Dave Porter in the South Seas: or, The Strange Cruise of the Stormy Petrel

CHAPTER XXIX
THE COMING OF THE NATIVES

When Dave awoke, it was with a start. The wind was blowing half a gale and the rain was falling.

"What a change since last night," he murmured to himself, as he sat up. "Hello, are you up already?"

"I am," answered Billy Dill. "Thought as how I'd better keep the fire a-goin', if it's goin' to storm. This ain't so nice, is it?"

"I should say not, indeed. My, now the wind is rising!"

The others soon roused up, and all gathered under the shelter of some dense tropical trees and vines. Soon the rain was pouring down in torrents, shutting out the landscape on all sides.

"Well, in one way, it's a good thing the Stormy Petrel got out of the harbor," remarked Captain Marshall. "This wind might make her shift, and either throw her up on the island or on to the reef."

They could do nothing with the fire, and so allowed it to die out, and crawled still further into the jungle in an endeavor to keep dry. But the rain followed them, until each one of the party was about soaked.

"This is another one of the comforts of a Robinson Crusoe life," remarked Phil. "Soaking wet, and nothing to eat. Oh, don't I wish I was on the bark again and had hold of those mutineers!"

The rain and wind kept up for the best part of that day. There was but little thunder and lightning, and at nightfall the storm died away, although the wind still kept up at a lively rate. During the afternoon they managed to find a turtle in a hollow, and, after turning the creature over, killed it and cooked it in its own shell. The meal was not particularly appetizing, but all were exceedingly hungry and partook of it without a murmur.

"To-morrow we must gather some yams and some plantains, and also do some fishing," said the captain. "We might go hunting, too, but I would rather save our ammunition for emergencies."

To keep from taking cold in their wet clothing, all slept close to the campfire that night, and early in the morning they hung most of their garments out in the bright sunshine to dry. Fishing proved good, and the boys and Billy Dill caught over a score of good-sized fish, and also discovered a bed of oysters, which, as Roger declared, "were not half bad, even if they weren't particularly good." In the meantime the captain, who knew not a little about tropical life, tramped around and found some bread-fruit and some luscious berries, which he declared were perfectly good to eat.

"This solves the question of food, at least for the present," said Dave. "Not a very extensive list of things to eat, but much better than nothing at all."

"What would the boys of Oak Hall say if they could see us?" asked Roger.

"We'll certainly have a tale to tell – if we ever get back to tell it," returned Phil.

Having nothing in particular to do, they took their time about preparing the next meal, and, when it was done, it proved to be a regular spread. Some of the fish made particularly good eating, and the berries topped the repast off in good style.

"I do not believe that the Stormy Petrel will come back to this harbor," said Captain Marshall. "And that being so, I think we had best take ourselves to the other side of the island, to those log huts and shacks you mentioned. That is, most likely, the spot where the natives land and where ships may stop. We can put up a flag of distress, and, after that, there will be nothing to do but to wait and make the best of it."

"Shall you leave the rowboats here?" asked Dave.

"We can leave one boat here and row around the island in the other. We can carry the craft to some point beyond the reef."

This advice was followed, and beyond the reef line the ocean was found to be comparatively quiet, despite the storm of the day before. All entered the rowboat, and the captain and Billy Dill took the oars, and the voyage to the other side of the island was begun.

By the end of the day they had reached the log houses, and they cleaned out the larger of the two and gave to it as much of a homelike appearance as possible. Then they set to work to gather all the driftwood possible, for they had nothing with which to cut firewood. The boys fell to fishing once more, and Phil began to manufacture a snare, with which he hoped to trap some small animals that had been discovered at a distance.

Another whole day passed by slowly, and they began to feel a little more settled, when, in the middle of the afternoon, Billy Dill, who was out in the rowboat trying to catch some big fish, set up a loud shout.

"What is it?" demanded Captain Marshall, who was busily at work breaking up some of the driftwood.

"I see a big canoe comin', loaded with niggers!" announced the old sailor.

This news brought all to the shore immediately, and they watched the approach of the canoe with much interest. It was all of twenty-five feet in length and manned by twelve dark-colored men, six on each side. The natives in the craft numbered, all told, nineteen, and some of them had guns, while others had bows and arrows and long spears. Each man had also a long and sharp knife stuck in his girdle.

"Do you think they will be friendly?" asked Dave, in a low tone.

"I hope so," answered the captain. "They have nothing to gain by being otherwise."

When the natives discovered the whites, they stopped rowing and set up an animated jabbering among themselves. They looked around, thinking a ship must be close by, and, finding none, were much astonished.

"Hello!" called out Captain Marshall, waving a welcome. "Glad to see you!"

To this the natives did not answer. But the canoe was sent closer and finally beached, and the majority of the black men leaped ashore, each carrying his weapons with him.

"How do you do?" went on the captain, extending his hand and smiling. "Glad to see you. Can anybody speak English?"

At the question, one of the natives, a short, thickset fellow with a peculiarly flat nose, came to the front and shook hands.

"Soko speak Inglees," he said, and grinned. "Soko once on Inglees ship."

"I am glad to know you, Soko," replied the captain. "I am Captain Marshall, of the ship Stormy Petrel. What island is this?"

"Dis Yam-kolo Island," answered Soko, still grinning. "How you come dis way? Where he ship?"

"Some rascals have stolen my ship. She is a fine-looking bark. She was here a few days ago. Have you seen her?"

"No see ship, no – no ship, so many days," and the native held up four fingers, all stumpy and not overly clean. "Steal ship on you? Big thief, yes!"

"You are right. Where do you come from?"

"Come from Waponu. Dat on Sobago Island."

"Yes, I have heard of the place." The captain turned to the others. "It is a native village some ten miles from the town for which the Stormy Petrel was bound," he explained.

"Then perhaps they can take us to Sobago," said Dave, eagerly.

"Perhaps they can," answered the captain. "But it must be a long trip in such a canoe as that."

"Tell me," said Dave, to the native. "Do you come here often?"

"Sometime, not many time," answered Soko, still grinning. He was evidently of a sunny disposition.

"Did you ever come here with a man named Dunston Porter?"

At this question the native shrugged his shoulders and looked perplexed.

"I mean this man," went on the youth, and, taking the native by the hand, led him into the hut and up to the map on the wall. Instantly the face of Soko brightened.

"Yes, Soko know," he said. "Dat man come, so many time here – " He held up three fingers. "Look in ground, dig, not can find much, no. Go back to Sobago, so." And he made a dejected face, at which Roger and Phil had to laugh.

"He means Mr. Porter didn't locate the treasure," said the senator's son.

"Is that man in Sobago now?" went on Dave, paying no attention to his chum's remark.

"Yes, him at big town, Nanpi!"

"Good I Then I would like to get to Nanpi just as soon as I can," cried Dave, enthusiastically. "Will you take me there? I can pay you well," he added, for he still had his money belt and cash with him.

"Yes, can take to Nanpi," answered the native.

After that he explained that he and his companions had come to the island to hunt for some rare birds and for turtles. They were quite willing to return to Sobago Island immediately, if paid for so doing. A bargain was struck, and it was decided that the voyage should be begun in the morning. In the meantime all hands were to catch some fish and cook them, and also gather in a supply of other eatables. The natives had a number of hollow reeds with them, and these were filled with fresh water, just previous to setting out. It was calculated that, weather permitting, the distance would be covered in three days.

"These fellows know how to handle their big canoes very well," explained Captain Marshall. "They go out hundreds of miles, and sometimes weather the worst of storms. Occasionally, of course, they get swept away, but not often. They sail altogether by the sun and stars, and can strike almost as straight a course as if they were using a compass."

Dave questioned Soko further about Dunston Porter, but could learn little, outside of the fact that the man was a treasure hunter and had paid very well for what was done for him. Soko added, however, that he thought the man expected to remain at Sobago for some time.

The boys could sleep but little that night, so anxious were they concerning the trip before them. They were up at dawn, but, early as it was, found the natives ahead of them. A hasty breakfast was had by all, the things to be taken along were packed in the bow and stern of the canoe, and shortly after sunrise the craft was pushed from the shore, whites and natives scrambled in, and the start from the lonely island was made.

CHAPTER XXX
THE RETAKING OF THE "STORMY PETREL"

For the whole of that day the natives kept at the sweeps of the long canoe, one set of rowers relieving the other. The whites were willing to assist, but Soko said the natives could get along best alone, they having their own peculiar manner of handling the craft.

The weather remained fair, with only a bit of a breeze blowing, and the bosom of the ocean was as calm as they could wish. They were soon out of sight of the island, and then all they could behold was the sky above and the sparkling waters on every side.

"It must be terrible to be lost on the ocean," remarked Phil, as he gazed around. "I don't wonder that men go mad, after they have been out days and days."

"And think of having nothing to eat or to drink," said Dave. "Ugh! it gives a fellow the shivers to think of it!"

At noon the whole party partook of a lunch, and toward nightfall had supper. Then the whites went to sleep, and so did half of the natives, the remaining blacks keeping at the sweeps, guiding themselves by the stars, now that the sun had gone down.

When the boys awoke they were dismayed to see that a mist covered the sea.

"Hello! I didn't expect this!" cried the senator's son. "Why, a fellow can't see a hundred feet in any direction."

"What are the natives going to do now?" asked Dave of Captain Marshall, who had been awake for some time.

"Soko says they must rest and wait," answered the captain. "He cannot go ahead, for he knows not in what direction to steer."

"I've got a pocket compass!" cried Phil, bringing it forth. "How odd that I didn't think of it before."

The captain took the compass and showed it to the native who could speak English. He had seen such things before, and, after a short talk with the master of the Stormy Petrel, set the others to using the sweeps as before.

It was about ten o'clock of the forenoon that one of the natives, who was watching in the bow, uttered a short cry. At once those at the sweeps stopped pulling.

"What is it?" asked Captain Marshall, quickly.

"Big ship over dare!" announced Soko, a moment later.

All of the whites looked in the direction pointed out, and through the mist saw a large vessel drifting along, the sails flapping idly against the masts. The wheel was lashed fast, and nobody was in sight on the deck.

"The Stormy Petrel!" ejaculated Captain Marshall.

"Are you sure?" asked Dave and Phil, in a breath.

"Sure it's the bark," cried Billy Dill. "Say, but this is great luck, ain't it?" and his face brightened up. "Now we can teach them dirty mutineers a lesson."

"Dat you ship?" asked Soko.

"It is," answered Captain Marshall. "See here, Soko," he went on, "can I depend upon your helping me? I will pay you and your men for whatever you do."

The native shugged his ebony shoulders and then consulted with his fellow-tribesmen. All decided that they would aid the captain, providing he would give them each a piece of silver "so big," pointing out the size of a trade dollar. Captain Marshall agreed on the spot, and preparations were made for boarding the bark.

"It is queer that nobody is in sight!" remarked Phil, as the canoe drew closer.

"Somebody is coming on deck now!" cried Dave, in a low tone, and Paul Shepley appeared, followed by Jasper Van Blott and, close behind him, one of the sailors.

"Hello! what's this?" sang out the first mate, on catching sight of the canoe.

"Captain Marshall and the others!" muttered the former supercargo. "Hi! keep away from here!" he roared.

"Surrender, you villains!" called out the captain. "What do you mean by running off with my ship in this fashion?"

"You keep off!" warned Paul Shepley, without answering the question. "Keep off, I tell you!"

"We'll fire on you, if you don't keep off," called the former supercargo, and he brought forth a big pistol.

"Be careful, cap'n, or somebody will git shot!" whispered Billy Dill. "Those fellers look like they was des'prit!"

"Don't you dare to shoot!" called out Captain Marshall. "The first man who fires shall swing from the yardarm!"

The loud talking had brought several sailors to the deck, and they were followed by the second mate, who stared at the canoe and its occupants as if he could not believe his eyes.

"Hello, Captain Marshall!" sang out Bob Sanders. "I am mighty glad you have come."

"Then you are not in this mutiny, Sanders?"

"Not by a jugful! They tried to buy me up, but I wouldn't consent. Podders, Diski, and McNabb are not in it, either."

"I am glad to hear it. Sanders, take control of the ship until I get aboard."

"He will do nothing of the kind!" yelled Jasper Van Blott, and was about to turn on the second mate, when the latter hit him a blow in the ear, sending him headlong to the deck.

"McNabb! Podders!" called the second mate. "Grab Mr. Shepley!"

The sailors called upon understood, and before the first mate could turn, one tar had him from behind, so that he could not raise his arms. Then the other seized a pistol and, turning, faced the crew with the weapon.

The turn of affairs had been so sudden that Shepley and Van Blott were taken completely by surprise, as were likewise the sailors who had sided with the rascals, and, for the moment, none of them knew exactly what to do. In the meantime the canoe bumped alongside of the Stormy Petrel, and, catching hold of a trailing rope thrown overboard by the sailor named Diski, Captain Marshall hauled himself to the deck, followed by Billy Dill and the boys.

"Do you surrender?" demanded the captain, striding up to the first mate, revolver in hand.

"Ye-yes!" burst out Shepley. "It's – it's all a mistake, Captain Marshall – all a mistake!"

"I reckon it was!" answered the captain, grimly. "What about you, Van Blott?" And he turned on the former supercargo, who was struggling to his feet.

"I suppose I've got to give in," muttered Jasper Van Blott.

"And what about you men?" demanded Captain Marshall, turning his stern eyes on the portion of the crew that had mutinied.

"We're with you, cap'n," said one, humbly. "Mr. Shepley led us into this, without us knowin' what we was a-doin'. Ain't that so, mates?"

"That's so," said the others, humbly.

"Are you willing to obey me, after this?"

"Yes! yes!" came in an eager chorus.

After this a long talk took place, and Jasper Van Blott and Paul Shepley were placed in irons and conducted to a closet in the bow of the ship, used for the storage of oil and lanterns. The place was given a rough cleaning, and then the pair were locked inside, Captain Marshall putting the key in his pocket. Both of the prisoners wanted to protest, but the master of the Stormy Petrel would not listen.

"You can do your talking later, when I have time to listen," said he. "Just now I have other matters to attend to."

From Bob Sanders and the three loyal sailors Captain Marshall got a fairly accurate account of the mutiny. He was told that Jasper Van Blott had done his best to get all hands to join in the plot. The former supercargo was the prime mover in the affair, and the first mate was a coward and had been little more than his tool. The sailors who had gone in had done so rather unwillingly, and, after thinking the matter over, Captain Marshall decided to read them a stern lecture and then forgive them.

It was now no longer necessary for the natives to take the whites to Sobago Island, and, after a brief consultation, Soko and his men were paid off and given some presents, and then, the mists rising, the canoe was headed back for Yam-kolo Island. It was the last that Dave and his friends saw of these black men, who had proven so friendly.

With the first mate in irons, Bob Sanders was advanced to fill his place. This left the position of second mate vacant, and, after a consultation with the boys, the master of the Stormy Petrel offered Billy Dill the position, and he accepted gladly.

"I always kind o' wanted to be a mate," said the old tar. "I'm tickled to death!" And his face showed it.

With the lifting of the mist a stiff breeze came up, and preparations were made for continuing the voyage to Nanpi. It was found that the last storm had slightly disabled the rudder, which accounted for the fact that the bark had not made greater headway on her trip. But additional parts were on board, and by nightfall the damage was made good, and then the Stormy Petrel answered her helm as well as ever.

"And now for Sobago Island!" cried Dave, to his chums. "I hope I have no more trouble in finding Mr. Dunston Porter!"

CHAPTER XXXI
LIFTING THE CURTAIN

The second mate told the truth when he said Paul Shepley was a coward and under the thumb of the former supercargo. That very evening Shepley begged to see Captain Marshall alone, and, when given the opportunity, actually fell on his knees before the master of the Stormy Petrel.

"I am willing to do anything, captain!" he groaned. "Only don't – don't swing me from the – the yardarm!" He had it firmly fixed in his mind that he was to be executed.

"You deserve to be hanged!" answered the captain. "I don't see why I should spare you."

"It was all Van Blott's fault – he fixed the whole thing from beginning to end. He got the stolen cases on board and made me promise to help in getting rid of them. And he got up the plan to run away with the ship."

After that Paul Shepley told his story in detail, and the captain became convinced that the first mate was more of a sneak than a villain.

"I will let you off, upon two conditions," said Captain Marshall, at last. "The first is, that you serve as a common sailor for the rest of this trip. Will you do it?"

"Yes, but it's pretty hard on me," whined Shepley.

"The second condition is, that you promise to appear against Van Blott, whenever called upon to do so."

"Yes, I'll do that."

"Then go forward and take Billy Dill's place in the forecastle."

"Where is Dill to go?"

"I have made him second mate and Sanders first mate."

"Oh!" murmured Paul Shepley, and said no more. It cut him deeply to take up quarters in the forecastle, where the men treated him any way but kindly, yet he was glad to get off so cheaply.

The next day was an anxious one for Dave, who was on the constant lookout for land. Toward nightfall a speck was seen in the distance, and in the morning, when he came on deck, the country youth saw before him Sobago in all of its tropical beauty, with its cozy harbor, its long stretch of white sand, and its waving palms. In the harbor were ships of several nationalities, and also numerous native canoes, and the scene was an animated one.

The boys had no difficulty in getting ashore, but once on the streets of Nanpi, they scarcely knew how to turn. They walked along slowly until they came to a shipping office, in the window of which was a sign:

English Spoken Here

"I am going in here to ask a few questions," said Dave, and entered, followed by Phil and Roger. They found in the office a very stout and very bald old gentleman, wearing big spectacles.

"You speak English, I believe," said Dave, politely.

"I speak English, and a dozen other languages, too," said the bald-headed gentleman, peering at them curiously. "Why – er – how's this?" he added, to Dave. "Is this some joke? Why did you shave so clean?"

"Shave?" repeated Dave. His heart gave a sudden bound. "Why do you ask that question?"

"Why, I – er – this is most extraordinary!" ejaculated the man, still staring at the country youth. "I don't understand it."

"Don't understand what?"

"You look so much like a man I know – a Mr. Dunston Porter. Maybe he is some relative of yours?"

"The very man I am looking for!" cried Dave. "Can you tell me where I can find him?" His heart was almost in his throat as he asked the question. Supposing Mr. Dunston Porter had left Sobago Island for parts unknown?

"Find him? I think so. He was here yesterday and said he was going out to the ruins of the old temple on the Pokali Road. He expected to be gone all day on the trip. He'll be back to town by night."

"Then you'll have to wait, Dave," came from Phil.

"Oh, I can't wait!" burst out Dave. "How far is that old temple from here?"

"About three miles."

"Can I hire somebody to take me there? I want to see Mr. Porter as soon as possible."

"Certainly; you can get a boy for a few pennies," answered the bald-headed man. "There is a boy now who wants a job." And he beckoned to an urchin who sat on an empty box, eating a banana.

When the lad came up the man explained in the native tongue, and soon the party set off, Dave first thanking the bald-headed man for his kindness.

To Phil and Roger the walk on the tropical road was long, hot, and dusty. But Dave was so busy with his thoughts that he did not notice he was walking at all. How much the next hour or two might reveal!

Presently they came in sight of a ruined pile, which the native boy pointed out as the old temple. Dave forged ahead and hurried into the ruins, and then around to the back. Here, from under some palms, could be had a fine view of the surrounding country.

A hasty glance around revealed to Dave the form of a man, lying on the grass half asleep. The country youth hurried forward, gave a good look, and uttered a little cry, at which the man sat up suddenly.

"Who are you?" asked the man, and then he began to stare at Dave very hard.

"Is this Mr. Dunston Porter?" asked Dave, in a voice he tried in vain to steady.

"Yes, that's my name. But you – " The man paused expectantly.

"I am Dave Porter. I have come about seven thousand miles to see you."

"Dave Porter! Seven thousand miles to see me! I must be dreaming!" The man leaped to his feet and came up to Dave. "How is this? Won't you explain?"

"I will try, Mr. Porter."

"They do look exactly alike!" said Phil to Roger, in a whisper. "What an extraordinary likeness!"

"No wonder Billy Dill was startled when he first met Dave," added the senator's son.

Dunston Porter heard the talk and looked at the others. At this Phil took a step forward.

"We are Dave Porter's school chums," he explained. "My name is Phil Lawrence, and this is Roger Morr."

"Glad to know you. Did you travel seven thousand miles to see me, too?" went on the man.

"Hardly that, but we took the trip with Dave," answered Roger.

"He wanted to find the man who looked like him," continued Phil, for he saw Dave could hardly speak for his emotion. "And he has found him. You two look exactly alike – that is, you would, if your mustache was shaved off."

"Yes?" Dunston Porter paused. "Is that all?"

"No! no!" cried Dave, struggling to keep calm. "I came to – to find out something about myself, if I could. It's a long story, and I'll have to start at the beginning. When I was a youngster about three years old, I was picked up alongside a railroad track by some farming people. They supposed I had been put off a train by somebody who wanted to get rid of me. They asked me my name, and I said something that sounded to them like Davy and Dun-Dun and Porter, and so they called me Dave Porter."

"Ah!" cried Dunston Porter, and he was all attention. "Go on."

"I was taken to the poorhouse, and then went to live with some other folks who were very kind to me, and one rich gentleman sent me to a boarding school. While there I helped an old sailor named Billy Dill – "

"Billy Dill! Well, I never! Go on, please."

"He was struck when he saw me – said I was somebody else with my mustache shaved off, and a lot more. He finally told me about you, and said you had told him about a crazy nurse and a lost child, and so I made up my mind to find you, if I could, and see if you knew anything about my past." Dave's lips began to quiver again. "Can you tell me anything?"

"I – I – perhaps so." Dunston Porter's voice was also quivering. "Can you prove this story about being found near a railroad?"

"Yes."

"About thirteen years ago?"

"Yes."

"In the eastern part of the United States?"

"Yes, near a village called Crumville. They say I said something about a bad man who wouldn't buy some candy for me. It may be that that man put me off the train."

"He did!" almost shouted Dunston Porter. "It was Sandy Margot, the worthless husband of the crazy nurse, Polly Margot, you just mentioned. She took the child and turned the boy over to her husband. Margot wanted to make money out of the abduction, but, during his travels with the little one, he learned that detectives were after him, and, when the train stopped one day, he put the child off and promised it some candy to keep it from crying. He got away, and we never heard of him for about six years. Then he was rounded up in a burglary and badly wounded. He confessed at the hospital, but he could not tell the name of the place where the child had been dropped. We made a search, but could discover nothing. Margot died, and so did his crazy wife; and there the whole matter has been resting."

"But who am I?" cried Dave, unable to restrain the question any longer.

"Oh, you don't know that? I thought Billy Dill knew. If what you have told me is true, you are the son of my twin brother, David Breslow Porter."