Читать книгу The White Witch - Jack McLaren - Страница 6

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Followed by a score of natives, Sherwin grasped some of the broken gear trailing from the bow and scrambled on board. He made his way aft, carefully, for the force with which the vessel had struck the beach had buckled the deck and burst the seams. He clung to the stump of the mainmast till a surging sea swept past and receded. Then he approached the wheel.

"Is that you, Morton?" he asked as a man untied himself from the spokes.

"Yes," came the answer. "Get the girl ashore, will you? She is about done." He pointed to the steering-gear box behind the wheel.

Lashed to one of the side staunchions that held the box in position was a white woman. Her hair was all adrift and hanging sodden about her shoulders. Her dress was torn open at the neck and breast, and her face was bloodlessly white. Sherwin could see she was young, a mere girl. She hung in her lashings in that limpless fashion that tells of unconsciousness.

There was a man fastened to the other side of the box, but Sherwin did not stop to more than glance at him. He called the natives and, when a dozen of them came running, he and Morton tenderly unlashed the girl. A sea swept over the after end of the wreck while they were at it, and they crouched and held on till it passed. Then they placed the limp form of the girl in the arms of four natives and shepherded them along the deck to the bow. Here, Sherwin found a piece of rope and made a bo'sun's-chair and the girl was carefully lowered to the beach.

"You look after her," said Morton. "I will take a couple of these niggers and fetch the mate." He went aft again, three natives at his heels. Sherwin slipped over the side and went up the beach to where the girl was being carried.

As the natives laid their burden down, he found Bamu near him. "Here," he said, "you run longa house and bring bottle brandy from box under my bed. You savee that one? Brandy—flrewater—mura-mura?" Bamu's eyes lit up with understanding. "I savee," he said, making off. "I savee that one mura-mura long time."

A crowd of women flocked round the girl lying on the sand. One brought a piece of wood and placed it under her head for a pillow. Others stroked her hair and touched her forehead curiously. Sherwin knelt down and felt her heart.

"Only fainted, I think," he said to himself. "Doesn't look like a case of partial drowning." He slipped his arm behind her shoulders, half-raised her and then bent her body forward so that her head hung between her knees. In a few minutes Bantu arrived with the brandy ready opened for use. Sherwin lifted the girl's head and forced a few drops of the spirit between her lips. Presently her eyes opened, looked round wonderingly for a moment, and closed again.

"Only a faint." Sherwin's tone was of distinct relief. "Here, Lapa, Wandi, Masi! You fellers are about the cleanest women in the village. You go longa this white misi to my house." He detailed four men to act as carriers and saw to it that they picked the girl up gently and carefully.

As they started off, Captain Morton, half-supporting the mate, came up.

"How is she?" were his first words.

"Nothing much the matter with her," Sherwin answered. "Merely a faint. The women will put her to bed straight away."

"That's good," said Morton. "The mate here got a crack on the head from a block, or something, when the mast went. He's still a bit groggy on his feet."

"Come to the house," Sherwin invited, taking the other arm of the stumbling mate. "A stiff nip of brandy will do him good—and you, too, I daresay."

Neither spoke again till they were a hundred yards along the beach. Then Sherwin asked hesitatingly and slowly:—

"Nobody else—on board?"

The Captain shook his head sorrowfully.

"No," he answered.

"The crew?"

There was a little silence. Then Morton said slowly:—

"They were sheltering high up the mainmast rigging—" His voice was so low that the trader strained his ears to hear above the roar of the surf. "They were good boys, too—Hula and Mana-Mana natives."

"Only three survivors!" Sherwin exclaimed on the intake of his breath. Then he was silent. He had a score of questions to ask—why had the captain lifted anchor instead of trying to ride out the wind? What had delayed him at Thursday Island so that he was so late in arriving? Who was the passenger, and whither was she bound? But he could not ask the man who had just lost his ship and his crew just then.

They caught up to the men carrying the girl as they reached the house. Sherwin called to one of the crowd of natives who had followed them from the village out of curiosity, to take his place in helping the mate. Then he took the girl from her bearers and carried her up the steps to his bed in the smaller of the two rooms. The cook-boy brought a lamp and Sherwin sent him to the store-room to see if there was a trade dress or anything that would serve as feminine attire. The boy returned and shook his head. "No find nothing," he said. "Store empty proper."

"This is a hard-up camp right enough," Sherwin said, looking round the room. The place was decorated with all kinds of native weapons and ornaments. There were curiously carved dancing shields and face-masks, bundles of ceremonial arrows bone-and stone-tipped, wicker baskets and "dilly-bags," strings of small cowrie shells, woven body-belts. His eye fell on a finely plaited mat that was as supple as a cloak.

He pulled it down and handed it to the women who had followed him into the room.

"You feller put white misi to bed and put this round her. Savee? Look out you don't hurt her. Lapa, you got plenty savee, you show them other woman. Hang white misi's clothes in the wind so they dry quick."

Lapa nodded understandingly, and Sherwin went out and shut the door. Morton and the mate were on the verandah, the latter gazing about half-dazedly. Sherwin placed him in a canvas chair and called to the cook-boy to bring the brandy and glasses and a light. Bamu put the bottle of brandy on the table—he had been guarding it religiously all the time—and when the cook-boy brought a hurricane lamp, his master poured out a third of a glass and made the mate drink it. Then Morton had some.

"Sorry I can't offer you anything to smoke," Sherwin said as the Captain sat down. "I'm cut right out of all white-man stuff. There is only 'trade' tobacco, and you won't care about that."

"I don't care about smoking just now," Morton said gloomily. Sherwin cut up some of the rank, black tobacco and rammed it into his pipe. He heard the women moving about inside the house, and he wondered how they were getting on. The mate lay back in his chair with his eyes half-closed, and Morton sat with his hands clasped in front of him, staring iuto the darkness of the night. A number of natives crouched about the front of the house, talking softly. From portions he knew of their language. Sherwin knew they were discussing the wrecking of the "Mokohu."

"I'm sorry," Sherwin exclaimed presently. "I quite forgot! I'll root out some pyjamas and things for you two to change into." He made as though to rise, but the Captain restrained him.

"I'm all right," he said, somewhat gruffly, "and so is the mate. A drop of salt water won't hurt either of us. I am nearly dry anyway." He reached for the bottle. "I hope you don't mind?"

"Carry on," the trader said heartily. "I'll get you a change of clothes as soon as the women are finished with the girl and I can go into my room."

The brandy was not long in taking effect upon the mate, for soon his eyes opened full and lie began to talk.

"Came a proper buster, eh?" he said in a pleasant voice. "How's Miss Russell?"

Sherwin guessed he was referring to the passenger and he answered. "Quite unhurt," he said. "How do you feel?"

"Stiff and sore and somewhat stupid," the other said with a ghost of a laugh. "I have not quite got the hang of things yet. Is that you, Skipper?" he asked, peering at the man opposite him.

"Yes," Morton said shortly.

"We've had a bit of bad luck, eh?"

"Yes." The Captain's tone was very abrupt. "Can anything be done towards getting the schooner off again?"

It was Sherwin who answered this time. He saw that the Captain was not in a frame of mind for discussing anything connected with the loss of the "Mokohu"; the fate of his vessel was preying heavily upon him. "I am afraid not," he said gently. "She is right up in the village. She came ashore at the very top of the biggest spring tide we've had for six months or more, and it will be a long time before the water will rise to that height again. It's a good thing it was such a high tide, as a matter of fact; had it been an ordinary high-water, you would have stuck fast in the breakers and been smashed to bits in no time. We could see you bumping as it was." Lapa appeared as he finished speaking.

"Misi all right now," she said, and Sherwin rose at once.

"I will get you fellows some dry clothes," he said, and went into the house.

The girl was lying straight out in the bed, the blankets drawn close round her neck, and her hair was brought round to the front and spread over the coverlet. Sherwin, tip-toeing across the room to where a medley of clothes lay in a corner, stopped a moment to look at her. The bed stood in the centre of the room, and the mosquito-net was drawn back on one side. Sherwin stepped past the native women sitting on the floor and bent over the girl who had come ashore in such a ruthless fashion. It was evident she was breathing easily and regularly. A tinge of color showed in her cheeks. Sherwin laid his hand on her forehead to feel if she had a temperature, and the girl at once opened her eyes. She looked round in a startled fashion at the curios on the walls and the women on the floor. Then she suddenly sat upright, the blankets falling away and revealing the mat wrapped round her shoulders.

Sherwin pressed her gently back.

"You are all right," he said. "Go to sleep again. You are in safe hands."

"A white man," she whispered, turning her head so as to look at him. "I thought—" She stopped and drew her hand across her brow. Sherwin cursed himself for not haviug removed or covered the masks and things from the room; at first glance the girl would naturally think she had been captured by savages, or something of the sort, be reflected.

"There was such a big sea," the girl went on. "And a crash! I don't seem to remember any more. And I am so tired."

"Go to sleep again," Sherwin repeated. "These women will look after you. You are in safe hands and don't need to worry."

She looked at him very steadily, an expression that told of her efforts to get matters straightened out in her mind, on her face.

"Is Har—Mr. Wilson, I mean—all right?" she asked. Despite the weakness of her voice, Sherwin detected a note of anxiety.

"Mr. Wilson?" he asked.

"The mate of the 'Mokohu,' you know."

"Oh, yes; he is quite safe and sound."

She closed her eyes and soon was fast asleep. Sherwin watched her for awhile and then whispered instructions to the women to give Miss Russell a drink should she awaken. Then he found a couple of suits of pyjamas and returned to the men on the verandah.

"She is doing well," he said, in answer to a question by the mate. "She should be quite all right by morning."

Morton and Wilson went into the other room and changed their clothes.

"I am sorry I can't offer you anything to eat," Sherwin said when they returned. "I'm right out of everything. Been living on native tucker for the last week."

"Lend me a couple of niggers," Captain Morton said, "and I'll go off to the schooner for some of the cabin stores. The tide is falling now, and it won't be very difficult to get the things."

Sherwin called the cook-boy to fetch Bamu and one or two others, and when they arrived he ordered them to accompany Morton.

"Better bring some of Miss Russell's things, too," Wilson called, as the Captain descended the steps. "She will want them in the morning."

"I was not going to forget that," Morton said, and swung through the compound, and off along the beach.

"The poor old chap is cut up over this business," Wilson said. "Although he is making a brave attempt to hide it, I know he is very worried. You see, it's this way: We were ready to sail from Thursday Island when a wire came from Cooktown asking could we wait for the next steamer from south, as there was a passenger very anxious to get over to Port Moresby, and the 'Mokohu' would be the only vessel making the passage for over a month. The Skipper did not like losing the neaps, for the spring tides usually mean high winds at this time of the year. He did not want to wait and run the risk of bad weather in the Gulf of Papua, but when he reflected that a stranger, and a lady at that, would have a weary time awaiting the next vessel in Thursday Island, he decided to chance it."

"Very good of him," Sherwin commented.

"We got away the morning after the steamer arrived," Wilson went on, "and all was well till we began to approach the New Guinea coast. Then the sou'-easter came down wallop. Miss Russell got a dreadful doing with sea-sickness, and for two days did not eat anything. I felt very sorry for her, I can tell you." He stopped and gazed straight ahead for a few moments. The lamp was beside him, and it outlined his features clearly. Sherwin saw that he was a man of about his own age, strongly built, firm-mouthed and clear-complexioned. He saw, also, that his skin was unyellowed by fever and that his cheeks were rounded and full. Evidently Wilson was a stranger to fevers and island hardships, and Sherwin wondered where Morton had picked him up. There was something about this stranger that told of an easy, comfortable life.

"We did not stay long at Daru," Wilson said presently, "and bustled on here as quickly as possible. There was a thumping sea on, I can tell you, and the Skipper knew he was taking a risk in anchoring here at all. But he knew you would be short of stores and trade goods, so he decided to lie off at anchor and see what the surf was like in the morning. He is a good old chap, MGrton; hates to see anybody put to inconvenience."

"He has always been like that," Sherwin put in. "Always ready to go to any amount of trouble on somebody else's behalf."

"So we let go in forty fathoms about three miles out. Everything would have been all right, but when the tide got into full swing, the wind, bad enough before, came down a howler. The Skipper lay down on the deck beside the anchor-windlass to listen for any snatching."

"She should not have dragged there," the trader said. "It's all good holding ground."

"She did not drag," Wilson said. "We had two anchors down and they held the ground all right. But suddenly the seas came too big for us, and first one cable parted, then the other. There was nothing for it then but to up sail and try and beat out. We lost a good deal of ground before the canvas was hoisted, and after the first tack it was evident that the leeway would beat us. Not enough sail, you know, and it was impossible to give her more—she would never have carried it. We slogged on, tack for tack, sailing across the wind, and every sea hitting us nearly abeam and adding to the leeway."

"Then Captain Morton, seeing the schooner would strike the surf beam-on, decided to run her ashore bow first, and so save some of the lives on board, even if the vessel was lost?"

Wilson nodded. "The niggers climbed into the mainmast rigging and we three Europeans lashed ourselves to the steering gear. The rest you know better than I do."

Sherwin related how he and the natives had watched the "Mokohu" come through the surf and strike the beach. He told of the loss of the mast and the crew and the saving of Miss Russell. Wilson's face lengthened towards the end.

"And the 'Mokohu' is a complete wreck, you say?" he asked.

"No hope of salving her. Her back is broken for a certainty."

"Then I am completely and utterly broke," Wilson said, but not very despondently. "I am, or was, part owner of her. I put all I had in the world into her."

"Part-owner!" exclaimed the trader.

"I've been dodging round about Thursday Island for the last three or four months looking for a suitable investment for a few hundred pounds I had left to me. The tropics have always had a fascination for me, you know. I investigated the pearliug industry, trepang-fishing, and one or two other things in Torres Strait, but they all needed more capital than I could raise. Then the 'Mokohu' came in from Moresby, and the Skipper let it drop that he was looking for a working partner. I had had a bit of small-boat experience round about Sydney, and the result of a couple of conversations with Morton was that I invested my money and signed on as mate. There was a mortgage on the 'Mokohu,' which my ready cash cleared off, and we sailed out of Thursday Island's harbor in a ship completely our own. Rotten luck to lose her so soon, isn't it?"

"A bit stiff," the trader agreed. "And who is Miss Russell?"

Wilson's face lit up at once.

"She is the sister of a chap who has a plantation—coconuts, or rubber or something—away the other side of Port Moresby. She came up from Sydney to visit him. And, my word, she's a great girl!" he added enthusiastically. "If you had seen the way she stood the thumping of the seas and refused to show any fear! And she's that gentle and nice and sweet—"

He stopped abruptly as Captain Morton, followed by a number of natives carrying bundles and packages, appeared at the steps.