ocean wave.
But in a few weeks, they would all be sundered.

Ah, well, such is life to our sailors.

McTavish himself had few letters.  Principally from
his sisters and the old folks at home.

Nor were Kep's letters very stirring this time.
Madge had not yet married the wealthy old man.
Father had become settled as it were.  Was falling
more easily into the new groove, and really, Madge said,
life in a cottage by the sea was rather nice than
otherwise.  "But," she added, "father is longing, and I
am longing, for our dear boy and his piccolo back home
again to cheer our hearts."

With Madge's letter in his pocket and a photo in it
sent to show how she looked at twenty, Kep went
below to the doctor's cabin and glided in.  His friend
was sitting there, lonesome-looking enough, and gazing
at a carte intensely, earnestly, in the uncertain light.

"Do I interrupt?"

"No, no, dear boy.  Sit you down."

"Mac--may I see that?"

"Oh! it is but a romance and dream I had.  It is
gone now, and people seldom dream the same dream
over again, much though they might desire to."

Kep pulled out his letter and the two exchanged
pasteboards.

Both started, as if stung.

"Good heavens!" cried the boy, "this is my sister
Madge!"

"And this also is your sister Madge!"

Then hand clasped hand and there was moisture
in the eyes of both.

"And I am Keppel Drummond."

"Fool and dolt I was not before to have guessed it."

"But, McTavish, though very young when she
met you, she had a romance, and her romance was
yours, Mac.  She never told me your name, but now I
see it all, all clearly."

The two sat down as if under the same impulse, and
there, in the cabin alone, Kep told the doctor all his
strange story from beginning to end and all his longings
as a boy and ambitions as well.

McTavish was silent for a time.  He was thinking
out the whole situation.  Then his duty seeming to
stand out before him clearly and distinctly, he stood
up.  "Keppel," he said, "don't you think you had
better tell the Captain all this?  I do not wonder now
that you thought fit to conceal your name from us.
You believed you were doing right; so, I think, you
were.  You were acting honourably in hiding from the
world that you were the only son of Iverach Drummond,
of Martello Castle, because he was moving in the
highest society and you were--well, cleaning knives
and boots.  But now all that is altered.  You have by
your energy and grit attained to a honourable position
as interpreter to a King's ship, while on the other hand
your father is now living under a cloud--for a time.
Let us hope it is only for a time, Keppel.  But now
you are going to let me introduce you to the ward-room
and gun-room officers as the blue-blooded boy, we have
all of us, always, believed you to be.  But first and
foremost let us see Captain Breezy, than which a
better fellow never lived."

The Captain was in his own quarters, when, passing
the sentry, McTavish knocked and entered.

Very much interested indeed was he, when Kep
briefly retold his story.

To their astonishment the Captain got slowly up from
his chair, and took a Yorkshire weekly newspaper from
his pile.  Then he touched a button and Adolph
himself entered.

"I am not to be disturbed," he said, "until I ring
again.  That is all."

And Adolph retired.

"An article in this paper caught my eye, strange to say,
only a few minutes ago, but I hardly glanced at it.  I
think I can now read it to you with some degree of
interest.  It is called

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: center

   "A SECRET OF THE SEA.

.. vspace:: 1

"A story was current three or four years ago
concerning the mate of a clipper-built Australian barque
or ship, who, on his return home about three years ago,
boasted of the possession of a large nugget or rather
bar of gold.  The story he told about it was that
being sent on shore one day to bring off some fruit
from an uninhabited island in the South Seas he
picked up this lump of gold, which it was evident had
lain in the water for a period of many years.

"'Where there was one there must more,' he said,
and as soon as he could charter a ship he could raise
the sunken treasure and become a millionaire.  As he
never let his friends handle the nugget, if nugget of
gold it was, and as he was somewhat dissipated in his
mode of life, he got no one to believe him.  He had lost
his ship owing to drunkenness while in charge of a
watch and hadn't found another.

"Reduced at last to penury he determined to pawn
his nugget, and for that purpose it seems he visited
his uncle as the saying is.  The pawn-broker was a
shrewd old Jew.  But although he called the nugget
a mere trinket, he was glad to offer money on it
nevertheless.  Not enough, however, to satisfy the
man, who picked up the sea-worn gold and quickly
left the shop.  He was followed at once to his lodgings
and the address taken.

"A few nights after this he was waited upon not by
one Jew but two.

"They had been, they said, thinking over his story,
and were willing to advance a considerable sum not on
the bit of gold, but if the ex-mate would show them
a chart and give the exact latitude and longitude of
the unknown island.

"A magnum of champagne was sent for and they
three talked over the matter.

"But the mate's ultimatum was this: he refused to
give the position of the island, but would take command
of the search-ship, and the Jews should have half of all
the gold, the other to be his unreservedly.

"Before coming to terms one of the Jews hazarded
a last shot.  Doubtless, he said, they could find the
latitude and longitude from some of the others that
had been on board the barque at the time.

"The mate helped himself to more wine.  He was a
man who could fill his hold without fear of his ballast
shifting.

"'That you won't,' he said.  'I knew the only
two young fellows that had the secret.  One was a
steward, the other a ship's cook's slush boy.  Both,
I've heard, were killed by cannibals, and I alone possess
the secret, which I means to stick to, till I find more
generous partners than you.  Good-night.'

"But it seems the mate's last shot told home.

"'Brother,' said the elder, 'let us accept this
honest fellow's offer at once.  We'll get out the ship
then, though it will take a bit of time, and my brother
and I will both go out in her.  We'd like a bit of fresh
air, anyhow.'

"Well," the article went on, "extraordinary as the
story is it is a true one.  The ship is a great object of
interest to the residents of Cardiff, and will be all ready
to leave in four months' time.  She is a strongly built
Aberdeen clipper, not large but well armed, and even
carries a quick firer, trouble with savages being feared."

"Keppel, I fear," said Captain Breezy, "they will
have the weather gauge of you.  But I am interested
and will see the Admiral of this station about other
matters and take his opinion on this at the same time.
Meanwhile you had better say nothing about the
sunken treasure.  Let this be our secret."

"One word, sir," said Kep, "for you are no doubt
a trifle wiser than I."

The Captain couldn't help smiling at the lad's pretty
conceit.

"Suppose I found those in this city willing at once
to start in search of this sunken treasure, to whom
would it belong when raised?  To the Crown?"

"Certainly not, boy; but to you, unless the owners
came back from the grave.  And not only the gold,
but the islands themselves, as you were the first
inhabitant and it is no portion of British territory.  No,
the gold would be indisputably yours and Adolph's,
your shipwrecked fellow Crusoe.  You may go now.
I have many matters to think about."

So Captain Breezy had, but he was a brisk, determined
man.  He lighted his cigar now and leaned back
in his easy chair, and began to arrange his ideas.

"That's what I'll do," he said to himself at last.

Next minute the Captain's gig was called away, and
it did not take him long to board the flagship.

He transacted all his business coolly and soon had
his papers all signed and his instructions to weigh
anchor and sail for home any day he pleased.  Then
he told him Kep's story and all about the treasure.

"And a son of Iverach Drummond.  Why, dear old
Drummond and I were at school together.  I'm surprised,
but I'm glad for Keppel's sake, or at least I
should be if things go right with him."

"But about the other ship that is fitted out?"

"We'll send a cablegram at once home to hear
about it."

They did and the answer came in reasonable time to
the effect that the barque *Fortuna*, having engines on
board, or what is called auxiliary steam-power, had
sailed a month ago by Suez, bound for the South
Sea Islands.

"A month ago.  Why, Breezy," cried the Admiral, "you
can beat her yet, and beat her easily unless you break
down.  It's only a matter of a few weeks' delay.  I'll
make that all right, and you have my permission now
to go anywhere on your way home and do just as you
please."

"A thousand thanks, sir.  I shall soon speak my fond
farewells to Sidney city, and be under weigh and on the
wing by to-morrow forenoon.  It may be a bit of a
race between the *Breezy* and the *Fortuna*, but I think
I know who will win, sir."

"Good morning.  Shall be happy to hear from you."

And back to the *Breezy* went bold Captain Breezy.

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: center white-space-pre-line

   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

.. vspace:: 1



That evening and night all farewells were said to
those on shore.  The broadsword-men of the *Breezy*
had a good send off and left Sidney homeward bound
next forenoon at four bells.

Said Jack Stormalong to a brother gunner as the
ship got well away from the shore, "Ned, my old
shippie, we're homeward bound, you know, but there's
something in the wind, and I'm ready to bet my best
new jacket to a pint o' tar that we won't touch
England's happy shores for months to come yet."

"On with you," said Ned.  "I'll have your swagger
jacket or you'll have my pint o' tar with a cinder in it
for luck."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A GREAT OCEAN RACE--"GODDARD BEGAN TO SHOOT"`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXV


.. class:: center medium bold

   A GREAT OCEAN RACE.--"GODDARD BEGAN TO SHOOT"

.. vspace:: 2

It wasn't only Jack Stormalong and his chum who
"kind o' felt" there was something in the air
but all hands.  There was, maybe, going to be a fight
with a pirate, or more savages were coming to the
front, or war was declared against Germany; but
they didn't mind, and A.B.'s said to each other:
"We may be content if it ain't straight home, old
pal.  We'll git there some time."

"And the more months, the more money, eh?"

But there was no grumbling.  Even little Sneyd,
the Acting Paymaster, forbore to growl.

The Captain studied the chart, and sailed east and
away with a point or two of south in it after they
rounded Australia.  Making all calculations, he believed
he could reach the island some days at all events
before the *Fortuna*, who must already have reached
the straits of Java, or be about the south end of
Borneo.  No one could guess what the mate, who was
now, of course, captain of the sail-search-of-fortune
barque might do.

Now that they were fairly away at sea, there was
no harm in all hands knowing the meaning of the
enterprise.

It was not merely a voyage they were making, but
they were engaged in a great ocean race, and there
was therefore a good deal of excitement fore and aft.
But all felt sure of winning.

The engineers were advised to make the best of each
day's journey, but to exercise the greatest care.  For
to breakdown in these seas might prove a terrible
calamity from every point of view.

The engines worked splendidly under the almost
continual attention of the engineer-lieutenant.  They
were beautiful pets, these of his.  He was never
happier than when he was down among them, talking
to them and touching them as if they were sentient
beings, things of life as well as beauty.

Once or twice during the long, long voyage the
engines had been suddenly stopped, and the hearts of
those on board seemed to stop with them.  When
they went on again, however, no sweeter sound ever
fell upon their ears than the hum of the polished wheels.

They were delayed for a time by a circular storm.
In just such a hurricane many and many a good
ship has foundered with all hands, and never more
will be heard of them till the sea gives up its dead.
But all was soon right again.

When in the South Seas constant watch had to be
kept from the mast-head for shoal water, and greater
caution had to be observed by night.

This was a trying time in a great ocean race like
this.

But the depth of the sea increased at last, and they
were now quite out of the ordinary ocean highways,
though they at times crossed them and met ships.

They hailed every one of them in the usual way.
They spoke them, as sailors say.

They might have been about three days' steam from
the islands they were in search of.

Adolph had most carefully retained the position of
Great Snake Island, but still there might have been
an error in calculation made by the first mate of the
*Wampiri*.  He was a steady man then, though drinking
when off duty, and so this was improbable.

He tried to be steady during the present voyage of
the *Fortuna*, and touched no spirits nor wines for a
time.  He knew right well how much he had at stake,
and was cautious.

He himself, moreover, saw to all calculations and
made reckonings, and on the whole, as his two Jewish
owners remarked, a more trustworthy and reliable
sailing master could not have been found.  This for
the first five weeks.

The broadswords of the *Breezy* began to be a little
anxious when next day passed and no *Fortuna* hove
in sight.  She must have already found the islands, and
her crew by now must have commenced the work of
diving.

But about an hour after sunrise next day every
heart was gladdened by the appearance, far away on
the weather bow, of a barque under steam and easy
sail, answering exactly to the right build of the *Fortuna*.
They overhauled her easily.  Indeed, they were
coming up hand over hand in her wake, then keeping off
a point or two, the *Breezy* hailed her.

"What vessel is that?"

Everyone on the *Breezy* held his breath to listen.

"The *Fortuna*!"

At the word a little cheer had to be repressed on
board the man-o'-war.

"Bound for the Horn, and home."

"So are we.  We'll be there before you, though.
Can we take letters?"

"No, thanks."

"*Bon voyage* then."

"*Bon voyage!*"

"Hurrah!" said Wynn.  "No doubt we'll be
there before her in more ways than one."

But next day, no ship being then in sight, the glass
indicated a depression, the clouds rolled up till the
horizon was close aboard of them, and somehow or
another the broadswords' hearts went down with the
falling glass.  In dirty weather like what was coming
anything might happen to mar their success.

It really gave the *Fortuna* almost as good a chance
of reaching the island first as the *Breezy*.

The gale was at its height when the sable plumes of
night trailed over the sea.

The *Breezy* was making good knotage, but, fearful
that she might pass the small islands in the darkness,
they were obliged to stop ship.

Yet this storm appeared to have driven the *Breezy*
out of her way.  There were both winds and currents
to reckon with.

It was terribly tantalising, and just so near game
too.  But towards the middle of the morning watch
sea and wind went down, the stars shone out, and the
red fire of the rising sun opened a splendid day.

Probably this storm and the fact of the *Breezy*
having been drifted to leeward saved the situation,
for there--not two miles ahead--was the Island of
Snakes itself, and no *Fortuna* in sight.

They sailed round this that they might recall the
wrecked *Macbeth*, and enable Kep and Adolphus to
take their bearings.

They found the spot, but the ship of death lay
crushed and broken among the rocks.

It was easy for Kep now to point out the route to
the little inlet where the treasure ship had been sunk,
and in a couple of hours they had reached it.

No time was lost in sending a boat on shore.

It was the captain's gig, Captain Breezy himself on
board her, with Kep and Adolph and McTavish.
Everything above seemed precisely the same as when
Kep and his comrade had left it years ago.

"But how about the treasure ship?" said Captain
Breezy.

"Well, sir," replied Kep, "she ought to be just
down there among the weeds.  But I can soon see.
I can dive down as I did before."

"But is there not a danger of your becoming
entangled among the deep sea weeds and drowned?"

"I was entangled last time, sir, though I did not
tell Adolph when I got up; so maybe, sir, I might
have a bit of a life-line round me this time.  I don't
want to die to-day, sir, anyhow."

A pole had been brought on shore with a British
flag, in order that they might hoist it and so take
possession of the island in the King of Britain's name.

This pole and flag would do capitally.  In less than
a minute Kep was back again with another bar of
gold, which he placed at the captain's feet.

He was gasping a bit, but soon recovered.

"All is just as I left it, sir," he said.

Then there was a ringing cheer from the men on
shore, responded to heartily by those on board.

"We'll hoist the flag-pole now," cried Breezy, and
the men quickly drove the halliard through the pulley
and set to work to step the mast.  In a quarter of an
hour all was ready for the ceremony.

But McTavish now boldly stepped forward.  "I
don't think, sir," he said, "that the flag should be
hoisted till the sunken ship is cleared."

"And why, my worthy doctor?"

"Well, sir, so long as this island belongs to Keppel
here and Adolph, they can do as they please with it
and all in it and round it.  But as soon as the *Union*
Jack is hoisted the island becomes the King's--God
bless him!--with all its appurtenances; all above
ground and all below becomes treasure-trove, flotsam,
jetsam, ligan, or whatever other puzzling names a
man of law chooses to put on them."

Captain Breezy laughed.  "You're right, doctor.
Dash it, doctor, I'll take your advice; but I had no
idea we had a sea-lawyer on board of the *Breezy*, else
we could have consulted him in many a difficulty
before now."

"Sail in sight!"

The hail came from the tops of the ship itself, but
could be heard distinctly enough by those on shore.

"That's the *Fortuna* again.  Let her come now we
have anchored the *Breezy* on Keppel's Isle, and I don't
think we'll sever till we see what is below yonder."

The *Fortuna* could be distinctly seen now coming at
full speed towards the bay.

"We'll go on board and get things ready.  Adolph,
you may remain here for a short time.  You are the
man in possession, and we shan't forget you.  Tumble
in, boys!"

Once on board preparations to get to work were
commenced immediately.

The great diving-bell was overhauled to see that
everything was in perfect order.

"I guess," said little Sneyd, the A.-P., as he came
bustling into the ward-room, "we're going to have
some real good fun with that scoundrel of a skipper
on the *Fortuna*."  He continued, "Kep, my lucky
youngster, you are to keep out of sight below and
not appear until you get the signal.  But you'd better
be half way up the companion ladder so that you
can't be seen.  That's what your orders are, and if
the skipper comes on board the rest of us are to be
on the quarter-deck."

Two boats were called away, and, after being manned
and armed, lay easily at the shore side of the *Breezy*.
They might be wanted; if so, they had their orders,
one under the charge of Guilford, the other
commanded by a midshipmite.

There is no doubt the skipper of the *Fortuna* smelt
a rat, but he determined to face every difficulty.  The
two Jews were nervous and excited.  Indeed, they
had already come to open rupture with Goddard.

"If, Captain G.," they told him, "you have fooled
us, and we are foiled, we shall maroon you on the
nearest uninhabited island, with a keg of rum and a
small barrel of salt herrings.  Won't we, Moses?"

The skipper took no further notice of the *Breezy*,
but stepped into the boat he had lowered and, hoisting
the red ensign astern, ordered his fellows to pull to
the point within five hundred yards of Golden Inlet.

"Lieutenant Guilford," cried Captain Breezy, "be
off now, and see that yonder fellow doesn't land with
his flag.  I think I know what he is up to, so bring
them here, boat and all."

"Ay, ay, sir.  Down oars lads.  Cheerily does it,
and this is race number two in the programme.  The
winner to receive a bottle of rum."

"Hooray!"  Away they went.

But there were good British tars in the *Fortuna's*
boat also.

"Up with her, lads; up with her with a will!"
Goddard was heard shouting.  "We'll beat the
beggars yet."

Sturdy and strong as the man-o'-war's men were,
they had twice as far to pull, and could never have
done the distance, but away went a shot from the
*Breezy*.  It was splendidly aimed by Stormalong
himself, and took the water close to the port bow of the
Fortunes boat, treating all on board to a most
disheartening shower-bath.

"Game's up!" cried Goddard.  "In oars, boys.
The next shot would sink us."

Then the war-boats got alongside.

"Whither away, my hearty," cried Guilford.

"I am the captain of the *Fortuna*.  Yonder is my
island, and I'm going to land there and take possession
in the King's name."

"You may save yourself the trouble.  We ourselves
have virtually annexed it.  But we've got to take you
back to H.M.S. *Breezy* now, Mr. Master-mariner.  Are
you going to come quietly?"

"Suppose I must, but don't imagine I'm going to
take it lying down."

"Don't care how you take it, skipper.  You may
take cold without, if you choose, or if you prefer it
hot--you can have that."

"I shall not give orders to pull a stroke," cried
Goddard.

Guilford pulled out two revolvers.  "Up hands, in
the King's name!" he shouted as he stood in the
bows.

Up hands it was, and the boat was taken in tow,
and soon her men were safe on board the *Breezy*.

"Show Mr. Goddard aft," cried Breezy.  "Midshipman
of the watch."

The middy was a merry little boy, and this is the
polite way he showed the gentleman aft.

"Luff, you lubber," he cried, "and if ye dare to
back sail or heave to before you stand before the
captain of this ship, I'll stick a pin in your hip right
up to the hilt.  March!"

"Now, Mr. Goddard, I hope for your own sake you
will not give trouble, else it will be your own fault if
anything occurs.  You came to look for a sunken
treasure ship?" began Captain Breezy.

"Yes, Cap'n, and yonder is the treasure island on
which I was landed for fruit.  I was therefore first
owner, and there I dredged up this bar of gold,
therefore the rest of it is mine by rights."

The two stood now in the waist of the ship, confronting
each other, with the rest of the officers near,
and Goddard's own surly men looking on.

"Mr. Keppel Drummond!"

Kep was by the captain's side in two bounds.

"I'd be sorry," he said, "to use an ugly word on
the deck of the King's ship, so I shall speak in the
mildest and calmest language possible."

Goddard had turned pale.

Kep raised his fist and his voice at the same time.
"Goddard," he yelled, "you are not only a liar, but
a thief.  Hand me the gold."

Goddard was crushed, and parted company with
the nugget as a whipped schoolboy might have done.

"If you do not now apologise to this young gentleman,"
said Breezy, "for the injury you would have
done him, I will lodge you in our cells, and hand you
over to the police the moment we return to England."

Goddard tried to smile, but in vain.

"You see, young sir, you was eaten by cannybiles."

"Never one put a tooth in me," cried Kep.

"And was in consequence dead."

"I was never dead in all my life."

"And now," moaned Goddard, "I'm done for.  My
owners will maroon me."

He talked so sadly, that Captain Breezy felt a bit
sorry for him.

"We'll take care they don't maroon you, Mr. Goddard.
If you will lie to for a couple of days
between the Isle of Snakes yonder and Keppel's Isle
here, you may or you may not hear of something to
your advantage.  Please yourself, Master-mariner.
Good day."

Everything was ready that day, a raft rigged and
attached thereto the huge diving-bell, and at early
morning, in the short twilight, for the island lies well
down south, the men commenced work right gaily.

The *Fortuna* was hove to about three miles from the
shore.

The men in the bell were as busy as bonnet-makers,
Kep and McTavish roaming over the island accompanied
by two bluejackets.

It was not snakes that the brawny surgeon was in
search of this time, but Kep had suggested that the
crew of the sunken treasure might have made some
effort to get a portion of the gold on shore, and there
was not a yard of the island anywhere within a mile of
the creek or inlet that they did not search.  But all
in vain, and ere twilight fell, they were back to dinner
on board the *Breezy*.

The news was most exhilarating.  The bell had been
most effective.  The men could see everything, and
work from inside with levers, or, entering a chamber
beneath, get out and walk about the bottom of the
sea itself.  This work was first executed, and the
old galleon, evidently Spanish, was cleared of weeds,
and a space many yards all around her; then these
were dragged away up the creek, and the divers had a
clear field for investigation.  No less a sum than
£50,000 in gold bars and doubloons were sent up the first
day, in boxes weighing about two hundred pounds each.

The *Breezy* spent seven days more at the work,
during which time all the men did their duty well and
heartily.

The ship was finally blown to pieces on the ocean's
bed, and every piece of her was examined.  In one
box were many precious stones of great value.

On the third day Stormalong was sent to tell the
skipper of the *Fortuna* about the wreck that lay on
the other island.

The two brothers, the Jewish gentlemen, received
him most affably.  The skipper himself was sulky,
and gave evidence that he had once more resorted
to the rum cask to drown his sorrows and keep up
his heart.

"But there are good men and true on board, only
they are timid and over-awed by the bad hats among
the crew."  This is what Moses told Stormalong.
"These are mutinous even already."

"If you want any help," said the gunner heartily,
"I am sure that our Captain Breezy will be glad to
let you have it."

"This voyage," the Jew said, "will almost ruin us.
But we willingly accept your aid.  It is thus with my
brother and me: the only way we can save our lives
after you leave is by destroying the brandy and the
rum, leaving only enough for a smell for the captain
and each man, to be doled out daily."

"Now," said Stormalong, "I see how it is.  The
men sailed, poor beggars, with high hopes of getting
rich, and they think they will have to go home in
ballast.  But they need not.  The derelict is worth
a deal to you.  Give the men work; break her up
and load up her brass work and iron, her best timbers,
and everything else of value."

"Goot! goot! goot!" cried Moses, forgetting his
best English.

"Meanwhile, we will send an armed boat on board.
We will take your grog and wine and pay you for it."

"Goot!"

"I'm only *saying* this, but I feel sure I will get
leave to."

"Goot! goot!"

"You may also dredge the wreck yonder, and if
you find more gold after we leave, you are welcome
to it."

"Goot! goot! goot!"

The surgeon came off next time in an armed boat.
With the men growling all around, they coolly
lowered the grog into the steam launch.

When his back was turned, the skipper suddenly
pulled out a revolver and began to shoot.

He was speedily secured and bound.  Then they
left him raving.  For the time being the man was mad.

After returning to the *Breezy* the doctor reported
what had happened.  A bullet had cut the gunner
on the shoulder, and so close had the revolver been
fired, that part of the poor fellow's jacket was burned.

Breezy immediately gave orders that Goddard
should be taken on board and placed in the cells.  He
died raving mad just three days after, and so that
was the end of *his* story.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`SOMETHING EXTRAORDINARY HAPPENED`:

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   CHAPTER XXVI


.. class:: center medium bold

   SOMETHING EXTRAORDINARY HAPPENED

.. vspace:: 2

Of gold and precious stones the men of the *Breezy*
had lifted quite two millions and two hundred
thousand pounds' worth.

And the happy ship was homeward bound in earnest.
Joy fore and aft.  Ah, you landsmen, cannot easily
understand the feeling in a sailor's heart; whose every
footstep, as he walks the quarter-deck, seems to draw
nearer and nearer to the bold bluff coast of Southern
Britain.

Before they reached Rio de Janeiro, where Captain
Breezy had orders to call and where letters for the
crew were expected, Kep and Adolphus had a little
private meeting and confab.  They settled money
matters between them, and then Keppel Drummond
sought audience of the captain, asking permission for
Adolph to come with him.

This was gladly granted, and the interview was but
a short one.

"It seems, sir," said Kep, "that treasure will pan
out to £2,200,000, and if so----"

"Oh, Kep, my lad," interrupted Breezy, "it will
do more than that."

"Well, sir, this money belongs to Adolph and me,
does it not?"

"Every penny, Keppel."

Kep then told him of his father's grief and illness
from his downfall from Martello Castle to a small
cottage by the sea, and how he, Kep, meant to set up
his daddy and sister in their former state, and to do
all he could to make his life happy.

"Adolphus here will, no doubt," he continued,
"know what to do with his.  And now, sir, I have
only to ask that we may have the pleasure and honour
of distributing all but the two millions to the officers
and men of the ship."

Breezy grasped Kep by the hand and then Adolph.
He was visibly affected.

"Let it be divided, as usual, with prize-money, only
in this case your share, sir, must not be less than
£50,000; nor any man's less than £1,000."

A public meeting was held next day, on the quarterdeck,
all hands being called to hear the gladsome
tidings.  And I need not say that the cheering was
such as is seldom heard on board a navy cruiser or
battle-ship.  Then the little band struck up; both
Kep and Adolph were picked up and carried shoulder
high around the deck, even the bayoneted sentries
saluting as they passed.

It happened to be Saturday night, and so in good old
fashion the main-brace was spliced and wives and
sweethearts drank right joyfully.

They rounded the Horn in rough and tumbling
weather, and in course of time reached Rio, the most
beautiful and romantic city on the coast of South
America.  Almost as splendid with its surroundings
of mountains and glens as Edinburgh itself.

Captain Breezy would have liked to have given the
men and officers leave, but considering that they were
now a treasure ship, and that men who take grog on
shore are apt to open their minds too confidentially,
he stopped all leave, and the ship was coaled from
lighters.

He went on shore himself, taking only Kep and
Adolph with him.

Yes; letters were here for all hands.

But terrible news as well, for Britain had just
declared war on Russia and Germany, and dispatches
from the Admiralty warned the captain that cruisers
from each nation were scouring the seas and damaging
or destroying British commerce.

He, the Captain, was to keep a good look-out day
and night on his way home.

The news on board was received with an outbreak
of cheering, and every man on board was full of fight,
and trusted they would soon meet a Russian cruiser.

Captain Breezy had no need to remind them that
they were a treasure ship, and that if they fell into the
hands of the foe short indeed would be their shrift, and
all the gold and precious stones would fall into the
hands of the enemy.

Britain at war!  Who could have dreamed of such
a thing.  On the ward-room and gun-room officers the
tidings fell like a bolt from a summer sky.

Meanwhile all hands took to reading their letters.
Some few were sad, but all the rest were filled with
joy and hope.

Kep's heart was filled with feelings of love and
gratitude as soon as his eyes fell upon the well-known
handwriting of his sister.

In a former letter he had mentioned to her all about
the photo of hers that the good and brave Dr. McTavish
had shown him.  It was he, Kep said, that had been
the hero of her little romance in Italy.

And this was Madge's letter in return, or at least a
portion of it.  Kep had retired to the privacy of his
own cabin and easy chair in order to read it.

"DEAR OLD KEP,--For you must, like myself, be
getting old now.  Would you believe it that I, your
little sister, am on the borders of twenty, and not the
green side of the border either, but the other.  It was
sweet of you to write me so long a letter.  Quite
brotherly too, and in some parts a bit bluff, but I
loved it for all that.

"Do you know, Kep, that for dear Daddy's sake I
was greatly tempted to let him sell me to the rich old
man.  I am often sorry for father.  This villa is
charmingly pretty, and its flowery lawns flow as it
were, down almost to the edge of the cliff.  But father
sits in his chair sometimes for an hour thinking,
thinking.  I fill his meerschaum for him, and he dreams
and dreams of his dear old home till he nods and
sleeps.

"We have many neighbours; but though very kind,
they are of the commoner middle classes, and though
we don't entertain except to tea, I often have them
and they me.

"The village where we live is on Cornish shores, and
is well named Maretown (but the people don't sound
the *e*, and pronounce it Mairtown).  The beauty of
the bay on an early summer morning is indescribable.
Below the cliffs, which are yellowed o'er with scented
furze and many a lovely wild flower, the wavelets
break when the tide is high over the black rocks
at the foot, with a strange murmur that seems to suit
the cry of the sea-gulls.

"When the sea is back, it leaves long points of dark
seaweed-covered rocks, with patches between of the
yellowest of sand, and the long snow-like fringe of sea
moans far away now.

"I'm often among the rocks, and find in pools such
lots of darling funny wee fish and crabs and shells.

"But I love the sea in all its moods, by day or by
night, when it lulls me to sleep.

"Sometimes I speak to it, sometimes I sing to it,
or rather with it, for it is the same sea over which my
darling brother sailed so long ago.

"At sunset I seem to love it best, Keppel."

   |  When the burning golden Rose of the day
   |    Droops down to the Western sea,
   |  And the amber and purple flush of the sky
   |    And the crimson glow of the sea,
   |  Ebb, ebb away,--fade, fade and die;
   |    While the earth all mantled in shadowy grey,
   |  Washes her brow with a restful sigh
   |    In the cool sweet dews of the morning.
   |

Then the letter goes on to tell of all the fun and
capers of Bounder and herself, and how lively and
lovely is Bounder still, and how she swims far out with
him into the sea, and, when tired, puts one arm over
his strong neck, her head on his shoulder, closes her
eyes, and allows him to swim back with her to the
sandy shore.

"And the boatmen are so kind, Kep," she adds,
"and carry me and Bounder into their boats and take
us for long, long sails.

"You ask me if I am pretty.  Some say I am.

"But good-night, dear Kep, and sound be your
sleep, 'rocked in the cradle of the deep.'

.. vspace:: 1

"Your ever loving,

.. vspace:: 1

"SISTER MADGE."

.. vspace:: 1

"P.S.--Oh, I had almost forgotten about your
friend, Dr. McTavish.  He might come down with you
for a day or two.  Do you think he would?"

Kep showed that letter to McTavish, and at the
postscript he laughed enough to have exploded a
torpedo.

"Might come down?  By thunder!" he roared.
"I'll come down whether anybody asks me or not.
Ha! ha! ha!"

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: center white-space-pre-line

   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

.. vspace:: 1



But the idea of a "scrape" with a Russian seemed
to tickle the crew.

How clean her decks were kept now, and the great
guns worked as smoothly as the chronometer.  Every
sword was sharpened, every cutlass as well; the best
revolvers in the ship were served out.  Moreover,
ammunition was handy, and torpedoes too, and every
day the men were exercised in clearing for action.

"By George!  Tom, lad," Stormalong said to a pal,
"we're not going to lose our gold, if we knows it."

"No; we'll fight like wild cats.  Blowed if I
wouldn't rather run along sich, like they did in the
brave old times, and board the enemy."

But the *Breezy* got among the Azores, and one night,
when some miles off the island of Flores, something
extraordinary happened, which is well worthy of the
beginning of another chapter to itself.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE HOME-COMING OF THE SAUCIEST BOY`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXVII


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE HOME-COMING OF THE "SAUCIEST BOY"

.. vspace:: 2

Probably so extraordinary a battle had never
yet been fought at sea in modern times.

It must have been pretty nearly eight bells in the
night-watch, when suddenly sweeping round a headland,
with the Russian flag flying, the *Breezy* found
herself almost cheek by jowl with a great German
cruiser.  Not far off were five British merchantmen,
all evidently prisoners.  This was perceived by
search-light.

The interpreter Kep roared through the great
megaphone in German--

"What ship is that?"

"*Kaiser the Second* of Germany.  Who are you?"

"The Russian cruiser *Borloff*, Captain, his
Excellency the Count Kaskovisky."

"We don't believe you."

"Take that, then, as you can take no snuff."

Immediately a torpedo was let fly, followed by the
roar of big artillery that all but swept the German
into the sea, guns and all.  She was hard hit and reeled
and swayed like an old tub.

At that very moment the spirit of old Nelson seemed
to entered into the soul of Captain Breezy.

"Away boarders!" he yelled.  "Steer her close
alongside.  Hurrah! boys, Hurrah!  We'll give her
old fashioned fits.  Keep the flash-light on us.
Follow me!" and he was the first himself to board, all
the officers and men that could be spared scrambling
after him.

Kep, too, was near him, with his borrowed cutlass.

Oh, God! what a *mêlée*.

The Germans fought well for a short time.  The
big doctor with his broadsword must have slain a
dozen.

The ring of revolvers, the clashing of steel, the thuds,
the blows, the cries and groans, ay, and the terrible
oaths as men struck home with knife or bayonet.

In fifteen minutes the crew had sought shelter below,
and the Captain himself and those of his officers not
killed or wounded had handed their swords to Captain
Breezy.  Breezy thanked them coolly and quietly.

"And now, sir, your ship is sinking and on fire
forward.  Call your men up unarmed to take refuge
on our ship.  Quickly too, or we must haul off, and
leave you."

Kep rushed aft and hauled down the German flag.
He wrapped it around him like a Scottish plaid, and
shouted Hurrah!

No attempt was made to quench the fire; but side
by side British and Germans worked bravely for nearly
half an hour under the command of McTavish, till they
got the wounded taken on board the *Breezy*, then the
latter speedily steamed off and away.

None too soon, for they were but half a mile off
when the *Kaiser* blew up.  Oh, a terrible sight, such as
I trust your eyes, my youthful readers, may never
behold.

The Germans were really good fellows, and thought
of the loss of their ship as a mere trick of fortune.

The unwounded men were landed as prisoners next
morning on this thrice beautiful Isle.  But Captain
and officers as well as the wounded were kept as
prisoners of war.

The British merchant ships went on their several
ways rejoicing at the turn of the tide, and the German
prisoners seemed as happy as schoolboys in a strawberry
patch, only they smoked all day, a thing that
boys who want to grow up hardy and well should
never do.

The Captain of the sunken cruiser could talk good
English and so could his officers, and they told many a
side-splitting yarn after dinner, so they were really
good company.

They were good musicians too, and were both
thrilled and delighted when Kep took out his magical
little black flute with which he had charmed both
snakes and savages.

But they would have McTavish to play them on
the great Highland bagpipes, laments, coronachs, and
battle pieces.  They had never heard so wonderful or
warlike an instrument before.

"Shall I play you a lullaby or cradle hymn, Captain?"

"Mein Gott!" exclaimed the German.  "You think
you can play a lullaby on that."

"Sit here a moment, sir.  The skylights are open and
I am going to play well forward, or in the ship's waist.
Listen."

He went below first to the cook's galley to tune
properly up.

Then in a few minutes the lullaby began.  It seemed
the lowest and dreamiest music those Germans ever
listened to, and appeared to be coming up out of some
dreary pine-forest, or from far away behind a heather
hill.

"Dat was glorious," cried the German.  "Oh, Captain
Breezy, send a sentry to request an encore."  When the
last notes filled the air in cadence long and low, there
were tears in that Captain's eyes.

"You are a wonderful peoples, you Scotch," he said, as
McTavish flung the pipes on the sofa.  "Love, romance
and music dwells only in a mountain-land."

One day, not long after this, the *Breezy* was sighted
by a Russian battle-ship.  Had this vessel overhauled
her, they would have fought like mountain cats,
and would have probably sunk with the British
colours flying.

There was no occasion, for just then a huge and majestic
British ship hove in sight, and the Russian now took
to her heels, showing her ugly stern, with the Britisher,
after an exchange of salutes with the *Breezy*, going
full speed after her.

They passed to the east of the Channel Islands that
evening.

"Now," said Breezy to Kep, "we have some considerable
amount of repairs to make, as I don't want to go
into port like a lame duck.  So, lad, if you choose, I
shall cast anchor just off your father's village of
Mareton and complete repairs there, and you can ask your
people to come off every day."

"Oh, how can I ever thank you, sir?"

"By holding your peace, lad.  But," he added, "I'll
be bound that the broadsword-men of the *Breezy* will
manage to amuse them."

When big McTavish heard this, strong though he
was, he became almost hysterical at the thought of
seeing Madge again once more.

Says Kep: "I say, old Mac, let me give you a straight
tip.  Not a word then about your having any money,
nor about the treasure.  My family are proud, and if
my sister does not marry you for your own dear self,
sister of mine though she be, she is not worth having."

"So be it, Kep, my friend."

Next morning the good people of Maretown were
surprised to see a bonnie cruiser lying at anchor in the
bay, her beautiful flag almost trailing on the surface of
the calm unruffled ocean.  And about two bells in the
forenoon watch, a light boat was lowered nimbly
and came dancing shorewards, a young officer holding
the ribbons.

She was beached on the sand, and in a few minutes'
time Kep was rattling up the green cliffs and landed
just opposite his dear father's door.

He knew it, because Bounder--the same dear old
Bounder--came fiercely on him when he attempted to
open the gate.  But a word from the boy changed all
this to wildest joy, and the boy received a real
dog-welcome.  Not content with kissing him and knocking
his cap off, he seized that cap and went bounding round
and round on a grand circus tour with it.  Round and
round he dashed through the shrubberies and ferns,
across the lawns and over flower-beds and borders,
finally darting in through the hall doorway, where he
laid the cap graciously at the feet of his mistress.
And then they knew by that dog's joyous countenance,
and his smiles canine, that it was the *Breezy*
that lay at anchor in the blue summer-lit bay, and that
the long lost boy had indeed returned.

Both father and sister rushed out, meeting Kep on
the lawn, and I just leave it to yourself to imagine
what his reception was.

Why, while the sister hugged and kissed him, poor
Drummond himself, with tears in his eyes, stood holding
his hand, bare-headed in the sunshine.

They led him in and he spent a whole all too short
hour with him, and then went off with reluctance.

He promised to bring a bigger boat for them at one
bell for luncheon.

"I think," said Kep, as he said good-bye for a time, "I
think, when you hear my record from Captain's lips,
you will believe that I never disgraced the grand old
name of Drummond."

McTavish himself was at the gangway when the
Captain's boat brought Drummond and his daughter
Madge off to luncheon.  He helped them on deck,
Madge first tenderly, but shyly, the father next,
somewhat reservedly.

And Madge, who walked up and down the deck with
McTavish, she asking the drollest questions imaginable
about great guns and torpedoes, never heeding or
caring what the answers were, because she was thinking
of matters far different, Madge, I say, captivated all
hands, from the Captain right down to the cook's
slush boy.  No wonder, with her dark and beautiful
eyes, her gentle ways, her wealth of hair and pearly
teeth, and her ripe red lips that so strangely contrasted
with her almost brown skin, for she was half an Italian
and sea breezes had done the rest.  For Madge from
her very infancy had loved the ocean wild and wide,
ni sunshine or in howling storm.

So these two walked together, saying not a word
that would have revealed to them how very nearly
their hearts were one.

But the steward himself came up at last to tell
them that luncheon was about to be served.  Then
below they went hand in hand, and took their places
quietly, she between her father and Kep, McTavish
to the left of Kep.

The Captain lunched in the ward-room to-day, and
everyone at table was very happy and gay.  And all
talked about their wild adventures, but never a soul
spoke about the treasure that lay below.

Somehow or other, Drummond was captivated by
the stalwart doctor.  The latter listened respectfully
to all the Squire said, but by no means in a cringing
way.  Drummond came of a good old family, but the
doctor's was older still.

The Squire was not yet fifty, but through long worry
and sorrow his hair was white as snow.  Consequently
the middies called him old.

McTavish had the gift of diplomacy.

And here is a hint or two to my younger readers, who
may wish to curry favour with some white-haired
uncle they have not seen before, but think old.

You will naturally imagine that he is deaf.  Make
no such mistake.  Don't shout at him while at table,
lowering your voice when you turn to talk to others.
If you do so what a little ill-mannered brat he will
consider you.

Never tell him that he looks a little poorly, "sir."
In fact the less you "sir" the better.

Never, in asking a question, prefix it with the
words: "I suppose when you were young, sir."

Never, if talking about ages or the long ago, make
use of the words: "Oh! you may live a good few years
yet, sir."

For there is a good chance of the boy who smokes
cigarettes and reads the sporting papers being dead long,
long before the man of fifty.

And never on any account hold out your arm as if
to support him when alighting from a carriage, or ten to
one you'll receive a snub.

If invited to such a gentleman's house, leave all your
swagger at home, and don't go chucking the maids
under the chin and calling them "Mary."  The result
would probably be that you would be speedily kicked
out by the old guv'nor.

And men of fifty can kick too.  It is the scientific
kick, not done with the toe of the boot but the flat
sole.  You get there all the same, however, that is,
sprawling on your face on the muddy pavement.

These words may be a digression, boys, but they are
very true.

The engineers all that day were busy repairing, but
next day was Saturday, and till well into the dog
watches McTavish thought he had never spent such
an anxious day, but about five o'clock the gig was
called away, and the doctor himself went in her.

He almost lifted Madge into the boat, but said
laughingly to her father, "I needn't assist you, Squire;
you've been in many a brave boat."  And Drummond
felt as lively as a kitten.

Such a really delightful evening was spent, and so
downright happy were Madge and McTavish, to say
nothing of everybody else, that naughty old Time flew
as quickly by as if he had hired a motor-car for the
express purpose.





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.. _`NOT ANOTHER "BUT" ABOUT IT`:

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   CHAPTER XXVIII


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   NOT ANOTHER "BUT" ABOUT IT

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The dinner that evening was a great success, as
society reporters say.  But I am writing facts--true
facts, not the ordinary kind that are good enough
for newspapers.

Happy crew, happy officers!  Madge was very much
at home, and at ease, but who would not be so at a
Royal Navy mess dinner.

Only sometimes McTavish was too quiet, and
apparently a trifle sad.  He was wondering to himself
what this depression might portend.

"What are you thinking about, Mac," cried Guilford;
"why, you've got a face like a latter day saint."

Mac laughed, blushed a little--for it is only men
nowadays who do blush--but with an extreme effort
he shook himself, mentally that is, and for the remainder
of the evening was the life and soul of the ward-room.

No one spoke much about adventures.  When the
Captain was asked about those in New Guinea, he only
laughed.  "We sailor men," he said, "think little of
adventure, so used to it, and as for bravery in the
battlefield, why my worthy surgeon McTavish will tell you
that to be slain is a far less cruel death than dying in
bed."

The band to-night was playing at first delightful
selections from operas, then they got on to the sweet
bonnie lilts of old Scotland.  Then to waltzes, and this
was more than blood of sailors could stand.  The
middies had turned out in a body, and the men forward,
too, kept it up.

Then McTavish, with Madge, and every other wardroom
officer with any partner they could pick up.

"May I lead you forward sister dear, just to show you
how our fellows can hornpipe."

The band stopped now.  Kep's marvellous pipe soon
filled the deck with hornpipe dancers.  As soon as one
dropped out of the ring another hopped in and this
continued for an hour.

Then came the broadsword-men of the *Breezy* on
deck, and this was the grandest treat ever Madge had
known in all her young lifetime.  But the duel between
Stormalong and McTavish fairly brought down the house.

Mac of course had the tartans on, and being begged
of to dance the sword dance, he did so, and with real
Highland glee too.

Poor Squire Drummond was visibly affected,

   |  But pleasures are like poppies spread,
   |    You seize the flow'r, the bloom is shed;
   |  Or like the snow falls in the river,
   |    A moment white, then melts for ever;
   |  Or like the borealis race,
   |    That flit ere you can point their place.
   |

Every good time has an end.  And so had this
evening.

Kep and Mac took Madge and her father on shore.
Hardly anyone spoke.  No one could under such a
starlit canopy with the big moon silvering all the sea
southwards.

I wonder what made Mac squeeze the little hand
that somehow--accident, I suppose--found its way into
his, and was the gentle pressure he thought was
returned, all mere imagination on his part?

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Next evening Kep went on shore with his friend
McTavish.  They went long, long before sundown,
because first the surgeon must talk a bit with the
Squire, then Madge and the young men were going
to be off on a ramble over the moor with Bounder.

The Squire and the gallant Navy surgeon talked
chiefly about Scotland and the Clans.  The ancestors
of both had been out in the 45.

Drummond found that Mac was descended directly
from a chief of the McTavish clan, which delighted
the old man.

What delighted him most, however, was Mac's sturdily
stating the facts which English boys need so much to be
taught, that the short but bloody war that took place
between the Jacobites and the Hanoverian was
decidedly not a war between Scotland and England.
There were as many so-called "Royalists" in Scotland
as there were so-called rebels.  That had Prince Charlie
reached Norfolk his army would have been trebled in
number.

"God bless you, young fellow."

And hand met hand in a hearty shake.

Away over hill and dale now for a long stroll.  But
where was Kep and Bounder.  The restless Kep had
gone on before.  He left word with the housekeeper that
he had gone on and that they would find him--forest
way.  I'm really afraid that Kep was a sly little dog.

"Oh, we'll find him," said McTavish, and away
the two went together up and across the moor.

I'm sure of one thing, that McTavish, did not talk
about Scotland and the Clans to his sweet and
beautiful companion.  They gathered wild flowers instead,
and Mac could name them all and tell the story of
their lives.

Sweet occupation!

Then, by chance I suppose, they entered a shady,
ferny dell, and down they sat upon a rock.  Then the
past somehow came back and their romance in fair
Italy.

Suddenly the girl burst into tears.

He was an awkward fellow, this Mac, and really
was at a loss what to do or what to say.

But he blurted out at last--"Oh, dearest on earth,
life of my life, soul of my soul, we love each other.
Will you not be mine?"

She did not lisp out like a Society belle--"It's so
sudden."

But her tearful face was upturned to his.

"Yes, dear, if father can be got over."

"That is nothing," said bold Mac.  "I'll manage
father.  Then----"

Well, then Bounder put in an appearance with his
red tongue out over his white teeth and laughing all
down both sides.

"Hilloa! you fellows"--it was Kep's voice--"I've
been looking for you everywhere."

The journey back to the Cottage was a lightsome
and happy one.  The dinner was a splendid one.  All
McTavish's despondency had fled, and he kept his
host laughing almost continuously all the while with
the strange stories he told.

After dinner the Squire and he went out to smoke
in the garden, while the full moon rose silently up and
sparkled on the beautiful sea.

You must have known long before this that this
great athlete surgeon was not the man to hang fire
about anything.  His motto was, if you've got to
fight, why, the sooner you charge the better.

He stopped so quickly in his walk that the Squire
had forged ahead a few paces before he too could stop
ship and get about.

Thus the two men faced each other.

"Squire Drummond, I love your daughter, and have
reason to believe she is fond of me.  Squire
Drummond, may I call you father?"

The Squire looked the bold young rascal up and
down, then burst out laughing.  And here is what he
said as he held out his hand--

"Damn *me*, Duncan McTavish, if I think I can do
better."

So there was an end of the whole matter.
Dr. McTavish was a bold young fellow, and you know

   |  He either fears his fate too much
   |    Or his deserts are small
   |  Who dares not put it to the test,
   |    To win or lose it all.
   |

But I say you know, according to Mac, there never
was a moon so bright as that under which our heroes
returned to the *Breezy*, nor a perfume half so sweet as
that which arose from the cliffs clad with yellow gorse.

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Now time is up, and reader and author have to part
till another Christmas, if God in His goodness should
see fit to spare us.

The *Breezy* arrived safely at Plymouth and had a
very happy home coming.  Captain Breezy was made
Rear Admiral almost at once, and the King gave him
a C.B.

Each officer and man was paid his share of the
treasure as soon as its value was ascertained in the
Bank of England.  And here it was stored for a time.

But before I drop the curtain for the last time, I
may tell you that every one of the *Breezy's* crew
attended the marriage of McTavish and his bonnie
bride, and they departed on their honeymoon in a
special train for London.

It was not until Kep's return from town that he
told his father about the treasure.

Three months after that, Drummond was back
home and his daughter with Mac had come to live with
father and comfort him.

Kep received a capital appointment as interpreter
and secretary at Whitehall, where he remained till
the terrible war was over.

Adolph went back to Austria, but promised to
visit Martello many times and oft.

I need hardly say a word about Stormalong.  Fact
is he married his Katie, who had been as true to her
sailor boy as the needle to the pole.

The *Blue Ensign* was transformed completely, and
made into a really fashionable hotel, and everybody
was proud of the jolly sailor landlord, who often
condescended even to appear at the bar counter itself,
and his laugh at such time, shook the very rigging,
as Stormalong himself would have described it.

But in this hotel there was a snuggery, called the
Man-o'-War Sailors' own room.  Only sailors and
sailor's friends were ever admitted, but to drop in there
of an evening and listen to the yarns that the seamen
spun--each with his pipe and his pint--would have
made life seem pleasanter to the veriest hypochondriac.

But--but--why I don't think there is another
"but" about it.

Lower away with the curtain.  Good-bye, my brave
British boys.  And just one little cheer for the British
Royal Navy.

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THE END.

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Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome and London.

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