CHAPTER VI.

CAPTURED BY SAVAGES.

"She's all out and still banging."

It was after supper and then the sun had sunk, a huge red ball of fire, below the western horizon. Captain Ole made the announcement as the boys and their uncle, together with three or four of the sailors, stood watching the big chain run out.

"Then I reckon we'll have to let her drift," Mr. Lakewood said as the captain gave the signal to raise the anchor. "I don't really think that we're anywhere near the place yet," he whispered to Bob, who was standing close at his side, "but we don't want to take any chances. There's so little wind that we won't go far."

"Well, guess we might's well go in and send a picture to the folks at home," Jack said as the anchor appeared.

Every night they had turned on the machine for a few minutes but, to their great disappointment, they had failed to receive any results from far away Maine.

"Not time for more'n an hour yet," Bob said looking at his watch.

Some time in the night Jack awoke. This was such an unusual occurrence that for some moments he lay awake and wondered what had disturbed him. He could not hear a sound save the gentle lap of the water against the side of the boat and the regular breathing of his brother. And yet he knew that something was wrong. He reached beneath his pillow and brought out his tiny flashlight and a glance at his watch told him than it was twenty-five minutes past one.

"Guess I'm getting the heebie-jeebies," he thought as he slipped from his bunk and, in his bare feet, stole toward the door.

He opened it without making the slightest sound and stepped outside. It was a beautiful night and, although there was no moon, the stars, which thickly studded the sky, rendered it far from dark. For a full three minutes he stood there, close to the door of his cabin, and listened. Was Bob right, he wondered, when he told him he was getting too suspicious? Finally, hearing no sound which could, in any way, be construed as being mysterious, he decided to make a tour of the boat before going back to bed.

"Reckon I'm an idiot all right, but I'm going to take a look about, just the same," he muttered, as he started slowly toward the stern.

The night was so warm that he was perfectly comfortable in his light pajamas, and the floor felt delightfully cool to his bare feet. Not a sound did he make as he stole along, keeping close to the side of the cabins where it was darker than over by the railing. Suddenly a slight sound reached his ears, and he stopped. Had he really heard anything, or were his suspicions getting the better of his judgment? The sound was not repeated, and he was about to move on again, when a spot of light, from far out across the water, caught his eye. It glimmered an instant, and then disappeared, to reappear a moment later in a series of flashes. Was it a signal? It seemed hardly possible, but it certainly looked very much like it.

He crept on, until he reached the end of the cabins, and was but a few feet from the stern of the boat. Cautiously he peeped around the corner, and his heart gave an extra beat, as he saw a figure standing only a matter of six or seven feet from him. It was too dark for him to distinguish the man's features, even had his face been turned toward him, but the tall lanky figure left no doubt in his mind as to his identity. It was Josh Kelley, and he was up to something, for he raised his right hand, and a flash of light sprang out.

"It was a signal all right," he thought, as he shrank back, fearful lest the man see him.

What should he do? He knew now that his suspicions, as well as those of his uncle, were confirmed. The second mate was in league with someone, and was signaling to him, or to them. But what was the object? Did he know of their quest? These and many more questions flashed through his mind as he stood there, watching that twinkling light, which came and went in answer to the mate's signal. At first he thought they might be signaling in the Morse code, and tried to read the flashes, but he could make nothing of them. If they were using a code, it was not one with which he was familiar, that was certain.

He had made up him mind to wake his uncle, and had taken a couple of backward steps, when the light from a powerful flash struck him full in the face.

"Wot's the idea?"

It was evident that the mate was mad, and for an instant the boy was too startled to reply.

"I--I reckon I might ask you the same question," he finally stammered.

"Wot yer mean?"

"Who are you signaling to?"

"Who said I was signaling?"

"I saw you."

Almost instantly the mate's expression changed and the look of anger, which had been plain even in the dim light, was replaced by an uneasy smile.

"Oh, yer mean that flashlight?"

"Sure."

"Wal, I guess mebby I was signalin' kind of. That is yer might call it that, but, bless yer heart, I dunno who it was I was signalin' to."

"But he answered you," Jack insisted.

"You saw him?"

"Sure."

"Wal, yer know jest as much as I do who it was. Yer see, it's like this. It's my watch an' I was looking out back here when I saw that flash out there. Three or four times I saw it an' then, seein' as how I had this thing with me, I thot as how I'd jest answer it an' I did. That's all I know about it."

"I see."

Jack knew that the man was lying, but he also knew that, at present, he was powerless to prove it.

"Wot yer doin' out here this time o' night?" the mate asked suddenly, the stern look coming back to his face.

"Oh, I woke up and, as it was pretty hot in the cabin, I though I'd get a little fresh air," Jack replied easily.

"Hum, then yer didn't hear nothin'?"

"Why, no, not till I got out here and heard you."

"Hum."

"Who do you suppose it is out there?" Jack asked as the light flashed again.

"Bless yer, how should I know?"

"Let me take the light a minute."

"Wot fur?"

"I want to answer him."

"Fur wot?"

"Just for fun."

"All right."

He handed over the light and Jack flashed the message in Morse, "W-H-O A-R-E Y-O-U?" But there was no answering flashes and, after waiting a few minutes, the mate asked:

"Did yer send a message?"

"Asked them who they were, but I guess they don't know either," Jack told him.

"Mebby they don't understand that code."

"Maybe not."

"I reckon that's it. Probably it's jest some fishermen becalmed out there."

"You may be right."

"Sure I am."

"Well, I guess I'll be getting back to bed," Jack said with a deep yawn.

The mate made no reply, and he walked slowly back to his cabin conscious that the man was watching his every move. He felt that he ought to tell his uncle what he had seen without delay, but he knew that unless he went at once to his own cabin the mate would know what he was going to do. So, as he reached his door, he pushed it quickly open and, without glancing behind him, went in. Bob was still sleeping and he got into bed again without waking him. But, for a long time, he could not sleep. Not that he thought there was any immediate danger. Whoever it was that the mate was in league with, they would hardly make an attack on them until they learned where they were going, and something in regard to their plans. That the man was a villain he felt sure, and he was in no less certain that he was a deep and crafty one. Finally he slept and the sun was streaming in at the window when he again awoke. Bob, he saw, was fully dressed.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"After seven."

"We under way?"

"Sure. You didn't think we'd stay drifting around all day, did you?"

"Huh, I suppose you've been up several hours."

"Not so many," Bob laughed. "But hurry or we'll be late to breakfast and our rating with Wong isn't very high just now, you know."

Jack was already dressing and by the time he had finished he had told Bob what he had seen in the night.

"What do you know about that?" Bob said, when he had concluded the account.

"Not much," Jack confessed.

"Of course he was lying."

"You think so?"

"I don't think, I know he was."

"He's a scamp all right."

"You really think so?"

"Oh, cut out the kidding and come along to breakfast. We must tell uncle as soon as possible."

They found their uncle in the dining room just finishing his breakfast and, as he was alone, they at once told him.

"It surely confirms our suspicions," Mr. Lakewood said when they had finished.

"But does it help any?" Bob asked.

"I can't really see that it does," his uncle confessed after a moment's thought.

"Was there any boat in sight when you got up?" Jack asked.

"Not a sign of one."

"Well, I wish he'd been a few minutes later when we started," Bob said. "Then we wouldn't have been bothered with him."

"But there's no use wishing," Jack declared. "We've got him and the only question is what are we going to do with him?"

"That's it, what are we going to do with him?" his uncle repeated.

"If we could only prove something against him," Bob mused.

"Perhaps we can later," Jack told him.

"But later may be too late."

"Well, there's no use hanging crepe all over the boat about it," Jack grinned. "I'm going to keep a close watch on him and, mark my word, I'll get him where the hair's short if he gives me half a chance."

"Sometimes chances have to be made," Mr. Lakewood said drily.

"And maybe I can do that too," Jack responded.

"Well, about the only thing I can do now is to tell Cap'n Ole about it and put him on his guard, although I think he's watching him pretty closely already," their uncle said, as he pushed back his chair and, followed by the boys, went out on deck.

"We're going to run nor'east for about fifty miles and then tack back nor'west and keep a-zig-zagging back and forth that way so as to cover a pretty big area," he explained as they paused for a moment at the foot of the stairway leading to the bridge.

"Seems to me that ought to hit it," Bob told him.

But all that day they sighted no land, and when darkness came they were again unable to anchor owing to the depth of the water. Mr. Lakewood had told the captain about Jack's adventure, and he had advised taking Pat Barney into their confidence and telling him where they were going and their object.

"Pat's true blue and, what's more, he's sharp. He has a good chance to keep an eye on the snake, and he'll do it if he knows he's up to something crooked."

So, at the first opportunity he had told Pat all about the trip, and had confided to him their suspicions in regard to the second mate.

"Faith an' it's meself as niver did loike the face uv him," Pat had declared.

It was Pat's watch on deck that night from twelve until six and he assured them that he would see that there was no signaling done while he was on the job. Unlike the previous night, the wind was blowing fairly hard from the west, although the night was clear and the captain told them that they would have to keep the engine going to avoid being blown back.

"But we won't make more'n two or three miles an hour, so I reckon we won't pass anything," he assured them.

The night passed without incident, and when the boys went on deck shortly after six o'clock the captain told them that they had not made more than a dozen knots during the night. The wind still held strong from the west and there was enough of a sea to make the Valkyrie "kick up her heels," as Jack put it.

They were eating dinner when they heard the lookout shout "Land ho" and there was a scramble to see who would reach the deck first. Jack won and, as he burst out from the room, he heard the mate cry:

"Off the port bow, sir."

He could see nothing from the deck and hurried to the bridge closely followed by the others.

"Right off there," the second mate told him pointing.

"I see it now," he replied turning to Bob who had reached his side.

"Looks pretty small from here," Bob said as he stepped into the wheel-house for the glasses.

He was out again in a minute with the glasses in his hand and handed them to his uncle, who by this time, had also reached the bridge. Mr. Lakewood gazed for a long time before he took the glass from his eyes.

"It's too far away to be sure but I hardly think it's the place," he said as he handed them to Bob.

The remainder of the breakfast was forgotten as they watched the land as it seemed to rise higher and higher from the water and pretty soon Wong appeared at the foot of the stairway.

"You goin' catch um some bleakfast?" he shouted.

"How about it, boys?" Mr. Lakewood laughed.

"I had enough," both replied in the same breath.

"Then you can clear away, Wong," he told him.

"All light," and Wong shuffled away a look of keen disgust on his yellow face.

"Wong's slighted now," Captain Ole laughed.

"And I don't blame him," Bob declared. "But I just can't leave the bridge now."

At the end of another hour Mr. Lakewood was able to say that he was almost certain that it was not the island.

"Of course," he added, "I may be mistaken, but I don't think so. It's too large in the first place and then again it's too low at the near end."

"Suppose we land anyway," Captain Ole suggested. "I think I can see a grove of trees not far inland and perhaps we can get some cocoanuts."

"Sure we'll land," Mr. Lakewood agreed. "Do you know," he added with a smile, "it was several years after I got away from that island before I could bear the sight of a cocoanut, but that's gone now and I really like them again."

"Then we'll sure get you some," Jack laughed.

"No, that's not the place," Mr. Lakewood declared definitely a little later, as the island now loomed up large before them. "Think it's inhabited, Cap'n?" he asked turning to Captain Ole.

"Don't see any signs of anything that looks like it on this side, but you never can tell about these places. Some of the tribes on these islands don't go in much for architecture and a cocoanut tree will hide a whole lot of 'em."

As the captain had said, there was no sign that the island was inhabited. The low lying beach stretched back, with only a gentle rise, for a distance of some hundred yards, where it met a long line of trees which, the captain assured them, were cocoanut trees. What was beyond they could not see. A few minutes later and the Valkyrie swung at anchor at the mouth of a narrow cove where the water was only about twenty feet deep.

"See that the second mate goes ashore with us," Mr. Lakewood whispered to Captain Ole, as the latter was about to give the order to lower one of the small boats.

Leaving the boat in charge of the first mate, the two boys together with their uncle, Captain Ole, and Josh Kelley and two of the sailors, were soon standing on the beach.

"Bring those two baskets along," the captain ordered the sailors, as he led the way toward the grove of trees.

"Look at the nuts, will you?" Jack shouted as they stood beneath the trees. "I reckon it won't take us long to fill the baskets. Wait a minute and I'll climb up and shake some down."

He was up one of the largest of the trees almost before he had finished speaking, and soon the big nuts began to fall, and in less than fifteen minutes they had filled the baskets.

"We should have brought more baskets," Jack declared regretfully.

"Those two were all we had," the mate told him.

"You two," the captain said turning to the two sailors, "take these nuts to the ship, and then bring the baskets back. We'll help you carry them down to the beach."

"Let's see how far this grove goes," Bob said a moment later after he had jumped to the ground.

"Atta boy," Jack agreed.

"You look out you don't get lost," their uncle warned them.

"We won't. We'll be back by the time they get back with the baskets," Bob assured him.

The cocoanut trees came to an end before they had gone a hundred feet and they found themselves on the edge of a narrow ravine on the other side of which the land was too high for them to see beyond.

"Let's go up to the top of that hill and see what we can see from there," Jack suggested.

"Think we'll have time?"

"Sure. They won't be back for a half hour at least."

"All right, but make it snappy."

But they were unable to hurry, as the ravine was filled with a peculiar long grass, the edges of which were as sharp as a knife blade and they were obliged to be careful to avoid being cut. But finally, panting and wringing with perspiration, they reached the top of the hill, only to find that another ravine and another hill beyond again shut off their view.

"All that for nothing," Bob panted as he threw himself down on the ground.

"Can't we go on?" Jack asked.

"Not on your life. We've been gone nearly half an hour and uncle'll be worried if we don't get back pronto."

"All right, then, let's beat it."

Bob got to his feet and they were about to start back when, without the least warning, a dozen men seemed to rise from nowhere all about them. They were small brown men dressed in nothing except a wide fringe of some kind of grass about the waist. Their faces and the upper part of their bodies were profusely painted with grotesque figures, making them appear most hideous. They were unarmed save for a thin reed about six feet long which each man carried in his right hand. But both boys had read accounts of the dreaded blow-pipes and recognized them as the most formidable of weapons. One slight prick from their tiny darts and they knew that it was death.

"Mind your step," Bob whispered.

For a moments the brown men had stood still gazing at them as though undecided what to do. Then one, a man slightly larger than the others and evidently their leader, advanced a few steps and said something in a language they were unable to understand. Bob shook his head and smiled although, as he afterward declared, it was the last thing he felt like doing. The native repeated his statement this time in louder tones and seemed angry when Bob again shook his head.

"Reckon he wants us to go down the hill," Jack said in low tones.

Bob smiled again at the man and pointed down the hill away from the boat.

"Ugg," the man grunted.

"I reckon he understands and means yes," Bob said. "So, come on and be careful and don't do anything to make them mad. You know what those tubes are."

"Reckon I'm hep," Jack groaned as he fell into step beside his brother.

The natives formed a semicircle about them and, with many gesticulations, urged them on.

"We're in a mess," Jack whispered.

"Looks that way."

"What do you think?"

"Can't tell. Have to wait and see."

"How in the world do they get through this stuff in their bare feet without getting cut all to pieces.

"Guess they must be tough."

"And then some."

For some time they pushed their way through the thick sharp grass being constantly urged to make more haste by their captors who seemed not to have the slightest difficulty of locomotion. Finally they reached the top of the next hill all but exhausted, although Bob cautioned Jack against showing it any more than he could help. A short distance in front of them they saw a grove of cocoanut trees and toward it their captors urged them.

"Guess we've got there," Jack said as he saw a number of children playing about the trees.

"Looks that way," Bob agreed.

Just beyond the grove was the village of the tribe, consisting of about a dozen huts of bamboo shaped not unlike an Indian teppee. Several women, dressed like their captors except that their grass girdles were somewhat wider, sat or lay on the ground most of them engaged in weaving grass into what seemed to be large mats. As the party approached, the children flocked about them looking in amazement at the two boys. But they were roughly brushed away by the men who seemed to begrudge them even a look at their prisoners. The women gave little sign that they were aware of the presence, although the boys could see that they were casting sly glances at them.

The leader pointed to one of the huts which was located in the center of the group and made them understand that they were to get inside and they meekly obeyed. The hut was about a dozen feet in diameter and the peak of it some fifteen feet from the ground. The ground inside was nearly covered with the grass mats but they were all it contained.

"What a mess," Jack groaned as he sank back.

"Never say die," Bob consoled him. "I've seen sicker cats than this get well."

"Maybe, but you'll have to acknowledge that this is an awful sick one."

"This must be a small tribe if this is all there is to it."

"But it's big enough. Got a gun with you?"

"Yes, have you?"

"Sure. How about fighting our way out?"

"It would be suicide."

"Why would it? We've got two guns and six shots in each."

"But they've got those blamed pipes, and one of them would be sure to get us before we could get them all, and you know what the least prick from one of their dart means. I'd rather face them if they were armed with guns. You'd have a show then, even if you got hit, but with those things you haven't."

It was indeed a desperate situation, and both the boys were fully aware of their peril. But they knew that there was One who had the power to save them, and, at a nod from Jack, Bob got to his knees and sent up an earnest petition, that, if it was His will their lives might be spared.