The Castaways of the Flag (12 page)

           
Meantime the
captain approached complete recovery. His wound was healed, though it was still
bandaged. The attacks of fever had become more and more rare, and had now
ceased. His strength was coming back slowly, but he could now walk unsupported.
He was always talking to Fritz and the boatswain of the chances of another
voyage in the boat northward. On the morning of the 25th, he was able to go as
far as the foot of the bluff, and agreed that it was impossible to walk round
the base of it.

           
Fritz, who
had accompanied him, with Frank and John Block, offered to dive into the sea
and so get to the shore beyond. But although he was an excellent swimmer, there
was such a current running at the foot of the bluff that the captain was
obliged to order the young man not to put this dangerous idea into execution.
Once borne away by the current, who could say if Fritz could have got back to
the shore?

           
"No,"
said Captain Gould, "it would be rash, and there is no good in running
into danger. We will go in the boat to reconnoitre that part of the coast, and
if we go a few cables' length out, we shall be able to get a more extended view
of it. Unfortunately I am very much afraid that it will be found to be as barren
everywhere as it is here."

           
"You
mean that we are on some islet?" Frank remarked.

           
"There
is reason to suppose so," the captain replied.

           
"Very
well," said Fritz, "but does it follow that this islet is an isolated
point? Why should it not be part of some group of islands lying to the north,
east, or west?"

           
"What
group, my dear Fritz?" the captain retorted. "If, as everything goes
to show, we are in Australian or New Zealand waters here, there is no group of
islands in this part of the Pacific."

           
"Because
the charts don't show any, does it follow that there aren't any?" Fritz
remarked. "The position of New Switzerland was not known and yet –"

           
"Quite
true," Harry Gould replied; "that was because it lies outside the
track of shipping. Very seldom, practically never, do ships cross that bit of
the Indian Ocean where it is situated, whereas to the south of Australia the
seas are very busy, and no island, or group of any size, could possibly have
escaped the notice of navigators."

           
"There
is still the possibility that we are somewhere near Australia,'' Frank went on.

           
"A
distinct possibility," the captain answered, "and I should not be
surprised if we are at its south-west extremity, somewhere near Cape Leeuwin.
In that case we should have to fear the ferocious Australian natives.''

           
"And
so," the boatswain remarked, "it is better to be on an islet, where
at any rate one is sure not to run up against cannibals.''

           
"And
that is what we should probably know if we could get to the top of the
cliff," Frank added.

           
"Yes,"
said Fritz; "but there isn't a single place where we can do it."

           
"Not
even by climbing up the promontory?" Captain Gould asked.

           
"It is
practicable, although very difficult, as far as half way," Fritz answered,
"but the upper walls are absolutely perpendicular. We should have to use
ladders, and even then success isn't certain. If there were some chimney which
we could get up with ropes, it might perhaps be possible to reach the top, but there
isn't one anywhere."

           
"Then we
will take the boat and reconnoitre the coast," said Captain Gould.

           
"When you
are completely recovered, captain, and not before," replied Fritz firmly. "It
will be several days yet before –"

           
"I am
getting better, Fritz," the captain declared ; "how could it be
otherwise, with all the attention I have? Mrs. Wolston and your wife and Dolly
would have cured me merely by looking at me. We will put to sea in forty-eight
hours at latest."

           
"Westward
or eastward?" Fritz asked.

           
"According
to the wind," the captain replied.

           
"And I
have an idea that this trip will be a lucky one," the boatswain put in.

           
Fritz, Frank,
and John Block had already done all but the impossible in their attempts to
scale the promontory. They had got about two hundred feet up, although the
gradient was very steep, by slipping from one rock to the .next in the very
middle of a torrent of landslides, with the agility of chamois or ibex; but a
third of the way up they had come to a stop. It had been a highly dangerous
attempt, and the boatswain had come within an ace of breaking some of his
bones.

           
But from that
point all their attempts to continue the ascent were in vain. The promontory
ended here in a vertical section with a smooth surface. There was not a
foothold anywhere, not the tiniest projection on which the boat's ropes might
have been caught. And they were still six or seven hundred feet from the top of
the cliff.

           
When they
returned to the cave Captain Gould explained the decision which had been
reached. Two days hence, on the 27th of October, the boat was to leave her
moorings to go along the coast. Had a trip of several days' duration been
involved, everybody would have gone in the boat. But as only a general
reconnaissance was contemplated, he thought it would be better that only he
should go with Fritz and the boatswain. They three would be enough to handle
the boat, and they would not go farther away to the north than they must. If
they found that the coast-line bounded nothing more than an islet they could
make the circuit of it and be back within twenty-four hours.

           
Short as
their absence might be, the idea of it excited great uneasiness. The rest of
the party would not be able to see their companions go without much anxiety.
How could they tell what might happen? Suppose they were attacked by
savages—suppose they could not get back soon—suppose they did not come back at
all?

           
Jenny used
these arguments with characteristic energy. She insisted that the many
anxieties they endured already should not be added to by others arising from an
absence which might be prolonged. Fritz sympathised with her arguments, Captain
Gould accepted them, and ultimately it was agreed that they should all take
part in the projected exploration.

           
As soon as
this decision had been arrived at, to the general satisfaction, John Block got
busy putting the boat in order. Not that it required any repairs, for it had
come to little harm since it had been cast adrift, but it was well to overhaul
it and fit it up in anticipation of a possible extension of the voyage to some
adjoining land. So the boatswain worked his hardest to make it more
comfortable, enclosing the fore-deck so that the women might have shelter from
squalls and breaking waves.

           
There was
nothing more to do but wait, and meanwhile lay in provisions for a voyage which
might perhaps be longer than was intended. Besides, if it were necessary to leave
Turtle Bay finally, ordinary prudence suggested that they should do so without
delay, that they should take advantage of the fine season just beginning in
these southern regions.

           
They could
not but quail before the idea of a winter here. True, the cave offered them a
sure shelter against the storms from the south, which are appalling in the
Pacific. The cold, too, could no doubt be faced, for there would be no lack of
fuel, thanks to the enormous collection of sea-weed at the foot of the cliff.

           
But suppose
the turtles failed? Would they be reduced to fish as sole diet! And the boat—
where could they put that in safety, out of reach of the waves which must break
right up to the back of the beach in the winter? Would they be able to haul it
up above the highest tide-marks? Harry Gould and Fritz and the rest had only
their own arms to rely on, not a tool, not a lever, not a lifting-jack, and the
boat was heavy enough to resist their united efforts.

           
At this time
of year there was happily nothing but passing storms to fear. The fortnight
that they had spent ashore had enabled them all to pick up their moral and
physical strength as well as to recover confidence.

           
Their
preparations were completed in the morning of the 26th. Fritz observed with
some uneasiness that clouds were beginning to gather in the south. They were
still a long way off, but were assuming a lurid hue. The breeze was almost
imperceptible, yet the heavy mass of cloud was rising in a solid body. If this
thunderstorm burst it would burst full upon Turtle Bay.

           
Hitherto the
rocks at the far end of the promontory had protected the boat from the easterly
winds. From the other side, too, the westerly winds could not have touched it,
and firmly held as it was by hawsers, it might have escaped too severe a
buffeting. But if a furious sea swept in from the open main, it would be
unprotected and might be smashed to pieces.

           
It was
useless to think of trying to find some other mooring on the other side of the
bluff or of the bastion, for, even in calm weather, the sea broke there with
violence.

           
"What's
to be done?" Fritz asked the boatswain, and the boatswain had no answer.

           
One hope
remained—that the storm might blow itself out before it fell upon the coast.
But as they listened they could hear a distant rumbling, although the wind was
very faint. The sea was roaring out there in the distance, and already
intermittent flaws were sweeping over its surface, giving it a livid tint.

           
Captain Gould
gazed at the horizon.

           
"We are
in for a bad spell," Fritz said to him.

           
"I am
afraid we are," the captain acknowledged ; "as bad a spell as our
worst fears could have imagined!"

           
"Captain,"
the boatswain broke in, "this isn't a time to sit and twiddle one's
thumbs. We've got to use a little elbow grease, as sailor-men say."

           
"Let us
try to pull the boat up to the top of the beach," said Fritz, calling
James and his brother.

           
"We will
try," Captain Gould replied. "The tide is coming up and will help us.
Meanwhile let us begin by lightening the boat as much as we can."

           
All buckled
to. The sails were laid upon the sand, the mast unstepped, the rudder
unshipped, and the seats and spars were taken out and carried within the cave.

           
By the time
the tide was slack the boat had been hauled about twenty yards higher up. But
that was not enough; she would have to be pulled up twice as far again to be
out of reach of the waves.

           
Having no
other tools, the boatswain pushed planks under the keel, and all combined to
pull and push. But their efforts were useless: the heavy boat was fixed in the
sand and did not gain an inch beyond the last high-water mark.

           
When evening
came the wind threatened a hurricane. From the piled clouds in the zenith flash
after flash of lightning broke, followed by terrific peals of thunder, which
the cliff reechoed in appalling reverberations.

           
Although the
boat had been left high and dry by the ebb tide, the waves, momentarily
becoming stronger, would soon lift it up from the stern.