John Goldfrap - The Ocean Wireless Boys on the Pacific

“Begin at the beginning,” suggested Jack.

“All right then. It was this way, Ready: After my – er – my little trouble with you I came west. I got a job as assistant wireless man at a lonely station on one of the Caroline Islands. But I couldn’t stand the life and resigned. No regular steamers touch there, so I got passage on the Galilee , a little trading schooner for Papeiti. She sprang a leak and sank, and there was only a loaf of bread and a few cans of meat in the boat when I shoved off from the sinking hulk. It was all I had time to put in. What happened after that till you bumped into me and saved me is like a bad dream. I guess I was crazy most of the time. I never expected to be saved, and – and I guess it has been a good lesson to me.”

“If it has made you resolve to reform, it will not have been wasted,” said Jack. And he then told Thurman something about themselves. Captain Sparhawk promised that as soon as Thurman was stronger he would find a job for him, for the boys’ old enemy was penniless, having left his wallet behind him in his haste at fleeing from the sinking schooner.

All that night the tempest raged with unabated fury. At times it seemed as if the yacht must go to pieces, so sadly was she wrenched and buffeted by the giant combers. There was little sleep for any on board that night and the day broke wildly on a worried, harried-looking crew. Shortly before noon the foresail tore away from the bolt ropes, and split with a noise like the explosion of a cannon. This accident was almost immediately followed by a shout from the lookout.

“Land, ho!”

This cry, ordinarily one hailed with delight by sailors, was not thus received on the Sea Gypsy . Captain Sparhawk had been unable to get an observation during the days of storm, and what with this, and the heavy lee drift made by the yacht, he had no idea of his whereabouts.

At the shout all hands clambered to points of vantage to see what islands they could be approaching. As the Sea Gypsy rose dizzily on the top of a great wave Jack saw, with a flash of alarm, that they were headed straight for a large island dotted with tropical verdure and tall, wind-bent palms about which rocks bristled menacingly like hungry fangs awaiting to penetrate the Sea Gypsy’s stout hull.

Critical moments followed. Captain Sparhawk navigated the Sea Gypsy among the rocks with marvelous seamanship. Time and again a shout of dismay went up from the sailors as the yacht almost grazed some huge black rock or scraped a coral reef. But the passage was negotiated with safety, and finally the sea-battered yacht lay snug and safe in the lee of the island and all hands drew a long breath of relief.

“Let go the anchor,” came the command, and the cable roared out of the hawser holes with a savage shout, as if of joy, at the ship’s delivery.

“Where under the sun are we?” asked Mr. Jukes of Captain Sparhawk, as soon as these maneuvers had been completed.

“I have no more idea than you, sir,” was the reply. “But it looks to me as if this island must be one of the Pamatous.”

“One of the pearl islands?” asked the millionaire.

“The very same. But I cannot be sure. Islands are sown pretty thickly in this part of the Pacific.”

“Are the Pamatou people cannibals?” asked Jack.

“I don’t think so,” said the captain, “but before I send a boat ashore I am going to deal out arms to the landing party. We want to run no risks. I shall also put a guard on the ship, for these savages are great thieves and they might see a chance for some piratical tricks in our dilemma.”

“The machine gun will come in handy then,” said Mr. Jukes.

“Yes, indeed, sir. I’ll give orders to have it mounted at once in a conspicuous place so if any of the gentry ashore have any rascally designs they can see we’re ready for them with a dose of cold lead.”

Jack, after some difficulty, secured permission for himself and Raynor to go ashore with the landing party. Mr. Jukes, who remained on board, was unwilling that they take the risk of a hostile attack, but at last he yielded, and the boys, in high glee, buckled on cartridge belts and selected rifles from the ship’s armory.

“Keep the rifles in the bottom of the boat,” ordered the captain, as they shoved off, “and don’t use them unless you absolutely have to.”

Although the place where they lay was sheltered, the storm was still howling and shrieking above the island and the sea ran rather high. The inclement weather, no doubt, explained why no natives had so far been seen.

A landing was successfully made in the surf, the men leaping from the boat and dragging her ashore, waist-deep in water. Dense foliage, among which could be seen the huge fronds of the banana, and broad-leaved breadfruit trees grew almost down to the dazzlingly white beach. Further back great palms, laden with cocoanuts, towered majestically above the tropic growth.

“There seems to be no sign of a village here,” said the captain.

“Perhaps it is on the other side of the island,” suggested Jack.

“Well, we’ll tramp along the beach and see what we can find,” decided the man in command of the “expedition.”

Four men were told off to guard the boat, with orders to fire three shots if anything out of the way occurred. The party in search of the village was to signal in the same way if anything untoward happened and they needed help.

“Shall we carry the rifles?” asked Jack.

“Yes; but try to conceal them as much as possible,” counseled the captain.

They set off along the beach, walking briskly, for the sand was firm and hard. Looking back at the anchored yacht, they could see the glitter of the machine-gun with a man stationed beside it. The gun was trained on the shore ready for instant use against any possible attack. After traversing a short distance they came in sight of what appeared to be a pathway. The condition of it showed that it was much traveled and probably it formed the high road to the village.

Captain Sparhawk decided to follow it. In single file the adventurers advanced along the track which wound in and out, dodging trees and rocks in a manner peculiar to most savage trails whose makers would rather go round an obstacle than clear it out of the way. There was a gloomy sky overhead and the wind boomed dolefully among the palms, making a noise like sheets of rain falling as their big fan-like leaves rustled and scraped against each other.

A hundred rods or so from the coast they found themselves in a ravine which towered up steeply on each side of the track. This canyon appeared to penetrate the centre of the island, the interior of which was hilly.

“I guess the village, if there is one, must be clear round the other side of the island,” said Billy Raynor, between bites at a banana he had picked from a bush at the side of the trail. Others of the party were munching on oranges and a fruit the captain called a “custard apple,” the latter a large, brown-colored “apple,” filled with a yellow paste that looked and tasted like custard.

“There’s one thing certain, the high cost of living need never worry these fellows,” remarked Jack.

“Not if they’re content to be vegetarians,” said Billy.

“They don’t need to be that,” said the captain, “the seas hereabouts teem with fish – and look there!”

There was a rush and a clatter of falling stones just ahead of them as a flock of goats, half-wild creatures, with wonderfully agile legs, leaped up the sides of the canyon and then, at a safe height, stood gazing down at the invaders of the island.

“These South Sea islanders prefer goat’s meat to anything except pork,” said the captain; “in fact, the cannibals pay the doubtful compliment to human flesh of calling it 'long pig.’”