Tessa

At first Chard and Hendry scarcely comprehended what had happened, so sudden was the onslaught, but when they saw Carr standing free on the main hatch they both made a rush aft towards Hendry’s deck cabin. This they gained without opposition, and seizing two loaded Winchesters which lay in the captain’s berth they darted out again, and began firing into the group of excited native seamen ten paces away. Three men at once dropped, either killed or wounded; but the rest, nothing daunted at this, made a rush towards the two men, knives in hand, bore them down to the deck by sheer weight, and in a few seconds would have ended their lives had not Carr, Oliver, and Latour the steward flung themselves into the fray.

“For God’s sake, stop!” cried Oliver, “the ship is on fire!”

And then seizing Hendry by the throat, he lifted him to his feet, and shook him as a terrier shakes a rat. “You damned, drunken villain! You are not in a fit state to take charge. Lie there, you brute, and let better men try to save the ship.”

He swung Hendry’s slight figure to and fro, and then sent him reeling, to fall like a log on the deck.

“Men,” he cried, “we are in great danger, the trade-room is on fire! Atkins, for God’s sake try to keep us head to wind. Mr. Carr, you and some of the hands see to the boats. There are over fifty cases of powder in the for’ard end of the trade-room, and we can’t shift them; but only the after part is burning so far. Steward, see to Miss Remington. Her cabin is locked, and I cannot make her hear. She and her maid must be awakened at once. Pass the word to Mr. Morrison to get the fire hose aft. Some of you cut a hole here in the deck on the port side, just abreast of that bollard. Smart’s the word and quick’s the action, or we shall all be blown to hell in ten minutes if we can’t flood the trade-room.”

He stopped to give a brief scrutiny to the prone figure of Mr. Samuel Chard, who had been struck a smashing blow on the head from the butt of his own Winchester, which Huka had wrested from him.

“Put this beast into one of the boats, Mr. Carr. We must not leave the blackguard here, as he is not dead, and we can’t save the ship, I fear. Now then, hurry along that hose.”

CHAPTER V

Whilst the chief mate, aided by the now willing crew, ran aft the hose and set to work to flood the trade-room, Latour the steward, a smart little Frenchman, taking a man with him, jumped below and knocked loudly at the door of Tessa’s cabin, which was the foremost but one of five on the starboard side, the intervening one separating it from the trade-room. There was no answer to his repeated cries and knocking. Then he and the native sailor each tried to force the door, but it defied their efforts, and then, as they paused for a moment, they heard the crackling sound of fire within a few feet of them.

The native seaman, a big, square-shouldered Manhikian, looked around the main cabin for a second; then he darted into the second mate’s cabin, and returned with a carpenter’s broad axe. One smashing blow with the back of the tool started the lock, and a second sent the door flying open.

The lamp was burning brightly, but both Tessa and Maoni were sunk in a heavy slumber, and although Latour called loudly to them to arise, they made no answer, though Tessa tried to sit up, and her lips moved as she muttered incoherently, only to fall back again with closed eyelids.

There was no time to lose. Latour lifted Tessa out of her berth, and followed by the native, who carried Maoni, they hurried up the companion-way, and laid the two girls down upon the quarter-deck, where Malua took charge of them.

For nearly ten minutes the mate and crew worked hard to subdue the fire, and all might have gone well had there been a sufficient head of steam to keep the ship head to wind and the donkey-engine going, but at the first alarm the drunken, cowardly firemen had refused duty and tried to rush one of the boats, and amidst the curses and blows which Carr and Atkins were showering upon them another mighty sea tumbled aboard for’ard, and the Motutapu was half-smothered again.

Morrison crawled up exhaustedly on the deck from the engine-room.

“It’s a case as far as steaming goes, Mr. Atkins. I’m done up. Send some one down into the stokehole for Mr. Studdert. He dropped a minute ago. But if you’ll give me a couple of your men I can keep the engines going.”

“It’s no use, Morrison. None of my men would go into the stokehole to work, but they’ll bring Mr. Studdert up quick enough. The ship is doomed, so don’t bother. We’ll have to take to the boats.”

The Motutapu was indeed doomed, for, despite the frantic efforts of Oliver and the native crew, the fire had gained complete possession of the saloon, though every opening on deck had been battened down and all cabin ports had been closed. Most fortunately, however, the fore part of the trade-room, where the powder was stowed, had been thoroughly saturated, and both Oliver and Atkins felt assured that no danger need be apprehended from that source.

In a few minutes the engines ceased to work, but the donkey-engine on deck, with its furnace filled with cotton waste soaked in kerosene, kept the hose going, and sent a steady stream of water through the hole cut in the after-deck. Meanwhile Harvey and the second mate, aided by the energetic little French steward, had made good progress with the boats, all three of which were ready for lowering, and contained some provisions and water. Such fore and aft canvas as the steamer carried was set, so as to keep her to the wind as much as possible, and help to steady her. Then, seeing that the flames were bursting through the sides of the saloon skylight, and that the ship would scarcely answer her helm under such miserable canvas, Oliver abandoned all hope of saving her.

“All ready, sir?” replied Atkins.

And then before they could be stopped the firemen made a rush for the best boat of the three, a fine new whaler, hanging in davits just abaft the bridge. Four of them jumped into her, the remaining two cast off the falls, and began to lower away hastily.

“You cowardly dogs!” shouted the second mate, rushing up to the nearest man, tearing the after-fall out of his hands, and making it fast again round the cleet, and then springing at the other man, who paused irresolutely, intimidated by Atkin’s threatening visage. But though he paused but momentarily, it was fatal, for the instant the mate’s back was turned the first man, with an oath of drunken defiance, cast off the fall and let it go with a run, just as the Motutapu was heaved up by a lofty sea, and rolled heavily to port.

A cry of terror burst from the four doomed men in the boat, as they fell headlong into the sea, and she hung by the for’ard fall, straight up and down.

“Let them drown!” roared Atkins to some native seamen who sprang to his assistance, “overboard two or three of you, and save the boat. She’ll be smashed to matchwood in a minute, the after-fall has unshipped;” then whipping a knife from the belt of one of them he severed the remaining fall, and saw the boat plunge down sternwards and outwards from the side just in time; another half-minute and she would have disappeared under the steamer’s bottom to be hopelessly stove in. And with cries of encouragement to each other, four natives leapt over the side, swam after her, clambered in and then shouted that they were all right, and would come alongside and stand by, for although the oars and other fittings had been lost, there were half a dozen canoe paddles lashed under the thwarts, and these were quickly brought into use.

All this happened in a few minutes, and as Atkins ran to assist Harvey with the two quarter boats which had been lowered, and were now standing by alongside, there came a sudden crashing of glass, as the flames in the saloon burst through the sides of the skylight, and drove every one to the main deck.

“That settles the matter,” said Oliver quietly to Harvey, as a sudden gust of flame leapt from the lee side of the skylight, and caught the fore and aft mainsail, which was quickly destroyed; then the steamer at once fell off, and the flames began to travel for’ard.

With all possible speed, but without excitement, Tessa and Maoni, who were still under the influence of the drugged coffee, and unable to stand, or even utter a word, were placed in the first boat, of which Atkins took charge for the time, with four natives as a crew. The second quarter boat, in which Hendry and Chard had been placed, then came alongside, and the two surviving firemen, now thoroughly cowed and trembling, and terrified into a mechanical sobriety, were brought to the gangway and told to jump.

“Jump, you rotten beggars, jump,” said Morrison; “over you go into the water if you want to save your useless lives. The men in the boat will pick you up. We are not going to risk bringing her alongside for the sake of swine like you. Over you go,” and then seizing one of them by the collar of his shirt and the belt, he sent him flying over the side, the other man jumping over to avoid rougher treatment from the native seamen, who were disgusted at their cowardice. Then Morrison, Studdert, and three natives followed, and the boat pulled away clear of the ship, and stood by.

“Pull up, boys!” cried Oliver to the men in the third boat—the one which the firemen had rushed. Then turning to Latour, who was standing near him with a sack half full of heavy articles—firearms, ammunition, the ship’s books, etc.—he bade him go first.

Disdaining to wait for the boat to come alongside the little Frenchman sprang over the side and swam to the boat; then the bag—its contents too precious to be wetted—was adroitly lowered and caught by one of the hands. Jessop, the second steward, whose limbs were shaking with terror, was told to jump, but pleaded that he could not swim.

“You miserable hound!” cried Oliver fiercely, and he raised his hand to strike him; then a scornful pity took the place of anger, and he ordered the boat to come alongside so that he could get in.

“Now’s your chance, you dirty little cur,” he said, as the boat’s bow came within a foot of the steamer’s side.

The fear-stricken man jumped, fell short, and in an instant disappeared under the ship, as she rolled suddenly to starboard. When he came to the surface again it was at the stern, with several broken ribs, he having struck against the propeller. He was, however, soon rescued and placed in safety, and then but three natives and Harvey and Oliver remained on board. The natives went first, the white men quickly followed, and clambered into the boat, which at once joined the two others, and then all three lay to, and their occupants watched the Motutapu drifting before the wind, with the red flames enveloping her from stern to stem.

Ordering the other boats to remain close to him until further orders, but to steer W. by N. if anything should part them from him during the night, Oliver and Harvey, as they watched the burning steamer lighting up the heaving sea for miles around, discussed their future plans, and quickly resolved upon a certain course of action to be followed in the morning.

Towards midnight the wind died away entirely, and an hour later the heavy, lumpy sea changed into a long, sweeping swell. A mile to leeward the Motutafu still blazed fiercely, and sent up vast volumes of smoke and flame from her forehold, where some hundreds of cases of kerosene were stowed.

The three boats were pretty close together, and Harvey, exhausted by the events of the day, and knowing that Tessa was safe with the second mate, was just dozing off into a “monkey’s sleep” when he was awakened by a hail from Atkins.

“What’s the matter, Atkins?” cried Oliver.

“We’re all right, sir; but Miss Remington has just come to, and is asking for Mr. Carr, so I said I’d hail you just to show her that he is with you. Better let me come alongside.”

Oliver looked at Harvey with something like a smile in his eyes.

“All right, Atkins,” he replied, and then to Harvey, “Here, wake up young-fellow-my-lad, and get into the other boat with your sweetheart. I don’t want you here. What’s the use of you if you haven’t even a bit of tobacco to give me?”

The second mate’s boat drew alongside, and in another minute Harvey was seated in the stern sheets with Tessa’s cheek against his own, and her arms round his neck.

“Any of you fellows got any tobacco, and a pipe to spare?” said the prosaic Oliver. “If you haven’t, sheer off.”

“Lashings of everything,” said Atkins.

“Here you are: two pipes, matches, bottle of Jimmy Hennessy, and some water and biscuits. What more can you want? Who wouldn’t sell a farm and go to sea?”

CHAPTER VI

At sunrise the three boats were all within a half-mile of each other, floating upon a smooth sea of the deepest blue. Overhead the vault of heaven was unflecked by a single cloud, though far away on the eastern sea-rim a faintly curling bank gave promise of a breeze before the sun rose much higher.

At a signal from Oliver the second mate pulled up, and he, Harvey, and the chief mate again held a brief consultation. Then Harvey went back to Oliver, and both boats came together, rowing in company alongside that of the captain’s, no one speaking, and all feeling that sense of something impending, born of a sudden silence.

The captain’s boat was steered by Huka, the Savage Islander; Hendry himself was sitting beside Chard in the stern sheets, Morrison and Studdert amidships amidst the native crew, whose faces were sullen and lowering, for in the bottom of the boat one of their number, who had been shot in the stomach by either the captain or Chard, was dying.

Hendry’s always forbidding face was even more lowering than usual as his eyes turned upon the chief officer. Chard, whose head was bound up in a bloodstained handkerchief, smiled in his frank, jovial manner as he rose, lifted his cap to Tessa, and nodded pleasantly to Oliver and Harvey.

“What are your orders, sir?” asked the chief mate addressing the captain.

Hendry gave him a look of murderous hatred, and his utterance almost choked him as he replied—