The Ocean Wireless Boys on the Pacific

“We thinkee that good storm blow you here, white boys,” said Anai.

The sky grew darker, and every now and then a big roller entirely filled the mouth of the cavern, blinding them with spray. Having spent its fury, these great waves retired with a concussion that was deafening, dragging the canoe with fearful velocity toward the mouth of the cave by its suction. At such times they only saved themselves from being swept out to sea by grasping the hanging curtain of creepers and vines. Anai and his companion baled the canoe with a big shell, but the boys felt that their position was an awkward and even a dangerous one.

Another great wave burst, sealing up the cave as if it was an air-tight compartment, and making the waters of the cavern boil and seethe furiously. The pressure of air caused by the sudden rush of water affected the boys’ ears as if they had been suddenly placed in a caisson.

“This is terrible,” cried Jack.

“Something will have to be done,” said Billy. “We can’t last in here much longer.”

“Are we in danger, Anai?” asked Jack.

“We in very bad fix; but we getee out all right,” the Kanaka assured him, stopping his bailing.

“They’ve got some plan in their head,” decided Jack, and sat down in the bottom of the cranky, frail canoe to see what the next move was to be. It was a startling one. The two youths seized their paddles and then, as the next wave receded, they shot out of the mouth of the cave like a bomb from a mortar, before either Jack or Billy could guess their intention or stop what seemed sheer madness on the Kanakas’ part, and placed all their lives in grave danger. Outside they found themselves in the teeth of a howling gale. Spray blinded them, flying over them in sheets.

Nothing more was said, nothing seen. The air was darkened with flying spume. It seemed impossible that the canoe could live a minute.

CHAPTER XIII. – ON THE REEF

The two lads crouched, drenched through, on the bottom of the canoe, while the Kanaka boys paddled furiously. Giant waves, true mountains of water, hung above them threatening to engulf them, but the canoe rode them with what appeared incredible buoyancy.

How long this kept up, neither Jack nor Billy ever knew. It seemed like years. Dizzy and sick from the riotous motions of the canoe as it swung wildly between sea and sky, they lost all count of everything. But the struggle was nearing its end.

Suddenly a giant comber caught up the dugout, turtled it skyward and then rushed it sickeningly down. It lifted the craft over the reef and into the open sea. For one instant it hesitated and then spun round in the trough of the sea. The next moment it was smashed into slivers against the reef while an avalanche of waters carried all its occupants down into the depths before they had time to even shout their consternation. More dead than alive, Jack shot back to the surface again. Not far from him was a projecting point of the reef. He managed somehow to crawl to it, but as he made his progress along the lower lying portions of the coral wall he was swept time and again by waves and compelled to exert all his strength to avoid being dashed off. At length, with hands cut and bleeding from the rough coral, and his clothing in shreds, he reached his refuge and was almost immediately joined there, to his great relief, by Anai and his comrade, who had rescued Billy Raynor.

But it was a miserable refuge they had found. The projecting point of rock hardly gave room for all of them, and frequently waves swept over it. At all times they were choked and blinded with spray.

“Well, this is the limit,” declared Billy. “Never again for me so far as pearl hunting is concerned.”

“Nor for me either,” said Jack. “Still, it was our fault for not watching the weather.”

“How long will the storm last, Anai, do you think?” inquired Billy, a little later.

The Kanaka boy looked at the weather with a practiced eye.

“Him get better soon,” he said. “Him not bad storm.”

“Not a bad storm!” exclaimed Jack. “Well, if this isn’t one, I never want to see one.”

“Sometimes hurricane season come blow whole village away,” Anai assured him.

“I hope this won’t be a hurricane,” said Jack.

The Kanaka shook his head.

“Bimeby him go way,” he assured them. “Look blue sky way off there now.”

Sure enough, in the far north-west, from whence the hurricane had come, a shaft of sunlight was striking the sea. Behind them they could see the storm retreating. Before long the sea had quieted down and the wind dropped almost completely.

“Well, we are better off in one respect,” said Jack, as they lay about on the reef, basking in the hot sun and drying their wet garments, “but how are we to get ashore?”

The question was answered by Anai.

“Me swim, get canoe. Soon back,” he said.

The next moment his lithe brown form was in the water. To protect himself against sharks, he carried a long knife, fashioned out of iron wood, which was slung round his neck by a lanyard. It was as tough and hard as steel, and he appeared to have no doubt that he could protect himself with it against the great fish.

Half-way to the shore a triangular fin came cruising near him and the boys dreaded to see a tragic end to their island friend. But Anai set up diabolical yells and kicked up a great splashing in the water and the sea monster sheered off again.

“Shark him big coward,” said Anai’s friend, who had remained behind with the boys. Directly Anai landed he turned and waved and then set off at a sharp run along the beach. Before they expected him he was back again with a canoe, and thus an adventure which might have had disastrous consequences ended safely. But it was a long time before the boys ever forgot it.

The next morning Jack and Billy were leaning over the rail of the Sea Gypsy, chatting and watching the sharks that swum around the ship eagerly watching for scraps from the galley. The coal was nearly all unloaded from the small, rusty tramp that had brought it, and all hands were looking forward to a resumption of the journey.

In the meantime, Mr. Jukes had been investigating ashore and learned, from some natives, that the “Tear of the Sea” had actually been bought by his brother, and that just after the purchase, the Centurion had sailed away. Not long after, ‘Bully’ Broom’s ship arrived, and the sea rover was informed of the sale. He was furious as it appeared that, in accordance with his usual practice, he intended to raid the village and take possession of the wonderful pearl by force. Mr. Jerushah Jukes’ arrival ahead of him had, of course, frustrated this plan. According to the best information he could get, the millionaire learned that “Bully” had at once put to sea in pursuit of the Centurion. The finding of the empty derelict left little doubt that he had attacked the schooner and imprisoned, or worse, perhaps killed, all those on board her.

This, in its way, was well enough, but it left the fate of the party still a mystery, and their whereabouts unknown, for “Bully” had half a dozen retreats scattered through the South Seas where he might have taken them, for even Captain Sparhawk did not believe that the ruffian would have dared to kill them.

CHAPTER XIV. – BATTLING MAN-EATING SHARKS

“Like a chance to catch one uv them bastes, Mishther Riddy?” asked Tim Muldoon, the Irish quarter-master of the Sea Gypsy, who paused near where the boys were standing watching a mighty commotion in the water made by two great tiger sharks fighting desperately over a piece of spoiled pork that had been thrown overboard.

“What would we do with it when we had it?” asked Jack with a smile.

“Shure there’s a certain part of the cratirs that makes illigint ateing. Meself and several other la-ads in ther crew wouldn’t have iny objictions at all, at all to a bit of shar-ark steak if so be y’u’d loike to hook one.”

“What do you say, Billy?” asked Jack.

“That it would be good fun. But what sort of a rig do you use? No use taking an eight-ounce rod and a dry fly or a hand line to those fellows.”

“Shure oi’ve got a foine shar-ark hook up forward. I’ll go git it fer yez,” declared Muldoon, hurrying off.

He was back before long with a hook that looked like one of those used by butchers on which to hang whole carcasses. Attached to this was a length of steel chain with a swivel, and above a stout rope some hundred feet in length. Billy Raynor went below to the cook’s quarters and soon came back with a big chunk of pork which was stuck on the hook.

“How’ll we haul him out if we do get one?” Billy wanted to know, as the bait struck the water with a splash.

“Just give a holler and I’ll git some uv ther byes uv ther crew to lind yez a hand,” declared Muldoon. “Sure 'tis foine spor-rot ye’ll be hivin’ intirely – wow! murtha! Watch yersilf Misther Raynor!”

There had come a sudden vicious rush of one of the sea-monsters at the hook. Turning its hideous jaws upward, the ravenous creature had literally swallowed “hook, line and sinker.” It happened that at that precise moment Billy alone had hold of the rope.

As the shark’s jaws gripped the hook and its sharp point sunk into his flesh, the creature made a mighty rush. It caught Billy unprepared as he stood by the rail, a section of which had been removed while the crew polished the brass work.

Before he realised what was happening a coil of the rope entangled his legs. Like a bullet from a gun, he was whisked off the deck and through the air into the sea, which Jack knew was alive with sharks. It had all happened so suddenly that the last of Muldoon’s alarmed cries had not left his lips before poor Billy was towed away from the ship by the maddened shark, unable to make a move to extricate himself. He was barely able to breathe, in fact, being half submerged.

Paralyzed for an instant, Jack regained his faculties with an effort. Captain Sparhawk, who had seen the whole affair, was the first to take definite action, however. He issued an order for a boat to be lowered at once and then dashed into his cabin for a pistol.

“Hurry, Sparhawk, for Heaven’s sake,” urged Mr. Jukes, who had also been a witness of the accident. “The poor lad will be drowned or eaten alive by the other sharks if we don’t act promptly.”

But the captain was already out of earshot. Muldoon and two other sailors were at the oars of the boat as he tumbled into it, followed by Jack, who, in his haste, did not stop to ask permission to come. Luckily, the shark, instead of taking a straight course out to sea, was dashing round and round in circles. This gave them a chance to save Billy’s life, for had the great fish pursued a straight course, Raynor’s fate would undoubtedly have been sealed.