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

.. meta::
   :PG.Id: 40364
   :PG.Title: The Blue Raider
   :PG.Released: 2012-07-28
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Al Haines
   :DC.Creator: Herbert Strang
   :MARCREL.ill: C. E. Brock
   :DC.Title: The Blue Raider
              A Tale of Adventure in the Southern Seas
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1920
   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

===============
THE BLUE RAIDER
===============

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   .. _`Cover`:

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      :alt: Cover

      Cover

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   .. _`'WITH THEIR ARMS STILL BOUND FIRMLY TO THEIR SIDES, THE PRISONERS STUMBLED THROUGH THE FOREST.'`:

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      :alt: "WITH THEIR ARMS STILL BOUND FIRMLY TO THEIR SIDES, THE PRISONERS STUMBLED THROUGH THE FOREST."

      "WITH THEIR ARMS STILL BOUND FIRMLY TO THEIR SIDES, THE PRISONERS STUMBLED THROUGH THE FOREST."

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      THE BLUE RAIDER

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      A TALE OF ADVENTURE
      IN THE SOUTHERN SEAS

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      BY

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      HERBERT STRANG

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      ILLUSTRATED BY
      C. E. BROCK

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      HUMPHREY MILFORD
      OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
      LONDON, EDINBURGH, GLASGOW
      TORONTO, MELBOURNE, CAPE TOWN, BOMBAY
      1920 

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      HERBERT STRANG

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      *Complete List of Stories*

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      ADVENTURES OF DICK TREVANION, THE
      ADVENTURES OF HARRY ROCHESTER, THE
      A GENTLEMAN AT ARMS
      A HERO OF LIÉGE
      AIR PATROL, THE
      AIR SCOUT, THE
      BARCLAY OF THE GUIDES
      BLUE RAIDER, THE
      BOYS OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE
      BROWN OF MOUKDEN
      BURTON OF THE FLYING CORPS
      CARRY ON
      CRUISE OF THE GYRO-CAR, THE
      FIGHTING WITH FRENCH
      FLYING BOAT, THE
      FRANK FORESTER
      HUMPHREY BOLD
      JACK HARDY
      KING OF THE AIR
      KOBO
      LORD OF THE SEAS
      MOTOR SCOUT, THE
      OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN, THE
      ONE OF CLIVE'S HEROES
      PALM TREE ISLAND
      ROB THE RANGER
      ROUND THE WORLD IN SEVEN DAYS
      SAMBA
      SETTLERS AND SCOUTS
      SULTAN JIM
      SWIFT AND SURE
      THROUGH THE ENEMY'S LINES
      TOM BURNABY
      TOM WILLOUGHBY'S SCOUTS
      WITH DRAKE ON THE SPANISH MAIN
      WITH HAIG ON THE SOMME

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      CONTENTS

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      I.  `A BEACH IN NEW GUINEA`_
      II.  `THE DRUMS`_
      III.  `THE CHIMNEY`_
      IV.  `MR. HAAN`_
      V.  `IN THE TOILS`_
      VI.  `THE TOTEM`_
      VII.  `REMINISCENCES`_
      VIII.  `A RECONNAISSANCE`_
      IX.  `COMPLICATIONS`_
      X.  `THE CAST OF THE DIE`_
      XI.  `THE ORDEAL OF EPHRAIM MEEK`_
      XII.  `THE LEDGE`_
      XIII.  `A FORCED LANDING`_
      XIV.  `AN INTERLUDE`_
      XV.  `DUK-DUK`_
      XVI.  `FLIGHT`_
      XVII.  `THE ATTACK ON THE VILLAGE`_
      XVIII.  `THE AVALANCHE`_
      XIX.  `AT ARM'S LENGTH`_
      XX.  `THE LAST RAID`_
      XXI.  `JUSTICE`_

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      LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

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      *Frontispiece in Colour*

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      `'With their arms still bound firmly to their sides, the
      prisoners stumbled through the forest.'`_ (See page `97`_.)

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   `'Come up and have a look at this, Meek'`_

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   `'Now 's the time!'`_

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   `Up and up, foot by foot, arrows whizzing and clicking`_

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   `'Feel better?'`_

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   `'The Raider!'`_

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   `A score of dusky natives burst into the ring`_

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   `Grinson marched in at the head of a procession`_

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   `'Who says I ain't tattooed?'`_

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   `With every step the descent became steeper`_

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   `Kafulu sprang upon Meek from behind`_

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   `The German flung a pail of water over the unconscious Meek`_

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   `Noiselessly on his stocking soles tip-toed after the German`_

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   `One of the Germans raised his revolver, but before he could fire,
   Hoole launched the spear at him`_

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   `The leader of the dancers was just approaching when there was
   a roar, and the whirring propeller set up a hurricane which
   caught at his dress`_

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   `Grinson let out a bellow like the blast of a fog-horn, and sprang
   from the trees, followed by a horde of natives`_

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   `Grinson gave the boulder a shove in the desired direction`_

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   `With a thunderous crash it struck the side of the
   vessel a few feet below the rail`_

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   `Quickly they set their ladders against the barricade, and began
   to swarm up`_

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.. _`A BEACH IN NEW GUINEA`:

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   CHAPTER I


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   A BEACH IN NEW GUINEA

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''Tis a matter of twenty-five years since
I was in a fix like this 'ere,' said the
boatswain, ruminatively, turning a quid in
his cheek.  'Ephraim, me lad, you can bear me out?'

'I can't rightly say as I can, Mr. Grinson,'
said Ephraim, in his husky voice, 'but I 'll try.'

The boatswain threw a leg over the stern-post
of the much-battered ship's boat that
lay listed over just beyond the breakers of a
rough sea, and cast a glance at the two young
men who stood, with hands in pockets, gazing
up at the cliffs.  Their backs were towards
him; they had either not heard, or were
disinclined to notice what he had said.

'Ay, 'twas twenty-six year ago,' he
resumed, in a voice like the note of an organ
pipe.  'We was working between Brisbane
and the Solomons, blackbirding and what not;
'twas before your time, young gents, but----'

'What's that you 're saying?' demanded
one of the two whose backs he had addressed.

'I was saying, sir, as how I was in a fix like
this 'ere twenty-seven year ago, or it may be
twenty-eight: Ephraim's got the head for
figures.  We was working between Brisbane
and the Carolines--a tight little schooner she
was, light on her heels.  You can bear me
out, Ephraim?'

'If so be 'twas the same craft, light and
tight she was,' Ephraim agreed.

'Well, a tidal wave come along and pitched
her clean on to a beach like as this might
be--not a beach as you could respect, with
bathing-boxes and a promenade, but a narrow
strip of a beach, a reg'lar fraud of a beach,
under cliffs as high as a church...'

'Say, Grinson, get a move on,' drawled the
second of the two younger men.  'What about
your beach?  How does it help us, anyway?'

'Well, look at the difference, sir.  There
we was: schooner gone to pieces, a score of
us cast ashore, three of us white men, the rest
Kanakas.  'Tis thirty years since, but the
recollection of them awful days gives me the
'orrors.  My two white mates--the Kanakas
ate 'em, being 'ungry.  I drops a veil over
that 'orrible tragedy.  Being about a yard
less in the waist than I am to-day, I was
nimble as a monkey, and went up those cliffs
like greased lightning, broke off chunks of
rock weighing anything up to half a ton,
and pitched 'em down on the Kanakas
scrambling up after me, panting for my gore.
For three days and nights I kept 'em at
bay, and my arms got so used to flinging
down rocks that when I was rescued by a
boat's crew from a Dutch schooner they kept
on a-working regular as a pendulum, and they
had to put me in a strait jacket till I was run
down.  You can bear me out, Ephraim, me lad?'

'I can't exactly remember all them particlers,
Mr. Grinson, but truth 's truth, and
'tis true ye 've led a wonderful life, and
stranger things have happened to ye--that
I will say on my oath.'

'You were one of the two that were eaten,
I suppose?' said the young man who had
first spoken, eyeing Ephraim with a quizzical
smile.

'Gee!  That's the part Grinson dropped
a veil over,' said the other.  'What's the
moral of your pretty fairy story, Grinson?'

'Moral, sir?  'Tis plain.'  He opened his
brass tobacco-box, and deliberately twisted
up another quid.  Then he said impressively:
'Dog don't eat dog; otherways we 're
all white men, and there 's no Kanakas.'

Phil Trentham laughed, a little ruefully.

'We may have to eat each other yet,' he
said.  Then, waving his arms towards the
cliffs, he added: 'The prospect doesn't
please--what do you make of it?'

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The situation in which the four men found
themselves had certainly no element of
cheerfulness.  They were the sole survivors from a
tramp steamer which, on the previous day,
had fallen a prey to a German raider.  After
a night's tossing in their small open boat, they
had been cast up on this unknown shore, and
when they examined the craft, marvelled that
they escaped with their lives.  Collision with
a rock that just peeped above the breakers
some fifty yards out had stove, in her
garboard-strakes, a hole through which a man
might creep.  Luckily, the bag of ship's
biscuits, which, with a keg of water, formed
their whole stock of provisions, had not been
washed out or injured.

But what of the future?  The narrow strip
of sandy beach on which they had been
thrown stretched along the foot of high
precipitous cliffs that showed a concave arc to
the sea.  At each horn a rocky headland
jutted far out, its base washed high by the
waves.  The cliffs were rugged and appeared
unscalable, even with the aid of the tufts of
vegetation that sprouted here and there from
fissures in their weather-beaten face.  It
seemed that they were shut in between the
cliffs and the sea, penned between the headlands,
confined to this strip of sand, perhaps
two miles long, from which there was
apparently no landward exit.  Their boat was
unseaworthy; there was no way of escape by
land or sea.

Phil Trentham, working copra on a remote
island of the South Pacific, had learnt of the
outbreak of war some months after the event,
and taken passage on the first steamer that
called, intending to land at the nearest port
and thence to make his way to some centre of
enlistment.  Among the few passengers he
had chummed up with a young fellow about
his own age--one Gordon P. Hoole, who
hailed from Cincinnati, had plenty of money,
and was touring the Pacific Islands in tramp
steamers for amusement.  Each was in his
twentieth year, stood about five feet ten, and
wore a suit of ducks and a cowboy hat; there
the likeness between them ended.  Trentham
was fair, Hoole dark.  The former had full
ruddy cheeks, broad shoulders, and massive
arms and calves; the latter was lean and
rather sallow, more wiry than muscular.
Trentham parted his hair; Hoole's rose erect
from his brow like a short thick thatch.
Both had firm lips and jaws, and their eyes,
unlike in colour, were keen with intelligence
and quick with humour.

Their two companions in misfortune
presented an odd contrast to them and to each
other.  Josiah Grinson, forty-eight years of
age, was five feet six in height, immensely
broad, with a girth of nearly sixty inches, arms
as thick as an average man's legs, and legs
like an elephant's.  His broad, deeply bronzed
face, in the midst of which a small nose, over
a long clean upper lip, looked strangely
disproportionate, was fringed with a thick mass
of wiry black hair.  Little eyes of steely blue
gazed out upon the world with a hard
unwinking stare.  He wore a dirty white
sweater, much-patched blue trousers, and long
boots.  His big voice was somewhat monotonous
in intonation, and he had been known to
doze in the middle of a sentence, wake up and
continue without a flaw in the construction.

Ephraim Meek, who had been mate to
Grinson's boatswain for about a quarter of a
century, was a head taller, but lost the
advantage of his inches through a forward stoop of
his gaunt frame.  Where Grinson was convex
Meek was concave.  His hollow cheeks were
covered with straggling, mouse-coloured hair;
his long thin nose made him look more
inquisitive than he really was; his faded grey
eyes, slightly asquint, seemed to be drawn as
by a magnet to the countenance of his
superior.  Meek was a whole-hearted admirer
of the boatswain, and their long association
was marred by only one thing--a perpetual
struggle between Meek's personal devotion
and his conscientious regard for veracity.
No one knew what pangs Grinson's frequent
appeals to 'Ephraim, me lad,' to 'bear him
out' cost the anxious man.  But he had
always managed to satisfy the boatswain
without undue violence to his own scruples,
and Grinson had never felt the strain.

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'What do I make of it?' repeated Hoole.  'Nix!'

'Where do you suppose we are, Grinson?'
asked Trentham.

'I ain't good at supposing, sir, but I know
we 're somewheres on the north coast of New
Guinea,' Grinson replied.  'Which I mean to
say it's inhabited by cannibals, and I was
nearly eat once myself.  'Twas twenty or
maybe twenty-one years ago, when----'

'By and by, Grinson,' interrupted Trentham.
'It's a gruesome story, no doubt, and
we 'll fumigate it with our last go-to-bed pipe.'

'Just so,' Hoole put in.  'I guess we 'd better
explore.  It don't feel good on this beach.'

'Certainly.  To save time we 'd better split
up.  You take Grinson and go one way; I 'll
go the other with Meek.  Whoever sees a way
up the cliffs, signal to the others.'

They paired off, and walked in opposite
directions along the sand.  A line of seaweed
some thirty feet from the cliffs indicated
high-water mark, and relieved them of any fear of
being engulfed by the tide.

Trentham and Meek had struck off to the
west, and as they went along they scanned the
rugged face of the cliffs for a place where it
would be possible to scale them.  For nearly
half a mile they roamed on in silence; Meek
was one of those persons who do not invite
conversation.  Then, however, the seaman
came to a halt.

'I wouldn't swear to it, sir,' he said in his
deprecating way, 'but if you 'll slew your
eyes a point or two off the cliffs, I do believe
you 'll see the stump of a mast.'

He raised his lank hand and pointed.

'That won't help us much,' said Trentham,
looking towards a pocket of sand some
distance above high-water mark, and surrounded
by straggling bushes.  'We can't sail off in
a wreck.'

'That's true as gospel, sir, but it came
into my mind, like, that where there 's a
mast there 's a hull, and p'r'aps it 'll give us a
doss-house for the night.'

'It 'll be choked with sand.  Still, we 'll
have a look at it.'

They walked towards the spot where four or
five feet of a jagged mast stood up apparently
from the embedding sand.  As they emerged
from the surrounding bushes they discovered
parts of the bulwarks projecting a few inches above
a mound of silted-up sand, a little higher than their
heads.  Clambering up the easiest slope, and stepping
over the rotting woodwork, Trentham gave a
low whistle of surprise.

'Come up and have a look at this, Meek,' he said
to the man standing in his bent-kneed attitude below.

.. _`'COME UP AND HAVE A LOOK AT THIS, MEEK'`:

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   :alt: 'COME UP AND HAVE A LOOK AT THIS, MEEK.'

   'COME UP AND HAVE A LOOK AT THIS, MEEK.'


Meek came to his side, and drew his fingers
through his thin whiskers as he contemplated
the scene before him.  Then he turned his
eyes on Trentham, and from him to the cliffs
and the beach around.

'Rum, sir!' he ejaculated.  'Uncommon rum!'

While the greater part of the vessel was
deep in sand, a certain area of the deck around
the base of the mast was covered with only a
thin layer, through which the iron ring of a
hatch was clearly visible.  On all sides of
it the sand appeared to have been cleared
away, and heaped up like a regular rampart.

'Some one has been here, and not so long
ago,' said Trentham.  'It's certainly queer.
See if you can lift the hatch; we may as well
go below.'

Meek hesitated.

'If so be there 's cannibals----' he began.

'Nonsense!  They wouldn't be stifling
under hatches.'

'Or maybe dead corpses or skellingtons.'

'Come, pull up the hatch; I 'll go down first.'

Brushing away the thin covering of sand,
Meek seized the ring and heaved.  The hatch
came up so easily that he almost lost his
balance.

'The stairway 's quite sound,' said Trentham,
peering into the depths.  'Stand by!'

He stepped upon the companion, and
descended.  In a few seconds Meek heard the
striking of a match, and Trentham's voice
ringing out of the vault.

'Come down, Meek; there are no skeletons.'

Meek looked around timorously, sighed,
and went slowly down the ladder.  Trentham
had just struck another match, and was holding
it aloft.  The flame disclosed a small cabin,
the floor space almost filled with a massive
table and three chairs of antique make, all of
dark oak.  Upon the table lay an old sextant,
a long leather-bound telescope, a large mug of
silver-gilt, heavily chased, a silver spoon, and
several smaller objects.  On the wall hung
a large engraved portrait in a carved oak
frame, representing a stout, hook-nosed,
heavily wigged gentleman in eighteenth
century costume, with a sash across the shoulder
and many stars and decorations on the breast.

Meek breathed heavily.  The match went out.

'I can't afford to use all my matches,' said
Trentham.  'Run up and cut a branch from
a bush; that'll serve for a torch for the
present.  And signal to the others.'

'I don't hardly like to say it, sir, but I 'm
afeard as my weak voice won't reach so far.'

'My good man, you 've got long arms.
Wave 'em about.  Climb up the mast.  Use
your gumption!'

Meek mounted to the deck, and Trentham
smiled as he heard a husky voice shouting,
'Ahoy!'  After some minutes the man
returned with a thick dry branch.

'I give a hail, sir, and flung my arms about
frantic, and Mr. Grinson, he seed me.  I can't
say he heard me, not being sure.  He 've a
wonderful voice himself--wonderful, and I
heard him answer as clear as a bell.'

'That's all right!' said Trentham, lighting
the branch.  'We 've made a discovery, Meek.'

'Seemingly, sir.  I 'm fair mazed, and
that's the truth of it.  Who might be the old
soldier yonder, and what's he wear that thing
on his head for?  He ain't a sea captain, that
I 'll swear, and I wonder at any sailor-man
sticking up a soldier's picture in his cabin.'

'You 're quite right, Meek,' replied Trentham,
who had been scrutinising the portrait.
'The old soldier, as you call him, is a king.'

'You don't say so, sir!  Where's his
crown, then?'

'Ah, I wonder where!  The poor man lost
his crown and his head too.  It's Louis XVI.,
King of France a hundred years ago and more.
Here it is in French, below the engraving:
"Engraved after the portrait by
Champfleury."  We 're in a French vessel,
Meek--the ship of some French explorer, no doubt,
who was wrecked here goodness knows how
many years ago.'

Meek looked around again, and slightly
shivered.

'I wonder what they did with the bones?'
he murmured.

'What bones?'

'The cannibals, I mean, sir, when they 'd
eat the captain and crew.'

'You 've a ghastly imagination, Meek.  A
question more to the point is, how it happens
that these things remain here, so well
preserved.  There 's very little sand on the floor,
as you see; any one would think that
somebody comes here now and then to tidy up.
Would your cannibals do that, do you think?'

'I wouldn't like to say, sir.  I 'll ask
Mr. Grinson; he knows 'em, being nearly eat
himself.  But I don't know who 'd have a
good word for cannibals.'

'At any rate, they aren't thieves.  This
mug, for instance, is silver gilt, and of some
value; here 's a coat-of-arms engraved on it,
and it must have been polished not very long
ago.  Yes, it has been rubbed with sand;
look at the slight scratches.  I 'm beginning
to think rather well of your cannibals.'

'Touch wood, sir,' said Meek earnestly.
'I wouldn't say a thing like that, not till I
knowed.  And as for thieves--well, if a man's
bad enough to eat another man, he 's bad
enough to be a thief, and if he ain't a thief,
'tis because he don't know the vally of things.
Ignorance is a terrible unfortunate calamity.'

A sonorous bellow from above caused Meek
to jump.

'There, now!' he said.  'My head 's full
of cannibals, and 'tis Mr. Grinson.  We 're
down below!' he called.

'Is the place afire?' asked Grinson,
sniffing, as he bent his head over the hatchway.
'I thought 'twas Mr. Trentham smoking
when I seed the smoke, but I see you 're
disinfecting the cabin, sir, and I don't
wonder.  This 'ere wreck must have been
collecting germs a good few years.'

'Come down, Grinson,' said Trentham.
'Where 's Mr. Hoole?'

'Taking a look up the chimbley, sir.'

'What chimney?'

'Well, that's what he called it; for myself
I 'd call it a crack.'  He came ponderously
down the ladder.  'Jiminy!  Ephraim, me
lad, you never tidied up so quick in your life
before.'

'I can't truthfully say as I tidied up, Mr.
Grinson,' said Meek.  ''Tis uncommon tidy
for a cabin, that's a fact.'

'Picters, too!  The master o' this 'ere
ship must have been a rum cove!'

'He was a Frenchman, Mr. Trentham says.'

'That accounts for it.  I remember a
French captain----'

The chimney, Grinson,' Trentham interrupted.
'You haven't explained----'

'True, sir; it was took out of my mind,
seeing things what I didn't expect.  As we
come along, sir, Mr. Hoole he says: "Ain't
that a chimbley?"  "Where?" says I, not
seeing no pot nor cowl.  "There!" says he,
and he points to what I 'd call a long crack
in the cliff.'

'Where is it?'

'About half a cable length astern, sir.  Mr. Hoole
went to have a look at it.  Here he is!'

'Phew!  That torch of yours is rather a
stinker!' said Hoole, springing lightly down
the ladder.  'My!  This is interesting,
Trentham.  I wondered where the path led.'

'You 've found a path?'

'Sure!  Didn't you see it?'

'No.  The fact is, Meek and I were so
much taken up with the wreck that we forgot
everything else.  But we didn't see any
footprints in the sand.'

'There are none about here, except yours.
The path is way back a few yards.  I caught
sight of a narrow fissure in the cliff, what we
call a chimney in the Rockies.  I pushed
through the undergrowth to take a keek at it,
and came upon distinct signs of a beaten
track, leading straight to the chimney.
That's barely wide enough to admit a man;
Grinson would stick, I guess; but 'tis surely
used as a passage.  There are notches cut in
the cliff at regular intervals.'

'Then we can get away?'

'Sure!  All but Grinson, that is.  We 'd
have to leave him behind.'

'Don't say so, sir,' said Meek.  'Mr. Grinson 's
not so fat as he was--not by a long
way.  I 'm afeard if he stays, I must stay too.'

'Thank 'ee, Ephraim, me lad,' said Grinson
warmly.  'But Mr. Hoole is pulling my
leg.  You take him too serious; he 's a
gentleman as will have his joke.  He wouldn'
go for to desert two poor seamen.'

'I never could understand a joke--never!'
said Meek.  ''Tis a misfortune, but so I was born.'

Hoole and Trentham, meanwhile, had been
examining the relics and discussing the
bearing of their discoveries on the situation.

'It's quite clear that the wreck is visited,'
said Trentham.

'By natives, of course.  Why?  How
often?  It doesn't matter much, except that
if we saw them, we might get a notion as to
whether we could safely go among them and
get their help.  You are sure the chimney is
climbable?'

'Certain.  The notches are deep, and you
could set your back against the opposite wall
and climb without using your hands.'

'I 'll have a look at it.  Then we had better
go back to our boat, get some grub, and talk
things over.  It's too late to go in for
further adventures to-day.'

'That's so.  Say, I 'd leave the hatch off
for a while.  The place reeks--it would give
us away.'

'Right!  We 'll clear out.  The men can
keep guard above while we 're examining
that chimney.'





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.. _`THE DRUMS`:

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   CHAPTER II


.. class:: center medium

   THE DRUMS

.. vspace:: 2

An hour later they were seated in the
boat, nibbling biscuits and taking
turns to sip at the water in their keg.

'Now that we 've proved that Grinson can
just squeeze into the chimney,' said Hoole,
'I guess we had better climb to-morrow and
take a look round.  But what then?  What
do you know about this blamed island, Grinson?'

'Not as much as you could stuff into a
pipe, in a manner of speaking,' said Grinson.
'A few years ago I spent a couple of weeks in
Moresby and round about--you can bear me
out, Ephraim, me lad--and I know no more
than what I picked up there.  That's on
the south-east: we 're on the north, on
what's German ground, or was; and by all
that's said, the Germans never took much
trouble to do more than hoist their flag.
They 've got a port somewhere, but whether
we 're east of it or west of it, I don't know no
more than the dead.'

'So when we climb, we shan't know which
way to go,' said Trentham.  'Yet our only
chance is to make along the coast till we
reach some white settlement, unless we could
manage to attract attention on some passing
ship.  You don't know what the natives are
like hereabout?'

'No, sir.  They do say there 's little chaps
about two feet high in the forests, but I never
seed 'em.  The folks on the coast ain't so
little, and down Moresby way they 've learnt
to behave decent; but I reckon they 're
pretty wild in other parts, and I know some
of 'em are 'orrid cannibals, 'cos I was nearly
eat myself once.  We was lying becalmed off
the Dutch coast, away in the west of this 'ere
island, and some of us had gone ashore for
water, and----'

'What's that noise?' exclaimed Hoole,
springing up.

A faint purring sound came to their ears.

'It's uncommonly like an aeroplane
engine,' said Trentham.  'It would be
rather fun to be taken off in an aeroplane.'

'Never in life!' said Meek mournfully.
'It 'ud turn my weak head.'

'Your head will be quite safe, Meek,' said
Trentham.  'The only aeroplane that's
likely to be in these latitudes is the one that
scouted for the German raider.  Our poor
captain guessed what was coming when he
saw the thing, and three hours afterwards
they got us, and he was dead.'

'There it is!' cried Hoole, pointing sea-ward.

They were just able to discern the machine,
little more than a speck, flying along from
west to east.  In a few minutes it had disappeared.

'Flying after other game,' said Trentham.
'You were saying, Grinson?'

'And I got parted from the rest, through
chasing a butterfly, which I was always a
stoodent of nature.  I had just nabbed a
lovely pink 'un with gold spots, when a crowd
of naked savages surrounded me, their faces
hidjous with paint, and their spears pointing
at me like the spokes of a wheel.  Not having
my pistol with me, I couldn't shoot 'em all
down one after another, so I offered 'em the
butterfly, then a brass button, and one or two
other little things I had about me, which any
decent nigger would 'a been thankful for.
But no!  Nothing but my gore would satisfy
'em, or rather my fat, for I was in them days
twice the size I am now.  You can bear me
out, Ephraim, me lad?'

'I wouldn't be sure 'twas exactly twice,
Mr. Grinson, but not far short--a pound or
so under, p'r'aps.'

'I thought my last hour was come, and it
came on me sudden that I hadn't made my
will----'

'There 's a smudge of smoke far out,' cried
Hoole.  'If we get on a rock and wave our
shirts, somebody 'll see us.'

They looked eagerly out to sea.  A steamer,
just distinguishable on the horizon, was
proceeding in the same direction as the
aeroplane they had noticed a few minutes before.
Grinson put up his hands to shade his eyes as
he gazed.

'If I had a pair of glasses, or that there
telescope in the wreck!  Ah!  I may be
wrong, but I believe 'tis that ruffian of a
pirate as sunk our craft yesterday.  Seems
to me we 'd better keep our shirts on our
backs, sir.'

'I dare say you 're right,' said Hoole.
'For my part I 'd rather try my luck with
cannibals than with those Germans again.'

'Which I agree with you, sir,' said
Grinson.  'With luck, or I may say gumption,
you can escape from cannibals, like I did.'

'Ah, yes.  How did you get out of that
ring of spears?'

The boatswain took such pleasure in retailing
his yarns that the two young men gave
him plenty of rope.

'I was fair upset at not having made my
will, thinking of how the lawyers would fight
over my remains, in a manner of speaking.
So I takes out my pocket-book and my
fountain pen, and with a steady hand I begins to
write.  It shows what comes of a man doing
his dooty.  Them cannibals was struck all of
a heap when they seed black water oozing out
of a stick.  They lowered the points of their
spears, and, instead of being a circle, they
formed up three deep behind me, looking
over my shoulder.  It come into my head
they took me for a medicine-man, and the
dawn of a great hope lit up my pearly eyes.'

'Where did you get that, Grinson?'
asked Hoole.

'What, sir?'

'That about "pearly eyes" and the rest.'

'Oh, that!  It took my fancy in a nice
little story called *Lord Lyle's Revenge* as a
kind lady once give me, and I 've never
forgot it.  Well, as I was saying, I set to
droring a portrait of the ugliest mug among
'em--fuzzy hair, nose bones and all--they
a-watching me all the time with bated
breath; and when I 'd put in the finishing
stroke, blest if every man Jack of 'em didn't
begin to quarrel about whose photo it was.
Never did you hear such a hullabaloo.
Fixing of 'em with my eagle eye, I waved 'em
back like as if I was shooing geese, took a
pin from my weskit and stuck the portrait
on a tree, and told 'em to fight it out who
was the ugliest of 'em, 'cos he was the owner.
The cannibals made a rush for the tree, every
one of 'em trying to prevent the rest from
getting the picture, and I lit my pipe and
walked away as steady as a bobby on dooty.
You can bear me out, Ephraim, me lad?'

'Wonderful steady you was, Mr. Grinson,
and the bottle of rum empty too.  I couldn't
have walked so steady.  The other chaps
said as how you 'd been taking a nap, but I
never believed 'em.'

'Never go napping on dooty, Ephraim;
which I mean to say we 'll have to take watch
and watch to-night, gentlemen.  What with
cannibals and them big hermit crabs and
other vermin, 'twouldn't be safe for us all to
have our peepers shut.'

'Very true, Grinson,' said Trentham.
'The boat's rather exposed: you had better
choose a spot on the beach where we can
shelter for the night.  There are some rocks
yonder that look promising.  Then we 'll
arrange about watching.'

Grinson and Meek went off together; the
others meanwhile strolled up and down,
discussing plans for the morrow.

'We 're so badly off,' said Trentham.
'You 've luckily got your revolver; any
spare cartridges?'

'A score or so.'

'I 've only a penknife, worse luck.  Grinson
has a long knife, and Meek, no doubt, has
a knife of some sort; but three knives and a
revolver won't enable us to put up much
of a fight if we really do come across any
cannibals.'

'And I guess that fountain pens and pocket
books won't be much good.  We couldn't
patch up the boat?'

'Without tools?  Besides, I shouldn't
care to risk a voyage.  We may have a chance
of reaching some settlement overland, and I
dare say could pick up some food; but on the
sea we might drift for weeks, even if we could
exist on our few biscuits and little water.'

'Well, old man, we 'll get what sleep we
can and try the chimney in the morning.
The sky promises fair weather, anyway; did
you ever see such a splendid sunset?'

They were facing west, and beyond the
headland the sun, a gorgeous ball of fire, was
casting a blood-red glow on the scarcely
rippling sea.  On the cliffs the leaves of the
palms were edged with crimson, and flickered
like flames as they were gently stirred by the
breeze.  The two friends stood side by side,
silently watching the magnificent panorama.
Suddenly Hoole caught Trentham by the
arm, and pulled him down behind a rock.

'My sakes!' he exclaimed under his
breath.  'D' you see people moving
between the wreck and the cliff?'

Trentham took off his hat and peered
cautiously over the rocks.

'You 're right,' he said.  'It's not easy to
make 'em out; they 're in the shadow of the
headland; we 're a good mile away, I fancy.
They can't see us at present, but we had
better warn the others; the sun as it moves
round will strike us presently.'

They returned to the spot which Grinson
had selected for their camping place--a space
of clear sand protected on one side by a group
of rocks and on the other by a clump of
bushes spreading from the base of the cliffs.
Meek had already brought up their scanty
stores from the boat; Grinson had stripped
off his jersey and shirt.

'If you 'll take my advice, gentlemen,' he
said, 'you 'll swill the sticky off--you 'll
sleep all the better for it.  Bathing all in I
wouldn't advise, in case of sharks.'

'Shall we get any sleep, I wonder?' said
Trentham.  'There are men on the beach, Grinson.'

'Men, sir?'

'Cannibals!' murmured Meek.

'We saw figures moving between the wreck
and the cliff.'

'Holy poker!' exclaimed the boatswain,
rapidly drawing on his shirt.  Trentham
noticed momentarily the figure of a bird
tattooed on his upper left arm.  'Hope they
don't come this way.'

'Why shouldn't we take the bull by the
horns and go *their* way?' said Hoole.  'I 'll
tackle 'em, if you like.  You don't know but
we 'd make friends of them.'

'Not by no manner of means, sir, I beg
you,' said Grinson.  'The New Guinea
savages are the fiercest in creation; Ephraim
can bear me out; cunning as the devil, and
that treacherous.  The tales I could tell!
But I wouldn't freeze your blood, not for the
world; all I say is, keep out of their clutches.'

'Where can we hide, if so be they come
this way?' faltered Meek.

'There 's nothing to bring them along this
bare beach,' said Trentham.  'They won't
see us if we remain here; I doubt whether
they 'll even see the boat.  No doubt they 'll
be gone by the morning.'

'Just so,' said Hoole.  'Still, we 've got
to meet them some time, probably----'

'Better by daylight, sir,' said Grinson.
'Wild beasts and savages are always most
fearsome at night.  I say, lay low.'

'As low as you can,' Meek added.

The glow of sunset faded, and in the
deepening shade the figures were no longer
visible.  The four men sat in their shelter,
talking in undertones, none of them disposed
to sleep.  For a while only the slow
tumbling surf bore a murmurous counterpoint to
their voices.  All at once a dull boom struck
upon their ears.  It was not the explosive
boom of a gun, but a deep prolonged note.
Soon it was followed by a similar sound, at
a slightly higher pitch, and the two notes
alternated at regular intervals.

'Drums, by the powers!' ejaculated
Grinson.  ''Tis a dance, or a feast, or both.'

'A mighty slow dance,' said Hoole.  'I 'd
fall asleep between the steps.'

But even as he spoke the sounds became
louder and more rapid, and presently in the
midst of the now continuous booming a voice
was heard, chanting in monotone.  Into this
broke a deeper growling note as from many
voices in unison, and after the song and
accompaniment had continued for some time
with ever-increasing vigour and volume, they
came to a sudden end in a short series of
strident barks, half smothered by the clamour
of the drums.

The four men had risen, and leaning on the
rocks, with their faces towards the sounds,
had listened to the strange chorus.

'It's extraordinarily thrilling,' said
Trentham.  'I 'd never have believed that drums
could make such music.'

'It trickles down my spine,' Hoole
confessed.  'And they 're pretty nearly a mile
away.  What must it be on the spot?  Say,
if they start again, shall we creep along and see?'

'I 'm game.  Look!  They 've lit a fire.
There's some ceremony on hand--not a
thing to be missed.'

'Which means a feast, sir,' said Grinson.
'If you ask me, I say don't go.  It 'll turn
your blood.'

'Special if 'tis a man they eat,' said Meek.

'You two stay home; Mr. Trentham and
I will go,' said Hoole.  'The rocks and scrub
will give plenty of cover; besides, the
feasters will be busy.  We 'll be unseen
spectators in the gallery.'

Heedless of the further expostulations of
the seamen, Trentham and Hoole set off, and
keeping well under the shadow of the cliffs,
tramped rapidly towards the growing blaze.
As they drew nearer to it, they moved with
greater caution, careful not to come directly
within the glow.  The drums recommenced
their slow tapping, and when the white men
arrived at a spot where, screened by the
bushes, they could see unseen, the dance had
just begun.

The fire was kindled on a clear space
between the wreck and the vegetation that
clothed the foot of the cliffs.  Beyond it,
nearer the vessel, about twenty natives were
stamping in time with the two drums, placed
at one end of the line.  They were men of
average height, well built, but rather thin in
the legs, wearing fantastic head-dresses, bone
or coral necklaces and armlets, and scanty
loin-cloths.  The watchers were at once struck
by certain differences in the types of feature.
All the savages were a dull black in colour,
except where they had painted their skins
white or red, but while the majority had wide
bridgeless noses and frizzy hair, there were
some whose noses were arched, and whose
hair, though curled, was neither stiff nor
bushy.  Every face was disfigured by a long
skewer of bone passed through the nose.

The dance was disappointing.  The men
did little more than stamp up and down,
swaying a little now and then, stepping a
pace or two forward or backward, shaking
their spears, and emitting a grunt.  There
was no excitement, no crescendo of martial fury.

'A very tame performance!' whispered Hoole.

But Trentham was no longer watching the
dance.  Beyond the dancers, only
occasionally visible as they moved, there was
something that had fixed his attention.  He could
not quite determine what it was, but a
suspicion was troubling him.  Between the
swaying figures there appeared, now and
again, a whitish object partially obscured by
bush, and barely within the circle of light
from the fire.  It was motionless, but the
fugitive glimpses that Trentham caught of it
made him more and more uneasy.

'You see that white thing?' he whispered,
taking Hoole by the arm.

'Yep!  What of it?'

Trentham pressed his arm more closely.
The dancers had moved a little farther apart,
and for the first time the object behind them
was completely outlined.

'By gum, it's a man!' murmured Hoole.

'And a white man!' added Trentham.
'I was afraid so.'





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE CHIMNEY`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER III


.. class:: center medium

   THE CHIMNEY

.. vspace:: 2

Noiselessly the two spectators slipped
away through the bushes.  Startled
by the discovery of a white man, whose
very stillness declared him a prisoner in bonds
among these dancing savages, they felt the
need of talking freely, unrestrained by
precautions against being overheard.  They
hurried along at the base of the cliffs until
they were out of earshot, then sat on a low
rock where they could still see all that went
on around the fire.

'Can it be that planter fellow on the
*Berenisa*?  What was his name?' said Trentham.

'You mean Grimshaw; he was the only
man besides ourselves who wore ducks.  I
don't know.  Grimshaw was a small man;
the prisoner seemed a big fellow.  I couldn't
see his face.'

'Nor I.  Whoever it is, I 'm afraid his
number 's up.'

'I didn't take much stock of Grinson's
yarns about cannibals, but it appears he 's
right.  The niggers would hardly bring their
prisoner down the chimney for the fun of it,
or the trouble of taking him up again.'

'Did you see a cooking-pot?'

'No, I was too busy watching the dancers
to look around.'

'We 'll have to get him away.'

'Whew!  That's a tall proposition, Trentham.'

'Confoundedly; but we can't stand off and
see a white man cut up!  Hang it all, Hoole,
it's too horrible to think about!'

'Ghastly.  Yet remember where we are.
We might get him loose, but what then?
They 'd hunt us over this strip of beach, and
we 've proved pretty well there 's nowhere to hide.'

'Our only chance is to get him up the chimney.'

'My dear man!'

'It may be out of the frying-pan into the
fire, if there are more of the savages on top,
but down below his fate is certain,
whereas----'

'But there 's the climbing.  I 've done
some in the Rockies, but I guess you 're a
tenderfoot at mountaineering, and as for the
seamen----'

'If they can scramble up rigging, they
ought to be able to manage that chimney.
I 'm sure I could.  And really, there 's no
time to lose.  They 're still drumming and
dancing, but who knows when they 'll feel
hungry?  We had better bring up the others
at once.'

They got up, and hastened towards their
camping-place.

'It's the first step that costs,' remarked
Hoole.  'How to get him away with the
firelight full on him.  It's a ticklish stunt.'

'We can but try--we must try!  Hullo!
Here 's Grinson.'

The two seamen stepped towards them
from the shelter of a bush.

'We came to meet you, sir,' Grinson began.

'Hush, Grinson!' said Trentham.  'Muffle
that organ-pipe of yours.  The savages have
got a white man.'

'Never!' exclaimed Meek, in husky
astonishment.

'He 's lying tied to a bush there, apparently,'
Trentham went on.  'A man dressed in white.'

'Mr. Grimshaw!  How did they get him?'
said Grinson.  'He must have been cast ashore.'

'We don't think it's he, but it may be.
Anyhow, we must try to rescue him.'

'Save us, sir!  We 'll only go into the pot
too.  It will be like taking a bone from a
dog, only worse.'

'Worse ain't the word for it,' said Meek.
'And you 'd go first, Mr. Grinson, being a
man of flesh.'

'Tough, Ephraim--uncommon tough, me
lad.  Any nigger of sense would rather have
something young and juicy, like Mr. Trentham.
I remember once----'

'Not now, Grinson,' Trentham interposed.
'We must make up our minds; there 's no
time for recollections.'

'Plenty of time, sir.  These 'ere cannibals
never start cooking till the moon 's high aloft,
and she 's only just peeping above the skyline.'

'That's a relief, if you 're right----'

'I can bear him out, sir,' said Meek.

'It gives us more time to make our plans.
Our idea is, Grinson, if we get the prisoner
away, to climb up that crack in the cliff;
there's no safety below.  There may be
danger above, of course; it's a choice
between two evils.  We meant to try our luck
to-morrow, you know; we only anticipate by
a few hours, and though climbing will be more
difficult in the darkness than it would be in
the light, you and Meek are used to
clambering up the rigging at all hours and in all
weathers----'

'Say no more about that, sir.  We 'd back
ourselves against cats.'

'Or monkeys,' suggested Meek.

'You 've got no tail, Ephraim.  'Tis not
the climbing as I 've any fear about, sir; 'tis
first the bonfire, second what's up top, third
and last--there ain't no third, now I come to
think of it.'

'The second we 've agreed to chance.  The
first--well, the only thing is to work round
the savages and get between them and the
chimney; then one of us must creep or crawl
as close to them as he can, and watch his
opportunity.  There's no need for more than one.'

'That's my stunt,' said Hoole.

'Not at all.  It's between you and me;
we 're younger and quicker on our pins than
the others; but why you should have the
most risky part of the job----'

'The reason 's as clear as daylight.  The
quickest climber ought to go last.  I allow
that Grinson and Meek are probably more
spry than I am in climbing; but in any case
they 're ruled out.  You 've never climbed a
chimney--I have.  I think that fixes it.'

'But the prisoner.  It's unlikely he can
climb quickly, and the last man couldn't go
faster than he.'

'You ought to have been a lawyer, Trentham.
But I have you yet.  The last man
may have to hold the savages off while the
prisoner, slow by hypothesis, does his climb.
Then speed will be vital when he climbs
himself--see?'

'Axing your pardon, sir, and speaking like
a father, as you may say,' said Grinson,
'there 's only one way of settling a little
difference so 's to satisfy both parties.  I 've
seed many a quarrel nipped in the bud----'

'A quarrel, you juggins!' cried Trentham.
'There 's no quarrel!'

'Just so, sir--that's what I said.  It's a
difference, and a difference can't never grow
to be a quarrel if you just toss for it.'

'There 's our Solomon!' said Hoole.
'Spin up, Trentham!'

The rising moon gave light enough.  Trentham
spun a shilling.

'Heads!' Hoole called.

'Tails it is!  That's settled!'

''Tis fate: you can't go agen it,' murmured Meek.

'Those fellows must be pretty tired,
drumming away like that,' said Trentham.  'But
we had better make a start, Grinson.  I think
we ought to take our biscuits and water:
they 'll last us a day or two, and we don't
know what chances of getting food there 'll
be on the cliff.  You and Meek fetch them
along.  We 'll wait for you here.'

'They took it well,' said Hoole, when the
men had gone.  'I was afraid Meek would jib.'

'Meek 's all right,' responded Trentham.
'The British sailor-man has his weak points,
but he 's not a funk.'

He began to stride up and down with his
hands in his pockets.  Hoole watched him
for half a minute or so, then said:

'You 'd better take my revolver.'

'Why in the world?' said Trentham,
swinging round on him.

'It may be useful--last resource, you know.'

'If we can't do without that----  Why,
man, a shot would absolutely dish us, would
be heard for miles, and bring up every cannibal
there is.  This job has got to be done quietly.'

'I reckon there 'll be a pretty big row when
they miss their supper.  Well, if you won't
take it, remember I 've got it, anyway.'

Some fifteen minutes later the four men, in
single file, were stealing along the inner edge
of the beach, close against the cliffs.
Trentham, who was leading, took a zigzag course
for the sake of cover from the scattered rocks
and patches of vegetation.  The seamen in
the rear had slung the provisions about their
shoulders with lashings from the boat, and on
their account Trentham set a slower pace
than his anxiety to be in time would
otherwise have commended.  The fire was burning
more brightly, whiffs of acrid smoke were
borne on the breeze, and the moon, about ten
days old, appeared to have reached its
greatest altitude, and was accentuating
every irregularity on the face of the cliffs.

As they drew nearer to the fire, Trentham
moved still more slowly, picking his way with
care.  Now and then some small animal, with
a whisk and a rustle, scurried away in the
undergrowth.  Once Meek, who bore the keg,
tripped over what he declared was a monster
crab, and fell forward, the keg hitting a rock
with a sharp crack.  The rest halted and held
their breath; had the sound been heard by
the savages?  The monotonous drumming
continued unbroken, and they went on.

Between the fire and the cleft that was
their destination, grew the tangled vegetation
in which Hoole had discovered the track of
footsteps.  It grew higher than their heads,
and they were able to enter it without much
risk of being observed.  A few whispered
words were exchanged between Trentham and
Hoole, then the latter led the seamen towards
the chimney, which stretched upwards like a
black streak in the moonlit precipice, while
Trentham struck to the left, and crept
cautiously towards the outer edge of the bushes,
where he could look out upon the festive scene.

His heart seemed to be making more noise
than the drums.  His lips were dry.  The
skin of his face felt tight.  'Nerves!' he
thought, with angry impatience.  It was
strange how, without the slightest consciousness
of fear, his mental realisation of all that
was at stake thus affected his body.  Taking
a grip of himself, he went forward and peered
through the stiff crinkled foliage.  For a few
moments he saw nothing but the glare of the
fire; then, as he gathered self-command, he
was able to take in details which he had
missed at his view a short while before.

The dancers were still swaying to and fro.
At one side, crouched on the sand, were two
men holding in one hand an object like a huge
dice-box, and with the other beating a skin,
as he supposed, stretched across the circular
end.  At the other side, near the fire, stood
two iron cooking-pots.  Beyond, in the same
place, lay the motionless white figure.
Everything was clearly illuminated by the
flames, and Trentham wondered, with a
feeling of despair, how it would be possible to
approach the prisoner unseen.

A few minutes after his arrival, the dance
and the drumming came to an abrupt end.
In the ensuing silence he heard the wash of
the waves beyond the wreck, and a strange
squealing grunt which, until then, had been
drowned by the deep tones of the drums and
the barking cries of the men.  One of the
savages, who wore a tall feathered headdress,
glanced up at the moon, and said a few words
to the others.  All of them squatted on the
sand except two, who went to the bush, some
twenty yards away, to which the prisoner was
bound.  Trentham's blood ran cold.  He
wished he had brought Hoole's revolver, for it
seemed that nothing else could save the
helpless man, and he was on the point of shouting
for Hoole, when a piercing squeal, such as no
human being ever uttered, gave him at once a
shock and a sense of relief.  Next moment
the savages returned towards the fire, one of
them carrying the body of a small pig.

Trentham almost laughed as the tension of
the last few moments was relaxed.  The men
were not cannibals after all!  He looked on
as in a dream while one of the men cut up the
animal, and the other raked over the fire with
a spear.  But with reflection his former
anxiety came back.  Why had the savages
brought their prisoner here?  To leave him
to be drowned?  But he was far above
high-water mark.  Were they reserving him
as the *bonne bouche* of their feast?

One of the cooking-pots was placed over
the fire, and the dismembered pig was thrown
into it.  Beyond, the savages squatted in a
half-circle, talking.  Their leader raised an
arm towards the moon, and then jerked it in
the direction of the prisoner.  The gestures
made things clear to Trentham.  The moon
had not gained an altitude which cannibal
superstition required for the slaying of a man.

Trentham felt himself flush with hope.
The savages had their faces towards him,
their backs towards the prisoner.  The raking
of the fire had dulled the flames, and the
cooking-pot partly obscured the glowing
embers.  There was still time.

He crept through the bushes until he had
almost encircled the space upon which the
savages had built their fire.  Then, however,
a gap of clear sand, twenty or thirty yards
wide, separated him from the bush where the
prisoner lay.  Was it possible to cross that
gap undiscovered?  No friendly cloud
obscured the moon; if one of the savages
chanced to turn, he could not fail to see the
moving figure.

Trentham looked around him.  There was
no cover on that stretch of sand--no bush, no
bank of seaweed, no wave-cast log.  But the
surface was a little uneven; the winds had
blown up slight mounds and hollowed shallow
troughs.  White-clad as he was, the white was
stained and toned by water and exposure, he
might perhaps crawl through the depressions
without attracting attention.  But it must be
at a snail's pace, inch by inch, flat as a worm.

He lay on all-fours, waited a moment or
two, then started on his laborious progress.
The mounds seemed higher, the troughs
deeper, now that he was on their level, and
the yielding sand helped to cover him,
though at the same time it made movement
difficult.  Inch by inch he crawled on,
stopping at every yard to listen; he dared not
raise his head to look.  The savages were still
jabbering.  Every now and then the dull
glow of the fire was brightened by a flicker,
at which he lay still as a log, moving on again
when the transient flame had died down.

Thus, after exertion more exhausting than
if he had run a mile, he came round to the
rear of the bush to which the prisoner was
bound.  The foliage was thin and withered.
Raising himself on his knees, he saw that he
could easily reach through the branches and
cut the man's bonds.  Would his sudden
action alarm the prisoner--perhaps cause him
to cry out?  The man, as he could see now,
had been placed face downwards, and was
tied to the central stem.  He was very still.
Perhaps rescue was already too late.  But no!
As Trentham gazed, he discerned a slight
movement of the head; it was as though the
prisoner sought easier breathing.  The
moonlight revealed a bald crown and heavily
bearded cheeks; it was certainly not
Grimshaw, the planter who had been Trentham's
fellow-passenger on the *Berenisa*.

Trentham was still undecided whether to
risk a preliminary warning, when the
movements of the savages showed that the critical
moment had come.  The cooking-pot had
been removed from the embers and set before
the leader, who plunged his hand into it,
took out a small joint, and with a hollow,
wailing cry flung it into the air in the
direction of the moon, the other men chanting
a weird chorus.  Then they sprang up,
gathered about the pot, and began to eat,
with horrid sounds of gobbling.

'Now 's the time!' thought Trentham.
Stretching forward the hand in which he held
his open knife, he cut through the tendrils
about the prisoner's arms and feet, and the
longer strands which attached him to the
bush, whispering a single word of caution.
For a few moments the man lay almost as
still as before, but Trentham saw that he was
stretching his limbs and raising his head to
look towards the fire, from which there came
now only the faintest gleam.  Then slowly,
almost imperceptibly, he crawled backward
through the bush.  Trentham rose to his feet.
When the man reached him, he took him by
the hand and helped him to rise, then led him
with cautious steps, under cover of the bush,
down the beach towards the spot where the
wreck in its sandy bed stood up slightly from
its surroundings.

.. _`'NOW 'S THE TIME!'`:

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   :alt: 'NOW 'S THE TIME!'

   'NOW 'S THE TIME!'


Edging round this, the two men crouched
below the level of the savages' heads, and in
silence, one step at a time, moved along
parallel with the sea-line, until they arrived
at the outlying edge of the bushes which
stretched up towards the foot of the chimney.
Here they rose erect and quickened their pace.
They were half-way to the cliffs when there
was a sound of crackling.  Looking over his
shoulder, Trentham saw one of the savages in
the act of throwing more fuel upon the fire,
which suddenly broke into a bright flame.
Immediately afterwards the air rang with a
blood-curdling yell, and the whole troop of
savages rushed towards the bush where they
had left their prisoner, and swept round it in
the direction of the sea.

Trentham hurried on.  Panting heavily,
the prisoner followed on his heels.  At the
foot of the chimney Hoole was waiting.

'The men are up--all's clear,' he said,
flashing a look at the stranger, whose face
was pallid and ghastly in the moonlight.
'Guess he 's about done,' he thought, and
wondered whether his strength would hold out.
'You go first, Trentham; I 'll cover the rear.'

Trentham entered the narrow fissure, set a
foot in the lowest notch, and, levering his
back against the opposite wall, began to
climb.  The stranger, who had spoken no
word, followed with nervous haste, so quickly
that at the second step his head touched
Trentham's boot.

'Steady!  Steady!' Hoole called up in a
loud whisper.  'One slip, and you 're done!'

The man paid no heed.  He seemed to feel
that he was on the verge of exhaustion, and
must attain that giddy height while there was
yet time.  Hoole watched him anxiously; it
would hardly be safe to follow until the man
had reached the top, yet the savages were
returning.  He heard their yells of rage, and
presently caught sight of them running up the
beach in a scattered line.  A few moments
later a ferocious shriek proclaimed that one
of them at least had espied the men climbing.

'I must chance it,' thought Hoole.  'He 's
a heavy chap--if he falls.'

With the speed acquired in mountaineering,
he was soon on the heels of the rescued
prisoner, whose quick pants alarmed him.
About sixty feet from the base the man gave
a long gasp and stopped.  Hoole stuck his
feet firmly, bent his head, and presented an
arched back.  At that moment he heard a
sharp whizzing sound.  The man grunted,
and began to climb again.  Hoole followed.
Something flew with a hiss past his ear, and
clicked against the wall.

'Arrows!' he thought.  'I wonder what
their range is.'

Up and up, foot by foot, arrows whizzing
and clicking, the savages yelling with
ever-increasing fury, and audible through it all
the laboured breathing of the man above.
Then the shooting suddenly ceased; one
tremendous yell, then silence.  Hoole guessed
that the savages had begun to climb.  But he
was now a hundred feet above them; if the
stranger's strength held out, they would
never recover the start.  Their bare feet
made no sound as they clambered up; the
fissure was too narrow for him to see them.
Once more the stranger stopped for breath,
and when Hoole stopped also, a shout of
triumph, immensely loud in the narrow
passage, announced that the savages were
gaining.  The sound seemed to give their
victim new strength; he clambered more
quickly than before.  Presently Hoole heard
Trentham's voice quietly giving encouragement.
Then, looking up, he saw the man
hauled over the edge, and five seconds later
his shoulders were grasped by Grinson's
brawny hands, and he lay among thick grass.

.. _`UP AND UP, FOOT BY FOOT, ARROWS WHIZZING AND CLICKING`:

.. figure:: images/img-055.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: UP AND UP, FOOT BY FOOT, ARROWS WHIZZING AND CLICKING.

   UP AND UP, FOOT BY FOOT, ARROWS WHIZZING AND CLICKING.

'Just saved your bacon, mister,' he said
to the man beside him.

The stranger brushed the sweat from his
pallid brow with his sleeve, uttered an
inarticulate grunt, then fell backwards fainting.

'Batten down, Ephraim, me lad!' cried
Grinson.

The seamen had turned to good account
the hour they had spent alone on the cliff top.
With ready resource they had cut down pliant
branches from the surrounding trees, torn up
saplings by the roots, and begun to construct a
hurdle large enough to cover the opening.  It
was unfinished, but as soon as Hoole had
reached the top they threw it across the gap,
and hastily piled upon it the material still
unused.  The leading native, arriving half a
minute later, found his egress blocked by this
criss-cross of trunks and branches, which
yielded only slightly to the butting of his
head.  Meanwhile, Hoole and Trentham were
tearing down more branches, and casting
them upon the heap, which quickly grew to
such a size that Goliath himself could not
have raised it.

From beneath it rose the muffled cries of
the savages.  Then all was silent.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`MR. HAAN`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER IV


.. class:: center medium

   MR. HAAN

.. vspace:: 2

'Sprinkle a little water on his face,
Meek,' said Trentham, indicating the
rescued prisoner, who lay unconscious where
he had fallen.  'Only a little--we have none
to spare.'

'Tickle his nose,' suggested Hoole.
'Trentham, I 'll take a look round; we may
be on the edge of a hornets' nest.'

'Don't lose yourself, man.  In fact, you 'd
better not go out of sight.  It mayn't be safe
to call to each other.'

The rays of the moon, now high over the sea,
lit up their immediate surroundings.  From the
cliff edge to an irregular row of palms a few
yards back, low-growing plants carpeted the
ground.  On one side of the chimney they were
trodden down, and a faintly marked track was
discernible until it disappeared among the
trees.  No sound broke the stillness except
the wash of the surf two hundred feet below,
and an occasional deep booming note from
some distant spot in the forest, which
Trentham identified as the call of the cassowary.

'"Saved his bacon!" Mr. Hoole said:
'tis a true word,' remarked Grinson.  'Which
I mean to say, you saved him from being
turned into bacon, sir--or ham.  He 'd have
cut up very well.'

He stood at Trentham's side, looking down
at the man whom Meek was trying to restore
to consciousness--a brawny figure, clad in
duck trousers and a white flannel shirt, with
a linen collar and a blue tie.  His features
were heavy, his skin was deeply browned.
The crown of his head was almost entirely
bald, but a thick growth of short brown hair
clothed his lips, cheeks, and chin.

'The very picter of Captain Lew Summers
as once I sailed with,' Grinson went on.
'How 'd he get in this mess, sir?'

'I don't know,' replied Trentham.  'He
hasn't said a word.'

He thought he saw the man's eyelids flicker.

'He 's coming to, sir,' said Meek, from the
ground.

'Lift his head, Ephraim,' said Grinson.
'I 'm speckylating whether his first word 'll
be a curse or a blessing.'

The man slowly opened his eyes, but it
seemed to Trentham, watching him intently,
that he had more command over himself than
might have been expected in a man
recovering from a swoon.  He glanced from Meek to
Grinson, then to Trentham, and raising
himself on his elbows looked along the track that
led among the trees.

'Feel better?' asked Trentham.

.. _`'FEEL BETTER?'`:

.. figure:: images/img-060.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: 'FEEL BETTER?'

   'FEEL BETTER?'


For a moment he did not reply; then
slowly and with a curiously thick utterance,
he said:--

'Yes.  You save me?  Dank you.

'Not at all.  Couldn't leave a white man
in the hands of niggers, you know.  Can
you get up?'

'I dink so.'  With Trentham's assistance
he struggled to his feet.  'Yes.  Widout you
I am killed--and eat!  Ach!'

'You are not an Englishman?'

'Dutch.  Mate of a trade schooner dat was
wrecked up de coast.'

'And the rest of the crew?'

'Dead--dead; all but me.  I swim strong.'

Grinson glanced at the Dutchman's
trousers, then at Meek.

'Yes, but what good?' the man went on.
'De niggers capture me.  Widout you, my
friend--Ach!  Dey make me climb down; at
de height of de moon'--(he shuddered).  'Yes,
I know dem, widout you I am killed and eat.
I dank you.'

'Well, it was uncommonly lucky we
happened to be hereabouts,' said Trentham.
'We were in a ticklish situation ourselves.'

'Wrecked?'

The moonlight glinted on a pair of very
keen eyes.

'No, we were sunk by a German raider.
The boat we got away in, four of us, only
escaped a shell by a hair's breadth.  Did you
sight the ruffians?'

'No.  My schooner was wrecked up de
coast.  You escaped a shell!  Wonderful!
And you go, where?'

'We don't know.  We only got ashore
yesterday, and couldn't find a way up the
cliffs till we discovered this crack.'

'I help you.  Yes, it is a pleasure to do
something for dem what save me.  Dis coast,
I know it a little.  I was here before, since
ten years, when I come wid expedition for
search of--of copper.  You listen to me; I
show you.  You go to Friedrich Wilhelmshafen;
it is de German port----'

'Axing your pardon, mister,' Grinson
interposed, 'you been a long voyage, surely.
There ain't no German ports in New Guinea
nowadays, and I lay that port have got a new
name that don't break your jaw to say.'

The stranger turned his eyes on Grinson for
a moment, then went on:

'It is a long way--a journey of eight or ten
days.  I show you.  Dere is needed great
care.  De niggers--cannibals--you see dem.
Always must we watch, and wid luck--I say
wid luck--we do not fall into deir hands.  Dey
have villages along de coast--de coast is very
dangerous, and we must go drough de forest.'

'Aren't there villages in the forest?'
asked Trentham.

'In de mountains, yes,' said the Dutchman,
waving an arm towards the interior.  'De
coast and de mountains, dey must we avoid
equally.'

'And the niggers on the beach there--where
is their village?'

'On de coast somewhere, I know not
where.  Dey carry me far from de place
where I was wrecked--five days.'

'I 'm glad of that.  I mean I 'm glad we
aren't near their place; it gives us a better
chance.  Ah! here 's the fourth of our party.'

Hoole had just reappeared at the edge of
forest.  'My name is Trentham, by the
way; my friend yonder is Mr. Hoole; these
friends of ours, men of your own calling, are
Mr. Grinson and Mr. Meek.'

'Yes.  My name is Haan--H-a-a-n.'

Wondering why he had spelled the name,
Trentham turned to Hoole, who had just
come up.

'I followed the track some distance,' said
Hoole.  'Nothing doing, except that a
fiendish leech dropped on me from a tree, I
suppose, and did himself rather well, confound
him!'  He showed his wrist.  'The beast
has opened a vein, and I knew nothing about
it until I got back into the moonlight and
wondered how on earth I 'd cut my wrist.
But there 's no sign of natives.'

Meek heaved a sign of satisfaction.  Having
introduced the Dutchman and explained
his plight, Trentham went on:

'I think we had better get out of this at
once.  We haven't heard a sound from below,
which suggests--doesn't it?--that the savages
know another way up, probably far away.
The track must lead to their village, so we 'll
avoid that.  Mr. Haan knows something of
the country, and has offered to guide us to--what
is it?'

'Friedrich Wilhelmshafen,' said Haan.

'A reg'lar tongue-twister, sir,' said
Grinson.  'But it 'll change its name, like a
woman, for better--couldn't be for worse!'

'Do we strike east or west?' asked Hoole.

'East,' replied Haan.  'I dink we should
go an hour or two while the moon is up, den
rest till morning.'

'Are there any beasts of the earth that
do go forth and seek their prey by night?'
asked Meek.

'Not in dis country,' the Dutchman
answered.  'Dere are no dangerous beasts
except de cannibals, and dey will not walk
when the moon is down.  We go, den; I
show de way.'

Haan gazed into the sky, then went to the
brink of the cliff and looked out to sea and
along the coast in both directions.

'I take my bearings,' he said, returning.
'Now we start.'

He struck off almost at right angles to the
native track, but instead of entering the forest
strode along at a moderate pace just outside
its edge, at an average distance of thirty feet
from the cliff.  The rest followed him in single
file, Trentham leading, Meek bringing up the
rear.  They had taken only a few steps when
Grinson halted until Meek reached his side.

'Trousers!' he said in a falsetto whisper.

'What did you say, Mr. Grinson?' asked
Meek, dropping his voice to match.

'Trousers, Ephraim--the Dutchman's.
Didn't you notice 'em?'

'Well, he do have a pair, as is only decent,
but I can't truthfully say as I noticed
anything partickler about their rig.'

'Where are your eyes, Ephraim?  I 'm
surprised at you!  He said he swam ashore.'

'True.  "I swim strong," was his words,
and I can believe it, his arms and legs being
such.'

'D' you believe he took his trousers off,
then?  S'pose he did--wouldn't they show?
If you 'd used your eyes, Ephraim, me lad,
you 'd 'a seen as there weren't no sign of
sea-water on them trousers.  'Tis my belief
they 've never been near water since they
left the washtub.'

Meek looked in a puzzled way into the
boatswain's eyes.  Grinson winked, jerked
his arm in the direction of the Dutchman,
then, edging a little closer to Meek, put his
head over his mouth, and whispered:

'Cut the painter.'

'What painter?'

'Hopped the twig, as they say in the dear
old New Cut where I was born.  Deserted,
Ephraim.'

'Never!' Meek ejaculated.  'What for
would he desert in a land of cannibals?'

'What do men desert for?  Anything--nothing!
You mind that time Ben Scruddles
hooked it at Noo York?  What for?'

'Well, 'twas a long time ago, and I don't
rightly remember, but I 'd say 'twas because
Ben didn't like the skipper's red hair.'

'Might 'a been part of it, but the main
thing was that Ben was just tired--tired o'
the skipper, tired o' reg'lar hours and
ever-lasting dooty, tired of every blessed
thing--like a horse as jibs and swears he won't pull
the blessed cart another blessed inch.
Anything for a change.  I lay my life the Dutchman
got it bad, and fancied a change.  Cannibals
is nothing when you feel like that; I 've
felt like it myself.'

They had lagged while talking, and Hoole,
looking over his shoulder, called:

'Now, men, keep up!  We don't want to
lose you.  The moon 's going down.'

'Ay, ay, sir!' replied Grinson, in his usual
bellow.  'Ephraim was talking, and he never
could do two things at wunst.'

Haan meanwhile had trudged steadily on,
making his path through the undergrowth
that skirted the forest.  The rankness of the
vegetation and the uneven surface of the
ground made progress very slow.  It seemed
to Trentham easier going near the cliff edge,
where the plants were less tall; but when he
made the suggestion, Haan at once rejected it.

'We go safer out of sight from de sea,' he said.

Only the swishing of their feet, a rustle as
some small animal was disturbed, now and
then a squeal from among the trees, broke
the deep silence of the tropical night.  The
air was chill, but walking kept the men
pleasantly warm.  Gradually the moon stole
down the sky behind them, and when it
had disappeared Haan called a halt.

'Now we rest,' he said.  'In morning we
go into de forest, until we see a hill; seamen
call it Mushroom Hill, because it look like one
when dey see it from de sea.  When we see
it, we go quicker.'

The sailors dropped their burdens, and beat
down the vegetation over a space some twelve
feet square.  Here they all stretched
themselves, and made a frugal supper.  Haan
helped himself to biscuits more often than
Grinson liked.  For a while the boatswain
said nothing; at last, however, drawing the
mouth of the bag together, he ventured:

'Beg pardon, sir--'twas eight days, I think
you said, to the port we 're making for?'

'Yes, eight or nine,' replied Haan.

Grinson pressed down the loose end of the
bag, and, exhibiting the bulk, said:

'Biscuits won't last three, Mr. Trentham,
and short rations at that.'

'We get food in de forest--plenty,' said Haan.

'I 'm glad to hear that,' said Trentham.
'This one bag was all that we had time to
snatch up when we took to the boat.  The old
piracy was gentlemanly compared with the
new.  As a seaman, Mr. Haan, you must feel
pretty much disgusted at the dirty tricks the
Germans are playing.'

'It is war,' said Haan, with a shrug.  'De
ways of war, like everyding else, dey change.'

'They do indeed!' cried Trentham.  'In
the old days you could fight and then shake
hands; but I 'm hanged if anybody will ever
want to shake hands with a German after all
this devilry!'

'That's sure!' said Hoole.  'Take me for
one.  I 'm a citizen of the United States, and
war 's not precisely our trade; but after
what I 've seen, I 'm going to take a hand, if
any one will have me--and I get clear of this
New Guinea.'

'And I was on my way to join up,' added
Trentham.  'The Raider has only made me
extra keen.'

Haan grunted, and changed the subject by
suggesting that they should take turns in
watching through the remaining hours of the
night.  They were not near a village, he
thought, but it was as well to adopt precautions
in a land where enemies might lurk in
every bush.  Trentham proposed that the
seamen, having loads to carry, should be let
off, and it was in fact arranged that the guard
should be shared by Hoole, Haan, and himself.
Each would have about an hour's duty.

They were not disturbed.  As soon as dawn
streaked the sky they were afoot.  Haan,
after a preliminary scanning of the sea and as
much of the coastline as was visible, plunged
among the trees, followed in single file by the
rest.  Birds chattered with shrill cries from
tree and bush, and in the half light shadowy
forms darted up the trunks.  Under foot all
was damp; moisture dripped from every
leaf, and the air was full of the odour of
rotting vegetation.

'Hadn't we better stick to the cliff?'
asked Trentham, dismayed at the prospect of
hours of toilsome march in such an atmosphere
and with twining plants clogging their steps.

'De coast winds--we save miles and miles,'
said Haan briefly.

Trentham could only defer to his guide's
judgment, but he felt anxious, ill at ease.  He
took little heed of the strange scenes through
which he was passing--the graceful palms,
the fantastic screw pines, trees propped on
aerial roots, trees surrounded by natural
buttresses springing from the trunk twenty feet
above the ground.  He had no eye for the
orchids festooned from tree to tree, or the
gorgeous blooms that hung from branches high
above his head.  Many-hued parrots, white
cockatoos, birds of paradise, tree kangaroos,
all were barely noticed, so much preoccupied
was he with troublous thought.  How could
Haan find his way through the trackless
forest?  What defence had they against the
natives whom they were sure to meet sooner
or later?  Could they survive a week's
travelling and camping in an atmosphere so
fetid and unhealthy?

But he kept his thoughts to himself, and
even gave a reassuring nod to Grinson, when
the boatswain murmured that he saw no sign
of food.

'Mr. Haan told us he had been in these
parts before,' he said.  'We must trust him.'

As they penetrated deeper into the forest
the undergrowth became more and more
dense, and the order of their going was
sometimes altered, each seeking his own path.  It
usually happened that Haan assumed his
place as leader very quickly; but once, when
Trentham and Hoole together had forced
their way through a mass of tangled vegetation,
they found that they had lost touch with
him.  To their surprise, they had emerged
into a comparatively clear space, beyond
which they caught sight of the sea, a dark
motionless plain under a leaden sky.  The
beach was hidden from them, but in front
and to the left stretched the rugged contours
of the cliffs, while to the right, behind the
trees, rose the tops of lofty hills.

They were about to call for Haan, when
Hoole's eye was arrested by a cloud of smoke
rising from beyond the edge of the cliff.

'By gum, Trentham!' he exclaimed.  'Is
there a steamer below there?  Let's have a look!'

They went a few paces forward, and had
just caught sight of a number of dark figures
moving up and down what appeared to be a
steep slope, perhaps a mile away, near the
cloud, when Haan came panting up behind
them, and unceremoniously pulled them back.

'Shust in time!' he said in a husky
whisper, rapidly, with every sign of agitation.
'Vy--vy--vy did you leave me?  You vill
ruin every zing!'

'Sorry!' said Trentham, as the man continued
to draw them back.  'What's the matter?'

'Shust in time!' repeated the Dutchman,
as if to himself; then, aloud, and with his
former slow, careful utterance: 'Dere,
between us and dat place, is de village of dose
niggers what capture me.'

'That accounts for the smoke,' remarked
Hoole.  'We 've escaped making a bad
bloomer, seemingly.'

'My word, shust in time!' said Haan.
'If I had not come!  Dose niggers--you saw
dem--wild men, noding can tame dem,
cannibals, ferocious--if dey had seen us, dere
would soon be noding of us but our bones.
Never, never leave me again!'

'It was quite accidental, Mr. Haan,' said
Trentham.  'The bush was so thick----'

'Yes, yes,' said the man impatiently, 'but
we gain no time going separate.  I lead, you
follow--remember dat!'

Trentham was inclined to resent a certain
peremptoriness in the Dutchman's tone, but,
catching Hoole's eye, he held his peace.

'He 's a bit unstrung,' whispered Hoole, as
they returned to the spot where Haan had
left the seamen, 'and I don't wonder.  He
doesn't want to fall into their clutches a
second time.'

Haan quickly recovered his equanimity,
and for nearly two hours they plodded on
through the forest, keeping, apparently, the
coast behind them.  Then suddenly, through
a break in the trees, the expected landmark
loomed up on their left hand.

'Dat is Mushroom Hill,' said Haan.  'We
now go quicker.  We go round de hill on de
north side, and go quicker still--and safer.
De niggers on de oder side are not so fierce;
dey do not eat men.  Why?  Dey are nearer
Friedrich Wilhelmshafen, and dey have felt
de weight of de German hand.'

'Poor devils!' said Trentham involuntarily,
and surprised a strange look that
gleamed for an instant in the Dutchman's eyes.

'Say, how far away is that hill of yours,
Mr. Haan?' asked Hoole.

'Forty miles.  We take dree days.'

'Well, I guess we 'll take a little food first.
We shall have to rely on our biscuits; we
haven't happened on any orchards yet.'

'Plenty bread-fruit yonder,' said Haan,
waving his arm towards the hill, 'and
coco-palms, and pawpaws.  Yes, we eat our lunch
and rest.  De sun is bursting drough; it will
be very hot.  Last night we sleep little.  A
nap--forty vinks you call it--will refresh us,
den we go stronger.'

'A capital idea!' said Trentham.  'I say,
Mr. Haan, it was lucky you found us when
you did.'

'Yes,' said Haan drily.  'But we must
still be on guard.  We must not all sleep
togeder.'

'Of course not.  We 'll take turns again--we
three.  Let the men off.  They have the
hardest job, though their loads will be lighter
when we start again.  I 'll take first watch,
then you, Hoole.  Mr. Haan must be more
tired than we two.'

'It is no matter,' remarked Haan, 'and
I am used to a hard life.  I can stand fatigue
better than you two young gentlemen.  But
certainly I can sleep wid pleasure.  Two
hours--dat will give forty minutes each.
Yes; and I haf no watch; de niggers strip
off my coat.  You wake me, Mr. Hoole, and
lend me your watch, so I wake you; and I
give you no more dan forty minutes--not one
second.'

He laughed in a clumsily roguish way.
They cleared a space and sat down to their
meal of biscuits and water.  Haan was the
first to throw himself on his back, his bald
head shaded by the spreading candelabra-like
branches of a screw pine.  The rest were
not slaw to follow his example, except
Trentham, who sat on the keg, and lit a cigarette
to keep himself awake.

Eighty minutes later Hoole, having
completed his spell of watching, touched Haan
lightly on the shoulder.  The man did not
stir.  He tickled his ear with a spray of some
feathery plant; Haan slept on.

'I 'll give him another five minutes,'
thought Hoole, yawning.

At the end of that time, by dint of poking
Haan in the ribs and pinching his nose, he
succeeded in waking the Dutchman.

'Awfully sorry!' he said, 'but I can
scarcely keep my eyes open.  Here 's my
watch; be sure and not let me oversleep.'

Haan got up.  His movements were slow
and clumsy, but his eyes were keen and alert.

'Forty minutes, Mr. Hoole,' he said with
a smile.  'Not a second more.'

He did not sit on the keg as Hoole and
Trentham had done, but posted himself a few
paces from the rest of the party, at a spot
where the ground rose slightly.  Hoole, just
before he closed his eyes, saw the stout figure
pacing slowly up and down.


Rather more than two hours afterwards
Meek, in his sleep, threw out his left leg, and
dealt Grinson, who lay at his side, a smart
kick on the shin.

'Belay, there!' shouted Grinson, starting
up.  'What swab--what dirty lubber----'

''Twas a nightmare, Mr. Grinson,' said
Meek penitently.  'I dreamt as a kangaroo
was a-coming to peck me, and----'

'Peck you!  A goose might----'

He paused and looked around.  Hoole and
Trentham were a few yards away, fast asleep.
Haan was not in sight.

'Whose watch is this, Ephraim?' asked
Grinson.

'I can't rightly say, but seeing as the two
gentlemen be asleep, I can't help thinking 'tis
the Dutchman's.'

Grinson got up.

'If so be he was a landsman,' he said, 'he
might be doing a beat like a bobby; but a
seaman ought to know better.'

He walked to the left, then to the right,
followed by Meek.

'Can't see the chap, nor hear him.  What
d' you make of it, Ephraim?'

'He can't have fell overboard--must have
strayed.  Give him a hail with your powerful
voice, Mr. Grinson.  Save us all!  I forgot
the cannibals!  Don't holler, for mercy's sake!'

'I nearly did, but you 're right, Ephraim.
I 'll report to the skipper, which I mean Mr. Trentham.'

'Eh--what?  The Dutchman absent from
his post?' said Trentham sleepily, when
Grinson had roused him.  'Hoole, wake up!'

'Sure I haven't been asleep forty minutes
yet,' said Hoole.  'And I gave Haan five
minutes extra.'

'Where *is* Haan?'

'Where is he?  He was over there.'

'Grinson says he 's missing.'

'Missing!  But----'  He felt for his
watch.  'What's the time?  I lent him my watch.'

'Ten past four.'

'What?'

Trentham showed him his watch.

'Ten past four!  It was two when I gave
it him!  What the deuce----'

He stopped, and stared blankly at Trentham.

'What did I say, Ephraim, me lad?' said
Grinson, in what he intended for a whisper.

'What's that, Grinson?' demanded
Trentham.  'What *did* you say?'

'Well, sir, as we come along, Meek and me
was saying a few things about the Dutchman's
trousers, and seeing as they 'd no mark
of being in sea-water, it come into my head
that he didn't get ashore swimming.  And
from that--which I know the little ways o'
seamen--I somehow couldn't help guessing
that he might 'a got restless like, and hopped
the twig.'

'Deserted his ship, sir,' explained Meek.

'Got a bit wild like, and gone a-roaming,'
added Grinson.  'Seemingly he's got it again.'

'Nonsense!' exclaimed Trentham.  'He
isn't an ass!'

'Guess we 'd better look for him,' said
Hoole.  'He 's got my watch.'





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`IN THE TOILS`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER V


.. class:: center medium

   IN THE TOILS

.. vspace:: 2

Trentham looked round.  Mushroom
Hill reared its strange form into the
sky on their left hand--forty miles away,
Haan had said.  Between it and them
stretched unbroken forest, an undulating
sea of green.  There was forest on their right,
in front, behind.

'It's like looking for the proverbial needle
in the bundle of hay,' he said.

'But we might track him through the
undergrowth,' suggested Hoole.  'He couldn't
pass without leaving traces--a big fellow, with
big boots.'

'Yes; a solid-looking fellow, too; not the
kind of man to do anything so mad as Grinson
suggests.'

'Ah, sir, 'tis them as are the worst when
the feeling gets a hold,' said Grinson.  'There
was once a messmate o' mine, Job Grindle by
name----'

'Really we must lose no time,' Trentham
interrupted.  'The sun will be down in two
hours or less.  He was on that side, Hoole?
Then let us start from there, and all keep
together.'

They examined the slight eminence where
Hoole had last seen the Dutchman.  The
plants were beaten down over a space of a few
yards, where the man had walked to and fro;
but beyond this narrow area there was no sign
of footsteps in any direction.

'Very odd,' said Trentham.  'He must
have gone back the way we came.'

They retraced their steps towards the
clearly marked track of their course through
the forest.

''Tis my belief the cannibals come up and
cotched him again,' said Meek.

'But they must have passed us before they
reached him,' said Trentham.  'He would
have sung out.'

'And even if they took him by surprise a
big fellow like him wouldn't have been
overpowered without a struggle,' added Hoole.
'There 's no sign of it.  And they would
hardly have been satisfied with one victim
when they might have had five.  I guess
Grinson is right, after all.  Now let us look
at the proposition from that point of view.
Say that Haan was seized with the roaming
fever--that is, was more or less mad.  There's
a deal of cunning in madmen, and he 'd
naturally try to cover up his tracks.  He
would expect us to go back over our course,
so that's the very way he wouldn't go.
What do you say?'

'It sounds reasonable, but where are his
tracks?  How could he cover them?'

'Let's go back to where I last saw him.  I
have an idea.'

Retracing their steps to the rising ground,
they examined once more the few yards which
Haan had trodden.  Beyond this clear space
trees of various species grew somewhat thickly
together.  Hoole went up to them and began
to look closely at the trunks.

'Ah, maybe he 's sitting up aloft a-grinning
at us,' said Grinson, peering up into the
foliage--'for a joke, like.'

'I never could understand a joke,' murmured Meek.

'Here you are,' cried Hoole, laying his
hand on a twisted and knobby trunk.  'He
shinned up here.'

There were on the bark scratches that
might have been made by nails in a heavy
sole.  But Haan was not discoverable amid
the leaves above.

'The madman!' exclaimed Trentham.

'With a madman's cunning,' said Hoole.
'Clearly he wanted to throw us off, and he
deserves to be left to his fate.  But, of course,
we can't leave him to his fate.  I suppose
he went from tree to tree, and then dropped
to earth again when he thought he had
done us.  It would be a hopeless job to
attempt to track him through the foliage;
but we know the direction in which he went,
and I dare say we 'll find his traces not far
away.  Let us go on; scatter a little; the
forest isn't thick hereabouts, and we can see
each other a few yards apart.  If we don't
find him by nightfall, we shall simply have
to give it up, camp for the night, and then
make tracks for Mushroom Hill.'

Following his suggestion, they went
forward in a line, looking up into the foliage,
and closely examining the undergrowth for
signs of its having been trampled down.
Every now and then they stopped to listen;
they dared not shout, but Hoole sometimes
ventured upon a low whistle.

After they had progressed slowly for about
half an hour, Meek suddenly sniffed, and
caught Grinson by the arm.

'Summat burning, Mr. Grinson,' he said.

'Well, you 've a long nose, Ephraim.
You 're right, me lad; I smell it myself.'  He
coughed lightly to attract the attention
of Trentham, a few yards on his right.  The
four men grouped themselves.  Hoole took
out his revolver.  They stood in silence,
listening, looking in the direction from which
the smell of burning came.  There was no
sound of crackling, no sign of smoke, and after
a minute or two they went forward cautiously.

Soon they halted in astonishment.  They
had come upon a stretch of blackened
undergrowth, upon which lay a few trees that bore
the mark of an axe; others, still erect, were
black for many feet from their base.  The air
was full of the smell of burnt wood.

'Surely the madman didn't set fire to the
trees?' said Trentham.

'This wasn't done to-day,' said Hoole,
touching a blackened trunk.  'It's not hot.
But it wasn't long ago.  Look here; the
remains of a ladder.'

He had picked up at the foot of a tree what
was clearly the charred remnant of a ladder
of bamboo.

'Bless my eyes, sir, 'tis a village,' said
Grinson.  'When I was at Moresby some
years ago they showed me a photograph of
one--a tree village, the little houses perched
up aloft, and ladders to get to 'em.  There 's
been a fire, that's clear.'

'And no fire-engine,' said Meek.  'A
terrible calamity, to be sure.'

Hoole had gone a few steps ahead.

'Here 's the sea,' he called.  'We 're on
the edge of a cliff.  And by Jove!  Trentham,
look here!'

The others went forward and joined him.
They looked down upon a narrow ravine--a
steep valley such as is called a chine in the
South of England.  At the foot of the
thickly wooded banks a stream flowed out
into a small bay almost landlocked by high
cliffs.  And in the middle of the bay lay
a vessel--a long blue shape with a single funnel.

'The Raider!' ejaculated Grinson with an oath.

.. _`'THE RAIDER!'`:

.. figure:: images/img-084.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: 'THE RAIDER!'

   'THE RAIDER!'


'I guess you 're right,' said Hoole quietly.
'And there 's that cloud of smoke we saw in
the distance this morning.'

A slight dark cloud was rising above the
cliff near the vessel.  It did not proceed from
the Raider's funnel.  Was it possible that a
consort of hers lay beyond the point?

The four men, standing just within the
forest verge, gazed for a few moments in
silence at this unexpected scene.  Then
Trentham turned.

'We had better get back--to where we can
see Mushroom Hill,' he said, a grave note in
his voice.

'And give up Haan?' said Hoole.

'And give up Haan.  Haan may go hang.
Let us go at once; it 'll be dark soon.'

They retraced their steps through the
burnt village, Hoole and Trentham walking
side by side, the two seamen following.

'I wondered why the fellow spelt his name
to us; you remember?  H-a-a-n,' said Trentham.
'It's clear as daylight now.  He 's
a German; was on that raider; a petty
officer, I suppose; his name 's Hahn.'

Hoole whistled under his breath.

'They played some devilry with the
natives, I suppose,' Trentham went on;
'burnt their village, very likely; Hahn
strayed and got collared--and we saved one
of the ruffians who sunk us!'

'And he 's got away and rejoined--with my
watch!' cried Hoole.  'What an almighty
fool I was!  And I gave him five minutes'
extra sleep!  That stings, Trentham, and
will till my dying day.'

'He beat us: in slimness the Hun always
will.  I haven't a doubt he was playing tricks
with us all the time.  His Mushroom Hill--faugh!'

'You mean?'

'I mean that I don't believe that's our way
at all.  He reckoned on our getting hopelessly
lost--starving--falling into the hands of the
savages.'

'Well, for my part, I 'd as soon fall into
their hands as the Germans'.  You don't
think he 'll send the Huns after us, then?'

'Not he!  I don't suppose he 'll mention
us, thinking us well out of the way.  He 'll
probably pitch some tall yarn about his
clever escape from the cannibals--very likely
write a book about it.  Upon my word,
Hoole, after what we know----'

'Well, I reckon we 're done pretty brown,
but I 'm not inclined to give him best.  We 'll
get to Friedrich What-do-you-call-it in spite
of him, and not by Mushroom Hill either.
We 'll stick to the coast--confound him!
He was so precious careful to keep us away
from it.'

'We can only try; it's a ticklish affair, Hoole.'

'I know it is, old son.  The food question.'

'Don't worry about that.  Where there
are men there must be food.'

'That's true; but I 'd rather find the food
where there weren't men, if the men are like
those dancing hoodlums on the beach.  One
thing; the Hun's frightfulness has probably
scared away all the natives from these parts,
so we 'll be able to rest in peace to-night and
start afresh in the morning.'

'I hope so.  We had better camp where
Hahn left us; I 'll tell the men there.'

They went on over their former tracks.  A
wind was rising, and the foliage overhead
rustled like the hissing of breakers on a shingly
beach.  Conversation ceased; each was busy
with his own uneasy thoughts.  The rays of
the setting sun filtered through the trees from
behind them, and presently they came in
sight of the open space where Hahn had
deserted them.  And then the two young
men suddenly halted; Trentham wheeled
round and put his fingers over his lips in
sight of the seamen.

In the middle of the clearing, just where
Grinson had lain, a dark, naked figure was
stooping and closely examining the ground.
He had his back to them, but a moment after
they had stopped he sprang up suddenly and
turned towards them, his head raised like that
of a wild animal that scents danger.  For a
few moments he stood motionless in the full
glow of the sunlight--a tall lithe figure, like
a statue in bronze.  His right hand clutched
a spear.

The watchers had time to notice his
well-proportioned form; his colour, lighter than
that of the natives they had already seen;
a grace of bearing that gave him an indefinable
distinction; then he was gone, as if by
magic.  Where he had been he was no longer;
it was as if he had dissolved like Pepper's
ghost.

After waiting a little, Hoole stole forward
to reconnoitre.  The space was vacant;
there was no sign of savages lurking among
the surrounding trees.  He returned to the
others.

'No one there,' he said under his breath.

'D' you think he saw us?' asked Trentham.

'No.  I couldn't see you from the edge.
But he was uneasy.'

'So am I!  We had better avoid that spot.
I 'd rather not meet any more natives just
yet!  We had better go rather deeply into
the forest, and perch up in trees for the night.
There 's only about half an hour of daylight
left; we shall probably be pretty safe in the
dark.  In daylight--well, we shall have to
look out.'

They had spoken in whispers.  The
seamen had watched them anxiously; Grinson,
usually talkative enough, had not uttered a
word for some time.  Trentham in a few
sentences explained his plan; then led the
way with Hoole into the forest, in a direction
at right angles to their former course.

The dying sunlight scarcely penetrated the
thick canopy above them.  The greenish
gloom lent pallor to their cheeks.  They
stumbled, on through the brushwood, which
grew more densely where the overhead leafage
was thin.  The wind had dropped as suddenly
as it had arisen.  They heard nothing but the
swish of their feet through the vegetation and
the fitful calls of night birds just awaking.
Presently, however, Hoole stopped and
whispered:

'Did you hear that?'

'What?'

'Some sound--I don't know what.'

'I heard nothing.'

They went on.

'There again!' said Hoole, a few seconds
later.  He looked round apprehensively.  A
slight groan came from Meek.

'What's the matter?' asked Trentham
in a whisper, sharply.  His nerves were a
little on edge.

'I seed a face, sir,' murmured the man,
staring into the gloom.

'Nonsense!  It's too dark to see anything.
We 'll stop in a few minutes, when it's quite
dark; but we must get as far as we can from
where we saw that native.'

They had not advanced more than a dozen
yards when Hoole made a sudden dash among
the bushes.  The rest halted, drawing quick
breaths.  He came back after half a minute's
absence.

'I distinctly heard a sound there,' he
explained.  'No; it's not jumpiness.  But
I couldn't see any one or anything.  I vote
we stop, Trentham.  We shall lose our bearings
utterly if we go too far into the forest,
where we can't see the sun to-morrow.'

'I think you 're right.  Now to find trees
we can climb, and big enough to give us safe
perches.  Grinson, put down your bag and
have a look round.'

The boatswain had just risen from stooping
to the ground; the others were standing by,
looking up for broad forks which promised
security, when with a sudden *whish* that took
them all aback the brushwood around them
parted and a score or more of dusky natives
burst into the ring.  Before they could raise
a finger in self-defence they were thrown
headlong, and sinewy hands were knotting
pliant tendrils about their arms and legs,
while others held them down.  In a few
minutes the binding was finished.  The
captors collected, and jabbered away among
themselves.  One of them had opened the
bag, and was munching a biscuit.  The bag
was wrenched from his hands; and the four
prisoners, lying on their backs, watched the
gleeful savages consume their whole stock
of provisions to the last crumb.

.. _`A SCORE OF DUSKY NATIVES BURST INTO THE RING`:

.. figure:: images/img-091.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: A SCORE OF DUSKY NATIVES BURST INTO THE RING.

   A SCORE OF DUSKY NATIVES BURST INTO THE RING.


.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE TOTEM`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER VI


.. class:: center medium

   THE TOTEM

.. vspace:: 2

'They won't eat us now, will they, Mr. Grinson?'
said Meek in a whisper, hopefully.

Grinson swore.

'Not after them biscuits, Mr. Grinson?'
Meek persisted.

'Stow it, can't you?' growled Grinson.
'This ain't a time for jokes.'

Meek was so much astonished at being
accused of joking that his jaw dropped, and
he eyed the boatswain sadly.  His expression
turned to anguish as he listened to the
low-toned conversation between Hoole and Trentham.

'We 're fairly in the cart,' said the former.
'See any way out?'

'No.  We 're still alive.  They might have
killed us--those spears!'

'Better if they had, perhaps.  Waiting is
the deuce!'

'If we could only speak to them!'

'Try right now.  Perhaps some of them
know pidgin.'

'You boys belongina this place?' began
Trentham in loud tones.  'You savvy
English fella?  English he like him black fella
man too much, come this place look out black
fella man, no fighting black fella man.'

The natives had stopped jabbering.

'You savvy all same what English fella
man he say?' Trentham asked.

There was no answer.  The Papuans,
squatting in a line, gave an inarticulate grunt,
then resumed their talk.

'No good!' said Trentham.  'They evidently
haven't been to the ports.  Very little
chance for us with savages of the interior.'

'What are they waiting for, then?  Look,
that's the fellow we saw a while ago.'

The young native whom they had seen
examining their tracks came out of the gloom,
stood before the squatting men, and spoke
to them.  They stared at the four prisoners
and grunted; the speaker disappeared among
the trees.

'He 's left them on guard, and gone to
report at headquarters,' said Trentham.  'A
brief respite.'

'Till the rising of the moon, I suppose.
Well, old boy, I hope it 'll be short--and both
together.'

Trentham was silent.  He had had many
anxious moments since the Raider's first shell
had flown screaming over the deck; but it
was with a shock of a totally different kind
that he now found himself looking with open
eyes upon the imminence of death.  To a
man in health death is unrealisable.  But he
remembered those hideous figures on the
beach, the pig's squeal, and he shuddered.

There was barely light enough to distinguish
the savages from their surroundings;
but it seemed to him, from their
general appearance, that they were of the
same tribe as the dancers--possibly they
were the dancers themselves.  In that case,
baulked of one victim, they were only too
likely to make the most of the four who had
now fallen into their hands.  It was not to
be hoped that they would relax their
watchfulness.  Would their leader return at the
rising of the moon?

Complete darkness enwrapped them.  The
blacks talked on endlessly, breaking at times
into boisterous laughter.

'Have you tried the knots, Grinson?'
Trentham asked.

'Did that first go off, sir,' replied the
boatswain in doleful accents.  'I couldn't
have tied 'em better myself.'

Each of the prisoners had in fact already
wriggled and strained at his bonds, with total
unsuccess.

They lay silent again.  Presently Grinson
let out a torrent of expletives with something
like his old vigour.  The others questioned him.

'Skeeters!' he cried furiously.  'They 're
all over me, and I can't rub my nose.'

Hitherto insects had troubled them little,
and the advent of mosquitoes was likely to
enhance their physical discomfort.

'I guess we 're near water,' remarked
Hoole; 'perhaps that stream we saw running
into the bay.  Have the mosquitoes bit you,
Trentham?'

'Not yet.'

'Nor me.  They 've taken a fancy for Grinson.'

'I 'm willing they should have a bite at
me,' said Meek, 'if so be they 'd let
Mr. Grinson alone.'

Grinson swore again; in his present mood
Meek's devotion was only less irritating than
the stabs of the insects.

A glint of moonlight stole through the
trees, and revealed the faces of some of the
natives--ugly faces of rusty black, daubed
with red and white.  The prisoners felt their
heart-beats quicken.  But though the
moonbeams lengthened the savages made no move,
nor did their leader return.

The hours dragged on.  One after another
the four men slumbered uneasily, waking
with sudden starts and tremors, always to
hear the harsh voices of their guards.
Towards morning they slept heavily, and were
only awakened by the touch of hands upon
their legs.  In the dim greenish light they
saw that the savages had been rejoined by
the young man who had left them in the
evening, and by another native resembling
him, but a good deal older, wearing a high
plume of feathers.  The bonds about the
prisoners' legs were released; they were
hauled to their feet, and the two leaders made
signs that they were to march.  So cramped
that they could scarcely move their limbs,
they followed their leaders; the Papuan
guards, all armed with spears, tramping in
single file behind them.

'Your poor face is all swollen, Mr. Grinson,'
said Meek, with a look of commiseration.

'Shut *your* face!' growled the boatswain
ill-temperedly.

.. _`97`:

With their arms still bound firmly to their
sides, the prisoners, faint with hunger,
stumbled through the forest, at the heels of
the two leaders, along a well-worn track.  It
crossed deeply wooded ravines, shallow
streams; wound round steep bluffs on which
no trees grew.  Presently they came to a
wide clearing where naked children were
running about, and women were busy with
cooking.  At their appearance, men came
scrambling down ladders from the trees
beyond, exchanged a few excited words with
their escort, and, shouting with delight,
joined themselves to the party.

'Quite a Roman triumph,' said Hoole with
a sickly smile.

'Roman?' said Trentham, roused from
the listlessness into which he had fallen.
'Those fellows in front might almost be
Romans, bar the colour.'

'They 're a better breed than the crowd
behind.  Don't look like cannibals.'

'D' ye hear that?' Meek whispered to Grinson.
'Mr. Hoole says they ain't cannibals.'

'Mr. Hoole won't be the fust,' growled the
boatswain.

Meek was half a minute or so in seeing the
connection between Grinson's reply and his
own statement.  When light dawned, he
contemplated the boatswain's rotundity with
mournful composure.

The procession was swelled by accretions
from two more villages during the next hour.
Some of the new-comers pressed close to the
prisoners, now almost overcome by heat,
hunger, and weariness, and discussed them
excitedly.  Hoole and Trentham walked on
with nonchalant disregard; Meek wore a
deprecating look; Grinson turned upon them
a truculent countenance, disfigured by the
mosquitoes' attentions.

Another hour had passed; the captives
were on the verge of collapse, even Grinson's
face had lost its ruddy hue, when, emerging
from the forest, they found themselves in a
clearing several acres in extent, divided off
into plots on which crops of various kinds
were growing.  Beyond stood a line of neatly
thatched huts, and in the distance was what
appeared to be a closely built stockade.  A
broad road ran through the midst of the
settlement.  At the approach of the
procession, now some sixty strong, women and
children flocked from the fields and gathered,
wondering spectators, on the road, and men
sprang up from the ground in front of the
huts, and hastened to meet the new-comers.

The elder of the two leaders turned round
and shouted a few words.  All but ten of the
Papuans halted.  The ten continued their
march behind the prisoners, through a lane
between two of the huts, until they arrived
at a narrow gateway in the stockade.  This,
on nearer view, proved to be a formidable
wall of pandanus trunks cemented with earth,
and with an earthen parapet that bore a
strange resemblance to the machicolations
of a mediæval castle.

The gate was thrown open; the two
leaders, the prisoners, and their escort passed
through, and the scene that met the white
men's eyes filled them with astonishment.
On either side stood a row of neat wooden
houses with gabled roofs and long window
openings.  The woodwork showed crude
attempts at decoration in red and white.  In
the centre was a larger, loftier building than
the rest, also of wood, but constructed like
a rough imitation of a castle keep.

Within this inner enclosure there were none
but men, all of good stature, well proportioned,
and with the arched nose and straight
hair which the prisoners had remarked in the
two leaders of the procession.  In colour
they were a bright bronze, contrasting forcibly
with the lustreless black of the Papuan escort.

A few yards from the central building the
prisoners were halted, and the young leader
went forward alone, disappearing within an
arched doorway.  In a few minutes he
returned, accompanied by a tall old man with
white hair and wrinkled brow, naked like the
others, except for a broader loin-cloth and a
heavy gold chain, curiously wrought, about
his neck.

'"The noblest Roman of them all!"'
quoted Hoole, under his breath.  'Where on
earth are we?'

The apprehensions of all the prisoners, were
for the moment smothered by surprise and
wonderment.

At the appearance of the old man in the
doorway, the ten Papuans fell on one knee,
like courtiers before a king.  The chief
gazed fixedly at the white men, appraising
them one after another.  A cruel smile
dawned upon his face--a smile that in an
instant revived in the prisoners the worst of
their fears.  During the march Trentham
had buoyed himself with the hope that these
natives of a higher type might turn out to be
friendly; the hope died within him now.
The chief had evidently heard all about the
prisoners from the young man who had
visited him during the night.  He had now
come to pronounce their doom.

'Rhadamanthus,' murmured Hoole.  'Try
him with pidgin, Trentham.  He hasn't
heard our defence.'

'Chief, we English fella,' cried Trentham.
'Come this side look out black fella man; no
fighting this time.'

The old man beckoned to one of the men
who had come from the houses right and left,
and now stood spectators of the scene.  The
man came forward, and after the chief had
addressed a few words to him in his own
tongue, he said to Trentham:

'White fella man no belongina this place.
White fella man come this place, make fire
houses belongina black fella man, fight black
fella man all same too much; white man he
belongina die.'

Trentham understood from this that he and
his friends were supposed to be connected with
the white men who had recently burnt the
tree village and ill-treated the natives.

'We no belongina bad fella man,' he
hastened to explain.  'Like you fella, no like
bad fella come ship stop this place; ship no
belongina me.'

The interpreter translated to the chief, who
listened with a derisive air, shrugged his
shoulders, and threw out his hands, and made
answer:

'Chief he say all belongina gammon: you
come all same place other white fella man,
no look out good alonga him.  He finish talk
alonga you.'

'The Huns have queered our pitch,' said
Trentham to Hoole, with a wry smile.  'We
are at their mercy.'

'Wish I had my hands free,' said Hoole.
'What's the end to be?'

One of the Papuans, with every sign of
humility, was addressing the chief.  Into the
old man's eyes crept the cruel smile which had
already caused the prisoners to shiver.  He
spoke a few words; the Papuans sprang up
gleefully, crowded about the white men, and
jabbered with excitement.  They gave
scarcely a glance at Meek, who stood in his
usual drooping attitude, open-eyed with
fright.  They stared critically at the two
younger men, seemed to dispute for a few
moments, then turned to Grinson and began
to poke him in the ribs.  The boatswain
glared, cursed, kicked, only to be caught by
the leg and thrown to the ground.  Hoole
and Trentham made a movement towards
him, but were instantly seized by the natives
standing by.  After a vain struggle, Grinson
lay inert.  The Papuans hauled him to his
feet, and marched him away towards the gate.

'Good-bye, Mr. Trentham; good-bye,
Mr. Hoole!' he shouted.  'So long, Ephraim,
me lad!  The anchor's weighed.  Remember me.'

Pale to the lips, the three others watched
the chief as he followed the indomitable
seaman with his eyes.  When the gate was
shut he turned to the young native who had
first discovered the white men, and spoke to
him, using, as it appeared to Trentham, a
dialect differing somewhat from that in
which he had addressed the Papuan and the
interpreter.  Now and then it had a nasal
quality that reminded Trentham of French,
and presently he caught a word or two that
sounded like debased forms of French words
he knew.

A drowning man will catch at a straw, and
Trentham, incredible though it appeared that
the natives hereabout should be familiar with
French, as a last hope determined to try the
effect of a word or two in that language.

'*Monsieur parle français?*' he said, using
the first phrase that occurred to him, and
anxiously watching the chief.

Both the old man and the young looked at
him with astonishment.

'*Monsieur parle français?*' he repeated.

'*Oui, flançais,*' said the chief, and went on
speaking in a gibberish which, though it had
a French intonation, was utterly incomprehensible
to Trentham.

'*Nous sommes amis des Français,*' he said.

'*Oui, amis,*' echoed the chief, and talked
on.  Then, apparently seeing that Trentham
was bewildered, he called up the interpreter,
and spoke to him in the Papuan dialect he
had formerly used.

'Chief he say you savvy him talk, say you
come this place belongina ship.  What for
come this place?'

Trentham almost despaired of finding his
resources of pidgin English suffice to explain
the situation of himself and his companions.
But conscious how much depended on him,
he did his best.

'Me belongina English ship; bad fella
belongina another ship, he fighting me, no
more ship.  He no like white fella man; come
fight this time black fella belongina all place.
English fella man like Flansai fella, no like
Toitsche fella--you savvy all same?'

He clenched his fist, and shook it in the
direction where he supposed the Raider to lie.
The explanation, translated, seemed to excite
the chief, who turned to his young compatriot
and entered into an animated discussion with him.

While they were still talking, the gate in
the wall was once more thrown open, and to
the white men's utter amazement, Grinson
marched in at the head of a procession of his
captors.  His arms were unbound, his face
was wreathed in smiles, his body was bare
to the waist.

.. _`GRINSON MARCHED IN AT THE HEAD OF A PROCESSION`:

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   :align: center
   :alt: GRINSON MARCHED IN AT THE HEAD OF A PROCESSION.

   GRINSON MARCHED IN AT THE HEAD OF A PROCESSION.

'Ahoy, messmates!' he cried at the top
of his voice, rather hoarsely.  'Beg pardon,
young gents, but I mean to say--oh, cripes!
Ephraim, me lad, I never thought I 'd see you
again, 'cept as a ghost.  Am I drunk?  No,
but I 'm darned merry, which I mean to
say--I say, old cock,' turning to a Papuan, 'get
me a drink--get us all a drink, and we 'll
drink your health and say no more about it.'
He raised his arm, and kissed a spot just
below his shoulder.  'Kiss it too, ugly mug!
Come on, all you lubbers, kiss it, or I 'll never
love you no more!'

And to his friends' amazement the Papuans
came to him one by one, and reverently
kissed the spot, Grinson beaming on them.

'That's right!  It tickles, and I don't like
your ugly nose bones, but you 've good 'earts.
No, you don't--once is enough,' he cried to a
man who offered the salute a second time.

'"When I was young and had no sense!"--no,
blamed if it wasn't the most sensiblest
thing ever I did, and that's saying something.'  He
had now come up to his amazed
companions.  'There it is--that's what done
it.  "A sweet little cherub what sits up aloft,"--beg
pardon, sir, I feels like singing all the
time.  That's what done it!'  He displayed
his arm, on which was the blue tattooed effigy
of a bird of paradise.  'They peeled off my
shirt, and there was I looking for 'em to
plunge the knife into my bare bussum, when
dash me if they didn't start back with horror
like as if I 'd the smallpox--and me
vaccinated, too, twice, on this very arm.  'Twas
the bird what done it, like the strawberry
mark what proved to the Marchioness of
Mayfair that the dustman was her long-lost
son and heir, stole from his cradle by the
lady's maid she 'd sacked for swilling of her
eau de colony.  The ugly mugs take me for
a long-lost brother, and dash me if I ain't the
best-looking of the family, Ephraim, me lad.'

While the hilarious mariner was reeling off
his yarn, the Papuans had explained to the
chief that, having discovered on his arm the
image of the totem of their tribe, they had
brought him back, to exchange him for one of
the other prisoners, unless they too should
prove to be sacrosanct.  To their intense
discontent, the chief had refused to allow
them even to examine the arms of the three
men; and while Trentham and his companions
were still digesting the astounding
story told by Grinson, the crestfallen savages
stole out of the gate in sullen ill-humour.





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.. _`REMINISCENCES`:

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   CHAPTER VII


.. class:: center medium

   REMINISCENCES

.. vspace:: 2

'A most fortunate coincidence, Grinson,
that you happened to be tattooed
with the totem mark of these strange people,'
said Trentham.  'But for that we might all
have gone into the pot in turn.'

The four men were seated in a hut placed at
their disposal by the chief, appeasing their
famishment with a variety of more or less
unfamiliar foods.

'Ay, ay, sir!' returned the boatswain;
'though I never heard it called a totem mark
afore.  True, my head was spinning like a
teetotum when 'twas done, and if I 'd been a
teetotaller--upon my word, sir, 'tis the
remarkablest thing I ever heard on.  Ephraim,
me lad, you can bear me out: wasn't that the
only time you ever saw me squiffed?'

'Which time was that, Mr. Grinson?' asked Meek.

'Why, the time I had this 'ere teetotum
mark pricked into my biceps.'

'I 'm bound to say as how that was one
of the times you was a trifle overcome,
though nothing to what you might have been.'

'True, if I 'd been overripe they couldn't
'a done it, nor if I 'd had nothing at all, which
it shows the good o' moderation, gentlemen.
I was just comfortable; you know--when
you 're pleased with everything and
everybody.  'Twas like this.  I was never like
most sailormen, as gets tattooed their first
voyage, and ever after has the sins o' their
youth staring 'em in the face--like Ephraim,
poor lad.'

Meek looked guiltily at his long bony wrists
and tried to draw his sleeves down over the
blue anchors tattooed on them.

'No,' Grinson went on, 'I was never a
man for show.  Well, some messmates of
mine didn't understand my modest spirit, and
laid their heads together for to give me the
hall-mark as proves a seaman sterling, you
may say.  Ben Trouncer was at the bottom
of it: the slyest sea-dog of a fellow you ever
set eyes on.  He come to me one night when
I happened to be alone, all but Ephraim, in
the bar-parlour of the "Jolly Sailors," and
says, "Going to the meeting on Wednesday,
Josy?" says he.  "What meeting?" says
I.  "You don't mean to tell me you don't
know!" says he.  "I 'd never have believed
it.  All the others are going; meeting
to form a sailors' goose club," says he.
"Fust I heard of it," says I.  "What's a
goose club?"  "Why," says he, "you pay
so much a week, and at Christmas every
sailor-man gets a goose, wherever he
is--Melbourne, Shanghai, Buenos Ayres,
anywhere you like.  Fancy you not knowing of
it!  Why, they all expect you to be made
treasurer of the club.  Let's have another
pot, and I 'll tell you all I knows."

'Well, Ben went on talking like a
gramophone as won't run down--about subscriptions
and foreign agents, and what a heap of
money there 'd be to take charge of, and he
hoped I 'd be made treasurer, because some
of 'em wanted a scag called Joe Pettigrew, a
fellow you wouldn't trust with the price of a
pot of four-half, which I agreed with, and
said if Joe was made treasurer he 'd get no
subscriptions out of me.  "Well," says Ben,
"Joe 's the only man I 'm afraid of, and I 'll
tell you why.  Them as wants him are going
to propose that no one as ain't tattooed is
to be edible for membership--see?  Just to
keep you out, 'cos they know there ain't a
speck of blue about you."  "Ho!" says I.
"That 's their game.  Well, they can make Joe
treasurer, and he 'll pinch all your money, but
not mine, 'cos I can't join, not if I want to."

'Well, he calls for another pot and goes on
talking, and by long and short he worked me
up to believe as how the whole thing would
bust up if I wasn't treasurer, and the picture
he drored of the sailorman going without his
Christmas goose was worse than onions for
tickling your eyeballs.  Then he told me how
I 'd take the wind out o' Joe's sails if I had a
nice fat goose tattooed on my shoulder out
of sight, and spring it on 'em when they
was cocksure I wasn't edible for membership.
Having had three or four pots, the notion
tickled my fancy, and I had it done by a Jap
as was the cleverest hand at tattooing you
ever set eyes on.  Ben had left him in the bar
till he talked me over.

'Well, I went to the meeting, and Joe and
his mates sniggered when they saw me.  Ben
proposed the club; carried unanimous.  Some
one else proposed about the tattooing; carried
unanimous.  Then Ben proposed me for
treasurer.  Up jumps one of Joe's friends and
said I couldn't be treasurer, 'cos I couldn't
even be a member, not being tattooed.
"Ho!" says I, "who says I ain't tattooed?"  They
laughed.  "Who don't know that?"
says they.  "Ho!" says I, "you knows a
lot," and I stripped and showed 'em the finest
goose as ever hung in Leadenhall Market.

.. _`'WHO SAYS I AIN'T TATTOOED?'`:

.. figure:: images/img-113.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: 'WHO SAYS I AIN'T TATTOOED?'

   'WHO SAYS I AIN'T TATTOOED?'


'Well, after that they made me treasurer,
unanimous, even Joe voting for me, which it
surprised me at the time.  Then Ben said
that, me being treasurer, 'twas for me to
propose what the subscription should be.
"Right," says I.  "Then I propose
three-pence a week."  I was fair flabbergasted
when Ben got up and spun a long yarn which
I couldn't make head or tail on, and ended by
proposing they didn't have no subscription
at all.  Carried unanimous.  It was a plant,
you see, gentlemen.  I was fair done.  There
never was no goose club, and only one goose,
and that was me, my mother said when I told
her all about it.'

'And your goose is a bird of paradise,'
said Trentham.

'A bird of----  Ho, here 's ugly mug!
What might he want now?'

In the open doorway stood the interpreter.

'Chief he say white man fella come alonga
him,' said the man, looking at Trentham.

'A royal command,' remarked Trentham,
rising.  'I 'll try to get him to provide us
with guides to Wilhelmshafen.'

Some ten minutes after Trentham's departure
the rest were startled by a long-drawn
howl, like the sound of hundreds of men
hooting an unpopular speaker.

'Blue murder!' exclaimed Grinson, as he
hurried with the others to the doorway.  The
noise came from beyond the stockade.  The
gate was shut, and the natives within the
enclosure were strolling about with no
appearance of concern.  Trentham was not visible.

'I 'm afeard they 've took Mr. Trentham
instead,' said Meek lugubriously.

'Nonsense!' cried Hoole.  'That wasn't a
cry of delight.  But I 'll just run across to the
chief's house; Mr. Trentham is probably there.'

At the entrance of the house he was stopped
by two natives, armed with spears, who stood
there on guard.

'You there, Trentham?' he called into
the interior.

'Yes; I 'll be with you shortly,' came the answer.

Reassured, Hoole returned to the hut.

'It's all right, Meek,' he said.  'Don't get
the wind up.'

'No, Ephraim, me lad,' said Grinson, 'don't
strain at your anchor.  'Tis your great fault.'

It was half an hour or so before Trentham
rejoined them.

'The strangest story I 've ever heard,' he
said.  'It wasn't easy to make out that fellow's
pidgin English, but I 'll tell you what I
understand of it.  Long ago, soon after the
beginning of the world, a big ship came ashore after
a great storm.  (That's our wreck, of course.)  The
ship's white chief, a great medicine-man,
had come to assist the forefathers of this tribe,
then at war with many powerful neighbours.
By the power of his fire magic--blunderbusses,
no doubt--their enemies were defeated; but
I suppose his ammunition gave out, for, as
the chief put it, the fire magic was lost.

'The ship's captain was evidently a Frenchman.
Finding it impossible to leave the
island, he and his crew settled down and took
wives among the tribe, and became the ruling
caste.  The present chief is probably the
great-grandson of the Frenchman; he has
no idea how old he is, or how many
generations come between him and his ancestor.
From the portrait of Louis XVI. we saw in
the cabin, it's pretty clear that this happened
a hundred and twenty odd years ago.  In
that time, of course, the French stock has
degenerated; as you heard, they 've retained
a word or two of the French language, and
they 've tried to keep themselves select by
banishing from their inner enclosure all who
take after the aborigines in feature, retaining
only those who have something of the
European cast of face.  That, as I understood the
story, has led to trouble.  It's a case of plebs
and patricians over again.  The patricians
are gradually weakening, the plebs
becoming stronger; and the chief seems to be
decidedly jumpy; his authority is waning.
You heard that howl just now?'

'We did,' replied Hoole.  'Meek made
sure you 'd been thrown to the dogs.'

Trentham smiled.

'The fact is, the plebs were disappointed
of their feast.  They are cannibals; the
patricians are not.  A big fellow came up as
spokesman of the plebs, and declared they
must have one of us four.  Grinson is
protected by his goose, and the chief wouldn't
give them you, Hoole, or me, because we
know French.  But he suggested that we
might dispense with Meek.'

'Me, sir!' cried Meek.

'Yes.  I gathered that the chief was
anxious to conciliate his rather unruly
subjects, and I had a good deal of difficulty in
begging you off, pointing out (I hope you don't
mind) that you are rather lean and scraggy----'

'Danged if that ain't too bad!' cried Meek
with unwonted vehemence.

'Well, really, I thought it the best way to
get you off.'

''Tis not that I mind, sir--not at all, and
I 'm obliged to you.  I was always skin and
bone, no matter what I eat----'

'Like the lean cattle in the Bible,
Ephraim,' said Grinson, 'what ate up the fat
uns and you 'd never have knowed it.'

'True, so I was born,' Meek went on, 'and
so I must be.  But the idea of eating me, just
because I never had no goose pricked on my
arm nor can't parly-voo!  Danged if there 's
any justice in this world--not a morsel.'

'Well, you 're safe now, anyway,' said
Hoole, smiling.  'Did you hear anything
about Hahn, Trentham?'

'Yes.  It appears that the numbers here
have recently been increased by the influx of
people from one or two small coast villages
that have been destroyed by the Germans.
This place, being farther from the sea, has
escaped as yet; but the chief is rather
alarmed, and has scouting parties constantly
out to give warning if the white men from the
ship approach.  Apparently Hahn fell into
the hands of one of those parties.  The chief
told me that a white man had been taken
down to the shore to be sacrificed in the hope
of averting disaster.  The sacrificial party
has not returned yet, and I thought it wiser
to say nothing about the rescue of the victim;
it wouldn't tend to make us popular with the
plebs.  The worst of it is, the chief seems to
think we 'll be useful to him.  When I talked
about his helping us to get away he suddenly
became deaf, and I couldn't help judging
from his manner that he wants to keep us,
either to prop him up against his troublesome
people, or to protect him from the Germans.
We had better humour him for the moment.
At any rate we shall get food.  By and by we
can take our bearings, possibly make or get
hold of a canoe.  It's no good our attempting
to make our way overland to Wilhelmshafen
through a country infested by cannibals.'

'And precious little good our staying to
help him against the Germans with nothing
but a revolver and our knives,' said Hoole.
'Still, there 's nothing else for it.  If we can
gain the people's confidence they may help us
in the end--especially if the Raider clears off,
and I guess it won't remain in these waters for
ever.  But it's deuced unpleasant.'

'Ay, and there 's neither justice nor mercy
in this world,' sighed Meek.  'Eat me!  Br-r-r!'





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.. _`A RECONNAISSANCE`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER VIII


.. class:: center medium

   A RECONNAISSANCE

.. vspace:: 2

The hut allotted to the four white men,
like all the others in the inner
enclosure, was built of logs, and in shape
resembled an expanded sentry-box.  It had no
furniture except a few grass mats laid upon
the earthen floor, and a clumsy rack of sticks,
containing some crude platters of clay, and
a couple of heavy wooden clubs.  Worn out
by their recent experiences, the occupants
slept soundly through their first night as the
chief's guests, only disturbed at intervals by
the visitations of cockroaches which the
darkness drew from crevices in the walls.

Next morning they were given a breakfast
of bananas and nuts, and water brought to
them in long bamboo stalks, which had been
cleaned of their partitions except at the end.

'We are not supposed to wash,' remarked
Trentham, 'and we can't shave; before long
we shall all be as hairy as Meek.'

Meek looked apologetic, and Grinson passed
a hand over his cheeks and chin, already dark
with stubble.

'A regular Jack ashore, sir,' he said, 'and no
barber round the corner.  What is to be will
be, and I only hope I make a better show than
Ephraim; his whiskers ain't much of an
ornament, I must say.'

'I ought to have shaved young,' sighed
Meek.  ''Tis too late now, Mr. Grinson.'

'Truly, Ephraim, you 've lost your chance,
poor lad.  But you might look worse, that's
one comfort.'

While they were at breakfast the man who
had interpreted on the previous day came
with a message from the chief.  They were
free to move about the enclosure, but the
gate was forbidden them.

'We 're prisoners, then,' said Hoole.

'I fancy he doesn't trust the cannibals
outside,' said Trentham.  'For the present I
dare say we are safer where we are.  But I
don't know how we are to kill time.'

'Here you are, sir,' said Grinson, producing
a greasy pack of cards.  'A rubber or two 'll
be good for the digestion.  Ephraim plays a
good hand, though you might not think it.'

While they were playing cards a man came
from the chief's house and looked in on them
through the doorway.  His shadow caused
them to glance up, and Hoole and Trentham
recognised him as the patrician leader of the
party from whom they had rescued Hahn.
They wondered whether the recognition was
mutual, feeling that it might go hardly with
them if they were known; but the man, after
a prolonged stare of curiosity, departed
without giving any sign of suspicion.  It came out
afterwards that his party, finding the chimney
blocked, had had to wait for the ebb tide and
then walk for some miles along the shore
before they reached a practicable path up the
cliffs.  They had then returned to the
chimney, removed the obstruction from its top,
and sought to track the fugitives; but they
had lost the trail in the forest.

Several days passed--days of tedium and
growing irritation.  The prisoners were given
regular meals of bananas, sweet potatoes, and
other roots, sometimes a bird or a pig; but
movement beyond the stockade was still
interdicted.  They saw nothing of the chief,
and one day, when Trentham sent him a
message, asking that they might be allowed to
go out and see what the Germans were doing,
the answer was that he was sick, and could
not attend to them until he was out and about
again.  Hoole suggested that it was a
diplomatic illness, but the sight of the hideously
painted figure of the tribal medicine-man
going every day into the chief's house seemed
to show that the reason given was genuine.

One afternoon there were signs of much
excitement in the village.  From beyond the
stockade came a babel of voices; a man
admitted through the gate gave those within
some news which appeared to agitate them,
and a few minutes after he had entered the
chief's house the interpreter came running to
the hut, and said that the chief wished to see
the 'white man fella' at once.

'Release at last!' said Trentham when he
returned.  Alone of the four, Meek showed no
sign of pleasure.

'The old fellow is in a pretty bad way,'
Trentham went on.  'The medicine-man was
chanting incantations over him, and he looked
pathetically resigned.  He had just heard bad
news.  It appears that his son, whose name
I understood to be Flanso--a corruption of
François, I fancy--went out yesterday with a
small scouting party, and had just got through
that burnt village when they were surprised
by a number of white men and collared;
only the messenger escaped.  Among the
party was Kafulu, the head-man of the
natives outside, and it's to that fact we owe
our chance.  I offered to go out and see if
I could discover what had become of the
prisoners, anticipating the chief's request.
He jumped at it, and told me that the
cannibals outside, when they understand
what our errand is, won't do us any harm.
But only you and I are to go, Hoole; the
others must remain as hostages.'

'A dirty trick, sir,' said Meek.  'As sure
as your back is turned, they 'll eat me; I
know they will.'

'Don't you take on, Ephraim,' said Grinson.
''Tis true I 'd rather go with the
gentlemen, but I 'll protect you, me lad.
Before they eat you, they 'll have to cook
my goose.'

Early next morning, Hoole and Trentham
started with half a dozen of the chief's best
men and the interpreter.  Hoole had his
revolver, Trentham a spear like those with
which the escort were armed.  They marched
rapidly through the forest, reached the burnt
village about midday, and found there the
bodies of two of the scouting party, shot by
the Germans.  From this point they moved
with great circumspection, the guide leading
them through a maze of vegetation by a
winding track that bore downhill, crossing
narrow gullies and swift hill streams.

Late in the afternoon they entered a tract
of country strewn with rounded boulders,
which had no doubt been brought down in
remote ages by glacial action from the mountain
range in the interior.  Here the ground sloped
steeply to the edge of the cliffs, and they had
a view far over the sea.  Deprived of cover
by the lack of vegetation, they bore away
towards the forest on the right.  Though
they had approached by a different route, the
white men now recognised the spot from
which they had caught sight of the Raider
lying in the cove below the cliffs.  Half-way
down the forest-clad slope Trentham called
a halt.

'We know where we are now, Hoole,' he
said, 'and I think we had better leave the
natives here under cover while we go on by
ourselves.  They 'll be no good to us in
reconnoitring, and the fewer the better on a job
like this.'

He instructed the interpreter to remain
with the men on guard, and if not rejoined by
nightfall, to return to the village.

A very rough and narrow track led through
the trees and scrub with which the whole face
of the cliff was covered.  The two men crept
cautiously down this for some distance; then
it occurred to Hoole that it would be safer to
make a way of their own through the bush,
for at some turn of the track they might
suddenly meet some one ascending, or emerge
unexpectedly into view from the beach.
Accordingly they turned off to the right, and
continued their course as quickly as possible
under cover, moving parallel with the track.

Not many minutes had passed before they
had reason to be glad that the precaution had
occurred to Hoole in time.  Less than a
hundred yards below the spot where they had
quitted the track they came to the edge of a
space from which the vegetation had been
cleared away.  The path ran through this,
and at one side of it stood a rough log hut
where a German sailor, armed with a rifle,
was standing on guard.  Trentham, a little
in advance of Hoole, was the first to catch
sight of the man.  He motioned to Hoole to
halt, peered out for a few moments at the
scene before him, then went back.

'There 's a sentry-post below,' he said in a
low tone.  'The man's back was towards me;
he was watching something going on below
him.  We shall have to creep round.  It's
pretty rough going; take care you don't slip.'

Keeping on the seaward side of the sentry,
they wormed their way through the bush.
With every step the descent became steeper,
and they had to cling to branches and roots in
order to keep their footing.  The contour of
the cliff hid them from the sentry, but the
dislodging of a loose stone might at any
moment betray their presence, and they let
themselves down inch by inch with great care.

.. _`WITH EVERY STEP THE DESCENT BECAME STEEPER`:

.. figure:: images/img-125.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: WITH EVERY STEP THE DESCENT BECAME STEEPER.

   WITH EVERY STEP THE DESCENT BECAME STEEPER.


As they had noticed on the occasion of their
previous visit, the cove in which the Raider lay
was almost encircled.  The cliff which they
were now scaling jutted out in a kind of spit
on the eastern side.  When they finally
reached its base they found themselves
among a tangle of jagged rocks.  The tide
was coming in, and they realised from the
banks of seaweed that the rocks were covered
at the flood, and that they had little time to
spare if their reconnaissance was to lead
them much farther and they had to return by
the same route.

After a precautionary glance seaward they
began to make their way through the mass
of rocks, clambering, springing from one to
another, always careful not to expose
themselves to the view of the sentry somewhere
high up on their left.  Presently, between two
high rocks at the outer edge, they caught sight
of blue water.  Entering the gap, they looked
out, and found that almost the whole of the
cove was before them.

'She 's gone,' said Hoole.

The well-remembered vessel was no longer
at her anchorage.  No craft of any kind lay
within the cove.  But men were moving
about the beach.  To the left, near the base
of the cliff, above high-water mark, were two
large sheds; a little further on was a third
shed, still larger.  Between them the beach
was covered with much miscellaneous litter,
the nature of which the observers could not
at present determine.  What interested them
most, and for a time puzzled them, was the
sight of many dark figures working on a
natural ledge some eighty feet above the sea
level on the opposite side of the cove.  They
heard the sound of picks, and saw black men
bringing baskets from a narrow tunnel in
the cliff face, and emptying them on to the
beach below.  From the spot where the
contents fell clouds of black dust rose high into
the air.  A white man was walking up and
down the ledge, occasionally moving his right
arm in a curiously jerky manner; and amid
the other sounds came now and then rough
shouts and sharp cracks.

'By George, Hoole!' exclaimed Trentham
under his breath, 'that particular mystery
is solved.  They are working coal!  There
must be an outcrop in the cliff; of course
they are not mining.  The Raider can't
rely on filling her bunkers from captures,
apparently, or they wouldn't go to all this
trouble.'

'I guess it's the niggers get the trouble,'
remarked Hoole.  'That fellow--in the
distance he 's mighty like Halm--is making good
play with his whip.  You may bet your
bottom dollar they snapped up Flanso and
the rest to increase the number of their hands.
Say, d' you hear that purr?'

He swung round and looked seaward,
shading his eyes with his hands.

'There she is,' he exclaimed a few moments
later.  'Skip behind the rock, Trentham;
she 's diving right here.'

'The seaplane?'

'Yes.  Can't you see her?  She 's cut off
her engines, making a very pretty swoop.
See her now?'

'Yes; you 've better eyes than mine, Hoole.'

Hoole smiled.  His eyes were fixed on the
machine with an intense admiring interest.

'She blips,' he said, as the engine
spluttered for a second or two.  'Now she 's cut
off again.  The pilot knows his job.  I
wonder where she 'll come down.'

Crouching behind the rocks they watched
the seaplane as it made a circling movement,
diving all the time, until it swept round and
headed straight for the entrance to the cove.
From a height of about two hundred feet it
swooped down towards the sea, 'blipped'
again, then descended lightly upon the
surface, ran a few yards, and at last came to rest
a little distance from the beach.  Several
bare-legged German sailors had already emerged
from one of the nearer sheds.  They waded
into the water.  Two of them carried the
occupants of the seaplane on their backs to
the shore, then returned to help their
comrades to pull the machine in.  It glided
smoothly up the beach until it rested just
below the sheds.

'Gliders all complete,' said Hoole.

'What do you mean?'

'They 've laid down boards on the beach;
you can't see them from here.  They are well
greased, too, to judge by the speed the floats
slid up them.  Those Germans are pretty
thorough, Trentham.'

'Where did you pick up all these details?'
asked Trentham curiously.

'Oh, I 've seen that sort of thing once or
twice before.  But hadn't we better get back?
There 's nothing more to be seen from this
quarter, and I presume Flanso and his men
are on that ledge yonder, or near about.'

'That farthest shed is the officers' quarters,
by the look of it.  The two airmen have just
gone inside.  We 've learnt the lie of the land
and not much else, I 'm afraid.  Can't we go
a little farther along the shore, behind the
rocks, and climb the cliff nearer the sheds?'

'We can try, but 'ware the sentry.'

They had not gone far, however, before the
incoming tide forced them to leave the rocks
and clamber up through the bushes.  The
ascent was even more difficult than the
descent had been, and a miscalculation of the
direction of the path on which this sentry-box
stood almost led to their undoing.  They had
supposed that it ran fairly straight to the
sheds from the point at which they had left
it; but the nature of the ground had
necessitated its being carried a good many yards
farther along the cliff, and then it bent
round and formed a loop, approaching the
sheds in the same direction as Hoole and
Trentham were now going.  Unaware of this,
they were slowly climbing when Trentham
slipped, displacing a mass of loose earth
which went rattling down the cliff.  They
were not greatly alarmed, thinking that the
sentry was too far away to have heard the
sound through the noise of the coal-tipping
across the cove.  But footsteps not far above
them caused them to snuggle behind a thick
bush.  The rustle of movement above drew
nearer.  Through the bush they saw the
sentry stepping cautiously down, and prodding
the vegetation with his bayonet.  Hoole
fingered his revolver, but Trentham signed to
him that if any weapon had to be used it must
be the spear.  The sentry, however, stopped
ten or a dozen yards above them, then,
apparently satisfied that the landslide was
accidental, laboriously climbed up the cliff.

Much relieved, for violent measures would
have been fatal to the success of their
reconnaissance, the two men waited for a quarter
of an hour or so, then struck up the cliff some
distance to the left of the spot where the
sentry had appeared, and wormed their way
to the path, far beyond his box, by a wide
circuit.  It was almost dark by the time they
rejoined the natives.  They marched a few
miles until night descended upon them; then
they rested for a while, discussing the results
of their expedition.

'I 'm afraid the chief will be disappointed
at our returning without his son,' said
Trentham, 'but I hope he 'll see reason.  We
couldn't possibly have rescued him.'

'Clearly not,' said Hoole.  'There wasn't
time to discover exactly where the Germans
keep their slaves.  I guess we 'll have to
reconnoitre again, from the other side, before
we can see our way clear.  The absence of
the Raider would help us considerably, for
there appeared to be only about half a dozen
Germans on the spot.  I wish I could have
seen whether that fellow cracking the whip
was Hahn.'

'Why?'

'Well, we don't owe the skunk a great
deal; besides, he 's got my watch.'





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`COMPLICATIONS`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER IX


.. class:: center medium

   COMPLICATIONS

.. vspace:: 2

'Does my eye squint, Ephraim, me lad?'
asked Grinson, looking up into the
face of his taller companion.

Meek gazed so earnestly at his questioner
that his eyes converged.

'I don't see no sign of it, Mr. Grinson,' he
said, 'and I wouldn't suppose as how you 'd
be visited with that affliction at your time of life.'

'That's what I thought.  Then why the
mischief can't I hit that tree?'

Meek looked sadly at the tree in question,
as if mutely reproaching it for declining to be hit.

'Maybe there 's a bias in the spear, like in
bowls,' he said.  'My spear 's just the same,
for dash me if I can hit the trunk neither.'

The two seamen, with half a dozen natives,
were on outpost duty in a glade a few miles on
the seaward side of the village.  Trentham
had reported the result of his reconnaissance
to the ailing chief, who realised at once that
an attempt to release his men by force from
an enemy equipped with the fire magic that
his ancestors had lost was bound to fail.
When Trentham pointed out that the
Germans would probably make further raids, to
increase the number of their slaves, and
suggested the propriety of establishing
outpost stations where watch might be kept, he
assented, and agreed that Grinson and Meek
should take their turns with the rest.  Each
band of natives chosen for this duty was
accompanied by one who belonged to the
chief's own caste, so that Meek's dread of
being eaten, though not wholly removed,
was a good deal lessened.  The two men
beguiled the tedious hours by practising
spear-throwing under the tuition of the natives,
but after three days had gained little skill.
Grinson was more vigorous than accurate in
his casts, while Meek, handling his spear as
if it were a paper dart, could throw neither
far nor straight; he was a model of patient
ineptitude.

'I tell you what it is, Ephraim,' said the
boatswain, sitting on the grass, 'spears ain't
tools for Christians, and I 'd scorn to demean
myself to these poor heathens, what knows no
better.  We 'll leave 'em to 'em, me lad.
Not that they 'd be any good if the Germans
come with guns.'

'D' you think they will, Mr. Grinson?'

''Course they will, if they come at all.  I
don't know what the gents mean by sticking
on here.  We can't do no good, and if they 'd
listen to me we 'd slip off and chance our luck.'

'Aye, my vittals don't agree wi' me.  I 'm
falling away, Mr. Grinson.  Look here.'

Meek was drawing together the band of his
trousers to show how much he had fallen
away, when Hoole came into the glade.

'Grinson, come with me,' he said.  'I
want you to relieve Mr. Trentham at a new
post we 've fixed up about a mile away.
Carry on till I come back, Meek; I 'll relieve
you then for a spell.'

Meek looked far from happy when left alone
with the natives.  Having nothing else to do,
he picked up his spear and resumed his feeble
practice.  While he was so engaged, the
natives, who had been seated, solemnly
watching him, suddenly sprang to their feet and
gazed expectantly towards the trees.  Meek
had heard nothing, and as he ambled forward
to retrieve his spear he was startled by the
silent appearance of Kafulu, one of the men
who had been captured.  Still more amazed
was he to see that the Papuan carried a rifle.

The natives greeted their comrade with
cries of joy, and crowded about him, plying
him with questions.  In a few moments they
fell silent, and listened intently as Kafulu
eagerly addressed them.  Meek, a little in the
background, watched his gestures, wondering
what he was saying, and why he continually
brandished the gun.  Presently Kafulu turned
and pointed in the direction from which he
had come, and then Meek noticed that his
back was seamed with scarcely healed weals.
His attention was immediately diverted, for
among the trees at which Kafulu was
pointing he caught sight of the faces of several
white men, who appeared to be making signs
of friendship.  Now thoroughly alarmed, he
turned to flee; but the Germans issued
suddenly from the forest; one of them made
a sign to Kafulu, who sprinted across the glade
with some of his companions, sprang upon
Meek from behind, and hauled him back.

.. _`KAFULU SPRANG UPON MEEK FROM BEHIND`:

.. figure:: images/img-137.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: KAFULU SPRANG UPON MEEK FROM BEHIND.

   KAFULU SPRANG UPON MEEK FROM BEHIND.


'Mr. Grinson.  Ahoy, Mr. Grinson!' shouted Meek.

His last word was smothered by a big hand
laid across his mouth, and his eyes widened
with amazement when he looked into the face
of his captor.  There were six Germans,
armed with rifles.  Forming a guard round
the natives, they hurried them into the forest,
with Meek helpless in their midst.

About an hour later Hoole and Trentham
returned to the spot.

'Hullo!  There's no one here,' said Trentham.
'Meek understood that he was to wait
here until relieved?'

'Yes.  He looked a trifle uneasy, but he
wouldn't desert his post.  Surely----'

'They couldn't resist the temptation, you
mean?  I hope it's not so bad as that.  Let
us see if we can trace the way he 's gone.
Here 's his spear on the ground.'

'And here are his footprints.  By gum,
Trentham, look here: a good many European
boots have been treading the grass.  They
came from the forest, and went back again.
Germans, sure!'

'It looks like it.  But it's unaccountable.
The natives are too sharp-eared to have been
taken by surprise.  They ought to have got
Meek away in time.'

'I 'll be shot if they haven't gone too!
These are prints of bare feet, aren't they?'

'There 's no doubt about that.  They *must*
have been surprised and collared, without a
shot fired.  This is pretty bad, Hoole.'

'I guess they wanted more miners.
Wonder they haven't raided the village long
before this.'

'I suppose they didn't think it worth
while to come so far from the cove and make
an organised raid.  Bows and spears wouldn't
be much use against firearms, of course; but
the Germans might have lost a few men in a
regular attack, and they preferred to snap up
small parties here and there.'

'Any good going after them?'

'Not an atom.  You may be sure they 're
armed, and we have--one revolver.  Things
are in a deuce of a mess, Hoole.  If the
natives are such poor scouts we stand to lose
more of these outposts.  We shall have to
drop the scheme.  And the immediate thing
now is to go and bring Grinson back; he 'll
be mad at losing Meek.  We had better talk
things over with him, and see if anything can
be done; for the life of me I can't think what.'

Trentham's contempt of the Papuans'
scouting ability was not justified, as he would
have known could he have heard and understood
what Kafulu had said to his comrades.
He had told them that the white men had the
fire magic of which they had heard.  It was
hidden in the stick he showed them.  If they
would work for the white men, they too would
be given sticks like the one he carried, and
then they would be the lords of the village.
Kafulu was Hahn's dupe and decoy.

When Grinson heard that his companion
of twenty-five years had been captured, his
eyes became moist, and at first he seemed
incapable of speech.  Then his lips were
pressed together rigidly; he flung away his
spear, snatched out his knife, and cried:

'Which way, sir?  Let me get at 'em.'

'You 'd do no good, Grinson,' said Trentham.
'They 'd shoot you down.'

'But 'tis Ephraim, sir--the lad as has been
wi' me all over the seven seas.  I can't fool
about and do nothing when my mate is
digging coal for those blackguard Germans.
I put it to you, young gentlemen----'

'Yes, we understand; but you must see
that we three are not in a position to attack
goodness knows how many men armed with
rifles.  We should only be killed or collared
too.  The sole chance of rescuing Meek----'

'Say the word, sir,' said Grinson as Trentham paused.

'Well, I confess I see no chance at the
present moment; but at any rate it will be
hopeless if we get into the Germans' clutches
ourselves.  Some plan may occur to us.
Meanwhile let us get back.  I 'm afraid the
chief will be cut up at the loss of more of his men.'

With the natives of the outposts they set
off towards the village.  Long before they
reached it there came through the forest a
long-drawn mournful howl, or rather a chorus
of howls, like the cries of hundreds of dumb
animals in pain.  Ejaculations broke from
the lips of the natives.  They looked at one
another with expressions of dismay, then set
off at a trot, howling as they went.

'They 've already got wind of it at the
village,' said Hoole.  'Perhaps one or two
fellows escaped.'

''Tis worse than that, sir,' said Grinson.
'It means death.  I heard the niggers howl
like that, the time I was at Moresby.  It fair
chills your blood, though they 'll laugh like
hyenas as soon as the funeral's over.'

Hurrying on, with the horrible sound
growing ever louder, they arrived at the village,
and found the whole population assembled in
front of the stockade, rocking themselves to
and fro, and howling incessantly.  Dark looks
greeted the white men as they passed through
the midst of the throng and entered at the
open gate.  Within, all was silent.  No one
was to be seen except the medicine-man, who
was just issuing from the chief's house.  He
stalked slowly through the enclosure and out
at the gate.  Then the people emerged from
their huts, and a number of the elder men
formed up in procession and marched slowly
into the house.  When they had disappeared,
the interpreter came up to Trentham.

'Chief fella, he gone dead,' he murmured.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE CAST OF THE DIE`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER X


.. class:: center medium

   THE CAST OF THE DIE

.. vspace:: 2

An hour after the white men's return, they
watched from their hut the funeral
procession winding towards the gate.  Some
of the younger men led the way; then
followed four bearers, with the body of the dead
chief encased in his sleeping-mat.  Behind
marched his relatives and the whole of the
population of the enclosure, the men wearing
towering head-dresses of feathers, the women
carrying small branches.

'Shall we follow?' asked Hoole.

'Perhaps the people would like it,' replied
Trentham.

But when they reached the gate at the tail
of the procession they were stopped by the
interpreter.

'New chief he say no come alonga,' said he.
'Me fella people say old chief he die alonga
you; all proper mad.'

'That accounts for their scowls as we came
in,' remarked Trentham.  'I suppose the
medicine-man accuses us of giving the evil
eye.  But the new chief, whoever he is,
evidently doesn't want us to be pulled to
pieces.'

'Things are going from bad to worse,' said
Hoole.  'Our news won't make them better
pleased with us.  I guess there 'll be trouble.'

The death of the chief and the absence of
his son had in fact kindled a slumbering spark
of revolt in the Papuan community.  A chief
in New Guinea at no time wields great
authority over his tribe, and the prestige of
the dominant caste had already fallen low.
Authority was assumed by a cousin of the
dead man, but he had no moral qualities to
support it.  After the funeral, when Trentham
reported to him, through the interpreter,
the capture of the outpost, his agitation
bordered on hysteria.  The Papuans already
connected their recent misfortunes with the
arrival of the white men, who, they declared,
were in league with the white men from the
ship, and were responsible for the capture of
their leader Kafulu and the late chief's son.
The disappearance of the outpost would
confirm their dark suspicions, and the fact that
Meek also had gone would seem to them proof
of collusion.

Trentham offered to relieve the chief of
anxiety by quitting the place with his
companions, but this suggestion only increased his
distress, and it dawned upon Trentham that
he was inclined to cling to the white men as
upholders of his feebleness.  How feeble he
was became apparent before Trentham left
the house.  A number of the Papuans came
to the outer gate and demanded an interview
with their new chief.  On being admitted,
their spokesman recounted the disasters that
had befallen the tribe since the strangers
came, and insisted on the two younger men
being given to them for a cannibal feast.
Was it not the custom, they asked, within the
memory of the elder men, for a sacrifice to be
made on the death of a chief?  The victims
were at hand.  As for the fat man who bore
the totem mark on his shoulder, they must
spare him, but being a white man he must be
sent away; let him go into the forest.

The chief was on the point of yielding, in
the hope of gaining popularity with his unruly
subjects, when one of the elder patricians
interposed.  The late chief had spared the
white men, he said; they were friends of
Flanso, who would rightfully have succeeded
his father; and if Flanso returned he would
certainly vent his wrath on any one who did
them harm.  This firm stand on the part of a
man of weight caused the unstable chief to veer.
With an effort to assume a firm and dignified
attitude he dismissed the deputation, who
retired in undisguised dissatisfaction and anger.

It was only after they had departed that
Trentham learnt from the interpreter what
their object had been, and how their request
had been received.  Watching the scene
intently, he had noted the indecision of the
chief and the mischief that blazed in the eyes
of the Papuans.

'I 'm afraid there 's trouble brewing,' he
said on returning to his hut.  'The new
chief's a man of straw; he 'll give way to the
cannibals one of these times, and then----'

'I guess we won't wait for that,' said
Hoole.  'We should be no worse off in the
forest, and I vote we clear out one dark night
and take our chance.'

'What about Ephraim, sir?' asked
Grinson.  'I say nothing about you two
gentlemen, but only speak for myself, and I
swear I won't leave these 'ere parts without
Ephraim.'

'Sure,' said Hoole.  'I 'm with you all the
time.  But you 'll allow it requires a little
consideration, Grinson, and my proposition is
that we all put on our thinking caps and see if
we can hit on one of those cunning plots you
read of in story-books.  I only wish I had a
pipe.  Smoke clears the air.'

Trentham smiled; Grinson opened his tobacco-box.

'Chewing won't do the trick, I suppose,
sir,' he said.  'I 've enough twist for two
quids.'

'No, no; I 've never chewed anything
hotter than gum,' said Hoole.  'Keep your
baccy, man.  I say, it's time for our supper.
They 're late this evening.  Do they keep a
fast after a funeral?'

'I fancy I hear 'em coming now, sir.
Maybe it's an extra spread.'

But the native brought only the food to
which they were accustomed, and of which
they were heartily tired.  It was dark by the
time they had finished their meal.  They had
no light, but they squatted on their mats,
chatting quietly until sleepiness should steal
upon them.  The sounds from beyond the
stockade died down as usual; it seemed,
indeed, that stillness had fallen upon the village
earlier than on any previous night.  Grinson
was the first to close his eyes; the other two
were still talking in low tones when a sudden
commotion from the direction of the gate
caused them to spring up and rush to the
doorway, where Grinson immediately joined
them.  They could see nothing in the darkness,
but the cries of the two men who always stood
on guard were drowned by a chorus of savage
yells.  Men were heard rushing across the
enclosure; then came the whistling of spears and
sharp cracks of clubs falling on solid skulls.

'The beggars outside are attacking the
stockade,' said Trentham.

''Tis rank mutiny and rebellion,' growled
Grinson.  'Shall we lend a hand, sir?'

Hoole had whipped out his revolver.

'Hold hard,' said Trentham; 'we may
want that for a later occasion.  I think we
had better let them fight it out.  For one
thing, we 're not used to their weapons;
then, if we take sides, we 're hopelessly done
with the Papuans, and shouldn't dare to show
our faces among them.'

'But we 'll have to fight for our lives if they
break in,' said Hoole.  'We might get away now.'

'I don't think they 'll break in.  The
stockade 's very stout.  Don't you think we
might turn the crisis to account?'

'How do you mean?'

'Let us wait a little and see how the fight
goes.  Whichever side wins, I think we may
have a trump card.'

They stood listening to the din, which
appeared to be concentrated in the
neighbourhood of the gate.  It lasted only a few
minutes.  The sentries had detected the
stealthy approach of the Papuans in the nick
of time.  The stockade was manned before
the attack gathered force; its stout timbers
resisted all the onslaughts of the undisciplined
savages, who drew off, baffled, carrying away
those who had been disabled by the weapons
of the defenders.

'Now 's the time for us to chip in,' said
Trentham.  'It's clear that we are
responsible, partly at any rate, for the situation.
The Papuans suspect us of complicity with
the Germans; they are angry because they
can't feast on us; and they believe it's due
to us that their friends have been captured.
The present chief is no good; he 'll either
give way to them in the end, or will ultimately
be beaten by sheer weight of numbers.
Nothing will restore the position but the
return of the rightful chief--that young fellow
Flanso.'

'Who 's a prisoner,' remarked Hoole.

'Exactly.  Well, we must rescue him and
the other prisoners, including Meek.  By
that means we shall please everybody.'

'You 've got a plan?'

'An idea came into my head suddenly
just now when the fight was going on.  With
care and luck it may work.  If you like it,
I 'll go and see the chief, and we can start
to-morrow.'

During the next twenty minutes the three
men were engaged in an earnest discussion.
Then Trentham made his way to the chief's
house, where most of the important men of
the community were assembled.  Half an
hour later he returned to his friends.

'It's all right,' he said.  'By Jove! talking
pidgin is the most tiring job I know.  In
the morning the chief will make an oration at
the gate.  He 's not at all keen on his new
job, and would like to see Flanso back.  He
believes the rebels will be willing to give us a
chance.  Then it's up to us.'

The chief turned out to be better as an
orator than as a man of action--Cicero rather
than Coriolanus, as Trentham suggested.  His
speech brought about an instant change of
feeling in the Papuans.  If the white men
restored Kafulu and his comrades to them,
they would let bygones be bygones.  If
Flanso also was restored to his people, they
would dutifully accept his authority.

Two hours after sunrise the whole population,
a silent throng, gathered at the sides of
the track to watch the white men start on
their enterprise.  Three stalwart natives
accompanied them, each of whom carried,
wound about his body, a long coil of grass
rope.  Grinson was himself again.

'Good-bye, old ugly mug,' he cried as he
passed the man who had discovered his totem
mark.  'Wait till the clouds roll by.
Farewell, sweet maid'--to a hideous old woman;
'for they all love Jack, and you 'll meet us
coming back, and there 'll be dancing with
the lasses on the green, oh!  It pleases
'em, sir,' he said, apologetically, to
Trentham, 'though they don't understand, poor
heathens.  But I 've been told I 've got a
very good singing voice.'

'Let's hope you won't sing another tune
before the day 's over,' said Trentham.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE ORDEAL OF EPHRAIM MEEK`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XI


.. class:: center medium

   THE ORDEAL OF EPHRAIM MEEK

.. vspace:: 2

Meek's mind worked slowly.  For some
little time, as he marched shorewards
among his fellow captives, he realised merely
the fact that he was a prisoner in the hands
of the Germans.  He did not ask himself why
he had been captured, or throw his imagination
forward in an effort to forecast his fate.
With his usual shambling gait he trudged on,
glancing now at the Papuans, now at the
Germans, and occasionally stroking his thin
whiskers in the manner of one who finds the
world a great puzzle.

Presently illumination came to him.  Fixing
his eyes on the stout figure of the man who
led the party, he muttered 'Trousers!' and
thought of Mr. Grinson.  Yes, to be sure,
this was the extraordinary mariner who had
swum ashore from a wreck without soiling
his trousers, who had been saved from the
cannibals' cooking pot, and had mysteriously
disappeared when leading his rescuers to
Mushroom Hill.  His trousers were not so
clean as they had been; there were black
smudges on them.  What would Mr. Grinson
say to that?

Before Meek had got much further in his
cogitations, he found himself fully occupied
in keeping his footing on a rugged zigzag
path that scored the surface of a steep
downward slope.  Then, lifting his eyes, he beheld
the sea, and below, in a still cove, a vessel
painted bright blue lying close inshore, and
moored stem and stern.  In shape she
resembled the raider which had sunk the
*Berenisa* a few weeks before, but she had
had a new coat of paint.  Meek saw
at a glance that she had steam up, and
wondered whether she was short-handed
and he had been impressed to make up her
complement.

A turn in the path shut the vessel from his
view, but opened up another scene.  On the
left a number of natives were felling small
trees, in charge of a European who every
now and then cracked a long whip.  'I don't
hold with nigger-driving!' thought Meek,
shaking his head as he passed on.

The path becoming easier, he was now able
to think of something more than his feet.
''Tis the Raider,' he said to himself, 'though
never did I see a ship of her tonnage painted
sky blue afore.  Trousers is a German,
without a doubt.  Now what 's he think he 's
going to do with me?  I 'll not sign on with
a German pirate--never!'

Another turn brought the cove again into
view.  The seaplane had just risen from the
surface, and was now soaring towards the
western horn.  A few seconds afterwards
Hahn and his party reached the sentry, who
saluted, looking curiously at Meek.  Hahn
struck to the left, and presently, after another
steep descent, came to the broad ledge on
which natives were moving up and down,
carrying baskets out of a shallow tunnel.
The full baskets were tipped over on to the
beach, then taken back to the tunnel to be
refilled.  In charge of the toilers was a sturdy
German seaman, who had a rifle slung over
his back and held in his right hand a long,
evil-looking whip.

Meek's ideas were becoming clarified.  As
a seaman he knew what a great expenditure of
coal was involved in keeping the Raider with
steam up, even though the fires were banked.
Clearly the Germans had been scouring the
neighbourhood for men to work the seam
which they had discovered in the cliff side.
But he was still wondering what he had to do
with all this, when he received a rude shock.

'Another batch for you, Hans,' said Hahn
in German to the overseer.  'There 's an
Englishman among them as you see.  It's
almost time to knock off now.  Put him in
the compound with the rest; we 'll set him at
work to-morrow.'

The man grinned.  Herding the new batch
of prisoners into an enclosure like a sheep pen,
adjacent to the mouth of the tunnel, he drew
a hurdle across the entrance, and returned to
superintend the last operations of the day.
Hahn, meanwhile, had descended to the beach
and entered the officers' shed.

Meek, of course, had not understood what
Hahn had said.  Without suspicion of the
morrow's destiny, he found himself penned up
with half a dozen black men, and felt the
indignity of his position.

'Like sheep!' he muttered.  'Like sheep!
What would Mr. Grinson say?'

He was no longer beset by fears of being
eaten.  The natives squatted apart, talking
among themselves, and watching their
comrades on the ledge.  If Meek could have
understood their speech, he would have
known that they were already suspicious of
Kafulu, who had quitted them a little while
before.  Was it for this that he had enticed
them away--to carry heavy baskets of black
rock from a dark fearsome hole?  How long
would it be before they received the
firesticks promised them?  Their comrades
looked unhappy.  How quiet they were!
How they shrank away when they passed
the man with the whip!  Where was Flanso?

Presently a whistle sounded below.  The
men who had empty baskets set them down
against the wall of the ledge and stood in line.
Those whose baskets were full tipped their
contents on to the beach, and joined their
fellows.  From the mouth of the tunnel
streamed the niggers, blinking as they came
into the light.  Wearily they dragged themselves
to their places in the line--silent, cowed,
miserable.  Among them was Flanso, and at
sight of him the six natives in the pen drew
in their breath.  His cheeks were hollowed;
his skin was no longer a glistening bronze,
but the dull black of coal dust.

The German counted the men as they
formed up.  When he had counted twenty-eight
he cracked his whip, and the limp nerveless
creatures turned to the right and marched
into the pen, where they flung themselves
down in utter dejection.  They scarcely
heeded the newcomers; only Flanso started
on seeing Meek, and turned upon him a look
of agonised inquiry, of which the seaman was
unconscious.

A few minutes later four seamen came from
below, each carrying two pails.  They set
these down within the pen, and at a signal
from Hans the natives approached one by
one, and took their food in their hands.
Each man had as much as his two hands
would hold of a sort of thick porridge.  When
Meek's turn came, he shook his head.

'No, it ain't proper,' he said.  'Not for a
white man.  I can't do it.'

Hans knew no English, but Meek's objection
was obvious.  He laughed, and when the
seamen returned with pails of water he said
to them: 'The English swine won't eat out
of his hands.  Tell the quarter-master.'

They jeered at Meek, took up the empty
pails and departed.  When they came back
for the water-pails, one of them carried a
basin of porridge, a spoon, and a mug of
water, which he handed to Meek with an oath.
While Meek ate his supper the Germans stood
around him, uttering flouts and jibes, which,
being incomprehensible, did not spoil his
appetite.  When he had finished they left
with the utensils, another man came to relieve
Hans for the night, and the prisoners were
left in the pen until it was almost dark.
Then the sentry cracked his whip, the
natives sprang to their feet and lined up, and
Meek looked on in astonishment as they were
marched into the tunnel, the entrance to
which, when all had gone in, was closed by
means of a stout wooden grating.  He was
left alone in the pen.

'I don't rightly know if this is what they
call slavery,' he murmured, 'but it do seem
so.  I don't hold with it.  What would
Mr. Grinson say?'

The night was chilly, and Meek slept
uneasily.  Once he was awakened by a flash
from a lantern, and saw another German
staring at him curiously.

'Aha, John Bull!' said the man with a grin.

Meek turned over and went to sleep again.

When he awoke, cramped and stiff, in the
morning, the natives were filing into the pen.
Breakfast was a repetition of supper, and
after the meal Hans appeared, and drove
the men back to their work.  Three of the
new prisoners were sent into the tunnel to dig,
the other three were made carriers.  Meek
was again left alone.

About ten o'clock Hahn came up, with two
of his fellow officers, who stared at Meek,
laughed, talked in their own language, and
departed, leaving Hahn behind.

'Your, name is Meek, I zink so?' said the
German.

'Ay, Ephraim Meek, that's my name.'

'So!  Veil, Ephraim Meek, never I exbected
to haf ze bleasure to see you again.
Ze ozers--vere are zey?'

Meek looked at him for a few moments in
silence.  The German was not aware, then,
that the other three had been with him in the
native village.  Slow-witted though he was,
Meek had an inspiration.  To tell the truth
might harm his friends.  He had a brief
struggle with his conscience, decided for a
compromise, and said:

'I don't know.  They may be eat.'

'So!' Hahn looked pleased.  'Zey vere
fatter as you.  Ze niggers keep you to fatten,
eh?  Veil, Ephraim Meek, I save you, see?
I bring you here.  You are safe.  Of course,
you must make yourself useful.  You shall
eat, zerefore shall you vork.  You shall find
a pick or a basket--and zere is blenty of coal.'

Meek stroked his whiskers, looked at the
German, then shook his head.

'No; I can't do it,' he said.  'Not coal.'  Hahn laughed.

'You do look like a broken-kneed horse,'
he said.  'Not equal to ze niggers; but you
haf strength enough for zis job.'

'Not coal,' Meek repeated, in his mournful tones.

'Vy not coal?  You are afraid to soil ze
hands?  Ach!  Is coal more dirty as ze tar
of your ropes?  A seaman's hands!  Ha! ha!
You are funny man, Meek!'

Hahn laughed heartily; it seemed to him a
very good joke.  Meek, however, had thrust
his hands into his pockets and set his lips
doggedly.

'Come,' said Hahn impatiently.  'Zis
is to vaste time.  You shall----'

'True, it is waste time,' Meek interrupted.
Speaking with a firmness which Grinson
would hardly have recognised, he went on:
'I 'll dig no coal for Germans, not I.  I 'll
not soil my hands with it.  Not for German
pirates.  Never in the world.'

For a few moments Hahn stared at the
seaman as though he were a strange animal,
a curiosity in the natural world.  Then he
guffawed scornfully.

'So!' he ejaculated.  'You are a lord, eh?
A prince, eh?  You vill not vork, eh?  And
you exbect to haf good food for nozink, a
broken-kneed swine of a sailor.  Hans,' he
cried, speaking in German, 'take this hound
of an Englishman and tie him to yonder
stump, and leave him there until he comes
to his senses.  He refuses to work.  Not a
morsel of food, not a drop of water.  See to that!'

The man grinned, laid aside his whip, came
into the pen, and seized Meek by the arm.
And then Meek belied his name.  His mild
countenance was transfigured.  Wrenching
his arm from the German's grasp, he doubled
his fist, and let out with a drive that sent the
man staggering back against the fence.
Though his frame was slight, and his legs
were neither shapely nor firm, he had not
served a lifetime at sea without developing
a certain muscular force.  But his active
resentment, natural as it was, was
nevertheless unwise.  The two Germans sprang on
him together.  His struggles were vain.
Twisting his arms, his captors dragged him
out of the pen to the tree-stump which Hahn
had indicated, and in a minute had lashed
him firmly to it.  Hahn kicked him; the
other picked up his whip and flicked the
helpless prisoner, then rushed among the
natives, who had halted to watch the scene,
and smote right and left among them.  With
a parting jeer, Hahn descended the path to
the beach, leaving Hans in charge.

Meek's face was towards the sea, and he
had a full view of the ledge and of the cove
below.  The natives passed in and out of the
tunnel, glistening with perspiration, urged to
utmost exertion by fear of the merciless whip.
They tipped their baskets over the brink of
the ledge, coughing as clouds of black dust
rose and enveloped them.  On the beach
some of the Raider's crew moved idly about.
At the door of the shed Hahn stood talking
to an officer, apparently the captain of the
vessel; they both glanced up at the ledge,
laughed, and evidently found amusement in
discussing the plight of their victim.  Meek
noticed that there were no uniforms among
the Germans, but a something indefinable in
their air and gait bred the conviction that
they were men of the navy.

It was not long before Meek was suffering
torture from the heat and his bonds.  He
could not move either arms or legs; his
throat was filled with coal dust; he longed
for water to moisten his parched lips.  Now
and then the overseer passed him, grinning in
his face, uttering words of mockery which
affected Meek only by their tone.  To him it
was so much ugly bad language.  He spoke
no word, did not deign to beg for mercy, even
though, as the hours passed, he felt that
exhaustion and presently death itself must
overtake him.  In this time of trial it appeared
that a new spirit had assumed possession of
him--or rather the old spirit of British
seadogs, the spirit that would scorn to show sign
of flinching.

About midday Hahn came up to the ledge,
and stood with arms akimbo, contemplating
his prisoner.

'You see?' he said.  'You haf now
enough?  You vill obey?'

Meek gazed at him out of haggard eyes,
but said never a word.

Hahn pointed to a man carrying a well-loaded
tray into the officers' shed below.

'Blenty of food.  Beer--English beer.  A
pint of 'alf-an'-'alf, eh?  Zere is zome for
you--ven you get coal.  I am not hard, no.  You
say you vill dig, and I loose you--you shall
haf a glass beer before you dig; zat is not
hard?  You say yes?'

Meek moved his tongue over his dry lips.

'Not for German pirates!' he muttered huskily.

'Pirates, you dog!' cried Hahn with a
fierce scowl, and seemed to be about to argue
the point, but changed his mind.  Cursing
Meek as an English fool, he went away.

During the greater part of the day Meek
was partly shaded from the sun by the cliff
towering behind him; but in the afternoon
the rays beat upon his head, and his agony
increased.  With all his strength of will he
resisted the faintness that threatened to
overpower him.  He felt that he must not give
way before these black men, who passed up
and down hour after hour until his bloodshot
eyes were dazzled.

The time came for work to cease.  Again
the natives were herded into the pen, and the
seamen brought them their food.  The
Germans jeered at the helpless prisoner as they
passed him; one of them dangled a pail of
water under his eyes.  Then exhausted
nature could endure no more.  Meek's head
lolled forward.  Hans rushed up, looked at
him, and called down to the beach that the
Englishman had fainted.

'Fling a pail of water over him!' shouted
Hahn.  'I am coming.'

.. _`THE GERMAN FLUNG A PAIL OF WATER OVER THE UNCONSCIOUS MEEK`:

.. figure:: images/img-163.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: THE GERMAN FLUNG A PAIL OF WATER OVER THE UNCONSCIOUS MEEK.

   THE GERMAN FLUNG A PAIL OF WATER OVER THE UNCONSCIOUS MEEK.


When Hahn appeared, Meek had revived.

'You are a fool!' cried the German
angrily.  He was feeling very sore.  Meek
had been the theme of discussion in the
officers' mess, and Hahn had had to endure a
good deal of heavy raillery on his account.
He was told that he had been sent out to
catch niggers; why had he burdened himself
with a pig of an Englishman?  Where had
he found the man?  How had a solitary
Englishman, a seaman, come to be among
natives in this remote part of the island?
They supposed he had been shipwrecked;
then why had Hahn not left the man to meet
his fate among cannibals?  Hahn was in a
difficulty, because he had said nothing about
the other white men, told nothing about his
rescue by them.  His escape from the
cannibals, according to his story, had been due
to his own ingenuity.  He could not
satisfactorily account for Meek, and he wished
that, instead of bringing him as a prisoner, he
had knocked him on the head or shot him at once.

Now, however, he was actuated by another
motive.  The Englishman, to his vast surprise,
had defied him, and his fellow-officers
had chaffed him about it.  The Englishman's
spirit must be broken.

'You are a fool,' he repeated.  'You bring
all zis on yourself..  You shall haf food
to-night; I am not hard, but you shall be tied
up still.  It is German discipline.
To-morrow must you vork--understand?  You
are bad example to ze ozers.  Zere is ze night
for zinking.  You shall zink.  In ze morning
you shall haf sense, and vork.'

'Never!' cried Meek hoarsely.  'Not
coal.  Not for German pirates!'

'Pig!  I say you shall zink about it all
night,' roared Hahn, exasperated.  'To-morrow
you shall vork, or I vill shoot you
dead.  Understand?'

Meek made no reply.  Hahn savagely bade
Hans give him a little food and order the
sentries to keep an eye on him during the
night.  Then he returned to the beach, and
Meek was left to contemplate the prospect of
twelve hours' torture before a bullet put an
end to it all.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE LEDGE`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XII


.. class:: center medium

   THE LEDGE

.. vspace:: 2

About an hour before sunset, two men
were warily feeling their way among
the boulders that strewed the steep declivity
above the ledge.  Slowly they moved downwards,
rarely rising to their full height, but
stooping as they dodged in and out between
the largest of the stones, and heeding their
feet with strained watchfulness.  They were
Trentham and Hoole.  Grinson, with the rest
of their party, had been left in hiding near the
burnt village, unwillingly; but Trentham
had remarked that his bulky form was ill
suited to reconnaissance work; a call would
be made on his resources later.

The calm surface of the cove was spread out
nearly two hundred feet below them.  They
could see two of the sheds, a few men moving
about, and the seaplane lying high up on the
beach; but the Raider, moored near the
innermost shore, was at present invisible.  Nor
could they see the ledge, almost perpendicularly
beneath them, but now and then they
heard the crack of the overseer's whip, and
the crash of coals as they fell upon the beach.
In front of them the air was slightly darkened
by dust wafted up the face of the cliff.

As they climbed lower they moved still
more slowly and cautiously, often pausing to
rest.  At one of these halts Trentham leant
against a large boulder, and started back in
haste as it moved, swaying slightly and noiselessly
like those rocking stones which are to be
found here and there on our coasts, and which,
insecurely poised though they seem, are
rarely moved from their seats.  The risk of
disturbing the boulder and betraying his
presence brought a momentary pallor to his
cheeks.  When they moved on again, they
tested every upstanding rock before putting
any pressure upon it, and found more than
one which very little force would cause to fall.

The boulders gave effective cover from
observation from the beach, and the contour
of the cliff hid them from the sentry on the
cliff path several hundreds of yards away.
But presently the descent became steeper;
they caught sight of the top of the Raider's
wireless mast; the sounds from the ledge
and the beach grew more distinct and the dust
cloud denser.  They seemed to have come to
the end of the scattered mass of boulders, and
peering over, they saw a fairly smooth slope,
too steep to climb, lacking in cover, and
ending in a sharp edge between fifty and sixty
feet below.  Any boulders that in times past
may have rolled here had found no lodgment,
or, at any rate, must have long since fallen
into the cove.

While they were crouching behind the
lowest of the boulders, wondering how they
could determine the exact position of the
prisoners, they heard a shout from beyond
the ledge, followed by an answering call,
fainter, more distant.  They shrank back,
half fearing that they had been seen; but the
shouts were not repeated, and there was no
sign of excitement among the men on the beach.

A few minutes later, apparently from a
spot immediately beneath them, came the
sound of a voice speaking in loud tones, yet
not so clearly that they could distinguish the
words.  It broke off once or twice, and they
listened for an answering voice, but heard
none.  Then one shouted word struck
distinctly upon their ears.  'Pig!'  Stretching
forward, they strained their hearing.  'You
shall zink all night ... shoot you dead.
Understand?'

There was silence.  Trentham's and Hoole's
eyes met.

'Hahn?' murmured Trentham.

Hoole nodded.

'Bullying Meek,' he whispered.

Trentham cast his eye along the irregular
line of boulders.  A few yards from the spot
where they were crouching, two jagged rocks,
between four and five feet high and about
three feet wide at the base, stood almost
parallel with the edge of the slope, and about
two feet apart.  Crawling to them, Trentham
pushed them gently from behind, then more
firmly, finally with all his strength.  They
did not yield by the smallest fraction of an
inch.  Carefully marking their position, the
two men clambered back among the boulders,
gained the top of the ridge more quickly than
they had descended, and hastened to rejoin
their party, guiding themselves by the trunks
of trees and bushes which Hoole had been
careful to 'blaze' as they came.  There was
just light enough to see the marks.

When they regained the thicket where they
had left the others, Grinson came forward
eagerly to meet them.

'Any luck, sir?' he asked anxiously.
'Did ye find Ephraim?'

'We know pretty well where he is,' replied Trentham.

'Safe and sound?'

'That I can't say exactly, but he 's sound
enough to make Hahn call him a pig.'

'Pig!  A lamb like Ephraim!  By
thunder, sir, if I get my fingers on that there
Hahn I 'll teach him!  Ephraim a pig!
Blast my--

'Steady, Grinson,' interrupted Hoole.
'Meek isn't damaged by Hahn's abuse.
Things are more serious than that.  From
what we overheard, it's pretty sure that
Meek has refused to do something that Hahn
ordered.'

'Good lad!  I 'll----'

'Wait.  Hahn has given him all night to
think it over; he threatens to shoot him.'

Grinson was silenced.  His heat was
quenched by speechless care.  Fixing his eyes
anxiously on Trentham, he said quietly:

'Anything you order, sir.'

'We 'll save him if we can,' said Trentham.
'We 've hard work in front of us, but with
care and good fortune--by the way, Hoole,
can you find your way back in the dark?'

'The moon 's up, my son.  She 's riding
low, but she 'll last long enough for this stunt,
I reckon.'

'Good!  Now, Grinson, cut a stout pole
from a tree--as strong as you can find, three
to four feet long.'

'Ay, ay, sir!' responded the boatswain,
whipping out his knife.

While he was gone about his task, Trentham
explained to Lafoa, the interpreter, that the
position of the prisoners had been roughly
located, and asked him to inform the rest of
the party.  They would have to march to the
cliff in the waning moonlight, keeping absolute
silence, and be ready to do instantly and
exactly what they were ordered.  The safety
of their chief Flanso and his fellow prisoners
would depend on their prompt obedience.

On Grinson's return, Trentham ordered one
of the men to unwind the rope from his body,
and the boatswain to fasten one end of it to
the pole.  He then slung the pole over a thick
branch of a tree, and bade half the party of
natives hang on to it, while Grinson and the
other half held the loose end of the rope.  The
test being satisfactory, and the rope having
been wound over the pole, they formed up in
single file, and, Hoole leading, set out over
their former tracks for the cliff.  Not a word
was spoken.  The bare feet of the natives made
no sound; the footsteps of the white men
could scarcely have been heard if any watchers
had been lurking in the bush.  The rays of
the moon, near its setting, gave Hoole light
enough to distinguish the blazed trees, and
they marched rapidly.  Presently the
prevailing stillness was invaded by the soft rustle
of the surf, and they caught sight of the
glistening path of the moonlight stretching far
across the sea.  Slackening his pace a little,
so as to reduce the slight sounds made by the
white men's boots, Hoole led the party
unerringly to the crest of the boulder-strewn
slope.  There they halted.

There were whispered explanations and
instructions.  Grinson, in spite of his anxiety
for Meek, was a little daunted by the
difficulties of the plan unfolded to him.  The
exact position of the prisoners on the ledge
was unknown.  A sentry would certainly be
on guard.  An incautious movement, the
accidental disturbance of a stone, a misjudgment
of distance in the dark, might involve
not only the failure of the scheme, but death
to its authors.  Trentham did not minimise
the dangers; they had all been canvassed by
Hoole and himself; indeed, he was prepared
to find that some factor which he had been
unable to take into account would render his
plan unworkable.

'But we are not going to attempt the
impossible, Grinson,' he said.  'We shall first
discover what 's possible, and then--well,
you 're not the man to jib at a risk.'

'True, sir, and Ephraim is worth it.  I 'll
say no more.'

They waited until the sinking moon gave
just light enough to see the two rocks which
Trentham and Hoole had marked on their
previous visit; then they stole down the
slope among the boulders.  For greater
security the white men had removed their
boots.  On reaching the furthermost of the
boulders they halted again.  Trentham
placed the log of wood across the gap between
the two rocks, and got Grinson to loop the
loose end of the rope under his armpits.
When the moon had wholly disappeared
below the hills behind, and the face of the
cliff was dark, he crawled inch by inch down
the bare slope, and peeped cautiously over
the edge.

The cove, the beach, the ledge--all were
now within his range of vision.  His eyes
were first attracted by lights below.  There
was a glimmering lamp on the Raider's deck
forward; the deck appeared to be unoccupied,
and no lights shone from the portholes.
All three sheds were illuminated, and from
the murmur of voices Trentham guessed that
the Germans were at their evening meal.  No
one was moving on the beach.  Then he
noticed a slight intermittent glow some
distance away on his right; behind it a face
was momentarily lit up.  Without doubt it
proceeded from the pipe of the sentry on the
ledge.  Trentham recalled the position as
he had seen it from the other side of the cove
when he made his first reconnaissance.  The
sentry was evidently posted at the inner end
of the ledge, where one path led to the beach,
another wound round the cliff.  These were
the only avenues of escape; the other end of
the ledge was blocked.  The fact that the
sentry was smoking argued that discipline
was less strict here than it would have been
on board ship; probably vigilance also was
less rigid.  What had the Germans to fear
from their cowed slaves, and the natives of
the village they had terrorised?

Withdrawing his eyes from this extremity
of the ledge, Trentham could just distinguish
the outlines of baskets laid against the cliff
wall.  Then he started, and felt his pulses
quicken.  Surely that pallid object below him,
a little to his left, was a man's face.  He
closed his eyes, and reopening them after a
few moments found that he could see more
clearly.  Beyond doubt a white man was
standing close against the wall.  His attitude
was peculiarly rigid.  The explanation flashed
upon Trentham; Meek was tied up.

Trentham looked up and down the ledge
for the native prisoners.  Black though they
were, he expected to be able to discover them,
even in the darkness, by some movement or
sound.  He was as much perplexed as
surprised at discerning no sign of them.  Where,
then, were they kept?

Meek, however, was his first concern.  How
long had the seaman been tied up?  Was he
conscious, and able to assist in his release?  It
was impossible to tell.  Wriggling along the edge
of the slope until he was exactly over Meek's
position, Trentham took a short peg from his
pocket, drove it into the soil, and attached to
it a thin line of fibre which he had brought with
him.  Then, holding the line, he crawled carefully
up the slope, and rejoined his party.

In a few whispered words he related the
extent of his discoveries.

'Better 'n we could expect, sir,' murmured
Grinson, with a long breath of relief.  'If
the look-out is smoking----'

'Yes,' interrupted Trentham, 'but we
mustn't rely too much on that.  He may be
relieved at any minute; we can't tell.  We
must get to work while the men are still
feeding.  Ready, Hoole?'

'Sure!' was the reply.

Following the guiding line, of which
Grinson now held the upper end, the two men
crept down the slope.  Grinson understood
that the line would be used to signal how to
deal with the thicker rope, which was coiled
round the log laid across the two rocks.
When they reached the edge, Trentham
transferred the coil of rope from his own
arms to those of Hoole, who was to descend
first on to the ledge.  They were both
conscious that this was a critical moment.  A
fall of earth as the rope strained over the edge
could hardly fail to arouse the sentry.  A
man issuing from one of the sheds might
notice, even in the dark, the white clothes of
the climber, stained though they were.  The
first misfortune might be avoided with care;
the second was at the mercy of chance.

Hoole felt with his hand for a hard smooth
spot upon the edge, over which the rope
might pass without risk of displacing earth.
Then he peered along the ledge from end to
end.  The sentry was still smoking; no one
was visible but Meek.  Sounds of talking
came from the shed, punctuated by the
regular recurring swish of the surf.

'Good luck!' Trentham whispered.

Hoole gave three jerks on the thin line he
carried, then slid over the edge.  The rope
tightened under his armpits; the natives
above slowly paid it out.  He sank out of
sight, and it seemed an age to Trentham
before two jerks signalled that he had reached
the ledge.  A few seconds later a single jerk
indicated that the rope might be drawn up.
When it came over the edge, Trentham
instantly passed the loop over his shoulders,
repeated the signal for lowering, and in half
a minute was standing beside Hoole, close
against the cliff wall.

Both were panting with excitement.  No
fresh sound was added to those they had
already heard; their descent had been
unperceived.

Each went at once about the task
previously agreed on.  Hoole took a few paces
towards the sentry, and revolver in hand,
stood on guard, while Trentham, with quick,
silent cuts of his knife, released the
half-unconscious seaman.

'Not a word, Meek,' whispered Trentham,
as he placed the loop under the man's
shoulders.  'Grinson is waiting for you above.'

He jerked on the line.  Meek slowly
ascended, and his clothes being dark, his form
could scarcely be distinguished against the
cliff.  He had only just disappeared over the
edge when a light was suddenly thrown on the
beach by the opening of the door of one of the
sheds.  There was a burst of louder talking,
and a group of seamen issued forth, and
ambled down to a dinghy lying a few yards
above the surf.  Hoole and Trentham slipped
silently down, and lay flat against the wall.
They heard the scrape of the boat as it was
hauled over the sand, the clatter of boots as
the men climbed into it, then the rattle of
oars in the rowlocks.  The men were boarding
the Raider; from her deck they might see
movements on the ledge.  Was this to be the
end of the adventure?

For a few minutes the voices of the
Germans rose from the vessel; then they ceased,
and Hoole, raising his head cautiously, saw
that the deck was clear.

'Now for the sentry!' he whispered.

Foreseeing that the native prisoners, when
they should be discovered and released, might
hail their deliverance with shouts of joy,
Trentham had arranged with Grinson that
Lafoa, the interpreter, should be lowered to
the ledge when he gave the signal.  But he
had not expected any difficulty in finding the
prisoners' whereabouts.  The presence of the
sentry showed that they were somewhere on
the ledge, and he felt some anxiety lest they
were near the German, and would be
disturbed as Hoole went forward to deal with
him.  For this reason, when Hoole was about
to grope his way along the ledge, Trentham
detained him by a whisper, and signalled to
Grinson by means of the line.  A minute later
he heard a sound above as the Papuan came
dangling down at the end of the rope--a sound
so slight that it could not have been heard by
the sentry amid the rustle of the surf.  He
caught Lafoa about the body, released him
from the rope, and then, in the briefest
sentences of which pidgin English is capable,
instructed him in the part he was to play
presently.

Hoole started, stealing along inch by inch
under the cliff wall, taking advantage of its
inequalities and of the baskets which were
ranged in line against it.  He had gone
forward only about a dozen yards, however,
when Trentham, who could just distinguish
his form, saw him halt, crouching low.  The
sentry's pipe was still emitting its glow at
regular intervals as the man puffed.  It was
clear that he had not been disturbed, and
Trentham, wondering why Hoole had stopped,
stole forward to join him, carrying the rope
with which Meek had been bound.

The American was lying almost flat, peering
between the bars of a wooden grating that
covered a hole in the cliff.

'Listen!' he whispered, as Trentham came
up behind him.

And then Trentham heard, from behind the
grating, sounds of deep breathing, as of many
men asleep.  Nothing could be seen in the
pitch blackness within; but the two men
concluded that they had found the place in which
the natives were confined.  Worn out by long
hours of fatiguing work to which they were
unused, the prisoners, no doubt, were
sleeping the heavy sleep of exhaustion.

Hoole was about to go forward, when he
was arrested by a sound some distance ahead.
He dropped flat again, and taking up handfuls
of coal dust, rubbed it all over his clothes.
Trentham followed his example.  They now
identified the sound as footsteps; in a few
moments they heard a voice, then a tapping.

'Sentry being relieved; knocking out his
pipe,' Hoole whispered.

They lay watching, listening, with their
hearts in their mouths.  Would the Germans
come to look at the man they had tied up?
Or would the relieving sentry be satisfied by
his comrade's report that all was well, and
take up his post without investigation?  If
both should come along the ledge together, it
was hopeless to expect that they could be
silenced without one or other having time to
give the alarm.  They might even see the
white clothes, in spite of the coating of coal
dust, before they came within reach.  A
single shout would arouse the Germans below,
and all would be over.

The footsteps drew nearer; two voices were
heard.  The new sentry exchanged a few
words with his comrade; then the heavy
boots of the latter rang on the path leading
downwards to the beach.  The risk was
halved!  A match was struck; the
newcomer lit his pipe, and for a minute or two
paced up and down a short stretch of the
ledge.  Hoole hoped that he would soon tire
of this, and sit, as his comrade presumably
had done, smoking placidly, dreaming
perhaps of a little cottage somewhere in the
Fatherland.

But presently the slow footsteps
approached.  The scent of tobacco smoke
touched the nostrils of the waiting men.
The sentry was coming to look at his
prisoner.  Trentham and Hoole crawled back
silently a few yards, and effaced themselves
as well as they could behind the baskets.
The German came slowly on, humming
between his closed lips.  He reached the tunnel,
and stood at the grating for a few moments;
the watchers saw the reflection of his glowing
pipe on his face as he pressed it close against
the bars.  Humming again, he sauntered on
towards the post where Meek had been tied,
walking outside the line of baskets, and
passing the hidden men within a couple of yards.

Now was the critical moment.  Feeling
that the whole success of the enterprise hung
on the next few seconds, Hoole pulled himself
together, got to his feet, and noiselessly on
his stocking soles tip-toed after the German.
From below came the restless murmur of the
surf.  Hoole's footsteps could not have been
heard, yet the German, perhaps moved by
that strange sense one has of being followed,
was on the point of turning round, when a
hard fist caught him with the force of a
sledge-hammer behind his right ear, and he
fell like a log.  Trentham, who had followed
stealthily, instantly dashed forward, and
before the stunned man regained consciousness
he was bound hand and foot with the rope
that had tortured Meek, and a gag, torn from
Hoole's coat, was firmly wedged between his teeth.

.. _`NOISELESSLY ON HIS STOCKING SOLES TIP-TOED AFTER THE GERMAN`:

.. figure:: images/img-182.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: NOISELESSLY ON HIS STOCKING SOLES TIP-TOED AFTER THE GERMAN.

   NOISELESSLY ON HIS STOCKING SOLES TIP-TOED AFTER THE GERMAN.

Leaving him where he lay, the two men
summoned Lafoa to join them, and led him
to the tunnel.  Groping over the grating,
Hoole discovered the wooden bolt with which
it was fastened, quietly removed the cover,
and signed to Lafoa to go in.

There was another moment of tense
anxiety.  Grunts, ejaculations, the stir of
movement, were heard from the depths of the
tunnel.  Something fell with a sharp crack--a
pick which one of the men had displaced.
At the mouth of the tunnel it sounded like a
pistol shot, and Hoole and Trentham swung
round and looked apprehensively towards the
beach.  All was still, there.  No doubt the
wash of the sea was loud enough to smother
the single sharp sound at a distance.

It was evident that Lafoa had intelligently
grasped his instructions, for the natives, as
they filed out, though their movements were
quick and urgent, made scarcely a sound.
In a long string they followed Trentham to
the spot where the rope dangled over the wall
of the ledge.  Trentham found that his hands
were trembling as he slid the rope over the
shoulders of the first man.  If only he could
have multiplied the rope!  Each ascent
would take at least half a minute.  How
many men were there?  What might not
happen before they were all in safety above?
One by one he looped them, saw them rise,
caught the descending rope.  Hoole, who
had counted them out, came up to them and
whispered 'Thirty-four.'  More than a
quarter of an hour must elapse before the
last man had ascended, and some of those at
the end of the line were showing signs of
restlessness, grunting, sighing, clicking with
their tongues.  Moment by moment Trentham
expected some of them to whoop with
excitement.  'Make all fella no talkee!' he
whispered to Lafoa, and the man went along
the line muttering fierce threats.

The thirty-fourth man had gone.  Lafoa
followed him, then Hoole.  Not a sound had
been heard from below but the murmur of the
sea and the muffled voices of the men in the
sheds.  With intense relief, and the feeling
that fortune could hardly betray them now,
Trentham looped himself and signalled to be
hoisted.  He was barely half way to the top
when a sharp clatter above made his blood
run cold.  Crack followed crack, then for a
second there were a number of dull thuds,
and finally, a tremendous crash on the ledge
below, waking echoes around the cove.  One
of the natives, in climbing among the boulders,
had displaced a large rock.

The doors of the sheds were burst open.
Lights shone across the cove.  Men came
rushing out, calling to one another, to the
sentry above, to the men on the Raider.
'Faster!  Faster!' Trentham cried
inwardly, as he was jerked upward.  He was
just over the edge when a blinding light
swept across the face of the cliff.  The
searchlight's beams fell full upon Trentham's
white-clad form.  Slipping out of the loop,
he scrambled on hands and knees up the
sloping ascent towards the boulders.  Below
him there was a sputtering rattle, and he felt
himself splashed with earth and stones as the
rain of machine-gun bullets pecked at the
cliff.  Something hot stung his leg; he
crawled faster; in another moment his
shoulders were grasped by sinewy hands, and
Grinson and Hoole between them lugged him
over the brink and behind the protecting
boulders.

'Thanks be for all mercies!' panted
Grinson.  'And as for that clumsy lubber
that kicked down the rock----'

'Shoo!' whistled Hoole, 'it's time, sure,
to cut and run!'





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A FORCED LANDING`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XIII


.. class:: center medium

   A FORCED LANDING

.. vspace:: 2

'For goodness' sake keep them quiet!'
gasped Trentham, clambering up
among the boulders to the top of the slope.
The native prisoners, hysterical in their joy,
were laughing and shouting and smacking
their thighs.

'Say, Lafoa,' said Hoole, 'tell that chief
of yours to stop the hullabaloo.  Black fella
no talkee this time.'

Flanso gathered his men together, and
reduced the hubbub somewhat.  Meanwhile
Trentham had gained the top.

'We must get out of reach at once,' he said.
'The searchlight's no good to them now, nor
the machine-gun; but if these fellows make
such a row the Germans will track us.'

'We make for the village?' asked Hoole.

'Not directly; the Germans are sure to put
men on the paths.  But I fancy they won't
risk a regular pursuit in the dark, and if we
get away from the coast and avoid the direct
route to the village, we shall at any rate not
run into them.  How 's Meek?'

'Just alive, sir, that's all I can say,' replied
Grinson.  'What they 've been doing to him----'

'Can he walk?' Trentham interrupted.

'Says he ain't got no feeling in his legs.
But what's the odds?  I 'll heave him across
my back.  Lucky you 're lean, Ephraim, me lad!'

'Come, let's start at once.  Where's Lafoa?'

He explained his plan to the interpreter,
who imparted it to the young chief, and the
whole party moved off silently into the forest,
Grinson mounting Meek pickaback.

Trentham's inferences as to the actions of
the enemy were better justified than he knew.
All the Germans with the exception of Hahn
had been thrown into a state of utter
consternation by the discovery that Meek was
not the only white man in their neighbourhood.
Hahn, professing himself to be as
much surprised as the rest, had discreetly
held his tongue.  Consequently the
commander, ignorant of the number of the
rescuers, had contented himself with posting
parties of the crew on the paths which the
fugitives must cross to regain their village,
postponing organised pursuit until the morning.

It was slow going in the darkness.  Several
of the natives who had been longest enslaved
were weak from overwork, ill-treatment, and
confinement.  The stronger among them,
eager to press on, were restrained by fear of
the dark and the necessity of helping the
weaker.  Hoole noticed that Trentham was limping.

'Hurt your leg?' he asked.

'Got a bullet, I think, but it's nothing.'

'Shucks!  Let me have a look at it right
now.  You might bleed to death.'

He knelt down and groped for the wound.

'The bullet has ploughed up a bit of your
calf,' he said in a minute or two.  'Lucky
it's no worse.  Wait half a second while I tie
it up; then I guess you can go on till we
strike some water.'

They went on, struggling over rough
country amid thick bush and trees.  Even
the natives were at a loss in the darkness.
They could not choose a definite direction,
and it seemed obvious to the white men that
some of them would soon collapse.  Grinson
was panting under his load, light though it
was, but steadfastly refused to allow the
others to take turns with him.  At length,
coming to a patch of open ground, Trentham
called a halt.

'We ought to be pretty safe now,' he said,
'and had better camp here till the morning.
With daylight some of the natives will be able
to take their bearings.'

They lay down on the rough grass, already
wet with dew.

'How d' you feel, Ephraim?' asked Grinson,
bending over the seaman.

'I felt worse when I had typhoid,' said
Meek faintly.  'What a lot of trouble I do
give you, Mr. Grinson--a lot of trouble.  And
I ain't said a word of thanks to the gentlemen.'

'Don't bother about that,' said Trentham.
'Get to sleep if you can.'

'Ay, go to sleep at once, Ephraim; d' ye
hear, me lad?' said Grinson.

'I 'll try, Mr. Grinson, and if so be I dream
horrors----'

'Dream!  What's dreams?  Why, many's
the times I 've been drownded in my sleep.
Dreams make me laugh.  (I 'll get him off,
sir,' he whispered to Trentham.  'A yarn of
mine has done it afore now!)  I remember
once I dreamed as how I 'd got into a
Salvation meeting; they was singing a hymn, but
the man as played the trumpet--why,
somehow the trumpet turned into a beer bottle,
and I found I was playing the trumpet myself.
They all come up and thanked me afterwards
for my beautiful music, and then all of a
sudden I was left alone, and couldn't find my
hat.  While I was hunting for it, that there
trumpet fellow rushed in and pushed a
rolled-up parcel into my hand.  "Very good hat!"
says he, and when I opened it, bless you,
'twas nothing but a tea-cosy....  He 's
off now, sir.  What have those devils been
doing to my Ephraim?'

'We 'll hear all about it to-morrow.  You
had better sleep yourself, Grinson.  Tell
yourself a yarn.'

'No, sir; that's not my way.  I counts
over the number of sweethearts I 've had,
and by the time I 've got to the third or
fourth I 'm dead off; they was so dull.'

It was a comfortless night on the open
ground, with neither fires nor wraps to
defend them against the chill air.  Either
Hoole or Trentham was always on guard,
together with relays of the natives.  By the
exertion of his authority Flanso kept his men
fairly quiet; but the white men were on
thorns lest even the subdued murmurs of
voices should reach the ears of possible scouts.

At dawn the party was marshalled.  It had
been arranged that the weaker men among
the natives should make for the village by a
round-about route, in charge of Grinson and
Meek, and led by Lafoa.  Trentham and Hoole
intended to wait a while with Flanso and the
rest, and then to scout more directly eastward
in order to keep watch on the Germans.

They were just about to start when the
natives pricked up their ears, and Flanso
managed to make the white men understand
that they were alarmed by a noise in the air.
A few seconds later Hoole declared that he
heard the seaplane's engines.  Trentham
signed to the natives to take cover in the
surrounding bush, and with Hoole posted
himself at the edge of the forest, where he
might hope to escape observation.  Presently
the seaplane soared over the clearing, a few
hundred feet above the ground, and after
circling once or twice made off south-eastwards
in the direction of the village.

'They won't see our men in the forest,'
remarked Trentham, 'but we had better
start.  If they drop a bomb on the village,
there 'll be a frightful panic.'

They hurried among the trees to re-form
their party, but found that the natives,
scared by the noise of this aerial monster,
had disappeared.  Only one man remained,
Flanso himself, armed with a spear taken
from one of those who had accompanied the
white men from the village.  Under his
guidance they set off rapidly.

It was perhaps a quarter of an hour later
that Hoole caught sight of a native among
the trees on his left hand, and thinking it was
one of the missing men, shouted to him.  The
man at once dashed away, uttering a shrill cry.

'Kafulu!' cried Flanso excitedly, and
was on the point of springing after the traitor
when a shot rang out, and a number of
Germans came into view almost directly in
front of them.  The three men instantly
darted away to the right, pursued by more
shots, and ran until they were out of breath.

'We 've outrun them,' said Trentham;
'must have gone twice as fast as they,
burdened with their rifles.  I must rest a bit;
my leg is rather groggy.'

There was no sound of pursuit.  Presently
they moved on again, but had not gone far
before they once more heard the hum of the
seaplane, apparently approaching from the
south.  Screened by the trees, they did not
check their march until Hoole suddenly
exclaimed:

'Say, Trentham, that machine 's sure in
difficulties.'

'Is it?  How do you know?'

'Listen!' returned Hoole with a smile.

The humming was intermittent, spasmodic,
and presently ceased altogether.

'They 're coming down,' said Hoole, 'and
not far away.  Let 's have a look at it.'

'Better push on,' said Trentham.

'But it 'll do us good if the machine
crashes.  I 'd be glad to know it's out of
action.  Come on!'

They turned in the direction in which the
sound was last heard.  Through the
close-growing trees it was impossible to see far,
and Trentham privately thought the search
a waste of time; but after only a few
minutes' walk they came to the edge of an
open space sloping down to a stream some
twenty feet wide.

'It will be hereabout,' said Hoole, detaining
the others at the top of the slope.  'But I
guess this trickle isn't wide enough to float it.
Let us separate, and scout along the line of
bushes here, up and down stream.'

In a few minutes Flanso, who had gone
northward, returned to the others, and told
them by signs that he had discovered the
machine.  Creeping back with him, they came
to a bend in the stream, and there discovered
the seaplane, resting partly on two small
trees, partly on a bed of rushes, and
awkwardly tilted.  The two airmen had left their
seats, and were talking together on the bank,
apparently consulting a compass.  Every now
and again they glanced apprehensively into
the bush on both sides.  Then they returned
to the seaplane, walked round it, put their
shoulders against the fuselage, and tried to
lift it.  One of them took out his revolver,
and was on the point of firing it into the air,
when his companion hastily interposed.  The
two men had a brief altercation.  Finally the
one who had been about to fire appeared to
yield to the other's warning, and they both
sat down on the shelving bank, discussing the
position over again.

Sheltered by the dense vegetation above
the watercourse, Trentham and his
companions had watched their movements with
interest.  The tenor of their discussion was
easily divined.  The seaplane could not be
salved without help, but they hesitated to
leave it, fearful of its being discovered by the
natives, with whom, as they now knew, were
white men.  If they parted company, which
was to return to the cove?  The one left
would be less able to defend himself and
the machine.  A revolver shot might have
brought assistance from the Germans; on
the other hand, it might attract a horde of
cannibals.  What were they to do?

As they sat on the bank, they were sideways
to the three men watching them only a few
feet above.

'Let's rush them!' whispered Hoole suddenly.

He seized Flanso's spear, pushed his
revolver into Trentham's hand, and before the
latter could utter a word, either in assent or
in remonstrance, the American was half-way
down the slope.  Trentham had no choice
but to back him up, and he dashed after his
friend with scarcely a moment's delay.

The Germans heard the sound of Hoole's
movements through the bush, turned their
heads and sprang up.  One of them raised
his revolver to fire, but Hoole, now only three
or four yards away, launched his spear.  His
sudden action flurried the German's aim, his
shot flew wide, and the next moment he fell
back, cursing, and tearing the spear from his
shoulder.  His companion, seeing Trentham
rushing at him with levelled revolver,
hesitated a moment, and caught sight of Flanso
swooping down immediately behind the
Englishman.

.. _`ONE OF THE GERMANS RAISED HIS REVOLVER, BUT BEFORE HE COULD FIRE, HOOLE LAUNCHED THE SPEAR AT HIM`:

.. figure:: images/img-195.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: ONE OF THE GERMANS RAISED HIS REVOLVER, BUT BEFORE HE COULD FIRE, HOOLE LAUNCHED THE SPEAR AT HIM.

   ONE OF THE GERMANS RAISED HIS REVOLVER, BUT BEFORE HE COULD FIRE, HOOLE LAUNCHED THE SPEAR AT HIM.


'Hands up!' cried Trentham, taking advantage
of the man's momentary hesitation.

Up went his hands.

'Guess we 'll borrow your revolvers,
gentlemen,' said Hoole, picking up the weapon
dropped by the wounded man.  Trentham
took the other man's from his belt.  'Keep
your eye on them, Trentham,' Hoole went
on, 'while I kind of size up this machine of
theirs.'

Trentham and Flanso stood guard over the
Germans while the unwounded man bathed
his comrade's arm and bound up his wound.
Meanwhile Hoole examined the seaplane in
a manner that took Trentham by surprise.
There was a sureness, a purposefulness about
him; he seemed to know exactly what he was
looking for.  Indeed, he pulled the engine
about, as Trentham afterwards told him, as
if he were its maker.  A very few minutes'
inspection sufficed to make him wise, as he put it.

'Not much wrong,' he said, coming over
to Trentham and smiling.  'I guess I can put
it right.  But we 'll want help to get it on to
the stream--yonder there, where it widens.
Shall we start for home?'

'And these gentlemen will come as our prisoners?'

'Sure.  We haven't any coal for them to
dig, but they can start on yams.'

'Ve are officers; it is not correct for officers
to vork,' said one of the Germans.

'Say, is that so?  You 're a lazy lot?  Well
now!  And yet you 'll make a chief dig coal
for you--a chief who 's as big a man here as
your Kaiser in Berlin.  Well, you surprise
me!  Come along, Trentham.  Let's hurry.'

'How far are we from the coast?' asked
Trentham of the Germans as they started.

'Eight or nine mile,' was the surly response.

'Bully!' exclaimed Hoole.  'With luck
we 'll have time to salve the machine before
it's found.  Step along, Flanso!'

'Ze niggers vere ve go--are zey cannibals?'
asked one of the Germans anxiously.

'Yes,' replied Trentham.  'They nearly
ate us.  They mistook us for Germans.'

The prisoners asked no more questions.

Soon after leaving the seaplane, Hoole
pointed out why it had come down in this part
of the forest.  The stream widened into a
small lake, on which, when their engine failed,
the Germans had tried to alight.  Unable to
reach it, they had been forced to come down
on the bank of the stream.

Flanso scouted ahead, every now and then
stopping to listen for signs of the Germans.
Once, when they were rounding a spur where
the vegetation was thin, Trentham clapped
his hand over the mouth of one of the Germans
just as he was about to shout.

'We 'll have to gag this fellow, Hoole,' he
said.

'Sure.  Another rag from my coat.  And
look you here, you officers, if you make a
sound, barring a natural grunt, we 'll leave
you to our friend Flanso.  See?'

'The native yonder,' explained Trentham.
'You had him on your ledge, you know.'

The threat was enough.  For the rest of
the march the Germans were docility itself.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`AN INTERLUDE`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XIV


.. class:: center medium

   AN INTERLUDE

.. vspace:: 2

At the entrance to the village the returning
party found Grinson alone, standing
in the middle of the path, his knife in his right
hand, a spear in his left, and a dozen other
spears on the ground beside him.  Neither
Meek nor any of the natives was to be seen.

'What's the meaning of this, Grinson?'
asked Trentham.

'Ignorance, sir--just ignorance, poor
heathens!' replied the boatswain, cocking
his thumb towards the village.  'That there
airy plane sailed over a while ago, and the
savages all did a bunk, screeching like one
o'clock, though I roared myself black in the
face telling 'em 'twas only a sort o' bird.
'Twas no good; like as I 've seed cows and
sheep bolt with their tails up from a railway
train.  They was scared stiff, there 's no
mistake; and I 'spect they 're hiding their heads
somewhere.'

'And Meek?'

'I sent Ephraim straight into our hut, sir,
and seeing as how the whole place was left
undefended, like, I took up my station here.
Germans, sir?' he added in a whisper,
winking towards the prisoners.

'Yes; their machine came down.  We 'll
leave them in your charge, as we want to take
a gang back to bring in the machine.  You
had no trouble on the way home?'

'Not a bit, sir, except that they 've no
notion whatever of the proper way of
marching--more like a lot of colts they was; but
there, I hadn't the heart to correct 'em, they
was so uncommon pleased to be free again.'

The party had not interrupted their march.
Grinson had picked up his spears and fallen in
step beside Trentham.  As they passed along
the path, from behind the huts and the midst
of the plantations native heads appeared one
by one, and when the timorous people
recognised their young chief they came bounding
out with yells of delight, until by the time the
inner enclosure was reached the whole
population had joined the procession.  At the gate
the patricians were assembled, headed by the
temporary chief.  They welcomed Flanso
with some show of dignity, and conducted him
to the chief's house, bowing low as he entered
the doorway.  The two prisoners were placed
under guard in an empty hut, and then
Trentham hurried after Flanso, and with the aid of
the interpreter explained the course of action
which had been arranged between himself and
Hoole during the homeward march.

Trentham found himself contending with
the natives' absolute incomprehension of the
value of time.  Flanso was already occupied
in discussing with his elders the details of his
approaching installation.  No western
monarch could have been more deeply absorbed
in the ceremonies that were to inaugurate his
reign.  The hardships from which he had
been rescued, the dangers that still threatened
him and his people, seemed to have vanished
from his mind, and it was only by dint of
patience and pertinacity that Trentham
succeeded in capturing his attention.

He pointed out that the Germans, enraged
at the loss of their prisoners, would certainly
seek to regain them, and also to wreak
vengeance upon the community; nor would
their animus be lessened when they discovered
that their airmen had fallen into the
enemy's hands.

'Chief say Toitsche fella no belongina find
out that,' said the interpreter, after an
interruption from Flanso.  'Black fella
belongina eat white fella chop-chop.'

'Tell chief what he say all belongina
gammon,' cried Trentham, and proceeded to
explain as well as he could from the slender
resources of pidgin English that the Germans
might be valuable at least as hostages.  It
took some time to get this theory understood
and accepted; then it was an equally long
and difficult task to persuade him that the
seaplane would be of any value to him.
What was the good of it?  It only frightened
his people.  To fetch it involved the risk of
falling into the power of the Germans.
Trentham managed to make him understand
that the loss of the machine would greatly
cripple the enemy's operations; and further,
that if Hoole succeeded in repairing it, it
might be used to bring help from friendly
white men, who would eat up the Germans,
and deliver the natives for ever from them.
Flanso was rather impressed by these
statements, though he said that his people would
probably prefer to eat up all the Germans
themselves; and Trentham realised the
danger of employing metaphorical language.
Ultimately he brought Flanso to concede his
request--to despatch a party of able-bodied
men to transport the seaplane from its present
position to the village.

'I feel utterly done up,' he said, mopping
his brow, when he returned to the others.
'Jabbering pidgin English for an hour is
worse than penal servitude.  And it's such
frightful loss of time; the Germans may
have discovered the machine by now.'

'Don't worry,' said Hoole.  'It was flying
so low that I guess they couldn't have seen it
come down, and when they miss it they may
hunt for it for a day or two in the forest and
not find it, except by a fluke.  I don't figure
out that they 'll have all the luck.  Anyway,
choose your men, and I 'll take 'em out;
you 've done your share of the business.
I 'll take Grinson, he 's a hefty man, and
may have a notion or two.'

Fortunately the chief's obstinacy had no
counterpart among the Papuans outside the
enclosure.  The released prisoners had done
nothing since their return except relate over
and over again the details of their sufferings
and the manner of their escape.  Their
friends listened awestruck to the tale, and
gasped as they heard of the dangling rope,
the lightning which had gleamed upon the
cliff, the crackling thunder, the strange
stones that flew singing through the air;
and they looked with wondering admiration
upon the white men who had saved their
fellows, not only from the tyrants who had
enslaved them, but even from the powers of
nature which those tyrants had at command.
Trentham and Hoole thus found themselves
to be regarded with veneration, and when the
interpreter, prompted by Trentham,
explained that the white men required the
services of twenty strong men to bring in the
great sea-bird which was another part of the
enemy's magic, there was no lack of
volunteers eager to undertake the work.  Another
score were selected as scouts, and when these
understood that the object to be carried was
bulky, and could not easily be conveyed
through thick forest, they announced that
they knew a way less obstructed by
vegetation, which would be more convenient,
though less direct.

Under their guidance the party reached
the stream some distance above the spot
where the seaplane lay.  Feeling their way
cautiously along the bank, they came at
length in sight of the machine, which to all
appearance remained exactly as it had been
left.  Hoole took the precaution to post a
screen of scouts around the position to give
warning if the enemy should approach, then
he sent Grinson to detach the wings.  A
handy man, like all British seamen, Grinson
soon accomplished his task, with the aid of
tools discovered among the airmen's outfit.
Within a shorter space of time than Hoole
had deemed possible the work was finished.
The wings were entrusted to two men apiece;
the body of the machine was hoisted on the
shoulders of the rest of the party; and
although they met with considerable
difficulties at rough and steep places on the
return journey, once being saved from
catastrophe only by the succour of Grinson's
sturdy muscles, they bore their burden
without mishap to the village, and carried it up
the central path amid the joyous shouts of
the populace.  Some of the men, now that
the strange bird was evidently helpless,
showed their bravery by casting their spears
at it, and their dexterity by failing to hit any
of the bearers.  At this Hoole fairly lost his
temper, and rushed among the throng,
smiting them right and left with his fists.
This unusual mode of correction was effectual.
The men who were sent spinning picked
themselves up with an air of surprise, while
their comrades shouted with laughter, in
which the culprits themselves by and by
joined.  For safety's sake Hoole had the
machine carried into the inner enclosure,
where it was inspected with more decorum
and shyness by the patricians, and with
contempt by the medicine-man, who
demonstrated his assurance by stroking the
petrol tank and afterwards licking his greasy
fingers.  The grimaces he made were so
much like those he was accustomed to
display for professional purposes that his
discomfort passed unnoticed except by the
white men.

Trentham came out of his hut rubbing his eyes.

'Yes, I 've been asleep,' he said, in answer
to Hoole's inquiring look.  'A pretty warden
of the camp I should make.  But the fact is,
these people are hopeless.  I tried to make
them understand that the Germans might be
upon us at any minute--no good!  They
appear to be entirely taken up with some sort
of mumbo-jumbo, and can't attend to anything
else.  So I simply gave in, trusting that
if the Germans did appear the people would
be scared into reasonableness.  The wall, of
course, is proof against anything less than a
four-pounder.'

'Well, I guess you did right,' said Hoole,
'and after thirty odd hours without it, a little
sleep would comfort me some.  As to the
Germans, I 'm pretty sure they 'll do a bit of
reconnoitring before they attack.  The
surprise of those two airmen wasn't put on; it's
clear that Hahn said nothing about us, and
they 'll be wondering how many there are of
us.  And so, my son, we must persuade
Flanso to keep some scouts out with their
eyes lifting.  With proper notice we could
put up some sort of defence.  But I hope
we 'll get away before it comes to that.'

'You can repair the machine, then?'

'I reckon I can, if I can get hold of a forge.
But I 'm dead tired, so I 'll turn in, if you 'll
keep your eyes open a while.  So long!'

That evening, as the four men sat together
once more in their hut, the two younger drew
from Meek the story which he had already
related to Grinson on the way home.  It was
a very colourless narrative--a recital of the
cold facts in the fewest possible words,
without a touch of passion or indignation.
Grinson, however, was not the man to leave his
mate's story unadorned.

'He 's an 'ero, gentlemen, that's what
Ephraim is!' he declared.  'If ever he gets
back to the old country, I lay the name of
Ephraim Meek--ay, and his picter too--will
be in all the newspapers.  I 'll see to that.
And the cinemas too; by gosh, I hear 'em
now, the cheers of the little kiddies and the
sobs of the women and gals when they see
Ephraim tied up, like that chap as defied the
lightning, bidding of them German ruffians to
do their worst; he 'd never dig coal for them,
not him!  P'r'aps one of you young gentlemen
will make a pome out of it, like that one
about "the boy stood on the burning deck,"
you remember, or one I used to know years
ago when I went to school, about a British
Tommy.  I don't rightly recollect it, but
'twas a Tommy in some heathen land as
wouldn't bob his head to an idol, or
thing of the sort, though they killed him for
it.  'Twud be a shame if Ephraim wasn't put
into some pome too--an 'ero like him!'

'I ain't got the figger of an 'ero, Mr. Grinson,'
said Meek.  'Now if it was you--a-going
off singing to be eat--that 'ud made a picter.
I couldn't sing if 'twas me--I 'm sure I
couldn't.'

'Why, that was only like a sheep bleating
on the way to the slaughter-house--'eroes
don't baa.  Ain't I right, gentlemen?'

'What do you say, Hoole?' said Trentham,
feeling somewhat at a loss.

'Well,' drawled Hoole, 'I guess heroes
ain't *cheap*, anyway, and I 'm proud to know
two, that's sure.'





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`DUK-DUK`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XV


.. class:: center medium

   DUK-DUK

.. vspace:: 2

Trentham took turns with Hoole and
Grinson to keep watch through the
night, leaving Meek to the recuperative force
of sleep.  No untoward incident disturbed
the hours of darkness, but there was a good
deal of noise in the village, the men chattering
incessantly.

'Reminds me of the meetings of our old
Urban District Council,' remarked Grinson
once, when Hoole relieved him.  'Fust one,
then another, then all together--and nothing
settled after all.'

'I guess they 're fixing something,' replied
Hoole.  'In my country there 's a good deal
of clack when we elect a new president.  It's
a new chief here, you know.'

'Which it means a coronation, p'r'aps, or a
beano of some sort, sir.  Well, we 'll see, if we
live long enough.  Good night, sir.'

Hoole had taken the precaution to have the
seaplane placed near the hut.  In the morning,
as soon as it was light, he made a more
thorough examination of the machine than
had been possible before.

'What precisely is wrong with it?' asked
Trentham.

'Luckily not much,' said Hoole.  'These
Huns are no sports or they 'd have risked the
few miles back to the cove.  A couple of
flying wires are broken--that 's nothing--but
see here, the water jacket round this cylinder
is cracked; the water (for cooling purposes,
of course) will all run out, and cause the
engine to overheat.  That's why they
came down, though, as I said, I 'd have
risked it; all the same, it wouldn't be safe
to risk a flight of any length, and the
thing must be repaired.  The mischief is,
we 've got no solder, and you can't mend
a crack in metal without that, or something equivalent.'

'But you said, when you first saw it, that
it *could* be repaired.'

'Well, yes, I did; forgetting for the
moment where we are.  You haven't seen
anything in the shape of a forge anywhere
around, have you?'

'No, but I suppose they must have one, or
they couldn't make their spears.  I 'll ask
the interpreter.'

But the word *forge* was unknown to the
interpreter, and Trentham's effort to explain
in pantomime, by blowing an imaginary pair
of bellows, proved fruitless.

'Well, I 'll go and look around,' said Hoole.
'And meanwhile, old son, don't you think
you 'd better persuade the chief to send out
some scouts?  If the Germans do have a
notion to attack us, five minutes' warning
would give us time to get every one inside the
wall.'

'I 'll try.  He may be more amiable than
he was last night.'

Hoole perambulated the village for some
time before he discovered what he sought.
At last, however, within a narrow enclosure
behind the huts, he noticed a young man
sitting on a frame-like chair, and vigorously
working two long sticks up and down.  A
low fence prevented Hoole from seeing the
object of these energetic movements, but a
little smoke and an acrid smell like that
which comes from a blacksmith's forge drew
him nearer, and looking over the fence, his
eyes gleamed at what he saw.

In front of the native stood two long
cylinders of bamboo, about three feet high.
From a hole in the base of each ran a thin
bamboo pipe; the two pipes converged and
met at a small heap of glowing charcoal,
which burnt more brightly with each thrust
of the sticks as the native worked them
alternately up and down in the cylinders.  Hoole
jumped over the fence, and eagerly examined
this primitive forge.  At the lower end of
each of the sticks was fastened a huge bunch
of feathers, resembling a mop; and these,
pumped up and down, caused a considerable
draught, by means of which the smith blew
his fire to a heat sufficient to soften iron.

'Eureka!' cried Hoole, exulting.

He dashed back to the chief's enclosure,
got his permission to have the forge brought
within the wall, and in half an hour was busily
engaged in the preliminary work of repairing
the water jacket.

'It will be done by this evening,' he
explained to Trentham.  'To-morrow I 'll be off
to Wilhelmshafen or any other old place
where I can find a white man, and then----'

'There 's enough petrol?'

'Enough for the flight out; I 'll get more
when I land.  Say, though, we shall have to
take the machine to the sea.  She can't run
off, has only floats.  That's a pity--waste
of time, not to speak of the risk of coming up
against the Germans.'

'But there 's an opportunity of getting the
machine carried to the sea without a special
journey.  I 've heard some news while you
were away.  It appears that some sort of
ceremony inaugurating the new chief is to
take place at our old wreck to-night.  All
these Frenchified men are going with him in
procession, with a certain number of the
other fellows.  We must get him to let his
men carry the 'plane at the same time.'

'They go down the chimney?'

'Yes; it's the nearest way.'

'The narrow way that leads to destruction!
How on earth are we to get the machine down
there?'

'With ropes, man.  We 've tested the
quality of their ropes already, and the women
work so uncommonly fast that they 'll have
new ropes the right length in plenty of time.
I 'll go and see the chief about it at once.
He 's very much preoccupied, and vastly
self-important, but he allowed me to send out
scouts, as you suggested, and I dare say I can
talk him over.'

Flanso was quite willing that the seaplane
should form part of his procession.  His
vanity appeared to be flattered; he was as
much pleased as a Lord Mayor of London
who has secured some novelty for his show.
But when the carriers had been chosen, an
unforeseen difficulty arose.  The medicine-man,
whose office gave him access to the chief
at all times, strutted into Flanso's house,
where the elders of the community were
discussing the details of the approaching
ceremony, and vigorously protested against the
seaplane being allowed to leave the village.
In a vehement oration he declared that the
strange bird must have some connection with
the totem of the tribe, and that while it
remained with them the village would be safe
from hostile attack.  Some of the elders
backed him up, and Flanso, torn between his
own superstitions and his sense of loyalty to
the white men who had rescued him, sought
relief from his perplexities by sending for
Trentham, and putting the case before him.

Trentham had sufficient diplomacy to
conceal his amusement, and also a certain
irritation at the threat to his scheme.

'Tell chief,' he said to the interpreter,
'medicine-man fella he savvy lot.  Big bird
belongina totem all right; all same big bird
he fly long way, bring back lot of white fella;
they fight bad white fella this side, eat bad
white fella all up.'

At this moment, unluckily, one of the
scouts returned with the report that the big
ship no longer lay in the cove, and that all the
white fellas had disappeared.  Grinning with
triumph, the medicine-man instantly claimed
that this fact proved his case; the loss of the
big bird had evidently rendered the enemy
helpless, and there was nothing further to be
feared from them.  Trentham, surprised as
he was at the departure of the Raider, and
suspecting that the Germans were probably
setting a trap, strained his vocabulary of
pidgin to the utmost to counteract the
medicine-man's arguments, and ultimately
prevailed on the chief to abide by the promise
he had given.  The medicine-man and his
supporters were patently annoyed.  They
left the hut in undisguised ill-humour, and
Trentham had an uneasy feeling that they
would still give trouble.

The procession was to start soon after
sunset, so that it might reach the wreck in
time for the ceremony to take place at the
height of the moon.  It was late in the
afternoon before Hoole had completed his repairs,
and after making a good meal the four white
men were sitting in their tent, awaiting the
moment for starting.

'What's up, Trentham?' asked Hoole.
'You look very sick.'

'I 've been thinking we 're mugs, that's
all,' said Trentham.  'With the chief and all
his fighting men away, and us too, what
defence has the village if the Germans take it
into their heads to attack?'

'Gee!  I 've been so busy that I hadn't
given it a thought.  But the Germans are
out for slaves; they won't find any
able-bodied men here.'

'That's true; but you saw what they did
to that village in the forest.  They 're capable
of burning the whole place down, and
shooting the women and children, from sheer
revenge and spite.  Hadn't we better wait till
the chief returns before we start on our own
scheme?'

For a few moments Hoole pondered in silence.

'The Raider has gone,' he said at length.
'This means that there can't be many
Germans left behind; for, of course, they haven't
all gone.  If the natives didn't see any, it's
because they 're still searching in the woods
for the seaplane.  Is it likely that the few
left will attack?  There is a risk, I admit,
and my proposition is that you remain here
with Meek and give an eye to things, while I
take Grinson to fix on the planes and see me
off.  The sooner I get help the better, and the
opportunity seems too good to be missed.
What do you say?'

'Very well.  I should have liked to see the
ceremony, but--we simply can't leave the
most helpless of the people to the Huns'
tender mercies.  What in the world is this?'

At this exclamation the others, whose
backs were towards the gate, turned about.
Through the gate was filing an extraordinary
procession.

'By cripes!' said Grinson.  'Is it Jack
in the Green, or Guy Fawkes Guy?'

A line of a dozen uncouth figures was
slowly approaching.  Above legs bared to
the thighs bulged a mass of leaves nine or ten
feet in circumference, crowned by a headdress
like a candle extinguisher, from which rose a
pole, fantastically coloured, four or five feet
in height, with tufts of feathers and leaves at
the top.  Except the legs, no part of the
human form could be seen.

These strange figures came slowly across
the enclosure, until they reached the seaplane,
the chief and all his men watching them in
dead silence.  Encircling the machine, they
stooped until the leaves touched the ground;
then, at a harsh cry from their leader, they
leapt into the air and began to dance; their
leafy clothing rustled; the poles wobbled
and swayed; their legs bent and straightened;
and as they swung round and round the
seaplane they uttered shrill cries ever increasing
in intensity.  The white men looked on in
amazement.  What was the meaning of these
antics?  Flanso and his men seemed to be
impressed.  Trentham beckoned to the interpreter.

'What all this?' he asked.

'This duk-duk,' replied the man in an awed whisper.

'Duk-duk!  What is duk-duk?'

'Big medicine.  Duk-duk dance; that say
big bird no go away; white fella all
belongina afraid.'

Hoole whistled.

'That's the stunt, is it?  By gosh,
Trentham, it must be that old medicine-man
thinking he 'll scare us stiff.  He 's gotten a
kind of affection for the machine.  Well,
Grinson, come along with me.'

He rose slowly, walked towards the
seaplane, dodging between two of the dancers,
and got into the seat behind the engine.
Grinson had followed him.

'Just go to the propeller, Grinson,' he said,
'and swing it round five or six times when I
give you the wink.'

The dancers had drawn closer to the
machine, yelling more shrilly than ever.
Hoole watched them with a smile as they
circled round.  Suddenly he gave the sign;
Grinson caught the propeller, and with a
heave of his brawny arm swung it about.
Hoole nodded to him to step aside.  The
leader of the dance was just approaching,
when there was a roar; Hoole had started
the engine, and the propeller whizzed round
with ever-increasing velocity.  The dancer
stopped short; before he could collect
himself or retreat the air set in motion by the
whirring propeller smote him with hurricane
force, stripping the leaves from his body, and
whirling his headdress, pole and all, across
the enclosure.  There stood revealed the
lean, naked form of the medicine-man.  He
threw up his hands as if to defend his face
from the blast; then, with a yell of fury, he
sprinted to the gate, followed by the rest of
the dancers.

.. _`THE LEADER OF THE DANCERS WAS JUST APPROACHING WHEN THERE WAS A ROAR, AND THE WHIRRING PROPELLER SET UP A HURRICANE WHICH CAUGHT AT HIS DRESS`:

.. figure:: images/img-219.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: THE LEADER OF THE DANCERS WAS JUST APPROACHING WHEN THERE WAS A ROAR, AND THE WHIRRING PROPELLER SET UP A HURRICANE WHICH CAUGHT AT HIS DRESS.

   THE LEADER OF THE DANCERS WAS JUST APPROACHING WHEN THERE WAS A ROAR, AND THE WHIRRING PROPELLER SET UP A HURRICANE WHICH CAUGHT AT HIS DRESS.


A great roar of laughter burst from the
spectators, hitherto silent, and from the
crowd which had gathered outside.

'I guess the duk-duk won't quack so loud
in future!' said Hoole, rejoining the others.

The medicine-man's attempt to retain the
seaplane and demonstrate his own importance
had ignominiously failed.  His erstwhile
supporters had no more to say.  The carriers
were called up; the chief's procession was
formed, and when the red moon rested on the
horizon they set forth solemnly towards the
ancestral wreck.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`FLIGHT`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XVI


.. class:: center medium

   FLIGHT

.. vspace:: 2

'I don't think nothing of this 'ere
percession, sir--nothing at all,' said Grinson,
tramping beside Hoole.  'It ain't my idea of
a percession--not by a long chalk.  I 've seed
hundreds of Lord Mayor's Shows, and King
George a-going to be crowned.  They was
somethink like--everybody moving like
clockwork, 'cept the horses, and they did their
best.  But these 'ere cannibals ain't got a
notion o' keeping step.  Look at 'em!  What's
the good of their drums, I 'd like to know?
Why don't they tap out the left-right, as you
may say, so 's they will march proper?'

'Well, I guess they 're children of nature,'
said Hoole with a smile.

'Brought up very bad, then, that's all I
can say, sir.  I 'm glad I 'm not a child of
nature, but of respectable parents, and uncles
and aunts the same.  My old Aunt Maria,
now, she was real respectable, and no mistake.
I used to go and see her when I was a nipper.
Fust thing she 'd do, she 'd wipe me nose.  It
ain't much of a nose--not like
Ephraim's--p'r'aps he didn't have his wiped so often, so it
growed better....  Why, save us, sir--did
you hear that?'

Both the men turned round.  From the
rear of the procession came the cry of a white
man in mortal peril.  The moonlight, striking
along the leafy avenue through which they
were passing, revealed the hideously painted
faces of the Papuans, some of whom were
carrying live pigs for the feast on the shore.
Again rose the startling cry.  The two men,
stepping among the trees to avoid hindering
the march, walked back quickly, and
presently saw, among the black faces, the pale,
terrified features of the German prisoners,
whom rough hands were dragging along
at the tail of the procession.  An
explanation of their presence flashed upon Hoole.
Baulked of their human prey before, the
cannibals had determined that this time the
custom of their tribe should be followed.
The inauguration of their chief should not
pass without its human sacrifice.

'Hi, you blackguards!  What about my
goose?' cried Grinson, and was rushing to
the rescue when Hoole detained him.

'It's no use tackling these hobos,' said the
latter.  'They 'd fly at you like dogs.  Keep
pace with them; I 'll run on and talk to the chief.'

Hoole sprinted up the line, past the
Papuans, carrying food and cooking-pots,
past the drummers and the men who bore the
seaplane, past spearmen and dancers, and the
retinue of patricians who followed
immediately behind Flanso.  Laying a hand on the
chief's arm, he remembered that the
interpreter had been left in the village, and
wondered nervously how he was to make
Flanso understand.  To speak in English
would be useless; he knew but a word or two
of the native language.  Suddenly he
remembered the chief's remote French
extraction, and the impression made on his
father by Trentham's use of French.  Could
that be turned to account?  To explain in
French what he desired was beyond him,
even if Flanso could understand a continuous
speech; what alternative was there?
Perhaps if he could remember some French--a
French poem, say--and declaim it with
appropriate gestures, it might produce the
moral effect which was the first necessity at
the moment.  Hoole was a good elocutionist
and amateur actor.  Racking his memory
for things learnt at school, he could recall but
one poem, a song of Béranger's that had
taken his fancy.  He posted himself at the
head of the procession, and facing Flanso,
spread his arms to signify that no further
advance was to be made.  Impressed by his
determined mien, the natives halted.  And
then Hoole, raising himself to his full height,
began to recite:

   |   'Il était un roi d'Yvetot,
   |   Peu connu dans l'histoire.'

Rolling the r, he pointed dramatically to the moon,

   |   'Se levant tard, se couchant tôt,
   |   Dormant fort bien sans gloire.'

Here he shot out his right hand towards
the village.  The natives gasped.

   |   'Et couronné par Jeanneton
   |   D'un simple bonnet de coton:
   |   Oh!  Oh!  Oh!  Oh!  Ah!  Ah!  Ah!  Ah!
   |   Quel bon petit roi c'était là!
   |         La, la!'
   |

He accompanied the refrain with a rhythmical
clapping of hands; then, without waiting
for the mystic effect to dissipate itself, he
grasped the chief by the arm, and led him
back along the halted line to the spot where
the Germans stood paralysed in the hands
of their captors.  French, he feared, would
hardly serve him now; but he pointed to the
prisoners, and repeated '*Pas manger; pas
manger!*' in a fiercely authoritative voice,
winding up with *'En arrière!*' and pointing
towards the village, from which they had
come but a quarter of a mile.  Then, stepping
firmly up to the group of Papuans, he seized
the arm of a big man who clutched one of the
Germans, and with a dexterous twist forced
him to relax his hold.  The men snarled, but
Flanso, who by this time had apprehended
what the white man was driving at, sternly
ordered the prisoners to be released.

'You must take them back, Grinson,'
Hoole said.  'Their hands are tied; I 'll
fasten them to you so that they can't get
away.  Take them back and hand them over
to Mr. Trentham; then catch us up.  Bring
Lafoa back with you.'

'Ay, ay, sir.  I 'll take a spear, case of
accident.  And I won't be long behind you.'

Hoole, sweating at every pore, as he
afterwards said, gave an off-hand indication of
approval to Flanso, and the march was resumed.

It was a slow and wearisome journey
through the forest, and Grinson, accompanied
by the interpreter, caught up the procession
before it had advanced another mile.  Many
times the bearers of the seaplane had to rest;
in some places trees and shrubs had to be cut
down to allow its passage, and Hoole had
many an anxious moment, fearing that the
wires would be bent or broken through the
carelessness of his inexperienced carriers.  But
the edge of the cliff was reached without
serious mishap, and in a much shorter time
than he had believed to be possible.  The
route chosen by Flanso was in fact shorter by
many miles than that by which Hahn had led
the party weeks before.

The covering over the top of the chimney
had been removed, and Flanso and his men
nimbly climbed down one by one.  Hoole
allowed all to descend except the carriers,
Grinson, and the interpreter; then he set to
work to ensure the safe lowering of the
machine and its detached planes.  With the
interpreter's aid he got the men to make a
stout platform of saplings extending some
feet beyond the edge of the cliff, with a
hole at the chimney top.  The body of the
machine was secured to two stout ropes
which were carried round trees.  Hoole had
a third rope with a sling in which to put his
feet, and this he tied firmly to a trunk.

'Now, Grinson,' he said, 'you will be in
charge here, and woe betide you if you fail
me!  I 'm going to let myself down into the
chimney.  When I give the word, lift the
machine gently over the cliff and lower away;
I 'll keep an eye on it and fend it off the rocks.
That's all clear?'

'As clear as good beer, sir, and I only wish
I had some, I 'm that dry.  Ephraim says there 's----'

'Oh, hang Ephraim!  Stand by!'

He swung himself into the chimney and
shouted 'Lower away.'

'The next ten minutes,' he told Trentham
afterwards, 'were an age--an epoch.  I
heard Grinson yo-hoing to the natives above;
he never stopped for a moment.  How he
managed to control those savages I don't
know.  Down came the machine, and there
was I, swinging on the rope, clinging with one
hand while I guided the machine with the
other.  Once it dropped suddenly on one side,
and I feared the whole caboodle would crash
to the ground; but Grinson bellowed like a
hurricane, the thing righted itself, and my
heart was banging against my ribs like a
steam hammer.  Well, we got the fuselage
down at last; the planes were a simpler
proposition, and by and by Grinson joined
me on the beach, as proud as a peacock.  "I
done that in fust-rate style, sir," says he with
a broad grin.  "You can bear me out, sir."'

Hoole was so much occupied in putting the
machine together by the light of the moon
that he saw little of the native ceremony.
There was drumming and dancing; at one
moment the chief, followed by a group of his
men, marched solemnly to the wreck, and
after tramping seven times round the broken
mast, descended to the cabin.  On his return
he was welcomed with a frenzied shout.
Then fires were lighted under the cooking-pots,
the dance was kept up until the viands
were ready, and the feast was prolonged until
the moon had travelled half-way round the
sky.  Satiated, the natives flung themselves
on the sand and slept.

'Well, sir,' said Grinson, sitting beside
Hoole, close under the cliffs, 'all I can say is,
it's a wonder to me how they could stow
away so much boiled pork without mustard
or a pint of beer.'

Morning dawned.  Hoole had the seaplane
carried down to the sea.  The tide was rising;
the sea was choppy; waves of considerable
size were breaking on the beach.

'I hope she 's seaworthy, sir,' said Grinson,
eyeing the machine anxiously.

'That we 'll soon discover,' replied Hoole.
'You know what you have to do.  When
I 've pumped up and sucked in, you 'll give
the propeller half a dozen turns; then I 'll
switch on, and you 'll skip away, or you 'll
get a dose like the medicine-man.'

The whole body of natives was lined up on
the beach, watching the white men with
simple curiosity.  Suddenly one of them gave
a shout, and pointed out to sea.

'By the powers, sir, here's the Blue
Raider,' cried Grinson.

The vessel had appeared round the western
horn of the bay, and was standing in as close
as possible to the shore.

'They must have seen us,' said Hoole.
'Rank bad luck!  Think I 'd pass for one of
the Germans, Grinson?  They 're too far off
to distinguish features.'

'You might, sir, though I 'm ashamed to
say it; but what about me?  I 'm a good
deal too broad in the beam.'

'But you 're half in the water.  I 'll try
making signs, just to keep 'em quiet, for if
they 're suspicious and get their guns on to
me, I 'm a dead man, sure!'

Partly concealed by the overshadowing
planes, Hoole waved his arms in imitation of
the Morse signals.  From the vessel, which
had now hove to, a boat was lowered, and
pulled towards the beach.

'Now, Grinson, I must cut,' said Hoole.
'I 'll start towards them; that will diddle
them, I hope; and before they make up their
minds I 'm an enemy, I guess I 'll be out of
range.  Ready?'

Grinson whirled the propeller; Hoole made
contact and switched on, the engine started
with a roar, and the seaplane glided forward
in the direction of the approaching boat.
Cries of wonder broke from the throng of
natives as the strange bird rose into the air.
When clear of the water it turned suddenly
eastwards, and flew rapidly at a low altitude
along the coast.  The boat stopped.  A signal
was fired from the vessel in the offing.  The
seaplane continued on its eastward course.
There was a loud report which sent the natives
scurrying to the foot of the cliff, and a shell
burst a few yards behind the seaplane.  A few
moments later a shell dropped on the beach,
sending up a great shower of sand and rocks.
The natives scattered, some making for the
chimney, others taking cover among the
rocks and undergrowth.  Grinson stood for a
while with arms akimbo at the edge of the
beach, as though defying the gunners; then
a crackle of rifle fire from the boat sent him
too rushing for the chimney.  He had only
just reached it when a shell fell plump into
the wreck, scattering its timbers far and wide.
A howl of wrath and dismay burst from the
natives, and they began to swarm up the
chimney, full in view of the occupants of the
boat, but concealed from the Raider by a
bulge in the cliff.  Bullets rained on the rocks,
but the rolling of the boat rendered
marksmanship difficult, and only one or two of
the men suffered slight wounds as they
climbed up.  Grinson was the last to leave
the beach.  When he reached the summit he
stood for a moment or two on the platform,
gazing with a grim smile at the Raider.

'Blue you are, and well you may look it!'
he cried.  'Row back, you lubbers; such
darned bad shooting I never did see, and I 'll
take my davy as your goose 'll soon be cooked.
Mr. Hoole has gone to fetch the sauce.  Ahoy,
ugly mugs!  Wait for me!  I don't want to
be marooned in this 'ere forest.'

And he set off at a trot to overtake the
natives, who were already disappearing
among the trees.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE ATTACK ON THE VILLAGE`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XVII


.. class:: center medium

   THE ATTACK ON THE VILLAGE

.. vspace:: 2

In the haste of their flight from the
dangerous beach the natives had left
drums, cooking-pots, and other impedimenta
behind, and had now nothing but their
weapons to carry.  Marching light, they
showed a most ungentlemanly want of
consideration for Grinson.  'They 're no gentlemen,
Ephraim, me lad, that's flat,' he said
later (they had gone several miles before he
overtook them), 'and me panting and sweating
like any think!  I must 'a lost five pounds,
if an ounce.'

As soon as he had recovered breath, he took
place by Flanso's side at the head of the
procession, and quite unaware that he was
transgressing etiquette, kept pace with the chief,
conversing by the way.

'What I can't make out, Flanso, old man,'
he said, 'is what this Mr. Hoole is--what he
was brought up to, like.  He 's only a nipper,
so to speak it, 's far as years go, and by his
own account he was just larking round these
'ere seas, with more money than wits, *I 'd* say.
Well, then, what I want to know is, how does
he know about these 'ere airyplanes or
seaplanes, or whatever you call 'em, handles 'em
as easy as I might handle a ship's boat, and
no gammon?  I know you don't understand
a word of what I'm saying, matey, not being
born such; but I 'm just letting off steam,
d' ye see?  In course I wouldn't say all this
to the young gent's face, my manners being
good as a general rule; but it ain't good to
keep your thoughts bottled up, like, 'cos they
might bust out sudden like the cork out of a
bottle o' beer that's stood too near the fire,
and then where 'd we be, Flanso, me boy?'

Flanso appeared to be gratified by the
seaman's speech, and smiled amiably.

'You ain't half a bad-looking chap, Flanso,
and if you 'd take that stick out of your nose
and learn to wash yourself you 'd be quite
handsome.  'Tis a strange world, and no
mistake.  There 's my Ephraim, a good lad as
cleans hisself regular like a true Christian,
and speaks English as well as I does myself,
but nobody could say he 's a beauty; and
then there 's you--'orrible dirty, speaks like a
monkey, and yet got a face on you as would
make your fortune if so be you went into the Guards.

'Things is arranged very rum, Flanso, and
there 's no understanding of 'em.  Them two
Germans, now--they 're pretty enough with
their blue eyes and flaxen hair, just the sort
the girls go silly over; but their 'earts,
Flanso--their 'earts is blacker than you, old man.
Yet I don't know--p'r'aps--but what's the
good o' spekylatin'?  Things is a puzzle, and
we ain't got the brains for to work it out.'

He shook his head, and fell into a reverie
from which he was suddenly awakened by a
distant rifle shot.  Instantly he became the
man of action again.  He swung round, signed
to the natives to halt, and put his fingers to
his lips enjoining silence.  Then he hastened
down the line until he had discovered Lafoa.

'Here, you!' he said.  'You makee all
fellas hold their jaw and come bunko arter
me, see?  Bad fellas fightee; we go see
what's up.  See?'

The interpreter nodded, and hurried to
Flanso, who gave orders in his own tongue.
It was clear that he looked to Grinson for
leadership.  More shots rang out ahead.

'That's a revolver,' murmured Grinson.
'Mr. Trentham!  Spears.  Bows and arrows.'  He
looked round at the natives.  'May be
some good.  Fust thing is to find out exactly
what's what.  Here, you, how far off--how
muchee way--your village?'

The interpreter did not understand him.
Grinson groaned.

'Well, makee all black fellas hidee in
bushes, so no one can see.  Savvy?'

This appeared clear, for the natives, at a
word from Lafoa, scattered, and in a few
moments were invisible.

'Now come alonga me,' continued Grinson.
'Flanso too.  Come on!'

Flanso leading, they wormed their way
stealthily through the forest growth.  The
sounds of conflict grew as they progressed.
Presently they were conscious of the smell of
burning, and thin trails of smoke were wafted
among the trees.  Coming to the outskirts of
the village, they beheld several huts blazing.
At first they saw no human being, but
advancing cautiously through the thick bushes that
spread behind the huts, they came upon a
Papuan squatting on the ground and rocking
himself with pain.  A question from Flanso
elicited an account of what had happened.
An hour or two before, the outlying scouts
had discovered a number of white men marching
towards the village.  They had hastened
back with the news, and the white men in the
village had ordered all the people to withdraw
into the inner enclosure.  The enemy had
come upon them before they were all within
the wall.  Some of the people had been killed,
some wounded, others had escaped into the
forest.  The huts had been fired, and the
enemy had rushed towards the gate, but had
hurriedly retreated before a shower of arrows
and the fire-magic that met them.  They had
posted themselves among the trees, and a
little while before had begun to shoot their
hot stones over the wall.

Lafoa interpreted this as well as he could
to Grinson, who, however, seemed to
understand the position instinctively.  He bade
Lafoa hasten back to the men halting in the
forest a quarter of a mile behind, and bring
up all the young warriors.  While the man
was absent Grinson sat down at the foot of a
tree, stretched out his legs, folded his arms,
and pondered.  There had not been time for
the Raider to reach the cove and land her crew,
therefore the attackers must be relatively few
in number.  They were armed with rifles;
probably the rifles had bayonets; therefore,
though few in number, they were much more
than a match for a throng of untrained
savages with no better weapons than bows
and arrows and spears.

'Which I mean to say,' said Grinson to
himself, 'that is if we don't come to close
quarters, whereas and however 'tis numbers
what tells in a rush, such as boarding a vessel
when you 're close alongside and Admiral
Nelson piped all hands to repel boarders--or
t'other way about, for 'twas us what boarded
the enemy, must 'a been, being British.
That's one point settled, Flanso, old man;
we 've got to board 'em, take 'em abaft,
otherwise about the rump or stern, and lively
too, not forgetting that Mr. Trentham is
for'ard banging away with his revolver, and
we stand a good chance of being bowled over
in mistake, and apologies are no use, and it's
our look-out, and no blame to anybody.
Now I come to think of it, that point's fust
and last, for if we rush 'em and don't win,
why, then nothing matters no more, and
we 're all booked for the pearly gates and
no mistake.  Things are getting pretty hot
by the sound of it, and I 'm afraid that there
revolver have give out, and--ah! here come
the boarding party.'

Lafoa stole through the brushwood followed
by twenty or thirty young men of the higher
caste, all moving as silently as wild animals.

'Tell 'em to lay snug--otherwise doggo--while
you and me and the chief go for'ard and
do a bit of spying,' said Grinson.

He crept forward with the two men, and
came presently to a spot among the trees
where it was possible to get a fairly clear view
of the fighting.  A number of Germans were
laying piles of brushwood at the foot of the
wall; others were breaking holes in it, or
enlarging slight gaps between the logs; others
were bringing up more brushwood from the
forest, while reports and flashes high up in
some trees overlooking one side of the
enclosure showed that snipers had been posted to
pick off the garrison.  For the moment none
of the defenders were visible.  Grinson
guessed that Trentham, having exhausted or
all but exhausted his ammunition, was
reserving himself for the inrush which
without firearms it was impossible to prevent.

'There 's Trousers!' thought Grinson,
catching sight of Hahn, who appeared to be
superintending operations.  'If I don't give
him a dusting----'

He stole back to the waiting natives,
whispering instructions to Lafoa on the way.
Half a dozen men were told off to creep
through the bush and deal with the snipers in
the trees, Grinson judging that in the dense
undergrowth a native with a bow and a spear
should be a match for a white man in a tree,
even though armed with a rifle.  The rest of
the men were ordered to follow him noiselessly
to the edge of the clearing in front of the wall,
and to dash at the enemy when he gave the
word.  The slight sounds of their movements
were smothered by the reports of the rifles
and the hacking at the wall.

On reaching the spot, Grinson perceived
that the Germans were massing for a
determined push.  At the sound of Hahn's
whistle they sprang on to the piles of
brushwood and attempted to swarm up and over
the wall.  Grinson could just see Trentham
above the top, swinging a huge native club.
While he was looking, the pendulum swing
of the weapon disposed of two Germans who
had come within its formidable sweep.  To
right and left, however, several of the enemy
had got a footing on the wall, in spite of the
spears hurled by the older and weaker natives
who alone had remained in the village.

Then Grinson let out a bellow like the blast
of a fog-horn, and sprang from the shelter of
the trees with a spear in each hand, followed
by the horde of natives, yelling and screeching.
The Germans turned in alarm to discover
what was threatening them, dropped to
their knees, and raised their rifles.  Only a
few of them fired; the rest, disconcerted by
the shower of arrows and spears which the
natives let fly at them as they ran, dropped
their rifles and fled helter-skelter among the
trees, Flanso leading his men in hot pursuit.

.. _`GRINSON LET OUT A BELLOW LIKE THE BLAST OF A FOG-HORN, AND SPRANG FROM THE TREES, FOLLOWED BY A HORDE OF NATIVES`:

.. figure:: images/img-240.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: GRINSON LET OUT A BELLOW LIKE THE BLAST OF A FOG-HORN, AND SPRANG FROM THE TREES, FOLLOWED BY A HORDE OF NATIVES.

   GRINSON LET OUT A BELLOW LIKE THE BLAST OF A FOG-HORN, AND SPRANG FROM THE TREES, FOLLOWED BY A HORDE OF NATIVES.

Grinson had made straight for Hahn, hurled
one of his spears at him, which missed, and
coming to close quarters, lunged at him with
the other.  But as he reached forward, a
bullet from one of the snipers who had not
yet been dislodged from his tree struck the
boatswain on the arm.  He spun round and
fell on his face, just as Trentham, with Meek
and a score of natives, came rushing out at
the gate.  Hahn had raised his revolver to
shoot the fallen seaman, but catching sight
of Trentham, he snapped an ill-aimed shot
at him, then took to his heels and followed
his men into the forest.

Trentham dispatched Lafoa to recall the
natives, fearing that the Germans would rally
and outmatch them in a running fight; then
he returned to Grinson, who had sat up, and
was trying to pull off his coat.

'Just a tickler, sir,' said the boatswain,
grinning.  'I 'd a sort of feeling that I 'd be
wounded in the house of my friends, as you
may say, them being Bible words and all
correct.  Easy all!  That's off.  My goose
is all right, praise be!  Missed it by an inch,
your lucky shot did, sir.'

'My shot?  I didn't fire.'

'I 'm sure I beg your pardon, and won't
say no more about it, though I 'd a notion
you fired at Trousers and missed.  This 'ere
scratch won't spoil my beauty sleep, anyway.
Mr. Hoole, sir?  He got off like a bird, not
but what they didn't have a go at him; the
Raider, sir--most unfortunate, she come up
just as we was getting ready for the kick-off,
as you may say.  The old wreck's blown to
blazes, but no more harm done, and I lay
Mr. Hoole by this time have got somewhere,
though where that may be remains to be seen.'

'Thankful I am as you 're not killed,
Mr. Grinson,' said Meek, who had come up from
behind.

'Same to you, Ephraim, me lad.  The only
fly in my gizzard is that Trousers has got off;
but we 'll dust him yet, Ephraim.  No, I
don't want no help; I 'm sound on my pins,
and my arm don't hurt so bad as vaccination.
What I *would* like is a pint o' beer, but I
might as well cry for the moon.  Things is a
great puzzle, Ephraim!'





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE AVALANCHE`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XVIII


.. class:: center medium

   THE AVALANCHE

.. vspace:: 2

'What I'd like to know, sir,' said
Grinson, as they re-entered the
enclosure, 'what I 'd like to know is, why
them Germans, Trousers and the rest, took it
into their heads to try this little game when
our backs was turned, meaning Mr. Hoole
and me?'

'You think they wouldn't have tried it if
they hadn't known you were away?' said
Trentham, checking a smile.

'Well, sir, two 's two; you can't get over
that.  If the whole crew had come, 't 'ud 'a
been different; but with the Raider away,
Trousers hadn't got enough men for the job,
unless he knew we were short-handed, and
I don't see nohow he could have known that.'

'They must be desperately in want of coal,
one would think.  Or perhaps Hahn wanted
to distinguish himself in the absence of his
commander.  It would have been a good
stroke to recover the slaves, you know.'

'That's it, sir,' cried Grinson, slapping his
thigh.  'Likewise and moreover he was riled
with Ephraim what defied him, and so he
folds his arms and scowls under his eyebrows
and hisses through his clenched teeth, "I
will have my revenge."  I 've seed that on
the stage many a time.'

'We 'll grant that Hahn is a villain; but I
fancy they had a very practical object in
making this raid.  Perhaps they 've been
unlucky on the sea lately, must have coal,
and would rather get the natives to dig it
than dig it themselves.  In that case we may
expect another attack.  How far was the
Raider away when you last saw her?'

'From fifteen to twenty sea-mile, sir.
She 's back in harbour by this, I reckon.'

'Then I think we had better reconnoitre.
I 'll have a word with Flanso; now that his
ceremony is over, he 'll probably be able to
attend to business.  Be ready to come with me.'

The chief was at first disposed to regard the
recent victory as decisive; but Trentham
managed to convince him that a still more
serious attack might have to be met, and
induced him to take the needful measures of
defence.  It was arranged that at the first
sign of danger the whole population of the
village should be withdrawn into the inner
enclosure, where they would have the protection
of the wall.  The object of the defence
must be to hold the wall until help came.
There was a possibility, of course, that Hoole
might not succeed in his mission.  The engine
might fail; even if he reached a port there
might be no force available for hunting the
Raider.  Trentham was not blind to the
difficulties of the position; but it was
essential to keep up a show of confidence, and
to take all possible steps to hold the ground.

Less than an hour after Flanso's return
Trentham set off with Grinson and half a
dozen natives, among whom was Lafoa, for
the cove.  They marched cautiously, in case
any of Hahn's party were still lingering in the
forest; but the Germans had evidently been
daunted and had returned to their base.

Trentham had decided to make for the
spot where he had organised Meek's release.
While affording a good post of observation, it
was difficult of access from the beach, and
even if discovered by the enemy he would
have plenty of time to escape into the forest
behind.  He gave a wide berth to the sentry-box
above the cove, crept round through
almost impenetrable thickets, and had nearly
reached the slope strewn with boulders when
there came faintly on his ear the characteristic
rattle of a donkey-engine.

'The Raider 's back in the cove, Grinson,'
he said.

'Ay, ay, sir, and hoisting coal, seemingly.'

Bidding Grinson keep the natives under
cover near the head of the slope, Trentham
stole forward, dodging among the boulders,
until he reached a point where he could peep
over at the cove beneath without much risk
of being detected.  The Raider was anchored
almost in the same position as when he had
last seen her; smoke was pouring from her
funnel.  There was much activity both on
deck and on the shore.  The donkey-engine
was lifting, not coal, but stores from the
ship's boats lying under her side.  Men were
carrying boxes and bales from the shed to
the shore.  Everybody was moving with an
air of bustle and haste.  It was impossible
to doubt that the vessel was about to leave
the cove: the settlement was to be abandoned.

An hour or two earlier Trentham would
have rejoiced to know that the Raider was
departing.  But at this moment he felt only
annoyance, disappointment, positive anger.
Within a few short hours Hoole, unless
baulked by ill-luck, would guide a British
vessel to the cove, and the Raider would
meet a well-deserved fate.  It seemed that
the Germans had taken alarm on seeing their
seaplane flying eastwards, obviously under
other than German control.  They had
suspected the nature of its mission, and having
a wholesome dread of what might befall
them, had determined to forestall the
inevitable.  With all his heart Trentham
wished that he could hold the vessel at her
anchorage.  But he could do nothing to
interfere with the bustling preparations below.
The Raider was getting up steam; the stores
were being methodically hoisted and stowed;
before very long the vessel would disappear
round the horn of the cove, and he could only
watch her impotently.

'Flanso's people won't be bothered any
more; that's one good thing,' he thought, as
he began to climb up the slope.  Picking his
way, he stumbled, and clutched at one of the
boulders to maintain his footing.  The rock
swayed slightly.  Trentham stood still for a
moment, resting his hand on it.  An observer
would have noticed that his brow suddenly
cleared, his eyes danced, a flush spread over
his cheeks.  Then with quick movements,
yet careful to keep under cover, he clambered
up and rejoined Grinson.  There was a brief,
rapid conversation between them.  Grinson's
broad face expressed in turn surprise, doubt,
determination, glee.  Lafoa was given an
order.  Then, while Trentham directed them
from the cover of the trees, the others quickly
rolled a number of the largest boulders to a
part of the slope which, as nearly as he could
gauge the position, was directly above the
Raider.  It was no easy matter to move
unseen from the sheds.  Some of the most
promising of the boulders had to be neglected.
But the noise below was great enough to
smother the sounds of the men's swift
movements, and they were not interrupted.
Presently, over a space of more than a hundred
yards, there were ranged in three orderly
rows, each row being about twenty paces
from the next, a collection of rocks of all
shapes and sizes and weights, from knobs of a
few pounds to boulders so heavy as to need
the united efforts of several men to move
them.  One of these, indeed, almost escaped
from the grasp of the three men handling it,
and Trentham felt a cold thrill at the
imminence of a premature descent.  But
Grinson's brawny arms arrested the monster in
the nick of time, and he secured it temporarily
by means of smaller rocks wedged between it
and the earth.  Blowing hard, he came to
Trentham's side.

'"Shust in time!" as old Trousers would
say, sir,' he remarked.  'All's ready, but I
won't answer for what 'll happen when you
say "go."'

'We must do our best and trust to luck.'

'That's not my meaning, sir.  It's these
'ere ugly mugs.  They 've had no drill, d' ye
see.  Might as well be horse marines, in a
manner of speaking.'

'Not so bad as that, Grinson.  They have
done very well, so far.  Lafoa seems to
understand what is needed, and if you set them a
good example, I dare say they 'll follow it.
The Germans seem to have cleared up nearly
everything, and we had better start
operations.  I 'll climb down to the left yonder,
where I 'll be out of the way, but can observe
results without being seen myself.  I 'll give
the signal by lifting my hand; the rest is
with you and the natives.'

'Ay, ay, sir.  It 'll be a bit of a "tamasha,"
as they say out east.'

Trentham clambered down the slope under
cover of the boulders, until he gained the spot
he had pointed out.  Grinson and the natives
posted themselves at equal intervals behind
the first row of the displaced boulders.  A
boat filled with boxes of ammunition was
putting off from the shore.  All of the crew
who were not already on board the vessel were
moving down from the sheds; apparently
their work was finished.  Trentham gazed
seawards; there was no sign of the seaplane
or of any ship.  He raised his hand.
Grinson instantly gave a mighty shove to the
huge boulder behind which he was standing,
and it began to bump down the slope.  The
natives were not quite so prompt, but after
only a few seconds' delay five other boulders
of smaller bulk started forward.  Four
reached the brink almost together, the fifth
rolled a few yards, then stopped.  But a few
moments later there were five resounding
splashes in quick succession as the rocks
plunged into the sea.

.. _`GRINSON GAVE THE BOULDER A SHOVE IN THE DESIRED DIRECTION`:

.. figure:: images/img-250.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: GRINSON GAVE THE BOULDER A SHOVE IN THE DESIRED DIRECTION.

   GRINSON GAVE THE BOULDER A SHOVE IN THE DESIRED DIRECTION.


Eagerly watching the result of his scheme,
Trentham was disappointed to see that the
missiles had fallen short of the Raider.  But
all work on the vessel ceased; a bale of goods
that was being hoisted by the donkey-engine
stopped half-way; the men on board gazed
in surprise up the cliff, those in the boat
stopped pulling.  The angle of the slope was
such that the men above were invisible;
there was nothing to show that the fall of the
boulders was not accidental.

Meanwhile, however, Grinson and his party
had run up to the second row, and while the
Germans were discussing the phenomenon
another shower tumbled over the edge, one of
the boulders falling plump on the bridge of
the vessel, knocking away a portion of the
rail, missing the captain by a foot or two, and
crashing through the window of his cabin.
Two went clean over the ship; the other two
fell a little short of the port side, and threw
a great volume of water into the half-empty
boat.  After a brief interval another set of
boulders followed, and then another, until the
missiles fell in a continuous shower.  The
captain roared an order; the grinding of the
anchor chain was heard, and the men on
shore, carrying rifles, rushed up the beach
towards the winding path that led up the cliffs.

Trentham began to feel anxious.  Very
little damage had yet been done; the boulders
varied greatly in shape and weight, and their
trajectory after leaving the edge was equally
various.  Some rolled sideways; one, indeed,
took an extraordinary tortuous course to the
right, and struck the roof of the nearest hut,
which was shivered into fragments.  Those
that had fallen nearest to the vessel were the
larger rocks from the second row, and
Trentham signalled to Grinson to deal with those
remaining.  He felt that the sands were
running out; but there were still a few minutes
before the Germans rushing up the steep and
roundabout path could reach the head of the
slope.

'A little more to the left!' he shouted to
Grinson, realising that nothing was now to be
gained by silence.

'Ay, ay, sir!' roared the seaman, shoving
a knobby rock in the desired direction.

Trentham held his breath as he watched
its flight.  Before he was prepared for it
there was a thunderous crash; the boulder
had struck the side of the vessel a few feet
below the rail, within twenty feet of the bows,
passing clean through the plates, and leaving
a huge rent.  Almost immediately
afterwards another boulder crashed through the
deck slightly abaft the funnel.  There was
an instant rush of steam; apparently it had
smashed through one of the boilers.

.. _`WITH A THUNDEROUS CRASH IT STRUCK THE SIDE OF THE VESSEL A FEW FEET BELOW THE RAIL`:

.. figure:: images/img-251.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: WITH A THUNDEROUS CRASH IT STRUCK THE SIDE OF THE VESSEL A FEW FEET BELOW THE RAIL.

   WITH A THUNDEROUS CRASH IT STRUCK THE SIDE OF THE VESSEL A FEW FEET BELOW THE RAIL.


Among the crew surprise had become
consternation, and now developed into panic.
Men rushed from below and sprang
overboard.  Others were running wildly about
the deck.  The captain had gone forward
with one of his officers to see the extent of
the damage there.  Water was pouring
through the side.  Trentham, judging that
the vessel was at any rate disabled, and that
it was time to be gone, turned to climb up
the slope, and wriggled hastily aside to avoid
a boulder which had swerved in its course
and was hurtling in his direction.  He
stopped to throw a last glimpse below; the
boulder which he had so narrowly escaped
carried away the donkey-engine, and
ricochetted from the deck into the sea.

'Well done!' he cried, and ran to assist
Grinson to topple over one of the large rocks
which had supported the rope on the night of
Meek's release.

'That's riddled 'em!' shouted Grinson,
as the noise of shattered metal rose from below.

'She can't get away!' panted Trentham.
'They 're coming up the cliff; we must run
for it.'

Collecting the men, he dashed up the few
remaining yards of the slope and headed
them into the forest just as a German seaman
came in sight near the end of the ledge.

'"Shust in time!" Trousers, my son,'
chuckled Grinson.  'We give her a good
battering, sir?'

'Cut open her side, broke a boiler, and
drowned the donkey-engine.  What more I
don't know; but she 's crippled.'

'My cripes!  What a tale to tell my
Ephraim!  I only wish the lad could 'a seen
it hisself.'





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`AT ARM'S LENGTH`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XIX


.. class:: center medium

   AT ARM'S LENGTH

.. vspace:: 2

Within the mazes of the forest the
little party had no fear of pursuit,
and they marched rapidly homeward with
the alacrity of men conscious of success.
They had gone only a few miles when
Trentham heard the unmistakable purring of the
seaplane's engine.  At that spot the trees
formed a canopy overhead through which
the sky could scarcely be seen; but at his
bidding Lafoa ordered one of the natives to
climb a lofty trunk and discover if possible
in what direction the machine was flying.
The sound had long been inaudible when the
man came to the ground again and reported
that the strange bird had not soared within sight.

They pushed oh, and were met some little
distance from the village by Hoole himself.

'Been scalp-hunting?' he said with a smile.

'No; playing bowls.  But what's your
news?' asked Trentham.  'Ours will keep.'

'Well, I guess it might be worse.  I made
Wilhelmshafen, and had to run the gauntlet
of a score or so of rifles.  It seems they 'd
heard a thing or two about the seaplane, and
had already reported to one of your warships
that's cruising somewhere east.  I didn't
dare land till I 'd dropped a note telling 'em
who I was.  There's no warship within
miles; but as soon as they had heard my
story they rose to the occasion; they 're
some sports.  The only vessel they had
around was a tramp; she might make ten
knots in the ordinary way, but could be
speeded up to twelve, perhaps, by frantic
stoking; so the engineer said.  The skipper
started coaling at once; he had her cleared
of everything that could be spared, and the
crew volunteered to a man.'

'But, my dear fellow, a tramp!  She 'd no
more offensive weapon, I suppose, than a hose.'

'That's correct; but, of course, the
skipper had no notion of fighting the Raider.
His idea was to steal up along the coast and
lie doggo while his men came across country
and got you away.  At the same time he did
what was possible by way of armament.
There was a number of machine-guns on
shore, left by the Germans when they hauled
down their flag to the Australians.  He put
them aboard, and some Australian gunners
were keen to join in this stunt, along with a
crowd of young fellows who swore they were
all crack shots, and a trader or two.
Altogether there are between thirty and forty men
coming along.  She wasn't ready, of course,
when I left; but with good luck she 'll lie
off the shore eastward by sunrise to-morrow.
Stealing up through the night she 's a good
chance of escaping notice, and unless the
Raider makes an early morning trip you 'll
get away without trouble.  Of course, if
she is spotted--well, we know what the
Raider's guns can do.'

'The tramp has only to keep out of range;
the Raider 's crippled.'

'You don't say!  Did she run aground?'

Trentham related the morning's events.

'Bully!' cried Hoole.  'Say, what's to
prevent our making a good bag of Germans?
You think the Raider will sink?'

'There can't be much question of that.
They had carried most of their arms on board,
and probably those went down with the
vessel; the men would waste their time
trying to save her.  But there were some armed
men still on shore, and they might rescue a
certain number of rifles before the ship went
down.  As I came along I tried to decide
what I 'd do myself in the Germans' place.
They are marooned; they must guess that
you flew off for help, and expect to have to
deal with some sort of force.  The question
is, will they surrender or fight?'

'Well, I don't know the inside of a
German's mind, so I can't say; but I know what
I 'd do.  I wouldn't surrender without a
fight; and if I saw the odds against me, I 'd
make tracks inland, live on the country, and
hold out.  The Germans are so cocksure of
winning the war that I guess they 'll do that.'

'I came to the same conclusion.  It's not as
if they were traders; they 're naval men, and
I can't imagine their giving in tamely.  Well,
then, we shall have to prepare for a fight.'

'How do you mean?

'They 've lost the greater part of their
provisions, and will have to replace them.
What better chance than to quarter
themselves by main force on the nearest village,
which is our friend Flanso's, and compel the
people to provide for them?  Incidentally
also take vengeance for the smashing of their
vessel.  We can't leave Flanso in the lurch.'

'I guess you 're right.  Some of those
young fellows at Wilhelmshafen were spoiling
for a fight, and were real disgruntled when
the skipper showed 'em they 'd have no
chance against a well-armed raider.  They 'll
be ready enough to take a hand in beating off
the Germans if they attack the village.'

'If they arrive in time.  We may have to
face the music before they get here, and I
don't much like the prospect.  Thanks to
Grinson, we did very well against Hahn's
handful this morning, but it will be quite
another thing to deal with fifty or sixty,
perhaps more, a good proportion armed with
rifles.  Your revolver ammunition is all
spent; we 've got the revolvers of the two
prisoners, that's all.'

'I brought three revolvers along and a few
rounds of cartridges; very little good they 'll
be against two or three score rifles.  We 'll be
back of the wall, of course, which is something
to the good.'

'By the way, we heard your seaplane.
Where is it?'

'Away yonder.  I came down on that pond
the Germans failed to strike.  I guess they
heard her too, and may waste time trying to
find her, which will give us a chance to set our
defences in order.  Say, shall we get along?'

They hurried on.  The natives of their
party had preceded them, and were
surrounded by groups of excited villagers to
whom they were expounding the method by
which the white men had destroyed the
enemy's vessel.  A noisy throng followed
Trentham and his friends to the gate of the
inner enclosure, and when they had
disappeared, started a victory dance up and
down the broad path.

Lafoa's aid was once more enlisted by
Trentham in explaining the situation to the
chief.  More intelligent than his subjects
outside, Flanso was under no illusion about the
danger that threatened his village.  His own
experiences while in the hands of the
Germans left him in no doubt as to the fate in
store for his people if the enemy got the better
of them, and he was ready to accept Trentham's
suggestion that all but the fighting
men should be at once sent away southward
into the forest, where they would be at least
out of harm's way until the issue was
determined.  But when he consulted some of
his counsellors he at once encountered the
strenuous opposition of the medicine-man,
who had not forgiven Hoole for having made
him cut so sorry a figure at the duk-duk dance.
He protested that the new danger threatening
the village was due to the stupidity of
the white men.  Why had they destroyed
the blue vessel, and prevented the enemy
from going away?  They were already
responsible for the destruction of the wreck
that had been preserved and cherished by
the chief's forefathers from the beginning of
the world.  They had prevented the human
sacrifice customary at the inauguration of a
new chief.  They were meddlers, and all the
misfortunes that had befallen the village
were due to them.

Such was the gist of the medicine-man's
harangue, though these few sentences by no
means represent the torrent of words which
poured from his lips.  Nor could any one but
a cinematograph operator properly depict the
extraordinary grimaces of his features and the
violent gestures with which he emphasised his
denunciations.  His right hand wielded a
heavy nail-studded mace, and as his
excitement grew he stepped, or rather danced,
nearer to the group of white men, twirling
the mace, tossing it in the air, striking the
ground with it.  Ignorant though they were
of his language, the white men could not
mistake the purport of his speech, and two of
them noticed with some anxiety that he was
making an impression on some members of
his native audience.  Grinson, however, felt
nothing but amusement.  A broad grin
spread over his face as he listened and
watched, and the more excited the medicine-man
became the more pleasure the seaman
took in the performance, giving utterance
now and then to his sentiments with sundry
ejaculations and cat-calls.

At last a sudden change came over his
expression.  The medicine-man in his frenzy
had drawn very near to Hoole, and to give
point to one of his statements he thrust his
mace forward at the full length of his arm,
so that Hoole only escaped a blow by stepping
quickly back.  It was uncertain whether the
man had intended to attack him, but the
suspicion was too much for Grinson.  His
lips snapped together; with a great roar he
hurled himself at the orator, struck the mace
from his hand, and caught him round the
waist and hoisted him above his head.  The
sinews of the seaman's arms cracked; for
some seconds he held the native aloft, as if
hesitating whether to cast him to the ground.
Terrified into silence, the man wriggled; the
spectators looked on open-mouthed.
Grinson grew purple with exertion; then he
laughed.  Gradually he lowered his arms,
stretched to full length, and gently laid the
man at Hoole's feet.

'Windbag!' he muttered, passing his
hand across his sweating brow, then setting
his arms akimbo and looking down at the
still figure.

Gasps of amazement broke from the
natives.  The medicine-man lay for half a
minute; when Grinson stooped and picked
up the fallen mace he closed his eyes as if
expecting a blow.

'A very neat little bobby's bludgeon, sir,'
said Grinson, sticking the mace under his arm.
'Move on, there!'

The medicine-man opened his eyes, and
seeing that Grinson had turned aside he
crawled slowly away, rose to his feet, and
sidled into his hut.

The colloquy he had interrupted was
resumed.  So great was the impression made
by Grinson's display of strength that the
natives were ready to agree to anything the
white men proposed.  It was arranged that
the non-combatants should be sent away;
a number of huts and trees near the wall on
the outside should be razed, provisions
brought into the inner enclosure.  A few
weak spots in the wall were strengthened,
and by nightfall everything that was possible
had been done to prepare for attack.  Scouts
meanwhile had been sent out in the direction
from which attack might be expected.  These
were withdrawn as soon as it became dark,
and the whole able-bodied population was
brought within the wall.

Trentham recognised the futility of
attempting any definite tactical measures with
a rabble of undisciplined natives.

'They must fight in their own way, if there
is to be a fight,' he said to Hoole.  'Let alone
the impossibility of giving orders with only
one interpreter, we should only worry them
by trying to lick them into shape.  We must
rely on their common sense.'

'Just so.  It's up to them to keep the
enemy out, and that's all that matters.  A
word as to not exposing themselves--that's
all we can do, except set 'em a good example.'

'As to that, you 'd be useful here, old man;
but I fancy you 'd be even more useful if you
went off in the seaplane and guided the
steamer into the cove.  With the Raider
sunk, she could quite well run in and land her
crew on the Germans' beach; they 'd get
here quicker then than if they landed at a
spot we don't know the way from.'

'Well, I guess we 'll wait and see,' said
Hoole.  'We 'll take turns to do sentry-go
through the night.  If nothing happens, I 'll
very likely take a run out in the morning.
The tramp won't be far away then, anyhow.'





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE LAST RAID`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XX


.. class:: center medium

   THE LAST RAID

.. vspace:: 2

'Ephraim, have you made your will,
me lad?' asked Grinson, sitting in
the hut with Meek in the early hours of the
morning.

'Never did I think of such a thing, Mr. Grinson,'
replied Meek.  ''Tis only lords and
skippers as make wills.'

'That 's where you 're wrong, me lad.
Specially now.  For why?  'Cos 'tis the
dooty of every man to make his will afore
going into action.'

'S'pose he ain't got nothing to leave, and
no widders nor orphans to purvide for?'

'It don't make no difference.  Besides,
every man's got something.  Lord Admiral
Nelson, as you 've heard of, had a glass eye,
and 'tis said he left it to his footman, as he
once caught nicking, to remind him that
there 's always an Eye beholding of the evil
and the good, besides his heart to the country.'

'Well, I never!'

'Not but what there 's a mighty big risk in
making your will.  There was once a chap I
knowed as made his will and died next day--fell
off a ladder, he did, and his mates said
he might 'a been alive to this day only for the
will.  Likewise a skipper I once sailed with
left his craft to be sold and divided among the
crew; uncommon skipper he was; and she
went down next voyage, and not insured.
Ah! 'tis a solemn thought, making your will.'

'What put making wills and such into
your head just now, Mr. Grinson?'

'Well, it's like this.  The gentlemen
expects what you may call a battle royal afore
the day 's out, and you 've got to look at it
sensible.  We come all right out o' that scrap
yesterday, but 'twas only Trousers and a few
more, and we took 'em by surprise, d' ye see?
Things will be different if all them Germans
come up together; the odds ain't even, Ephraim.'

'True.  I can bear ye out in that, Mr. Grinson.
I don't hold with fighting--not with guns.'

'No more do I, 'cos I never shot a gun in
my life.  But this 'ere truncheon of old ugly
mug's is as good as a gun, if it gets a chance;
which I mean to say firing off guns ain't
fighting at all, to my way of thinking.
Darbies or sticks--that 's all right; the best
man wins; but with guns--why, any little
mean feller as would give you best if you
looked at him may do you in from a distance,
hiding behind a haystack, p'r'aps, or up a
tree.  No, Ephraim, that ain't fighting, not
by a long chalk.'

'And have you made your own will, Mr. Grinson?'

'No, I ain't, and I 'm sorry for you, me lad,
for I meant to leave you my old parrot as sits
on his perch in Mother Perkins's parlour.  You
remember Mother Perkins, what said she 'd be
glad to mind the bird, 'cos his language was
so beautiful and reminded her of me?'

'Ah!  I wish I could speak like you, Mr. Grinson,
but there--I never could do it, not if
I tried ever so.  But you don't think you 're
going to be killed?'

'Well, you see, I 'm twice as broad as you,
and so the chances is against me, with guns.
It's only fair, after all, 'cos in a real fight I
could take on two, p'r'aps more; I should say
more, with this 'ere truncheon.  I ain't got
no presentiments, Ephraim; but what is to
be is, and in case they knock a hole in me I
do hereby declare and pronounce as my old
parrot is to belong to you and no one else,
and so you 'll tell Mother Perkins.'

'I don't like to think of it, Mr. Grinson,
but if so be as you 're killed and I ain't, I 'll
look after that bird as if 'twas you, and think
of you whenever it speaks.'

'Only if it speaks decent, Ephraim.  I
won't deny it picked up a few unholy words
afore I bought it, and they come out
sometimes; you can't help it.'

The seamen, though they had recently
returned from sentry-go, were wakeful, and
talked on till morning, exchanging reminiscences
of their years of comradeship.  At
sunrise they joined Trentham and Hoole, and
were allotted posts within the walls, if the
Germans should attack.  Scouts had already
been sent out into the forest, to keep watch
in the direction from which the enemy was
likely to come.

During the night the position had been
thoroughly discussed between Trentham and
Hoole.  The latter, though reluctant to leave
his friend to bear the brunt of any fighting
that might take place, at last agreed that
probably the best service that he could render
was to hasten the arrival of the steamer.
About nine o'clock he set off with two natives
for the lake where he had left the seaplane.
Little more than two hours later Trentham
heard the hum of the engine.  The seaplane
passed over the village, going eastward and
skimming the tree-tops.  From the signs
made by Hoole, Trentham understood that
the Germans were on their way, and this
preliminary intimation was confirmed soon
after noon, when the scouts came running
in.  Their report that a great host of the bad
men was approaching aroused great excitement
among the natives, who, proud of their
easy victory on the previous day, showed
little sign of understanding the nature of the
ordeal they were to pass through.  Some
of them were for sallying out and meeting
the Germans in the forest; but Flanso had
intelligence enough to perceive the danger
of breaking up his force, and at Trentham's
suggestion he concentrated the greater
number of his men near the gate, where the
enemy's main attack was likely to be made.
A few were stationed at other points along
the circuit of the wall, to give notice if
surprise attacks were attempted elsewhere than
in front.

Trentham had persuaded the chief to place
under Grinson's command about a score of
the men whom he had led on the day before.
His leadership then, and his subsequent
display of muscular strength in dealing with the
medicine-man, had won their admiration;
and the fact that he bore their totem mark
on his shoulder was a great factor in inspiring
them with confidence.  Even without Lafoa's
assistance Grinson seemed to be able to make
them understand his wishes.

'You had better hold your men in reserve,
Grinson,' said Trentham.  'Put them in a
central position--about the chief's house, say;
and keep them out of the fight until they can
come in with decisive effect.'

'For the knock-out, as you may say, sir,'
Grinson replied.  'I understand.  But
begging your pardon, I ain't to remain in a state
of absolution if I see a chance--you don't
mean that, sir?'

'Not at all,' answered Trentham, who was
by this time able to understand the seaman's
sometimes recondite phraseology.  'All I
mean is that I don't want you to take part in
every scrimmage, but only when you see the
rest of us hard pressed.  Where 's your
revolver, by the way?'

'I give it to Ephraim, sir.'

'But he had one; we have five altogether now.'

'True, sir; but the long and short is that
I feel much more at home with this 'ere
truncheon or knuckle-duster.  With the
pistol I might miss, not being used to such
things; but with this'--he lifted it, eyeing
it with affection--'with this I can be sure, by
the feel.'

'Is Meek a good shot?'

'He couldn't hit a hay-stack, sir; but,
talking between our two selves, we thought
Ephraim was the man to keep his eye on you
and be ready to give you another pistol when
the fust is empty.  I don't mind saying 'twas
my idea, 'cos Ephraim ain't quite hisself yet
arter that night on the ledge, only he 's got
such a spirit that nothing would 'a kept him
out of it if so be he didn't believe he was more
useful otherways, and he believes that now,
though I won't answer for how long it will last.'

The simple dispositions that were alone
possible had barely been made when Trentham,
looking out over the wall beside the gate,
saw a man bearing a white flag advancing
unaccompanied along the broad central path
through the village.  In a few seconds he
recognised the square, solid face of Hahn.
The German, who appeared to be unarmed,
halted beyond range of revolver shots, and
waving his flag, shouted:

'Hi, hi!  Somevon speak.'

'What do you want, Hahn?' Trentham called.

'I speak for Captain Holzbach, of ze
Imperial German Navy,' said Hahn.  'Ze
captain bresent his gompliments and say zat
he admire very much ze clever vay his ship
is sunk, and zink ze vite men shall now be
friendly, because we must all remain on zis
island until ze var end.  He vish to buy food,
and say if ze savages come out and sell, he
pay good price, and zey shall be safe.'

Trentham was under no illusion as to the
German's good will; but wishing to temporise,
partly with a view to the avoidance of
further fighting, partly to allow for the arrival
of the expected help, he replied:

'On behalf of the chief of this village I am
willing to strike a bargain.  If you, Hahn,
and three other officers will come inside,
unarmed, as hostages, a sufficient supply of
provisions shall be sent out to you, on
condition that you leave this part of the country,
and engage not to molest the people.'

Whatever Hahn may have expected, it was
clear that he was surprised at the terms
offered.  After a slight hesitation he said:

'It is not right zat German officers shall
place zemselves in ze hands of savages, vat
eat men.'

'But I am not a savage, and I guarantee
that you shall not be eaten.  You have good
reason for being sure of that, Hahn.'

The German appeared to be annoyed at the
allusion to his rescue from the dancing party
on the beach.

'It is absurd!' he cried.  'Ze dignity of
German officers vill not permit zem to do vat
you say.'

'Then I am afraid that you must repeat to
your captain that we cannot trade with him.'

'You know vat you do?  Of us zere are
fifty or sixty, viz rifles.  You zink savages
viz spears any good?  Ve are not hard; but
if it is var, zen----'

'Threats are useless, Hahn,' Trentham
interrupted.  'We know your idea of war.  I
have nothing more to say.  You have my
terms: you had better consult your superior
officer.'

The German glared, turned on his heel, and
walked away.  The breathless silence which
had held the natives during the colloquy was
broken by shouts of triumph; but Trentham
sent Lafoa to explain matters to the chief,
and asked him to keep his men in readiness
for the assault which could not long be
delayed.  It was clear to him that Hahn's
mission had been intended to lead to the
opening of the gate and the division of the
garrison.  He had no doubt that if the
natives had been decoyed outside their wall,
the Germans would have rushed the place.

For some time after Hahn's departure there
was no sign of hostilities.  Then the Germans
could be heard shouting to one another in the
forest north of the village, and with the voices
mingled the sound of wood-cutting.  None of
the enemy came in sight, and Trentham could
only conjecture the nature of their operations.

Nearly two hours passed.  The natives
grew more and more noisy and restless.
They could not understand why they were
still cooped up in the enclosure.  At length,
however, after a brief cessation of all sounds
in the forest, there was a sudden whistle,
followed by the sharp crack of rifles, and
from the trees facing the northern side of the
village the Germans rushed forward in open
order, on a front of nearly a quarter of a mile.
The defenders, as Trentham had ordered,
remained out of sight.  He himself watched
the enemy through a loophole in the log wall.

They were variously armed.  Some had
rifles with bayonets; others cutlasses, others
axes.  Some carried roughly constructed
ladders.  As they drew nearer, Trentham
noticed that these last, as well as the officers
at different parts of the line, were armed with
rifles.  They came on steadily and silently
until they were almost within effective
bow-shot; then they halted, the officers collected
and consulted together.  It appeared that
they were somewhat at a loss how to proceed
against an enemy whom they could not see,
and whose defences they had no means of
battering down.  The pause was of short
duration.  Another volley was fired, with
the intention doubtless of overawing the
natives rather than of doing effective damage.
A few men behind the walls were slightly
injured by splinters; none were
incapacitated, and all, with a self-restraint that
Trentham had not expected, remained quietly
at their posts until the enemy should come
to close quarters.

After discharging their rifles, the Germans
surged forward again, moving very rapidly,
but maintaining a regular line.  Trentham
wondered why they were spread out so widely
instead of concentrating on a limited section
of the wall.  In a few moments he saw
through their plan.  It had been desired
to weaken the defence by compelling the
natives to man a longer stretch of the wall
than was the actual object of attack.  The
Germans suddenly contracted their front, no
doubt calculating to reach the wall a few
invaluable seconds before the defenders could
mass at the threatened section.

They were now within range of the natives'
weapons, and in close order presented a target
which even Grinson, despite his want of skill
with the spear, could hardly have missed.
Obeying a preconcerted signal from Trentham,
Flanso at last gave his panting warriors
the word they had eagerly awaited.  They
sprang on to the platform that lined the foot
of the wall, and was just high enough to
bring their heads a few inches above the top.
A shower of arrows and spears burst upon the
advancing enemy.  Many of them fell, but
the rush was not stayed.  There was no
answer from their rifles; their orders
evidently were to force their way into the
defences with cold steel.  Another flight of
arrows equally failed to check them.  With
disciplined energy they swept forward to the
wall, and having reached it were in
comparative safety from the weapons of the
men within.  Quickly they set their ladders
against the barricade and began to swarm up
with the agility of seamen.  Where there were
no ladders they mounted on one another's
backs.  They gained the top, and then began
a furious struggle, so confused that Trentham
was never able to give a clear account of it.

.. _`QUICKLY THEY SET THEIR LADDERS AGAINST THE BARRICADE, AND BEGAN TO SWARM UP`:

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   :alt: QUICKLY THEY SET THEIR LADDERS AGAINST THE BARRICADE, AND BEGAN TO SWARM UP.

   QUICKLY THEY SET THEIR LADDERS AGAINST THE BARRICADE, AND BEGAN TO SWARM UP.


The Germans had the advantage of
discipline, the higher position, and better
weapons.  The natives on the other hand,
were more numerous, but lacked cohesion.
They plied their spears manfully, but these
were a poor defence against clubbed rifles,
bayonets, swords, revolvers.  Only their
numbers saved them from utter defeat from
the moment when the enemy gained a footing
on the wall.  Trentham ran along the line,
making play with his revolver wherever the
Germans were thickest.  A group of natives
had attached themselves to him, and when
he had disposed of two or three of the enemy
with rapid shots, the Papuans took advantage
of the Germans' momentary bafflement and
with their spears cleared a few feet of the wall.

But he could not be everywhere at once.
While he had been engaged at this spot, some
fifty yards beyond, the Germans, having
beaten off the natives who had tried to thrust
them from the wall, had jumped down, and
were pressing forward over the bodies of the
fallen towards the centre of the enclosure.
Trentham and Flanso had marked the danger
at the same moment.  With a resonant shout
the latter dashed towards the enemy at the
head of a body of picked men, and the
Germans, outnumbered and unable to withstand
the fury of his onset, fell stubbornly back.
Satisfied that Flanso could hold his own for a
time, Trentham dashed on to another point
where half a dozen Germans in line were
driving back with their bayonets the few
survivors of the natives who had been unable
to hold the wall.  At this moment he was
somewhat perturbed at hearing shouts and
firing from a distant quarter which he had
not known to be attacked.  He had no time
to find out what was happening there, but
hoped that Grinson had been on the alert.
On the point of plunging into the fray, he
found that he had emptied both the revolvers
he had brought with him.  He snatched up a
spear, but as he rose from stooping Meek's
tremulous voice sounded in his ear.

'Mr. Grinson said I was to bring 'em, sir.'

The man thrust two revolvers into his
hands, then took the spear and followed him.

The natives were falling back before the
serried bayonets.  From the wall behind
Germans were leaping one after another as
fast as they could climb the ladders on the
other side.  One of them, pausing on the top,
fired his rifle point-blank at Trentham, but a
comrade climbing after him jostled him at the
critical moment; the shot flew wide, and,
unknown to Trentham, struck Meek, who fell
heavily near the foot of the wall.  With a
couple of shots Trentham disposed of the
man who had fired at him and another who
had just descended; then he turned to help
the natives whom the pitiless bayonets were
demoralising.

At this moment Hahn, with bayonet outstretched,
came heavily towards him from the
side.  Trentham flashed a shot at him, and as
he stumbled past, hard hit, wrenched the rifle
from his grasp and hurried on.  Coming upon
the Germans from the rear, he shot down one
after another; the natives, cheered by his
presence, rallied, and flinging themselves on
the survivors, disposed of them with their
spears and sent reeling back others who had
just sprung from the wall.

But other Germans were swarming over on
each side.  At three or four points little
groups had found their footing and were more
than holding their own, while others, astride
on the top, were firing on the defenders and
strewing the ground with their victims.
Trentham saw with sinking heart that the
natives were everywhere giving way and
falling back towards the chief's house.  The
Germans on the flank farthest from him were
beginning to form up in line, with the evident
intention of carrying all before them in a final
charge.  Fully occupied in helping his
immediate followers to repel a swarm of
Germans who were pouring over the wall in his
neighbourhood, Trentham saw the imminence
of total defeat which he now felt powerless to
avert.

Facing the wall, he suddenly heard, above
the general din of the conflict, the deep bellow
of Grinson's war-cry.  He turned quickly and
saw the seaman, with his sleeves turned up,
wielding his huge mace, and followed by a
score of yelling natives, charging along at the
foot of the wall.  Swinging his mighty
weapon as easily as if it had been a walking-cane,
Grinson fell upon the flank of the Germans
who were preparing to charge.  Now
he plied the mace in wide sweeps that cleared
a path as a sickle through grain; now he gave
point with the massive studded head; now
he swung it over his head like a blacksmith's
hammer.  Revolvers were flashed at him,
but he hurled himself along unscathed.  The
Germans on the wall dared not fire at him
for fear of hitting their own men.  And
Trentham was amazed to see, close behind
him, the hideous figure of the medicine-man,
advancing with grotesque leaps and
whirling his arms with extraordinary contortions.

The enemy huddled together, some still
fighting, others merely seeking to escape from
this human battering-ram.  They began to
retire in Trentham's direction; the natives in
their front, taking heart, closed in; and
Trentham, feeling that at this critical moment
he might leave the wall unguarded, led his
men to meet the discomfited enemy.  Taken
thus in front and on both flanks, so crowded
together that those of them who had firearms
were unable to use them, the Germans
became a disorganised mob.  Heedless of the
shouts of their officers, of whom one or two
had entered the enclosure, while the others
were either on the wall or outside, they
sought safety in flight.  Many of them were
cut down before they gained the wall.  The
rest clambered over, abandoning their
weapons that impeded them, and fled helter-skelter
into the forest, pursued by the natives
led by Flanso himself.

Grinson sat down with his mace across his
knees, wiped his streaming brow, and looked
with a sort of amused curiosity at sundry
gashes and stabs on his arm.

'Might 'a been worse, sir,' he said.
'Would you believe it?  Ugly mug has stuck
to me like a brother.  Which it proves, if you
want a man to love you, just knock him
down.  But where's my Ephraim, sir?
What's become o' the lad?'





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`JUSTICE`:

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   CHAPTER XXI


.. class:: center medium

   JUSTICE

.. vspace:: 2

Some twenty minutes after the flight of
the Germans two figures appeared at
the farther end of the village, and walked
quickly up the central path.  Trentham,
sitting just outside the gate, waved his hand
and started to meet them.  Hoole flourished
his hat in reply, and turned to speak to the
man accompanying him.

'Let me name to you Captain Rolfe, of the
*Wanda*, old man,' said Hoole, when Trentham
joined them.

'Pleased to meet you, sir,' said the seaman,
clasping Trentham's hand in a crushing grip.
'We 're in at the death, and that's about all
we can say for ourselves.  You carry off the
honours, sir.'

'Thanks, captain,' said Trentham.  'It
was my friend Josiah Grinson who dealt the
finishing stroke; I 'll introduce him to you
presently.'

'The boatswain bold, as they say in the
song,' added Hoole.

'Mr. Hoole has told me about him,' said
the captain, 'and I 'll be glad to give him a
berth.'

'You must take Meek too,' said Trentham
with a smile.  'They 've been together
twenty-five years or so, and I 'm sure nothing
will part them now.  At the present moment
Grinson is acting as nurse.  Meek was
unlucky enough to get hit; not seriously, I 'm
glad to say; but he wasn't in very good
condition, and appears to have fainted from
loss of blood.  Grinson found him on the
field, and after an explosive moment he
carried him off to our hut.  Grinson is a
big burly fellow, with a heart as tender as a
woman's.'

'A mixture you 'll often find among sailormen,
if I may say so,' said the captain.  'But
Grinson mustn't have all the credit, you know,
Mr. Trentham.  That dodge of yours with
the Raider----'

'Is she sunk?' asked Trentham.

'Sunk by the stern; all below water except
a bit of her fore deck and her funnel.  But
she can be salved, and there 'll be something
to share out, or I 'm a Dutchman.'

'You came into the cove?'

'I did, sir, and anchored within half a
cable's length of the Raider.  A couple of
Germans on shore flung up their hands at
once, and we marched up under Mr. Hoole's
lead without delay.  You 're surprised to see
no more of us, but the fact is, we met the
Germans running for their lives.  They were
glad enough to surrender, for these savages
don't know the meaning of mercy, and I 'm
afraid they had already killed a number of
them before we came on the scene.
However, my ship's company--the queerest
mixture I ever commanded--are marching the
rest of them down to the cove, and as I 've
plenty of cargo space on board, I gave 'em
orders to drop them into the hold; by this
time to-morrow we 'll hand 'em over in
proper form as prisoners of war.  I take it
you 're ready to come with us?'

'Quite, I can assure you.  But I think we
ought to bury the German dead first.  These
people are cannibals.'

'Burying 's no good; they 'd dig 'em up
as soon as our backs were turned.  We can't
give them seamen's burial, the sea being so
far away.  The only thing left is to burn
them; certainly we couldn't leave them for
a cannibal feast.  And we had better set
about it while most of the savages are away;
there 'll be less trouble.  Oh! here we are.
A most uncommon native village.  A few
photographers will take a trip out here when
your story is known.  That's Grinson, I
suppose.  Who 's the fellow with him?'

Grinson was walking towards the hut,
accompanied by the medicine-man carrying
water in a huge banana stalk.  Trentham
laughed.

'That's the village doctor,' he said.  'A
thorn in our flesh until Grinson tamed him by
a sort of strong man exhibition.  Now he 'll
follow Grinson like a dog.'

'Natural philosophy,' said Hoole.  'The
Germans will be the better for a dose of the
same physic.  It's a low order of intelligence
that admits no superiority but brute force,
and I guess you must deal with people as you
find 'em.  Ahoy, Grinson!  How 's Meek?'

'Doing well, sir,' roared Grinson.  He
came towards the three men, the
medicine-man trotting behind, and said in a
confidential whisper, 'You must humour poor
Ephraim a bit, gentlemen.  He 's got it fair
fixed in his mind as there 's no justice in this
world, and nothing 'll shake him.'

'Why?' asked Trentham.

''Cos he was knocked out afore he began to
fight.  I never knowed Ephraim so
obstropolous.  He 'll hardly speak civil to me;
says I kep' him out of it on purpose, a-holding
revolvers as any funk could 'a done; and
then, when he 'd picked up a spear in spite o'
me, blest if he wasn't spun round directly
afore he had a chanst.  I told him wounds is
honourable, and he rounded on me; "Honour
be deed," says he, most unusual language for
Ephraim; "they never give me a chanst;
there's no justice in this world, not a
morsel."  Humour him, gents, if you 'll be so kind, and
I dare say with time he 'll be the same lad again.'

.. vspace:: 2

Twelve hours later, under a brilliant moon,
the little tramp *Wanda* puffed out of the cove
on her voyage eastward.  Trentham, the
centre of an interested group, was relating in
detail the story of the past weeks.  Some
distance away, sitting on the deck with his
back against a coil of rope, Grinson, in tones
much subdued, talked to Meek, slung in a
hammock before him.

'Yes, Ephraim, Mr. Hoole came out in his
true colours at last, just afore he flew away,
which I mean to say he's true blue, and not a
deceiving coat o' paint like that there Raider,
though I own he did take us in, but no great
sin.  He 's a inventor, Ephraim; invented
something as 'll make them airyplanes terrible
engines o' mischief, and when I said as how
there was enough mischief in the world----'

'There 's no justice in it.'

'I was coming to that.  When I said as
how there was enough mischief in this
wicked world, he laughed, he did, and said
what he 'd invented would do for sewing
machines when the war 's over.  Now ain't
there justice in that?  Look at it straight,
Ephraim, me lad.  The Germans must be
beat, or what's the good of anythink?
Well, then, this notion o' Mr. Hoole's will
help to beat 'em; Mr. Trentham says it's
certain.  Well, then, it's a good thing, and
good things didn't oughter be wasted, so
when the war 's over he just reverses the
engine, as you may say, and then it's sewing
machines what 'll make shirts and other
peaceful things.  Ain't there justice in that?'

'I never had a chanst.'

'No, and I feel for you; I wouldn't like it
myself.  But there 's more justice.  By what
Cap'n Rolfe says, they 're calling for hands for
the Royal Navy, and I 'm going to sign on,
and in course you 'll sign on too.  Well, now,
s'pose you 'd got your chanst, and been
killed, like Trousers--'cos a savage speared
him arter Mr. Trentham made him helpless--you
might a' been killed; then you wouldn't
have got my poll parrot, and you wouldn't
'a been alive to sign on with me, and no
chanst then o' beating the Germans and
making 'em sick o' themselves, and medals
and all.  Look at it straight, Ephraim, and
you 'll see 'tis all justice, to say nothing of
merciful Providence.'

'I don't rightly see as I can bear you out,
Mr. Grinson,' said Meek sleepily.

'But you will, Ephraim, you will, me lad....
He 's going off, sir,' Grinson whispered
as Trentham came up.  'Gripes! what a job
I 've had!  But he 'll be all right in the
morning.'

Trentham won the Military Cross at the
Battle of the Somme; Hoole was on the
point of starting for Berlin when the armistice
was broached; Grinson and Meek have
hunted submarines in an armed trawler.
Meek has been led to trace the hand of what
he calls Justice from the moment when the
Blue Raider sank the *Berenisa* to the moment
when, following somewhat sheepishly his
more self-assured companion, he shambled
through the courtyard of Buckingham Palace
to receive his medal from the hand of the King.

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   Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty
   at the Edinburgh University Press

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   A Select List of Booths for
   Young People: Published by
   Humphrey Milford, Oxford
   University Press

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   Stories of the Great War

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*Crown 8vo, with Illustrations in Colour.*

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By HERBERT STRANG

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   Tom Willoughby's Scouts: A Story of the Fight for East Africa.
   Fighting with French
   With Haig on the Somme
   The Blue Raider: A Story of Adventure in the Southern Seat.
   A Hero of Liege
   Frank Forester: A Story of the Campaign in Mesopotamia.
   Through the Enemy's Lines
   Carry On!
   Burton of the Flying Corps


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By CAPTAIN CHARLES GILSON

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   On Secret Service: A Story of Espionage.
   In Arms for Russia

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By JOHN FINBARR

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   At All Risks

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By JOSEPH BOWES

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   The Young Anzacs
   The Anzac War Trail
   The Aussie Crusaders

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   Books about the Great War

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   Scouting Thrills: A Book of Actual Experiences on the Western Front.

By Capt. G. B. McKEAN, V.C., M.C.  With Foreword by
Lieut.-Gen. Sir R. E. W. TURNER, V.C., K.C.B., K.C.M.G.,
D.S.O.

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   The Empire in Arms

Edited by HERBERT STRANG.  A book descriptive of the British
Army and Navy, and the Colonial and Native Forces of the
Empire, giving detailed information of the personnel, the
weapons and the work of all the Services.  With numerous
illustrations.  Crown 410, cloth.

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   Heroes of the Flying Corps

By C. GRAHAME-WHITE and HARRY HARPER.

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   Books for Boys

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   By HERBERT STRANG

"*Boys who read Mr. Strang's works have not merely the advantage
of perusing enthralling and wholesome tales, but they are also absorbing
sound and trustworthy information of the men and times about which
they are reading.*"--DAILY TELEGRAPH.

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   A Gentleman-at-Arms

A Story of Elizabethan Days.  Eight plates in Colour by
CYRUS CUNEO, and thirty-eight line drawings by T. H. ROBINSON.

This book is unique in literature for boys.  It relates the adventurous career
of an Elizabethan gentleman, in a style carefully modelled on the simple prose
of the century which produced the Authorised Version of the Bible No
previous writer for boys has ever attempted a similar achievement Apart
from its romantic and exciting incidents, this story has great value by reason
of its historical and geographical information, and its exceptional style!

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   Sultan Jim

Empire Builder.  Coloured illustrations by CYRUS CUNEO.

Asia and Australia have been the scene of Mr. Strang's most recent romances
of Empire.  In this book he turns to Africa, where the colonising activity of
rival powers is raising problems of the greatest interest and importance.  The
presence of a young Englishman in one of the debatable lands at a time of
upheaval and international rivalry enables him to uphold the interests of the
Empire against formidable opposition.  The story is brimful of adventure, and
its moral is that of patriotic self-sacrifice.

"Father Christmas brings many good things in his train, but it is doubtful if he
brings anything better in its own way than a new story by Mr. Herbert Strang.
The multitude of his youthful readers are likely to find their most insatiable thirst
for adventure satisfied by this new volume."--*Bookman*.



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   The Air Patrol

A Story of the North-West Frontier.  Illustrated in Colour
by CYRUS CUNEO.

In this book Mr. Strang looks ahead--and other books have already proved
him a prophet of surprising skill--to a time when there is a great Mongolian
Empire whose army sweeps down on to the North-West Frontier of India.
His two heroes luckily have an aeroplane, and with the help of a few Pathan
miners they hold a pass in the Hindu Kush against a swarm of Mongols, long
enough to prevent the cutting of the communications of the Indian army
operating in Afghanistan.  The qualities which marked Mr. Strang's last long
story, "The Air Scout," and won extraordinarily high commendation from
Lord Roberts, Lord Curzon, and others, as well as from the Spectator and
other great journals, are again strikingly displayed; and the combination
of thrilling adventure with an Imperial problem and excellent writing, adds
one more to this author's long list of successes.

"An exceptionally good book, written moreover in excellent style."--*Times*.

"The 'Air Patrol' is really a masterpiece."--*Morning Post*.



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   The Air-Scout

A Story of National Defence.  Illustrated in Colour by
W. R. S. STOTT.

The problems of National Defence are being discussed with more and more
care and attention, not only in Great Britain, but also in all parts of the Empire.
In this story Mr. Strang imagines a Chinese descent upon Australia, and carries
his hero through a series of exciting adventures, in which the value of national
spirit, organisation, and discipline is exemplified.  The important part which
the aeroplane will play in warfare is recognised, and the thousands of readers
who have delighted in the author's previous stories of aviation will find this
new book after their own heart.

LORD ROBERTS writes: "It is capital reading, and should interest more than
boys.  Your forecast is so good that I can only hope the future may not bring to
Australia such a struggle as the one you so graphically describe."

LORD CURZON writes: "I have read with great pleasure your book, 'The
Air-Scout.'  It seems to me to be a capital story,
full of life and movement: and further,
it preaches the best of all secular gospels, patriotism and co-operation."

"We congratulate Mr. Strang on this fine book--one of the best fighting stories we
bare road."--*Morning Post*.



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   Rob the Ranger

A Story of the Fight for Canada.  Illustrated in Colour by
W. H. MARGETSON, and three Maps.

Rob Somers, son of an English settler in New York State, sets out with
Lone Pete, a trapper, in pursuit of an Indian raiding party which has destroyed
his home and carried off his younger brother.  He is captured and taken to
Quebec, where he finds his brother, and escapes with him in the dead of the
winter, in company with a little band of New Englanders.  They are pursued
over snow and ice, and in a log hut beside Lake Champlain maintain a
desperate struggle against a larger force of French, Indians, and half-breeds,
ultimately reaching Fort Edward in safety.



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   One of Clive's Heroes

A Story of the Fight for India.  Illustrated in Colour, and
Maps.

Desmond Burke goes out to India to seek his fortune, and is sold by a false
friend of his, one Marmaduke Diggle, to the famous Pirate of Gheria.  But he
escapes, runs away with one of the Pirate's own vessels, and meets Colonel
Clive, whom he assists to capture the Pirate's stronghold.  His subsequent
adventures on the other side of India--how he saves a valuable cargo of his
friend, Mr. Merriman, assists Clive in his fights against Sirajuddaula, and
rescues Mr. Merriman's wife and daughter from the clutches of Diggle--are
told with great spirit and humour.

"An absorbing story....  The narrative not only thrills, but also weaves skilfully
out of fact and fiction a clear impression of our tierce struggle for
India."--Athaeneum.



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   Samba

A Story of the Congo.  Illustrated in Colour.

The first work of fiction in which the cause of the hapless Congo native
is championed.

"It was an excellent idea on the part of Mr. Herbert Strang to write a story about
the treatment of the natives in the Congo Free State....  Mr. Strang has a big
following among English boys, and anything he chooses to write is sure to receive
their appreciative attention."--Standard.

"Mr. Herbert Strang has written not a few admirable books for boys, but none likely
to make a more profound impression than his new story of this year."--Scotsman.



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   Barclay of the Guides

A Story of the Indian Mutiny.  Illustrated in Colour by
CYRUS CUNEO.  With Maps.

Of all our Native Indian regiments the Guides have probably the most
glorious traditions.  They were among the few who remained true to their salt
during the trying days of the great Mutiny, vying in gallantry and devotion
with our best British regiments.  The story tells how James Barclay, after a
strange career in Afghanistan, becomes associated with this famous regiment,
and though young in years, bears a man's part in the great march to Delhi, the
capture of the royal city, and the suppression of the Mutiny.



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   With Drake on the Spanish Main

Illustrated in Colour by ARCHIBALD WEBB.  With Maps.

A rousing story of adventure by sea and land.  The hero, Dennis Hazelrig,
is cast ashore on an island in the Spanish Main, the sole survivor of a band of
adventurers from Plymouth.  He lives for some time with no companion but
a spider monkey, but by a series of remarkable incidents he gathers about him
a numerous band of escaped slaves and prisoners, English, French and native;
captures a Spanish fort; fights a Spanish galleon; meets Francis Drake, and
accompanies him in his famous adventures on the Isthmus of Panama; and
finally reaches England the possessor of much treasure.  The author has, as
usual, devoted much pains to characterisation, and every boy will delight in
Amos Turnpenny, Tom Copstone, and other bold men of Devon, and in
Mirandola, the monkey.



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   Palm Tree Island

Illustrated in Colour by ARCHIBALD WEBB.

In this story two boys are left on a volcanic island in the South Seas,
destitute of everything but their clothes.  The story relates how they provided
themselves with food and shelter, with tools and weapons; how they fought
with wild dogs and sea monsters; and how, when they have settled down to
a comfortable life under the shadow of the volcano, their peace is disturbed by
the advent of savages and a crew of mutinous Englishmen.  The savages are
driven away; the mutineers are subdued through the boys' ingenuity; and
they ultimately sail away in a vessel of their own construction.  In no other
book has the author more admirably blended amusement with instruction.
"Written so well that there Is not a dull page in the book."--*The World*.



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   Herbert Strang's Romances of Modern Invention

Bach of the following stories is concerned with some particular discovery
of Modern Science, such as the aeroplane and the submarine, which it
made use of in the working out of the plot; and the heroes of these
adventures, who face dangers that were unknown in olden times,
cannot fail to make a strong appeal to boys of to-day.



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   The Flying Boat

Illustrated in Colour.

The flying boat is a logical development of the hydroplane.  At a sufficiently
high speed, the hydroplane leaves the water and becomes a hydro-aeroplane.
The possession of such a machine gives the hero of the story (the scene of
which is laid in China) opportunities of highly exciting adventures, and
incidentally the chance of rescuing an old chum who has fallen into the hands
of Chinese revolutionaries.

"The book is alive with vigorous action from cover to cover.  'The Flying Boat'
is a rattling good story."--*Bookman*.



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   The Motor Scout

A Story of Adventure in South America.  Illustrated in
Colour by CYRUS CUNEO.

In the interest aroused by the solution of the problem of flying, the motor
bicycle has been entirely overlooked by story-writers.  Happily Mr. Herbert
Strang has now thought of making it the pivot of a story, the scene of which is
one of the Latin States of South America.  Mr. Strang tells the story of an Irish
boy who is living in this State just at the time when one of the periodical
revolutions breaks out.  He is forced to take sides, and with the help of
his motor-cycle is able to assist his friends, but not without running risks
unknown to scouts provided with less novel means of traversing the country.
"A really fine story, full of life, and one that any boy can enjoy."--*Outlook*.



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   Round the World in Seven Days

The Story of an Aeroplane.  Illustrated in Colour by A. C. MICHAEL.

"This is a book which any boy would revel in, and which people who are no longer
boys will read with equally breathless interest."--*Educational News*.



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   The Cruise of the Gyro-Car

Illustrated in Colour by A. C. MICHAEL.

(The Gyro-Car, which is a road vehicle or a boat at pleasure, is the logical
outcome of the gyroscope applied to the bicycle.)



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   Swift and Sure

The Story of a Hydroplane.  Illustrated in Colour by
J. FINNEMORE.

"It is one of the most exciting of this season's works for boys, every page
containing a thrill, and no boy will leave it to a second sitting if he can
help it."--*Teacher*.



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   King of the Air

or, To Morocco on an Aeroplane.  Illustrated in Colour by
W. E. WEBSTER.

"One of the best boys' stories we have ever read."--*Morning Leader*.

"The best book of its kind now in existence."--*Manchester Guardian*.



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   Lord of the Seas

The Story of a Submarine.  Illustrated in Colour by C. FLEMING WILLIAMS.

"The excitement lasts from cover to cover."--*Manchester Courier*.


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   BOOKS FOR BOYS

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   By CLAUDE GRAHAME-WHITE AND HARRY HARPER


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   Heroes of the Air

Illustrated in Colour by CYRUS CUNEO; also from photographs.

This book deals with the labours and exploits of those who have played an
Important part in bringing about the conquest of the air.  It not only contains
personal memoirs of the men themselves, but traces the progress of aerial
flight from the early gliders to the aeroplanes of to-day.  The story of the
experiments of those who first essayed to fly--the problems that long baffled
them and the difficulties they overcame--together with the accounts of the
daring feats of modern aviators, make a stirring narrative, and carry the history
of heroism and endurance a stage further forward.

"This will prove a great attraction to a multitude of readers who wish to read of
deeds of great daring and very narrow escapes."--*Nation*.



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   With the Airmen

Illustrated in Colour by CYRUS CUNEO, and with numerous
black-and-white illustrations and diagrams.

Mr. Grahame-White has not only repeatedly proved his skill and daring as
a pilot, but the well-known type of biplane bearing his name shows that he is
in the forefront of designers and constructors.  With his practical and technical
knowledge is combined the somewhat rare ability to impart his knowledge in
a form acceptable to boys, as he has already shown in his "Heroes of the
Air."  This time he has written a vade mecum for the young aeroplanist, who
is conducted to the aerodrome and initiated into all the mysteries of flying.
The structure of the aeroplane, the uses of the different parts, the propulsive
mechanism, the steering apparatus, the work at a flying school, the causes of
accidents, and the future of the aeroplane are all dealt with.

"It is surely one of the most entertaining books on a technical subject that have
ever appeared, as well as one of the most instructive and comprehensive."--*Nation*.


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   By CAPTAIN CHARLES GILSON

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   The Sword of Freedom

A Story of the English Revolution.  Illustrated in Colour by
FRANK GILLETT, R.I.

"The Sword of Freedom" deals with a critical period of English History:
the downfall of the House of Stuart.  In his grasp of the political situation
in this country before the coming of William of Orange, as well as in his
descriptions of contemporary life and manners, Captain Gilson shows himself
to be not merely a recorder of stirring events, but an historian of no mean
order.  At the same time the story is exciting enough to please the most
exacting, and the adventures of Sir Richard Vyse, who is arrested for
complicity in the plot to bring over the Prince of Orange, and confined in the
Tower, from which he makes a daring escape, will be followed with breathless
interest.

"It is a most spirited tale and holds the reader from start to finish."--*Guardian*.



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   The Spy

A Story of the Peninsular War.  Illustrated in Colour by
CYRUS CUNEO.

To the work of story-writing Captain Gilson brings a remarkable combination
of talents: an unrivalled knowledge of military history, an imagination
that never flags, a dramatic literary style, and a keen sense of humour.  These
qualities are seen to perfection in "The Spy."  The hero, Sir Jeffery Jones,
Bart., when a boy of sixteen, secures a commission in a famous foot regiment,
then under orders to sail for Portugal under the command of Sir Arthur
Wellesley.  His first encounter with the enemy takes place before he is fifty
miles from home, for on the road to London he pursues and comes near to
capturing a spy in the pay of Bonaparte.  Several times subsequently the
paths of the two cross, and eventually Sir Jeffery is the means of thwarting
the Frenchman's schemes.  He takes part in much of the fighting in the
Peninsula, and, at the storming of Badajoz and elsewhere, renders his country
good service.

"Every boy who loves tales of war and perilous enterprise--and what boy does
not?--will read 'The Spy' with unqualified enjoyment."--*Bookman*.



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   The Lost Empire

A Tale of Many Lands.  Illustrated in Colour by CYRUS
CUNEO.  With Map.

This is the story of a middy who was taken prisoner by the French at the
time of the Revolution.  While in Paris he obtained possession of Napoleon's
plans for the capture of India, and, after many adventures, was the means of
frustrating that ambitious scheme.



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   The Lost Column

A Story of the Boxer Rebellion.  Illustrated in Colour by
CYRUS CUNEO.

At the outbreak of the great Boxer Rebellion in China, Gerald Wood, the
hero of this story, was living with his mother and brother at Milton Towers,
just outside Tientsin.  When the storm broke and Tientsin was cut off from
the rest of the world, the occupants of Milton Towers made a gallant defence,
but were compelled by force of numbers to retire into the town.  Then Gerald
determined to go in quest of the relief column under Admiral Seymour.  He
carried his life in his hands, and on more than one occasion came within an
ace of losing it; but he managed to reach his goal in safety, and was warmly
commended by the Admiral on his achievement.



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   The Pirate Aeroplane

Illustrated in Colour by C. CLARK, R.I.

The heroes of this story, during a tour in an entirely unknown region of
Africa, light upon a race of people directly descended from the Ancient
Egyptians.  This race--the Asmalians--has lived isolated from other
communities.  The scientific importance of this discovery is apparent to the
travellers, and they are enthusiastic to know more of these strange people;
but suddenly they find themselves in the midst of exciting adventures owing
to the appearance of a pirate aeroplane--of a thoroughly up-to-date model--whose
owner has learnt of a vast store of gold in the Asmalians' city.  They
throw in their lot with the people, and are able in the end to frustrate the plans
of the freebooter.

"The story is a riot of adventure.  There is the groundwork of a complete new
novel on every page."--*Manchester Guardian*.



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   The Lost Island

Illustrated in Colour by CYRUS CUNEO.

A rousing story of adventure in the little-explored regions of Central Asia
and in the South Seas.  The prologue describes how Thomas Gaythorne
obtained access to a Lama monastery, where he rendered the monks such great
service that they bestowed upon him a gem of priceless value known as
Gautama's Eye.  Soon after leaving the monastery he was attacked and
robbed, and only narrowly escaped with his life.  "The Lost Island"
describes the attempt of one of Thomas Gaythorne's descendants to re-discover
the missing gem; and he passes through some remarkable adventures before
he succeeds in this quest.



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   The Race Round the World

An Account of the Contest for the £100,000 Prize offered
by the Combined Newspaper League.  Coloured Illustrations
by CYRUS CUNEO, and a map of the route of The Swallow.

Old Silas Agge has invented a new motor spirit, far more potent than petrol,
and with this secret in his possession he has no doubt that he will win the
£100,000 offered by a Newspaper League to the winner of the Aeroplane
Race round the World.  But a foreigner, with whom Silas has had business
relations, succeeds in obtaining, first, the design of the aeroplane which the
old man has built, and next, a sufficient quantity of the new spirit to carry
him round the world.  The race thus becomes a duel between these two rivals.
Guy Kingston, a daring young aviator and nephew to Silas, pilots his uncle's
aeroplane, and at every stage of the race finds himself matched against an
unscrupulous adversary.  The story of the race is exciting from beginning to
end.  Readers of Captain Gilson's earlier books will be particularly happy in
renewing acquaintance with Mr. Wang, the great Chinese detective.

"Suggestive of Jules Verne in his most ambitious and fantastic vein."--*Athenaeum*.

"Boys will like it, and they will want to read it more than once."--*Scotsman*.


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   SCHOOL STORIES BY DESMOND COKE

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   The Bending of a Twig

Illustrated in Colour by H. M. BROCK.

When "The Bending of a Twig" was first published it was hailed by competent
critics as the finest school story that had appeared since "Tom Brown."
It is a vivid picture of life in a modern public school.  The hero, Lycidas
Marsh, enters Shrewsbury without having previously been to a preparatory
school, drawing his ideas of school life from his imagination and a number
of school stories he has read.  How Lycidas finds his true level in this new
world and worthily maintains the Salopian tradition is the theme of this most
entrancing book.

"A real, live school story that carries conviction in every line."--*Standard*.

"Mr. Desmond Coke has given us one of the best accounts of public school life
that we possess....  Among books of its kind 'The Bending of a Twig' deserves
to become a classic."--*Outlook*.



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   The School Across the Road

Illustrated in Colour by H. M. BROCK.

The incidents of this story arise out of the uniting of two
schools--"Warner's" and "Corunna"--under the name of "Winton," a name which
the head master fondly hopes will become known far and wide as a great seat
of learning.  Unfortunately for the head master's ambition, however, the two
sets of boys--hitherto rivals and enemies, now schoolfellows--do not take
kindly to one another.  Warner's men of might are discredited in the new
school; Henderson, lately head boy, finds himself a mere nobody; while the
inoffensive Dove is exalted and made prefect by reason of his attainments in
class work.  There is discord and insurrection and talk of expulsion, and the
feud drags on until the rival factions have an opportunity of uniting against
a common enemy.  Then, in the enthusiasm aroused by the overthrow of
a neighbouring agricultural college, the bitterness between them dies away,
and the future of Winton is assured.

"This tale is told with a remarkable spirit, and all the boys are real, everyday
characters drawn without exaggeration."--*British Weekly*.



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   The House Prefect

Illustrated in Colour by H. M. BROCK.

This story of the life at Seiton, a great English public school, mainly
revolves around the trouble in which Bob Manders, new-made house prefect,
finds himself, owing to a former alliance with the two wild spirits whom, in
the interests of the house, it is now his chief task to suppress.  In particular
does the spirited exploit with which it opens--the whitewashing by night of
a town statue and the smashing of certain school property--raise itself against
him, next term, when he has been set in authority.  His two former friends
persist in still regarding him as an ally, bound to them by their common
secret; and, in a sense, he is attracted to their enterprises, for in becoming
prefect he does not cease to be a boy.  It is a great duel this, fought in the
studies, the dormitories, upon the field.

"Quite one of the books of the season.  Mr. Desmond Coke has proved himself a
master."--*World*.

"Quite the best school story of the year."--*Morning Leader*.


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   By A. C. CURTIS

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   The Voyage of the "Sesame"

A Story of the Arctic.  Illustrated in Colour.

The Trevelyan brothers receive from a dying sailor a rough chart of a
locality where much gold is to be found in the Arctic regions.  They set out
in quest of it, but do not have things all their own way, for some rival
treasure-seekers have got wind of the enterprise, and endeavour to secure the
gold for themselves.  There is a race between the two expeditions, and fighting
takes place, but the crew of the Sesame are victorious, and after enduring
great hardships amongst the ice, reach home safely with the gold on board.



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   The Good Sword Belgarde

or, How De Burgh held Dover.  Coloured Illustrations by
W. H. C. GROOME.

This is the story of Arnold Gyffard and John Wotton, pages to Sir Philip
Daubeney, in the days when Prince Lewis the Lion invaded England and
strove to win it from King John.  It tells of their journey to Dover through a
country swarming with foreign troops, and of many desperate fights by the way.
In one of these Arnold wins from a French knight the good sword Belgarde,
which he uses to such good purpose as to make his name feared.  Then follows
the great siege of Dover, full of exciting incidents, when by his gallant defence
Hubert de Burgh keeps the key to England out of the Frenchman's grasp.


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   By FRANK H. MASON, R.B.A.

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   A Book of British Ships

Written and Illustrated by FRANK H. MASON, R.B.A.

The aim of this book is to present, in a form that will readily appeal to
boys, a comprehensive account of British shipping, both naval and mercantile,
and to trace its development from the old wooden walls of Nelson's time
down to the Dreadnoughts and high-speed ocean liners of to-day.  All kinds
of British ships, from the battleship to the trawler, are dealt with, and the
characteristic points of each type of vessel are explained.


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   By GEORGE SURREY

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   Mid Clash of Swords

A Story of the Sack of Rome.  Coloured Illustrations by
T. C. DUGDALE.

Wilfrid Salkeld, a young Englishman, enters the employ of Giuliano de
Medici, the virtual ruler of Florence, whom he serves with a zeal that that
faint-hearted man does not deserve; he meets Giovanni the Invincible; and
makes friends with the great Benvenuto Cellini.  He has many a fierce tussle
with German mercenaries and Italian robbers, as well as with those whose
jealousy he arouses by his superior skill in arms.



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   A Northumbrian in Arms

A Story of the Time of Hereward the Wake.  Illustrated in
Colour by J. FINNEMORE.

Harold Ulfsson, companion of Hereward the Wake and conqueror of the
Wessex Champion in a great wrestling bout, is outlawed by the influence
of a Norman knight, whose enmity he has aroused, and goes north to serve
under Earl Siward of Northumbria in the war against Macbeth, the Scottish
usurper.  He assists in defeating an attack by a band of coast-raiders, takes
their ship, and discovering that his father has been slain and his land seized
by his enemy, follows him into Wales.  He fights with Griffith the Welsh
King, kills his enemy in a desperate conflict amidst the hills, and, gaining
the friendship of Harold, Earl of Wessex, his outlawry is removed and his
lands restored to him.


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   By Rev. J. R. HOWDEN, B.D.

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   Locomotives of the World

Containing sixteen plates in Colour.

Many of the most up-to-date types of locomotives used on railways throughout
the world are illustrated and described in this volume.  The coloured
plates have been made from actual photographs, and show the peculiar features
of some truly remarkable engines.  These peculiarities are fully explained in
the text, written by the Rev. J. R. Howden, author of "The Boy's Book of
Locomotives," etc.

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   By JOSEPH BOWES

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   The New-Chums

A Story of Adventure in Australia.  Illustrated in Colour.

The "New-Chums" is a capital story of rough-and-tumble adventure in the
"Territory," as the little-known northern region of the Australian continent
is called.  Mr. Bowes knows this region thoroughly, and much of the
"New-Chums" is evidently based upon personal experience.  His knowledge
of the aborigines, too, is extensive, and he is able to describe their mode of
life, their customs and curious beliefs in detail.  They figure largely in this
story, for the two heroes, after suffering shipwreck, fall into the hands of
natives, who spare their lives and treat them with rough kindness.  The boys
pass through many strange experiences in company with the tribe, and have
some exciting adventures before they find their way back to their own people.


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   Comrades

Illustrated in Colour by CYRUS CUNEO.

This book describes the adventures of three boys in the northern territory of
Australia, whither they go with their uncle to gain health and acquire experience
of farming and stock-raising.  The life that awaits them is interesting and
varied.  They go on expeditions in search of natural history specimens, and
assist in rounding-up cattle.  Their great opportunity of adventure presents
itself when a party of natives drive off a considerable number of cattle.  The
boys start in pursuit, and go through some dangerous scouting operations
before they return successful.


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   By WILLIAM J. MARX

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   For the Admiral

Illustrated in Colour by ARCHIBALD WEBB.

The brave Huguenot Admiral Coligny is one of the heroes of French history.
Edmond le Blanc, the son of a Huguenot gentleman, undertakes to convey a
secret letter of warning to Coligny, and the adventures he meets with on the way
lead to his accepting service in the Huguenot army.  He shares in the hard
fighting that took place in the neighbourhood of La Rochelle, does excellent
work in scouting for the Admiral, and is everywhere that danger calls, along
with his friend Roger Braund, a young Englishman who has come over to
help the cause with a band of free-lances.

This story won the £100 prize offered by the Bookman for the best story for
boys.


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   THE ROMANCE SERIES

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   The Romance of the King's Navy

By EDWARD FRASER.  New Edition, with Illustrations in
Colour by N. SOTHEBY PITCHER.

"The Romance of the King's Navy" is intended to give boys of to-day an
idea of some of the notable events that have happened under the White
Ensign within the past few years.  There is no other book of the kind in
existence.  It begins with incidents afloat during the Crimean War, when
their grandfathers were boys themselves, and brings the story down to a year
or two ago, with the startling adventure at Spithead of Submarine 64.  One
chapter tells the exciting story of "How the Navy's V.C.'s have been won,"
the deeds of the various heroes being brought all together here in one connected
narrative for the first time.

"Mr. Fraser knows his facts well, and has set them out is an extremely interesting
and attractive way."--*Westminster Gazette*.



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   The Romance of the King's Army

By A. B. TUCKER.

A companion volume to "The Romance of the King's Navy," telling again
in glowing language the most inspiring incidents in the glorious history of our
land forces.  The charge of the 21st Lancers at Omdurman, the capture of
the Dargai heights, the saving of the guns at Maiwand, are a few of the great
stories of heroism and devotion that appear in this stirring volume.

"We cannot too highly commend this beautiful volume as a prize-book for
schoolboys of all classes."--*School Guardian*.



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   The Romance of Every Day

By LILIAN QUILLER-COUCH.

Here is a bookful of romance and heroism; true stories of men, women, and
children in early centuries and modern times who took the opportunities which
came into their everyday lives and found themselves heroes and heroines;
civilians who, without beat of drum or smoke of battle, without special training
or words of encouragement, performed deeds worthy to be written in letters of
gold.

"These stories are bound to encourage and inspire young readers to perform
heroic actions."--*Bristol Daily Mercury*.



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   The Romance of the Merchant Venturers

By E. E. SPEIGHT and R. MORTON NANCE.

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   Britain's Sea Story

By E. E. SPEIGHT and E. MORTON NANCE.  New Edition,
Illustrated in Colour by H. SANDHAM.

These two books are full of true tales as exciting as any to be found in the
story books, and at every few pages there is a fine illustration, in colour or
black and white, of one of the stirring incidents described in the text.


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   By MEREDITH FLETCHER

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   The Pretenders

With Coloured Illustrations by HAROLD C. EARNSHAW.

A tale of twin-brothers at Daneborough School.  Tommy Durrant (the
narrator) has been a boarder for about a year, when Peter arrives upon the
scene as a day-boy.  The latter's ill-health has prevented him joining the
school before, and, being a harum-scarum youngster, his vagaries plunge
Tommy into hot water straight away. The following week, unaware of all
the mischief he has made, the newcomer, who lives with an aunt, urges his
twin to change places one night for a spree.  Tommy rashly consents, and
his experiences while pretending to be Peter prove both unexpected and
exciting.

"Mr. Meredith Fletcher is extremely happy in his delineation of school
life."--*People's Journal*.



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   The Complete Scout

Edited by MORLEY ADAMS, with numerous Illustrations and
Diagrams.

This is a book intended primarily for boy scouts, but it also possesses an
interest for all boys who like out-of-door amusements and scouting games.
It contains many articles by different writers on the various pursuits and
branches of study that scouts are more particularly interested in, such as
wood-craft, tracking, the weather, and so on, and the book should form a
sort of cyclopedia for many thousands of boys who hail Baden-Powell as
Chief Scout.


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   By D. H. PARRY

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   Kit of the Carabineers

or, A Soldier of Marlborough's.  Illustrated in Colour by
ARCHIBALD WEBB.

This story tells how Kit Dawnay comes under the notice of the Duke of
Marlborough while the latter is on a visit to Kit's uncle, Sir Jasper Dawnay,
an irritable, miserly old man, suspected, moreover with good reason, of
harbouring Jacobite plotters and of being himself favourable to the cause of the
exiled Stuarts.

Kit, instructed by the Duke, is able to frustrate a scheme for the assassination
of King William as he rides to Hampton Court, and the King, in return for
Kit's service, gives him a cornet's commission in the King's Carabineers.  He
goes with the army to Flanders, takes part in the siege of Liege; accompanies
Marlborough on those famous forced marches across Europe, whereby the
great leader completely hoodwinked the enemy; and is present at the battle
of Blenheim, where he wins distinction.

"The story bristles with dramatic incident, and the thrilling adventures which
overtake the young hero, Kit Dawnay, are enough to keep one breathless with
excitement."--*Bookman*.


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   By W. H. G. KINGSTON

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   Hurricane Hurry

Coloured Illustrations by ARCHIBALD WEBB.

This is one of W. H. G. Kingston's best books in the sense that it has an
atmosphere of reality about it, and reads like the narrative of one who has
actually passed through all the experiences described; and this is no mere
illusion, for the author states in his preface that the material from which the
story was built up was put into his hands by a well-known naval officer, who
afterwards rote to the position of admiral.  Mr. Hurry enters the navy as
midshipman a few years before the outbreak of the American War of
Independence, and during that war he distinguishes himself both on land
and sea.



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   Will Weatherhelm

Coloured Illustrations by ARCHIBALD WEBB.

A splendid tale of the sea, full of incident and adventure, and a first-rate
account of the sailor's life afloat in the days of the press-gang and the old
wooden walls..  The author reveals his own ardent love of the sea and all that
pertains to it, and this story embodies a true ideal of patriotic service.


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   By G. A. HENTY

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   In Times of Peril

A Story of India.  Illustrated in Colour by T. C. DUGDALE.

Major Warrener and his children are stationed at Sandynugghur when news
arrives that the native troops at Meerut have mutinied and murdered all the
Europeans there and are marching upon Delhi.  Almost immediately the
Major's house is attacked and his family flee for their lives.  The Major
himself and some of his companions are taken prisoners, but only for a short
time, for his sons, Ned and Dick, disguising themselves as Sepoys, are able
to rescue them.  The party after an anxious time fall in with a body of English
troops who are on the way to relieve Delhi.  Dick and Ned are in Cawnpore
when the Europeans are attacked, but they escape by swimming instead of
trusting themselves in boats.  They take part in the storming of Delhi, which
had been taken by the natives, and in the relief of Lucknow.  The end of the
Mutiny finds the whole family once more united.


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   Edited by HERBERT STRANG

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   Early Days in Canada
   Pioneers in Canada
   Early Days in Australia
   Pioneers in Australia
   Early Days in India
   Duty and Danger in India

Each book contains eight plates in Colour.

The story of the discovery, conquest, settlement, and peaceful development
of the great countries which now form part of the British Empire, is full of interest
and romance.  In this series of books the story is told in a number of extracts
from the writings of historians, biographers, and travellers whose works are nut
easily accessible to the general reader.  Each volume is complete in itself and
gives a vivid picture of the progress of the particular country with which it deals.


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   BOOKS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS

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   HERBERT STRANG'S LIBRARY

This is a new series of standard books for boys and girls, comprising the
great works of history, fiction, biography, travel, science, and poetry with which
every boy and girl should be familiar, edited by Mr. HERBERT STRANG.

Each volume is prefaced by a short introduction, giving a biographical account
of the author, or such information concerning the book itself as may be useful and
interesting to young readers.  Notes, maps, and plans are given where necessary.

The text of the books, many of which were not written primarily for children,
is carefully edited both in regard to matters that are inherently unsuitable for their
reading, and to passages that do not conform to modern standards of taste.  In
these and other respects the Editor will exercise a wide discretion.

The Library is illustrated with colour plates, reproduced by three-colour
process from designs by H. M. BROCK, JAMES DURDEN, A. WEBB, and other
well-known artists.


The following volumes are now ready:--

::

   Adventures in the Rifle Brigade           By Sir John Kincaid
   Westward Ho!                              By Charles Kingsley
   The Life of Wellington                    By W. H. Maxwell
   The Boy's Country Book                    By William Howitt
   Mungo Park's Travels
   The Coral Island                          By R. M. Ballantyne
   True Blue                                 By W. H. G. Kingston
   Little Women                              By Louisa Alcott
   Good Wives                                By Louisa Alcott
   Tales from Hans Andersen
   Stories from Grimm
   Tom Brown's Schooldays                    By Thomas Hughes
   The Life of Nelson                        By Robert Southey
   Quentin Durward                           By Sir Walter Scott
   A Book of Golden Deeds                    By Charlotte M. Yonge
   A Wonder Book                             By Nathaniel Hawthorne
   What Katy Did                             By Susan Coolidge
   What Katy Did at School                   By Susan Coolidge
   What Katy Did Next                        By Susan Coolidge
   Ivanhoe                                   By Sir Walter Scott
   Curiosities of Natural History            By Frank Buckland
   Captain Cook's Voyages
   The Heroes                                By Charles Kingsley
   Robinson Crusoe                           By Daniel Defoe
   Tales from Shakespeare                    By Charles and Mary Lamb
   Peter the Whaler                          By W. H. G. Kingston
   Queechy                                   By Elizabeth Wetherell
   The Wide Wide World                       By Elizabeth Wetherell
   Tanglewood Tales                          By Nathaniel Hawthorne
   The Life of Columbus                      By Washington Irving
   Battles of the Peninsular War             By Sir William Napier
   Midshipman Easy                           By Captain Marryat


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   Books for Girls

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   By CHRISTINA GOWANS WHYTE

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   Uncle Hilary's Nieces

Illustrated in Colour by JAMES BURDEN.

Until the death of their father, the course of life of Uncle Hilary's nieces
had run smooth; but then the current of misfortune came upon them, carried
them, with their mother and brothers, to London, and established them in a
flat.  Here, under the guardianship of Uncle Hilary, they enter into the spirit
of their new situation; and when it comes to a question of ways and means,
prove that they have both courage and resource.  Thus Bertha secretly takes
a position as stock-keeper to a fashionable dressmaker; Milly tries to write,
and has the satisfaction of seeing her name in print; Edward takes up
architecture and becomes engrossed in the study of "cupboards and kitchen sinks";
while all the rest contribute as well to the maintenance of the household as to
the interest of the story.

"We have seldom read a prettier story than ... 'Uncle Hilary's Nieces.' ...
It is a daintily woven plot clothed in a style that has already commended itself to
many readers, and is bound to make more friends."--*Daily News*.



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   The Five Macleods

Illustrated in Colour by JAMES DURDEN.

The modern Louisa Alcott!  That is the title that critics in England and
America have bestowed on Miss Christina Gowans Whyte, whose "Story-Book
Girls" they declare to be the best girls' story since "Little Women."  Like
the Leightons and the Howards, the Macleods are another of those delightful
families whose doings, as described by Miss Whyte, make such entertaining
reading.  Each of the five Macleods possesses an individuality of her own.
Elspeth is the eldest--sixteen, with her hair "very nearly up"--and her
lovable nature makes her a favourite with every one; she is followed, in point
of age, by the would-be masterful Winifred (otherwise Winks) and the
independent Lil; while little Babs and Dorothy bring up the rear.

"Altogether a most charming story for girls."--*Schoolmaster*.



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   Nina's Career

Illustrated in Colour by JAMES BURDEN.

"Nina's Career" tells delightfully of a large family of girls and boys,
children of Sir Christopher Howard.  Friends of the Howards are Nina
Wentworth, who lives with three aunts, and Gertrude Mannering.  Gertrude
is conscious of always missing in her life that which makes the lives of the
Howards so joyous and full.  They may have "careers"; she must go to
Court and through the wearying treadmill of the rich girls.  The Howards
get engaged, marry, go into hospitals, study in art schools; and in the end
Gertrude also achieves happiness.

"We have been so badly in need of writers for girls who shall be in sympathy with
the modern standard of intelligence, that we are grateful for the advent of Miss
Whyte, who has not inaptly been described as the new Miss Alcott."--*Outlook*.



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   The Story-Book Girls

Illustrated in Colour by JAMES BURDEN.

This story won the £100 prize in the Bookman competition.
The Leightons are a charming family.  There is Mabel, the beauty, her
nature, strength and sweetness mingled; and Jean, the downright, blunt,
uncompromising; and Elma, the sympathetic, who champions everybody,
and has a weakness for long words.  And there is Cuthbert, too, the clever
brother.  Cuthbert is responsible for a good deal, for he saves Adelaide
Maud from an accident, and brings the Story-Book Girls into the story.
Every girl who reads this book will become acquainted with some of the
realest, truest, best people in recent fiction.

"It is not too much to say that Miss Whyte has opened a new era in the history
of girls' literature....  The writing, distinguished in itself, is enlivened by an
all-pervading sense of humour."--*Manchester Courier*.


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   By J. M. WHITFELD

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   Tom who was Rachel

A Story of Australian Life.  Illustrated in Colour by N. TENISON.

This is a story of Colonial life by an author who is new to English readers.
In writing about Australia Miss Whitfeld is, in a very literal sense, at home;
and no one can read her book without coming to the conclusion that she is
equally so in drawing pen portraits of children.  Her work possesses all the
vigour and freshness that one usually associates with the Colonies, and at the
same time preserves the best traditions of Louisa Alcott.  In "Tom who was
Rachel" the author has described a large family of children living on an
up-country station; and the story presents a faithful picture of the everyday
life of the bush.  Rachel (otherwise Miss Thompson, abbreviated to "Miss
Tom," afterwards to "Tom") is the children's step-sister; and it is her
influence for good over the wilder elements in their nature that provides the
real motive of a story for which all English boys and girls will feel grateful.



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   Gladys and Jack

An Australian Story for Girls.  Coloured Illustrations by N. TENISON.

Gladys and Jack are sister and brother, and, up to the point when the story
opens, they have been the best of friends.  Then, however, certain influences
begin to work in the mind of Gladys, as the result of which a coolness springs
up between her and her brother.  Gladys puts on a superior air, and adopts a
severely proper attitude towards Jack.  Gladys has been in society, has come
to be regarded as a beauty, and has been made a fuss of; consequently she
becomes self-conscious.  She goes to spend a holiday up-country, and here,
too, her icily-regular line of conduct seems bound to bring her into conflict
with her free-and-easy-going cousins.  After some trying experiences, Gladys
finds herself In a position which enables her, for the time being, to forget her
own troubles, and exert all her strength on behalf of the rest.  She comes
worthily through the ordeal, earns the affection of her cousins, and Jack
rejoices in the recovery of a lost sister.

"We have a large number of characters all clearly differentiated, plenty of
incident, and much sparkling dialogue."--*Morning Post*.



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   The Colters

An Australian Story for Girls.  Illustrated in Colour by
GEORGE SOPER.

This book deals with a merry family of Australian boys and girls.  There
are a good many of them, and to each one Miss Whitfeld has imparted a
distinct individuality.  There is Hector, the eldest, manly and straightforward,
and Matt, the plain-spoken, his younger brother.  Ruby, quiet and gentle,
with an aptitude for versifying, is well contrasted with her headstrong,
impulsive cousin Effie.  The author seizes upon the everyday occurrences of
domestic life, turning them to good account; and she draws a charming
picture of a family, united in heart, while differing very much in habit and
temperament.


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   By ELSIE J. OXENHAM

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   Mistress Nanciebel

Illustrated in Colour by JAMES BURDEN.

This is a story of the Restoration.  Nanciebel's father, Sir John Seymour,
had so incurred the displeasure of King Charles by his persistent opposition
to the threatened war against the Dutch, that he was sent out of the country.
Nothing would dissuade Nanciebel from accompanying him, so they sailed
away together and were duly landed on a desolate shore, which they afterwards
discovered to be a part of Wales.  Here, by perseverance and much hard toil,
John o' Peace made a new home for his family, in which enterprise he owed
not a little to the presence and constant help of Nanciebel, who is the
embodiment of youthful optimism and womanly tenderness.

"A charming book for girls."--*Evening Standard*.


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   A NEW ALBUM FOR GIRLS

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   My Schooldays

An album in which girls can keep a record of their schooldays.  In order
that the entries may be neat and methodical, certain pages have been allotted
to various different subjects, such as Addresses, Friends, Books, Matches,
Birthdays, Concerts, Holidays, Theatricals, Presents, Prizes and Certificates,
and so on.  The 'album is beautifully decorated throughout.


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   By MRS. HERBERT STRANG

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   The Girl Crusoes

A Story of Three Girls in the South Seas.  With Colour
Illustrations by N. TENISON.

It is a common experience that young girls prefer stories written for their
brothers to those written for themselves.  They have the same love of
adventure, the same admiration for brave and heroic deeds, as boys; and in
these days of women travellers and explorers there are countless instances of
women displaying a courage and endurance in all respects equal to that of the
other sex.  Recognizing this, Mrs. Herbert Strang has written a story of
adventure in which three English girls of the present day are the central figures,
and in which the girl reader will find as much excitement and amusement as
any boy's book could furnish.


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   By WINIFRED M. LETTS

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   The Quest of the Blue Rose

Illustrated in Colour by JAMES DURDEN.

After the death of her mother, Sylvia Sherwood has to make her own way
in the world as a telegraph clerk.  The world she finds herself in is a girls'
hostel in a big northern city.  For a while she can only see the uncongenial
side of her surroundings; but when she has made a friend and found herself
a niche, she begins to realise that though the Blue Rose may not be for her
finding, there are still wild roses in every hedge.  In the end, however, Sylvia,
contented at last with her hard-working, humdrum life, finds herself the
successful writer of a book of children's poems.

"Miss Letts has written a most entertaining work, which should become very
popular.  The humour is never forced, and the pathetic scenes are written with true
feeling."--*School Guardian*.



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   Bridget of All Work

Illustrated in Colour by JAMES BURDEN.

The scene of the greater part of this story is laid in Lancashire, and the
author has chosen her heroine from among those who know what it is to feel
the pinch of want and strive loyally to combat it.  There is a charm about
Bridget Joy, moving about her kitchen, keeping a light heart under the most
depressing surroundings.  Girl though she is, it is her arm that encircles and
protects those who should in other circumstances have been her guardians, and
her brave heart that enables the word Home to retain its sweetness for those
who are dependent on her.

"Miss Letts has written a story for which elder girls will be grateful, so simple
and winning is it; and we recognise in the author's work a sense of character and
ease of style which ought to ensure its popularity."--*Globe*.


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   By ANGELA BRAZIL

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   A Terrible Tomboy

New Edition.  With Coloured Illustrations by N. TENISON.

Peggy Vaughan, daughter of a country gentleman living on the Welsh
border, is much too high-spirited to avoid getting continually into scrapes.
She nearly gets drowned while birds'-nesting, scandalises the over-prim
daughters of rich up-starts by her carelessness in matters of dress and etiquette,
gets lost with her small brother while exploring caves, smokes out wild bees,
and acts generally more like a boy than a girl.  Naturally enough her father
and school mistresses find her very difficult to manage, but her good humour
and kindness of heart make it impossible to be angry with her for long.  At
the end of the story, when the family have become too poor to remain any
longer in their old home, she makes a discovery which enables them to stay
there.


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   By E. L. HAVERFIELD

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   Sylvia's Victory

Illustrated in Colour by JAMES BURDEN.

Owing to a change in the family fortunes, Sylvia Hughes is obliged to attend
a day school in a small seaside town where she has the misfortune to make an
enemy of the head girl, Phyllis Staunton-Taylor, who regards Sylvia as one
belonging to an inferior set to her own.  One day during the holidays Sylvia
swims out and rescues Phyllis, who has got beyond her depth; but even this
fails to establish amity between them, and no word of Sylvia's heroism gets
abroad in the school.  It is not until after she has experienced many trials and
heartburnings that Sylvia learns the reason of Phyllis's apparent ingratitude
and friendship is restored.



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   The Ogilvies' Adventures

Illustrated in Colour by JAMES BURDEN.

Hester Ogilvie and her elder, but less energetic, sister, daughters of a
Canadian who is unable to support the whole of his family, are invited to
spend a few years with their English uncle, Sir Hubert Campion, in order to
finish their education.  Hester is unable to please her uncle in any way, as his
view of a finishing education differs very much from her own.  At length she
runs away to London to make her own living, but is taken back, and through
a great service she does her uncle, he agrees to help her to carry out her
original plans.  Finally, he arranges that the Canadian and English branches
of the family shall live together.

"A most delightful story, which is admirably suited to the average schoolgirl of
to-day."--*Lady's Pictorial*.



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   Audrey's Awakening

Illustrated in Colour by JAMES BURDEN.

As a result of a luxurious and conventional upbringing, Audrey is a girl
without ambitions, unsympathetic, and with a reputation for exclusiveness.
Therefore, when Paul Forbes becomes her step-brother, and brings his
free-and-easy notions into the Davidsons' old home, there begins to be trouble.
Audrey discovers that she has feelings, and the results are not altogether
pleasant.  She takes a dislike to Paul at the outset; and the young people
have to get through deep waters and some exciting times before things come
right.  Audrey's awakening is thorough, if painful.

"Is far above the average tale of school and home life."--*Aberdeen Free Press*.



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   The Conquest of Claudia

Illustrated in Colour by JAMES BURDEN.

Meta and Claudia Austin are two motherless girls with a much-occupied
father.  Their upbringing has therefore been left to a kindly governess, whose
departure to be married makes the first change in the girls' lives.  Having set
their hearts upon going to school, they receive a new governess resentfully.
Claudia is a person of instincts, and it does not take her long to discover that
there is something mysterious about Miss Strongitharm.  A clue upon which
the children stumble leads to the notion that Miss Strongitharm is a Nihilist
in hiding.  That in spite of various strange happenings they are quite wrong is
to be expected, but there is a genuine mystery about Miss Strongitharm which
leads to some unforeseen adventures.

"A convincing story of girl life."--*School Guardian*.



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   Dauntless Patty.

Illustrated in Colour by DUDLEY TENNANT.

Patricia Garnett, an Australian girl, comes over to England to complete
her education.  She is unconventional and quite unused to English ways, and
soon finds herself the most unpopular girl in the school.  Several times she
reveals her courage and high spirit, particularly in saving the life of Kathleen
Lane, a girl with whom she is on very bad terms.  All overtures of peace fail,
however, for Patty feels that the other girls have no real liking for her, and she
refuses to be patronised.  Thus the feud is continued to the end of the term;
and the climax of the story is reached when, in a cave in the face of a cliff, in
imminent danger of being drowned, Patty and Kathleen for the first time
understand each other, and lay the foundations of a lifelong friendship.

"A thoroughly faithful and stimulating story of schoolgirl life."--*Schoolmaster*.

"The story is well told.  Some of the incidents are dramatic, without being
unnatural; the interest is well sustained, and altogether the book is one of the best
we have read."--*Glasgow Herald*.


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   By BRENDA GIRVIN

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   The Girl Scout

Illustrated in Colour by N. TENISON.

This is the story of a patrol of Girl Scouts, and the service they rendered
their country.  Colonel Norton announces that some silver cups, which he
values as souvenirs of the time when he could win races and gymnastic
competitions, have been stolen, and calls on the Boy Scouts to catch the thief,
promising, if they succeed, to furnish their club-room in time for the reception
of a neighbouring patrol.  Aggie Phillips, sister of the boys' leader, hears of
this, and at once organises a girls' patrol to help solve the mystery.  In tracing
the thief, the girls manage to entrap two foreigners, who, in all kinds of
disguises, try to get hold of valuable papers in the hands of the Colonel.
Meanwhile the boys continually follow up the tracks left by the girls, or are
purposely misled by Aggie.  The girls win the prize but arrange to join forces
with the boys.

"The modern spirit is admirably shown in this excellent story."--*Lady's Pictorial*.


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   By ANNA CHAPIN RAY

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   Teddy: Her Daughter

Illustrated in Colour by N. TENISON.

Many young readers have already made the acquaintance of Teddy in Miss
Anna Chapin Ray's previous story, "Teddy: Her Book."  The heroine of the
present story is Teddy's daughter Betty--a young lady with a strong will and
decided opinions of her own.  When she is first introduced to us she is staying
on a holiday at Quantuck, a secluded seaside retreat; and Miss Ray describes
the various members of this small summer community with considerable
humour.  Among others is Mrs. Van Hicks, a lady of great possessions but
little culture, who seeks to put people under a lasting obligation to her by
making friends with them.  On hearing that a nephew of this estimable lady
is about to arrive at Quantuck, Betty makes up her mind beforehand to dislike
him.  At first she almost succeeds, for, like herself, Percival has a temper, and
can be "thorny" at times.  As they come to know each other better, however,
a less tempestuous state of things ensues, and eventually they cement a
friendship that is destined to carry them far.



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   Nathalie's Sister

Illustrated in Colour by N. TENISON.

Nobody knows--or cares--much about Nathalie's Sister at the opening of
this story.  She is, indeed, merely Nathalie's sister, without a name of her
own, shining with a borrowed light.  Before the end is reached, however, her
many good qualities have received the recognition they deserve, and she is
Margaret Arterburn, enjoying the respect and admiration of all her friends.
Her temper is none of the best: she has a way of going direct to the point in
conversation, and her words have sometimes an unpleasant sting; yet when
the time comes, she reveals that she is not lacking in the qualities of gentleness
and affection, not to say heroism, which many young readers have already
learned to associate with her sister Nathalie.



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   Nathalie's Chum

Illustrated in Colour by DUDLEY TENNANT.

This story deals with a chapter in the career of the Arterburn family, and
particularly of Nathalie, a vivacious, strong-willed girl of fifteen.  After the death
of their parents the children were scattered among different relatives, and the story
describes the efforts of the eldest son, Harry, to bring them together again.
At first there is a good deal of aloofness owing to the fact that, having been
kept apart for so long, the children are practically strangers to each other; but
at length Harry takes his sister Nathalie into his confidence and makes her his
ally in the management of their small household, while she finds in him the
chum of whom she has long felt the need.

"Another of those pleasant stories of American life which Miss Anna Chapin Ray
knows so well how to write."--*Birmingham Post*.



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   Teddy: Her Book

A Story of Sweet Sixteen.  Illustrated in Colour by ROBERT HOPE.

"Teddy is a delightful personage; and the story of her friendships, her ambitions,
and her successes is thoroughly engrossing."--*World*.

"To read of Teddy is to love her."--*Yorkshire Daily Post*.



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   Janet: Her Winter in Quebec

Illustrated in Colour by GORDON BROWNE.

"The whole tone of the story is as bright and healthy as the atmosphere in which
these happy months were spent."--*Outlook*.

"The sparkle of a Canadian winter ripples across Anna Chapin Ray's
'Janet.'"--*Lady's Pictorial*.


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   By L. B. WALFORD

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   A Sage of Sixteen

New Edition.  Illustrated in Colour by JAMES BURDEN.

Elma, the heroine of this story, is called a sage by her wealthy and
sophisticated relations in Park Lane, with whom she spends a half-holiday
every week, and who regard her as a very wise young person.  The rest of
her time is passed at a small boarding-school, where, as might be supposed,
Elma's friends look upon her rather as an ordinary healthy girl than as one
possessing unusual wisdom.  The story tells of Elma's humble life at school,
her occasional excursions into fashionable society; the difficulties she
experiences in her endeavour to reconcile the two; and the way in which she
eventually wins the hearts of those around her in both walks of life.


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   By ANNIE MATHESON

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   A Day Book for Girls

Containing a quotation for each day of the year, arranged by
ANNIE MATHESON, with Colour Illustrations by C. E. BROCK.

Miss Annie Matheson is herself well known to many as a writer of hymns
and poetry of a high order.  In "A Day Book for Girls" she has brought
together a large number of extracts both in poetry and prose, and so arranged
them that they furnish an inspiring and ennobling watchword for each day of
the year.  Miss Matheson has spared no pains to secure variety and
comprehensiveness in her selection of quotations;
her list of authors ranges from
Marcus Aurelius to Mr. Swinburne, and includes many who are very little
known to the general public.

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   Books for Children

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   A Book of Children's Verse

Selected and Edited by MABEL and LILIAN QUILLER-COUCH.  New Edition.
Illustrated in Colour by M. ETHELDREDA GRAY.

This is a splendid anthology of children's verse.  In addition to the old
favourite poems, the volume contains many by modern authors, and others not
generally known.  The work of selection has been carried out with great care,
and no effort has been spared to make the volume a worthy and comprehensive
introduction to English poetry.  The book is illustrated by a series of
magnificent plates in colour.


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   By LUCAS MALET

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   Little Peter

A Christmas Morality for Children of any age.  New Edition.
Illustrated in Colour by CHARLES E. BROCK.

This delightful little story introduces to us a family dwelling upon the
outskirts of a vast pine forest in France.  There are Master Lepage who, as head
of the household and a veteran of the wars, lays down the law upon all sorts
of questions, domestic and political; his meek wife Susan; their two sons,
Anthony and Paul; and Cincinnatus the cat--who holds as many opinions and
expresses them as freely as Master Lepage himself; and--little Peter.  Little
Peter makes friends with John Paqualin, a queer, tall, crooked-backed old
charcoal-burner, whom the boys of the village call "the grasshopper man";
but this is not surprising, since Little Peter makes friends with every one he
meets, and all who read about him will certainly make friends with him.

"It is quite an ideal gift book, and one that will always be treasured."--*Globe*.


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   By CHRISTINA GOWANS WHYTE

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   The Adventures of Merrywink

Illustrated by M. V. WHEELHOUSE.

This story won the £100 prize in the Bookman competition for the best
story for children.

This story tells of a pretty little child who was born into Fairyland with a
gleaming star in his forehead.  When his parents beheld this star they were
filled with gladness and fear, and they carried their little Fairy baby,
Merrywink, far away and hid him, because of two old prophecies: the first, that a
daughter should be born to the King and Queen of Fairyland; the second
that the King should rule over Fairyland until a child appeared with a star in
his forehead.  Now, on the very day that Merrywink was born, the little
Princess arrived at the Palace; and the King sent round messages to make
sure that the child with the gleaming star had not yet been seen in Fairyland.
The story tells us how Merrywink grew up to be brave and strong, and fearless
and truthful.


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   By MRS. HENRY DE LA PASTURE

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   The Unlucky Family

New Edition with Coloured Illustrations by C. E. BROCK.

This is one of the most humorous children's books published in recent
years, and the many awkward dilemmas and diverting experiences which
ensue upon the Chubb family's unexpected rise in the social scale cannot fail
to delight young readers as well as their elders.  In the matter of showing
the propensity for getting into mischief these youngsters establish a record,
but their escapades are generally of a harmless character and lead to nothing
very serious.

"It is a clever and amusing tale, full of high spirits and good-natured mischief
which children not too seriously inclined will enjoy."--*Scotsman*.


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   By M. I. A.

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   Sir Evelyn's Charge

New Edition, Illustrated in Colour.

"Sir Evelyn's Charge" is one of the most popular books for Sunday School
prizes published within recent years, and has already run into very many
editions.  The object of the story is to show how the quiet, unconscious
influence exerted by a little child upon those around him may be productive of
lasting good.  This new edition, with a new cover and colour plates, makes a
very attractive gift-book.



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   THE PENDLETON SERIES

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   The Pendleton Twins

By E. M. JAMESON, Author of "The Pendletons," etc.  With
Coloured Illustrations.

The adventures of the Pendleton Twins begin the very day they leave home.
The train is snowed up and they are many hours delayed.  They have a merry
Christmas with plenty of fun and presents, and in the middle of the night Bob
gives chase to a burglar.  Nora, who is very sure-footed, goes off by herself
one day and climbs the cliffs, thinking that no one will be any the wiser until
her return.  But the twins and Dan follow her unseen and are lost in a cave,
where they find hidden treasure, left by smugglers, buried in the ground.  Len
sprains his ankle and they cannot return.  Search parties set out from Cliffe,
and spend many hours before the twins are found by Nora, cold and tired and
frightened.  But the holidays end very happily after all.

"Miss Jameson's books are written with such humour and lightness of touch that
they hold the young readers, and not only amuse but instruct them."--*Dundee
Courier*.



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   The Pendletons

By E. M. JAMESON.  New Edition.  Illustrated in Colour.

"Young people will revel in this most interesting and original story.  The five
young Pendletons are much as other children in a large family, varied in their ideas,
quaint in their tastes, and wont to get into mischief at every turn.  They are withal
devoted to one another and to their home, and although often 'naughty,' are not by
any means 'bad.' The interest in the doings of these youngsters is remarkably well
sustained, and each chapter seems better than the last.  With not a single dull
page from start to finish and with twelve charming Illustrations, the book makes an
ideal reward for either boys or girls."--*Schoolmaster*.



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   Peggy Pendleton's Plan

By E. M. JAMESON.  New Edition.  Illustrated in Colour by
S. P. EARSE.

To many young readers the Pendleton children are quite old friends, as
indeed they deserve to be, for they are so merry, so full of fun and good
spirits, that nobody can read about them without coming to love them.  In the
opening chapter of this book the family meet together in solemn conclave to
discuss plans for the holidays, which have just commenced.  Every one of
them has a favourite idea, but when the various selections are put to the vote,
it is Peggy Pendleton's plan that carries the day.  All the other children think
it splendid.  What that plan was, and what strange adventures it led to, are
here set forth.



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   The Book of Baby Beasts

By FLORENCE E. DUGDALE.  Illustrated in Colour by E. J. DETMOLD.

This book contains a series of simple little talks about baby animals, both
wild and domestic.  Each chapter is accompanied by a charming picture in
colour by E. J. DETMOLD, whose work as an illustrator is well known, and
whose characteristic delicacy of colouring is faithfully reproduced.



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   The Book of Baby Dogs

By CHARLES KABERRY.  With nineteen plates in Colour by
E. J. DETMOLD.



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   The Book of Baby Pets

By FLORENCE E. DUGDALE.  Illustrated in Colour by E. J. DETMOLD.

"A valuable family possession, and one which admirably fulfils the rôle of guide,
counsellor and friend."--*Athenaeum*.



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   The Book of Baby Birds

By FLORENCE E.  DUGDALE.  Illustrated in Colour by E. J. DETMOLD.

"Simply irresistible."--*Observer*.



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   Queen Mab's Daughters

From the French of JEROME DOUCET.  Illustrated by HENRY
MORIN.

This book consists of twelve stories, each concerned with an episode in the
life of one of Queen Mab's daughters.  These are very enterprising and
adventurous princesses, somewhat wilful, indeed; and their activities, innocent
though they are, often bring them into hot water.  They fall into the hands of
witches and wizards, and are the means of releasing from enchantment an
equal number of princes who have been changed into bears, eagles, monkeys,
and other animals by the powers of witchcraft.  Their adventures are related
with the charming daintiness wherein French fabulists, from Perrault downwards,
have excelled; and the book is a decided acquisition to the store of
fairy literature in which all children delight.


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   By VIOLET BRADBY

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   The Capel Cousins

Illustrated in Colour in C. E. BROCK.

The children in the Capel family hear that a cousin from South America is
to live with them until his education is finished.  On his arrival he is found to
be very frank and outspoken, accustomed to say just what he thinks; and as
his cousins are more reserved, the misunderstandings are by no means few.
In time, however, he becomes used to English ways, and his good nature and
cleverness win his cousins' admiration and affection.  Mrs. Bradby writes as
one who knows children thoroughly, and her pictures of home life are very
charming.

"The authoress shows a power of depicting a large family of delightful and quite
natural children which recalls the stories of Miss Yonge at her brightest."--*Church
Times*.

"A very pleasant, natural, and brightly written story."--*Lady*.



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   The Happy Families

Illustrated by LILIAN A. GOVEY.

Most children have probably played the game of "Happy Families," and it
is possible that they have woven stories round the grotesque characters that
appear on the cards.  This is what Mrs. Bradby has done in this book, and
she has imagined a little girl being suddenly transported to Happy Family
Land and finding herself beset on all hands by the Grits, the Chips and the
Boneses, and all the other members of this strange and wonderful community.


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   By FLORENCE E. DUGDALE

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   (MRS. THOMAS HARDY)

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   In Lucy's Garden

Illustrated in Colour by J. CAMPBELL.

Miss Dugdale describes Lucy's garden from month to month, the plants that
grow there, the insects that visit it, and the imaginary beings with which Lucy
peoples it.  During the first year Lucy is without any companion to share her
experiences, but at the beginning of the second year, just when she begins to
feel lonely, she makes the acquaintance of a little boy, Peter, who is staying
with his grandmother next door, and who, too, has grown tired of playing by
himself.  They gladly arrange that in future they will play together, as they
like each other very much.  Little ones who have gardens of their own will
enjoy reading about Lucy's, especially when they know that she was capable of
understanding what the apple trees and leaves and roses had to tell her about
things in general and themselves in particular.

"A delightful 'Nature story' written in a charming vein of playful fancy, and
daintily illustrated."--*Lady*.


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   By TERTIA BENNETT

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   Gentleman Dash

Illustrated in Colour by P. H. JOWETT.

This is a book that will appeal to all lovers of animals.  Gentleman Dash is
a fine collie who lives at a big house with a number of other dogs and cats.
In spite of his handsome appearance, however, Dash sometimes falls so far
from dignity as to run away and steal meat from butchers' shops.  Then he is
brought back and punished, and the other four-footed members of the family
come round and offer sympathy--which is not pleasant.  The relations that
exist between the various dogs and cats of the establishment are friendly on
the whole, though not invariably so.  In the course of their conversations, the
animals throw fresh light on the problems of life as viewed from the kennel
and the yard.


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   By ALICE MASSIE

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   The Family's Jane

Illustrated in Colour by JOHN CAMPBELL.

This is the story of a little girl's search for her lost brothers and sisters.  At
first Jane did not know that she had any brothers or sisters, and she used to
feel lonely.  Then one day, quite by accident, she discovered that such was
indeed the case, although for some unexplained reason they did not live at
home and she had been kept in ignorance of them.  Then Jane set to work to
reunite the dismembered family.  The fact that Jane was only eight, and some
of the others were quite grown up, with children of their own, did not turn her
from her purpose, and eventually her efforts had the happy issue which they
well deserved.


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   The Children's Bookcase

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   Edited by E. NESBIT

"The Children's Bookcase" is a new series of daintily illustrated books for
little folks, which is intended ultimately to include all that is best in children's
literature, whether old or new.  The series is edited by Mrs. E. Nesbit,
author of "The Would-be Goods" and many other well-known books for
children; and particular care is given to binding, get-up, and illustrations.



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   Mrs. Overtheway's Remembrances

By JULIANA HORATIA EWING.

A delightful little book of short stories in which "the little old lady" who
lives over the way relates incidents from her girlhood for the amusement of a
young friend.


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   The Little Duke.  

By CHARLOTTE M. YONGE.


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   Sonny Sahib.  

By SARA JEANNETTE DUNCAN (Mrs. Everard Cotes).
A charming story of Anglo-Indian life.


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   The Water Babies.  

By CHARLES KINGSLEY.


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   The Old Nursery Stories.  

By E. NESBIT.

In this book Mrs. E. Nesbit relates the old stories of the
Nursery--"Cinderella," "Sleeping Beauty," etc.


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   Cap-o'-Yellow.  

By AGNES GROZIER HERBERTSON.

A charming series of fairy stories by one of the very few modern writers
whose work compares with the classics of fairy-tale literature such as Grimm
and Perrault.

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   Granny's Wonderful Chair.  

By FRANCES BROWNE.

The author of "Little Lord Fauntleroy" declared this book to be the best
fairy story ever written.  Two generations of little readers have been of the
same opinion as Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett.

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