Читать книгу Trapped in the Jungle! - Frederick Sadleir Brereton - Страница 8

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“Boat ahoy! Sit up, me hearties. Ahoy, there! Ahoy!”

Chu sat upright and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Masters!” he gasped. “Masters! Masters!”

Unceremoniously he kicked David, who lay on the flimsy bottom boards of the boat, his tousled head on his arms, sunk in deep sleep. The lanky Elmer was right aft, curled up under the stern seat, his skin ebony, thanks to long exposure to the sun, three weeks’ growth of luxuriant, youthful beard on his chin.

“Ahoy! Ahoy, me lads!! Stand by to be taken aboard.”

Was it a dream? Was that really a ship surging slowly towards them so that in a few minutes she would be alongside? Her bows made hardly so much as a ripple, for she was going dead slow, and already her propeller was reversing so that Pacific foam swept along her side towards the bows, frothing and heaving and already making the boat rock. David and Elmer were on their feet in a moment, gripping the gunwale, balancing the craft carefully, for long habit had now taught them to be always wary of their movements and to take infinite trouble to trim their cockleshell.

“A ship!” shouted David.

He too was as brown as any berry, burned almost black in fact, and though no luxuriant beard graced his youthful chin, flimsy, glistening hairs were budding absurdly from his lip and chin, promise perhaps of better things to come.

“Now what do you say to that,” yelled Elmer. “Hooroosh! A ship!”

“All fast asleep here,” said Chu, as if he were chiding them. “An’ no one keep watch.”

“That’s me,” shouted Elmer. “I’m the fellow to blame. Say, it was that hot yesterday and last night that I couldn’t keep an eye open. Oh, yes, I know, David did his go and called me to take my watch. But—but—wa-a-al, what’s it matter now? It’s a real live ship. Those are real men aboard her, and, say, those are the first voices besides our own we’ve heard these three weeks or more. Three weeks did I say?”

“It’s a guess,” said David. “We just don’t know. But, jingo, it is a ship, at last, the first we’ve seen within miles ever since this business started.”

During the days they had drifted in that cockleshell—how many days not one of the three could guess, for they came and went with monotonous regularity—during those days an occasional smudge of smoke had been seen in the far distance, and once a ship appeared to be steering towards them though still far away. But either she altered course or the brilliant, blinding rays of a tropic sun deceived them. She disappeared in a heat mist and for a while there was dejection on board. But, youthful spirits soon revived. While the weather held all was reasonably well with them. True, the sun was uncomfortably hot. The sail had, however, been a godsend. They sheltered in its shade for part of the day, hoisting it when there was a breeze and the sun cast a shadow over the boat in which they could lie. But why hoist the sail at all?

“Might take us farther and farther from help and oceangoing steamers,” said David.

“Yep,” agreed Elmer, laconically. “We’ve no maps, no compass, no information of our whereabouts. Seems to me that letting the drift carry us is as wise as anything.”

And so they fished and fished, and ate and slept, taking turns to keep watch. Strange that it was during the energetic Elmer’s turn for duty that rescue had arrived. Towering above them was the rail of the steamer. Men were leaning over, and David was sure he caught sight of a girl. A man in his shirt-sleeves, the garment wide open at the neck, was perched on the bridge and was using a megaphone.

“Stand by there to bring ’em aboard,” he shouted.

“Mr. Jennings, drop your ladder and get down on the end of a rope. We’ll hoist ’em aboard. Drop the slings we use when painting ship and smart with it. Stand by, men.”

It was the voice of a Scot, the familiar broad accents declaring the fact without leaving room for doubt. The engine telegraph rang as the order was sent to the men below to shut off steam. At once the propeller ceased to churn, and way having by then been taken off the ship she lay to within a few yards of the drifting boat.

“Put her in closer, lads,” shouted the captain. “Get an oar out.”

The three young fellows had been so startled, so taken aback, so stirred by the appearance of the ship that they were almost dazed. It meant rescue when hopes of rescue had descended almost to zero. It meant security, companionship, home perhaps, an opportunity to search for Elmer’s uncle.

“And it means a change of diet, don’t it,” laughed Elmer, as though he had been thinking aloud, for the amazing change in their fortunes and all that it might mean had been surging through his mind. “Oars, yes, that’s the ticket. Paddle her over.”

Chu had one over the stern already, and David soon had the other dipping in the water. Together they brought their rickety craft close to the towering sides of the vessel.

“Who goes first?” sang out David. “You do, Elmer.”

“Not on your life, my bantam,” shouted the American. “I’m heaps older than you and age gives command, don’t it?”

“Depends,” grinned David. “Commands go to ability first. A spot of age helps, of course.”

“Heave to with that jaw-wabbling,” came from the mate who had caused a ladder to be dropped over the side and had swarmed down it. He was resting there, a rope secured about his waist, standing on the lowest rung, his feet dripping in the swell of the Pacific and then lifting into the dry.

“D’you expect me to hang here all day like a fly while you get to work arguing. Say, who is skipper of this outfit?”

“He’s here,” cried Elmer.

“You! Well, perhaps, but a hair-cut’ll do something to clear up the situation,” grinned the mate. “But you take orders from me, see. Come aboard. Get yourself into this sling.”

“Me! In a sling! Not on your life,” bellowed Elmer, obstinately. He stood to his full height, showing off his athletic figure, while his fair hair now inordinately long, floated about his head and neck like a golden mane. “I’m as fit as any man,” cried the American. “And I don’t get hoisted in any sling, just as if I was a baby. No, sir, I climb.”

Climb he did, reaching the rail in no time; followed by Chu and then by David.

“Been aboard that shell long?” asked the mate, while men crowded round them.

“What’s the date?” asked David.

“Just three days left in December.”

“And when was Pearl Harbour bombed by the Nips?”

“The seventh, early dawn. Why? How’d you hear the yarn?”

“We were almost in it,” cried Elmer. “It’s a heap of a long story. But here it is in short. We were aboard a yacht, the Mignonette, perhaps more than fifty miles from Honolulu, and early that seventh a Jap submarine blew us up. Here’s what’s left of the yacht and its crew.”

“But that’s three weeks ago, neither more nor less,” declared the mate. “Captain, these young fellows say they’ve been aboard that old tub since the seventh of December, the day Japan attacked Pearl Harbour. What do you make of that? Three weeks aboard and look fit, though their clothing isn’t much to boast of.”

That was only too true. Coming so suddenly and unexpectedly back into a busy world as it were they were hardly more than barely decent. Their swimming-trunks had frayed badly, the sun had taken the colour out of them, and here and there the garments were held together precariously by threads picked from the frayed edge and dexterously inserted by Chu’s cunning fingers.

Captain Perkins regarded them closely. Was there something suspicious about their yarn? Care was vitally necessary, especially just now in the Pacific where spies abounded and the Japanese were sweeping the high seas, endeavouring to sink every ship.

“They look the tale all right, Mr. Jennings,” he said. “Hair-cut won’t do ’em any sort of harm, that’s true. But—but three weeks. How did they live? Any stores aboard that boat?”

“Two fishing-lines and nothing more, sir. The thing is as bare as a bone. Just a sail, two oars, a couple of fishing-lines, and many holes in the sides. Seems as if she had been gunned.”

“That’s right,” cried David. “She was. You see, we were just starting our morning swim when the submarine rose and attacked the yacht. How have we lived? Why are we as fit as ever? Because Chu—this is Chu, our Chinese boy—thought up the idea of catching fish as they do in China, with a bright scarlet strand from his togs to attract the fish as bait. It did the trick. We caught the fish every day. Could have done so all day and all night. I begin to hate the thought of eating more raw fish. Excuse me, Captain, but have you any other sort of food aboard, and—and coffee?”

“And some clothes, too. Gee! I’m tired of this sort of theatrical costume,” laughed Elmer. “Of course, it was all right in the tropics. But in the Atlantic it would have meant death, fish or no fish. As to food and drink, it was a brute of a situation. I thought we were bound to sink on that point. But fish are meat and drink. Drink, sir, and that’s what saved us.”

“Come down below. Knock a hole in that boat and sink her, Mr. Jennings. Steward! Where’s the steward?”

He was one of the men crowding about the rescued youths and led the way at once to the deck house.

“Coffee, yes,” he grinned. “It’s smoking hot this instant. Now what would you fellows like? With what can I tempt you?”

“I’d eat horse, if there was nothing better,” roared Elmer. “Say, mister, what really is there?”

“Porridge. Piping hot. Plenty of milk too.”

“Sakes!” shouted Elmer, rubbing his hands.

“And eggs and bacon to follow, eh, steward?” David laughed.

“You’ve hit the right nail. You could have a cut off a joint just to start with, to sort of fill odd corners,” grinned the steward, thoroughly enjoying the situation, of which he was certainly master. “We’ve some bully beef opened. That’s famous stuff. And eggs. Sure! How many of ’em for each? And the Chinee? Does he eat our grub?”

“Try him,” laughed David. “He’s Westernised. He’s had his fill of fish. Chu, what say to breakfast?”

They were a deliriously happy party, for even then they could hardly realise the good fortune which had befallen them. Only those who have been cast adrift in such an immense ocean as is the Pacific, could adequately comprehend what deliverance meant. Day after day David and his companions had shielded their eyes from the all-pervading glare and the terribly hot rays which were reflected from a surface almost entirely clear of ripples. A smooth, oily sheet of glistening water, dull green in colour for the most part but sometimes of a Mediterranean blue, stretched into the distant horizon, with never a ship upon it. Not one airplane came within their vision, and no breeze seemed to ruffle the water. Still, there was a breeze at times, as hot as the exhaust of a furnace, and no doubt tidal movements had swept them from the position in which they were when the Mignonette was sunk.

Indeed, unknown to the castaways, they had drifted very many miles, and at times, at night in particular, when the roasting rays of the sun ceased to beat upon them and black darkness swallowed sea and cranky boat, cool air swept gently across the surface wafting them invisibly and smoothly upon a westerly course.

“You could steam for days through these seas even in peace-time,” said the friendly steward, as he stood in the small saloon, arms akimbo, watching his guests devour their breakfast with appetites which he had seldom witnessed before. “It’s just huge, immense, stretches for thousands of miles and takes days, no weeks, to cross from one port to another. Now that there’s a war on and the Jap fleet is patrolling there are, of course, fewer ships around. We shouldn’t be here save for the fact that we got orders to turn round when bound for Seattle and make for Hong Kong. Perhaps that will be attacked. The old man, our skipper, you know—skippers aboard freighters are always called that—isn’t under any delusion. He knows he won’t be safe till he makes port, perhaps not even then. But he’s a clever old bird. He’s been afloat pretty well all his life, and if anyone can dodge these Nips he’s the boy. More coffee? Does it taste good?”

“Scrumptious!” laughed David, emptying his cup. “When you’ve had raw fish for breakfast, with no coffee to wash it down, eh? and raw fish for lunch, with some more thrown in for tea, don’t you know, eh?”

“And then some,” grinned Elmer, shaking his head to sweep his ridiculous yellow mane out of the way of his eyes. “Say, steward, got a barber aboard?”

“Here? On just a freighter! On your life, no! Every man here is a barber. I cut the old man’s hair. It’s a great honour. Also the mate’s. One of the greasers does the job for the engine-room staff, and the deck hands cut one another’s hair. You’d say we make sights of one another. Not a bit of it. It’s like everything else that you set your hand to. You get expert, you know, take a pride in making a man look fancy and sometimes wonder whether you won’t, after all, settle down some day and hang out a barber’s sign. More food for anyone? We’ve heaps of it.”

There is a limit even to the appetite of youth, though he may have been starved of necessary food for quite a while. That could not be said of David and his friends. They were an excellent illustration of what could be done under similar circumstances. Not perhaps in Atlantic seas, where rough weather is common and where fish are, maybe, far less abundant. There is also in those waters the question of exposure. Men who are torpedoed and thrown into the Atlantic do not always succumb to drowning. They are more or less paralysed by the cold, and if left to fight for existence in an open boat with insufficient cover and no means of keeping their clothing dry too often suffer tortures, have their hands and feet frostbitten and succumb.

In the Pacific tropical heat has its dangers and its severe discomforts. But it does not kill so readily, though the heat induces thirst which, if not quenched, makes men drink sea water, and that means madness.

“And now for clothes,” said the steward. “You are the second bunch for whom we’ve had to search our lockers for spare togs.”

“Meaning?” asked Elmer.

“The Nips torpedoed a ship two weeks ago. She was a small freighter on her way to Hong Kong from one of the Solomon Islands. There were seven hands on board, a mate and the old man and his daughter. The explosion killed three, including the skipper. The rest got away in one of the ship’s boats and we picked ’em up two days later. The Japs just left the survivors to drown or die. That’s war.”

“That’s this devilish war,” exclaimed David, horrified.

He was too young to have much knowledge of what was known as the Great War, the intensity of which, and its bitterness and cruelty were already far surpassed by the new war in which he found himself immersed. In that earlier war the Germans, though organised and enormously powerful, were not the formidable people they now were. Their aims were not so far sweeping and grandiose. They desired the world this time. Or rather, they aimed to subdue the greater part of Europe, and had cajoled the upstart Italian Mussolini to join forces with them. But they were not the only nation with ambition to overrun their neighbours. Indeed, Japan had not hesitated to state her case. She desired the East, all of it, for herself. China to begin with. Then the myriad islands dotting the wide Pacific, large and small—and some are enormous. Finally, she had aggressive intentions towards the Malay Peninsula, the Dutch East Indian possessions, even India itself; and rumour and the warnings of those who knew the Japanese war lords and had had perhaps unpleasant experience of the overweening conceit of the nation, indicated that, like the upstart Hitler and his German-speaking supporters, Japan had designs on the whole globe and was determined, however long the struggle might take, to subdue the white man.

David was living in adventurous, momentous times. This was a bitterly cruel war, war to the knife, war which meant life or death, freedom or slavery for Britons and Americans and a host of other nationals. It was a struggle which demanded every ounce of grit and determination and which would test their fighting and organising qualities as never before. What then was the torpedoing of a mere ocean freighter?

“Anyway,” said the steward. “We picked them up, and they, like you, wanted togs. Come along to the old man’s quarters. That’s his order.”

How often during this tremendous struggle have ships’ companies had need to ransack their lockers in search of spare garments for castaways? Generous, good-hearted fellows that they are they vied with one another to provide David and Elmer with suitable clothing. And since the tropics call for no great amount of covering it was not long before they were completely clad. Hair-cutting followed. A burly Irishman, one of the deck hands, took the steward’s place, the latter having other duties, and soon Elmer was seated on a sugar box under the awning slung across the main deck, and with a towel round his neck was submitting himself to the dexterous fingers of Mike.

“And sure it’s himself would be pleased to have a beard same as that,” sang out Mike as he stood back and took stock of the young American. “Sure he would.”

“And who’s himself, eh?” asked Elmer.

“Why, the old man, none other,” laughed Mike. “Begad, it’s a year since he set to to grow one. But is it the one he’d dare to show at home? He’d have all the hooligans of bhoys following him shouting. It’s that spiky he almost pricks his fingers with it, and it just grows in patches. But this—this——”

He stroked Elmer’s chin and fondled the beard which three weeks in an open boat, in a torrid climate, without razor or scissors, had caused to sprout.

“Lay off,” shouted the good-natured Elmer, grinning at some of the deck hands who were lounging near at hand enjoying this break in the monotony of ship life. “Cut the blamed thing and keep a lock of it if you like. I reckon a good bath after the hair-cut will complete the business, for though we often took a dip some fresh water would be sort of refreshing.”

“How’d you young fellows feel about taking your turn on watch,” asked the skipper when at last their hair-cutting, bathing, and general toilet were completed. “This Japanese business has made a lot of difference to the hours of duty. Every man has to do his whack. Even Miss Mary Evans does a good share. Eh, young lady?”

They had been joined by a slim, smiling girl, perhaps she might be termed a young woman. She was barely twenty years of age, petite, decidedly pretty and, one would say, a trifle inclined to be masculine. But then she had lived aboard ship with her father and had more or less roughed it for some years. She knew much about ship customs and the handling of vessels. And she had sailed to many of the ports in the Far East and knew many of the tiny islands dotting the Pacific. She was clad in blue overalls, the only reasonably suitable garment the ship had been able to supply.

“And why not?” she asked, smiling at them. “The day has passed, when a girl just sits and knits. I took a watch on the Saucy Ann before she was torpedoed and I’m glad to do so here. It keeps one from thinking.”

“Then the hours are two on and two off,” said the captain. “We keep a man all day up in the crow’s-nest. From there he gets a long view. Then a man is posted in the bows and the stern, and two more to starboard and port. That’s as much as we can do. Of course, every man knows his duty in case of attack. We’ve a couple of light anti-aircraft guns for’ard and aft. They were fitted when we were last in Hong Kong, where some of the hands were trained to work them. The Navy couldn’t spare any gunners to sail with us. Anyway, lads, that’s our defence against the Nips, that and our constant watching. Mr. Jennings, post these lads to their boats and put ’em wise to all the ropes. Warn ’em not to undress at night, not for the next few nights at any rate, for the Nips are out to blow every white man they can find out of what they think is their sea.”

David and Elmer were thoroughly enjoying themselves. After their long spell in the open boat shipboard life was most interesting and entertaining. They went on watch at regular intervals, stood to their boats when “Boat Stations” were ordered, and were particularly pleased to be chosen as part of the crew of the two guns.

“Just in case,” said the mate. “It’s always well to have reserves of men, you know. And serving these guns is hard work. Though not by any means the latest models, they are useful weapons for they can fire as Ack Ack guns or can be depressed to aim at a ship. That is a mighty good point, for we might get planes attacking us; or it might be a surface vessel. Just recollect that we are in the midst of enemy waters. It’s hard for the old man to decide which way to steer. He was ordered from his course away east and is now dodging down hoping to make a north Australian port, perhaps Darwin. There’s no news yet of the Nips being down there. But this war moves fast and they have their eyes on Australia just as they have on Singapore and the Dutch East Indies.”

David and Elmer studied the map in the captain’s cabin and saw for themselves the actual position of the ship compared with that of the many islands held by the enemy.

“We’ll be almighty lucky if we slip through without being spotted, eh?” grunted David.

“Just anything may happen,” agreed Elmer. “But we’ve had one brush with these Nips and are bound to have others.”

A little after sunrise a few days later the masthead look-out hailed the deck.

“A plane,” he shouted. “Flying this way too, out of the west.”

“Might be from a Philippine base,” said the captain. “Those devils have made a ferocious attack on the Filipinos and the Americans there. Jap sure enough,” he cried a few minutes later, fixing his glasses on the plane. “A reconnaissance plane I’ve little doubt. He’ll be calling up his home base. There’ll be fireworks soon. Every man stand to!” he shouted.

Stripped to the waist, grouped round their guns or at points to which they had been posted, the crew peered out from beneath the awnings or from the open deck, sweeping the horizon and watching the surface of the sea nearer at hand lest a submarine should attack. Another plane presently appeared and for a while the two circled the ship at a distance. Then they turned and were lost in the misty distance.

“That means business,” said the captain, grimly, as he went his way, visiting the gun crews and other parts of the ship. Then he mounted the bridge and megaphone in hand waited for an attack which all were sure was coming, which indeed might be expected at any moment.