Read Ebook: The Pirate Island: A Story of the South Pacific by Collingwood Harry Staniland Charles Joseph Illustrator Wells Joseph Robert Illustrator

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Ebook has 1235 lines and 116625 words, and 25 pages

Illustrator: C.J. Staniland and J.R. Wells

The Pirate Island A Story of the South Pacific

Years later a number of young people set out on a return voyage by sea to Australia. On the return voyage there is a disastrous fire on board their ship, the Galatea, as a result of which they and the crew take to the boats.

They are rescued by a vessel that turns out to be a pirate ship, the captain of which takes them to his island, where he has a number of ships of various kinds that he has captured. Discovering that one of his prisoners has designed and built his own fast-sailing yacht, the pirate commands the people to build him a new fast ship, which they set about doing, and succeed in doing so.

Just as the ship is completed two of the party find, in a well-written episode, that there is a major reef of gold on the island. However they press on with plans to escape, which involves making off with the new fast ship they have just completed.

Just as they are departing there is an earthquake, leading to a volcanic eruption in the island. This results in the death of their pursuers.

Putting two and two together it is realised that one of the people in this story, who had originally been the boy adopted at the very start of the book, is the lost child of the uncle of another of the passengers. The uncle has been miserable ever since the loss of his wife and child, though he did not know from what ship, and where, they had been lost. There is a perfectly good reason for this. Needless to say, it all ends happily, with various marriages, and with the intention of getting back to the Pirate Island, to see if it has survived the eruption, and if so, if the gold can be mined.

BY HARRY COLLINGWOOD

A STORY OF THE SOUTH PACIFIC.

THE WRECK ON THE "GUNFLEET."

It was emphatically "a dirty night." The barometer had been slowly but persistently falling during the two previous days; the dawn had been red and threatening, with a strong breeze from S.E.; and as the short dreary November day waxed and waned this strong breeze had steadily increased in strength until by nightfall it had become a regular "November gale," with frequent squalls of arrowy rain and sleet, which, impelled by the furious gusts, smote and stung like hail, and cleared the streets almost as effectually as a volley of musketry would have done.

It was not fit for a dog to be out of doors. So said Ned Anger as he entered the snug bar-parlour of the "Anchor" at Brightlingsea, and drawing a chair close up to the blazing fire of wreck-wood which roared up the ample chimney, flung himself heavily down thereon to await the arrival of the "pint" which he had ordered as he passed the bar.

A sympathetic murmur of concurrence went round the room in response to this philanthropic wish, accompanied in some instances by doubtful shakes of the head.

"Well, you see, mister, the way of it is just this," explained old Maskell, who considered the question as addressed more especially to him: "Bob was took off a wrack on the Maplin when he was a mere babby, the only one saved; found him wrapped up warm and snug in one of the bunks on the weather side of the cabin with the water surging up to within three inches of him; so ever since he's been old enough to understand he've always insisted as it was his duty, by way of returning thanks, like, to take the look-out when a wrack may be expected. And, don't you make no mistake, there ain't an eye so sharp as his for a signal-rocket in the whole place, see's 'em almost afore they be fired-- he do."

"And did you ever try to find his relatives?" asked the shopman.

"And how long is it since the wreck happened?" inquired the shopman.

"Well, let me see," said old Bill. "Blest if I can rightly tell," he continued, after a moment or two of reflection. "I've got it wrote down in the family Bible at home, but I can't just rightly recollect at this moment. It's somewheres about fourteen or fifteen years ago this winter, though."

"Fourteen year next month," spoke up another of the company, decidedly. "It was the same gale as my poor brother Joe was drowned in."

At this point the narrator was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door and the hurried entry of a tall and somewhat slender fair-haired lad clad in oilskin jumper, leggings, and "sou'-wester" hat, which glistened in the gaslight; while, as he stood in the doorway for a moment, dazzled by the abrupt transition from darkness to light, the water trickled off him and speedily formed a little pool at his feet on the well sanded floor.

This new-comer was Bob Legerton, the hero of my story.

"Well, Bob, what's the news?" was the general exclamation, as the assembled party rose with one accord to their feet. "Rockets going up from the `Middle' and the `Gunfleet,'" panted the lad, as he wiped the moisture from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"All right," responded old Bill. Then drawing himself up to his full height and casting a scrutinising glance round the room, he exclaimed--

"Now, mates, how many of yer's ready to go out?"

A general murmur of assent followed this speech, and the men forthwith ranged themselves along the sides of the room so as to give Bill a clear view of each individual and facilitate a rapid choice.

"Then I'll take you, Jack; and you, Dick; and you; and you; and you;" quickly selecting a strong crew of the stoutest and most resolute men in the party.

The chosen ones lost no time in donning their oilskin garments, a task in which they were cheerfully assisted by the others; and while they were so engaged the hostess issued from the bar with tumblers of smoking hot grog, one of which she handed to each of the adventurers, saying--

"There, boys, drink that off before you go out into the cold and the wet; it'll do none of you any harm, I'm sure, on a night like this, and on such an errand as yours. And you, Bill, if you save anybody and decide to bring 'em into Brightlingsea, send up a signal-rocket as soon as you think we can see it over the land, and I'll have hot water and blankets all ready for the poor souls against they come ashore."

"Ay, ay, mother; I will," replied old Bill. "Only hope we may be lucky enough to get out to 'em in time; the wind's dead in our teeth all the way. Now, lads, if ye're all ready let's be off. Thank'ee, mother, for the grog."

The men filed out, Bill leading, and took their way down to the beach, a very few yards distant, the dim flickering light of a lantern being exhibited from the water-side for a moment as they issued into the open air.

"There's Bob waitin' with the boat; what a chap he is!" ejaculated one of the men as the light was seen. "I say, Bill, you won't take Bob, will you, on an errand like this here?"

"Oh, ay," responded Bill. "He'll want to go; and I promised him he should next time as we was called out. He's a fine handy lad, and old enough to take care of himself by this time. Besides, it's time he began to take his share of the rough work."

Reaching the water's edge they found Bob standing there with the painter of a boat in his hand, the boat itself being partially grounded on the beach. They quickly tumbled in over the gunwale; Bob then placed his shoulder against the stem-head, and with a powerful "shove," drove the boat stern-foremost into the stream, springing in over the bows and stowing himself away in the eyes of the boat as she floated.

The boat was at once dragged in on deck and secured, and then, without hurry or confusion of any kind, but in an incredibly short time, the smack was unmoored and got under weigh, a faint cheer from the shore following her as she wound her way down the creek between the other craft, and, hauling close to the wind, headed toward the open sea.

It was indeed a terrible night. The thermometer registered only a degree or two above freezing-point; and the howling blast, loaded with spindrift and scud-water, seemed to pierce the adventurers to their very marrow, while, notwithstanding the care with which they were wrapped up, the continuous pouring of the sea over them soon wet them to the skin.

But the serious discomfort to which they had voluntarily exposed themselves, so far from damping their ardour only increased it. As the veteran Bill, standing there at the tiller exposed to the full fury of the tempest, with the tiller-ropes pulling and jerking at his hands until they threatened to cut into the bone, felt his wet clothing clinging to his skin, and his sea-boots gradually filling with water, he pictured to himself a group of poor terror-stricken wretches clinging despairingly to a shattered wreck out there upon the cruel sands, with the merciless sea tugging at them fiercely, and the wind chilling the blood within their veins until, perchance, their benumbed limbs growing powerless, their hold would relax and they would be swept away; and as the dismal scene rose before his mental vision he tautened up the tiller-ropes a trifle, the smack's head fell off perhaps half a point, and the wind striking more fully upon the straining canvas, she went surging out to seaward like a startled steed, her hull half buried in a whirling chaos of flying foam.

In less than an hour from the time of starting the light ship was reached; and as the smack, luffing into the wind, shaved close under the vessel's stern with all her canvas ashiver, Bill's stentorian voice pealed out--

"About a mile and half to the nor'ard, on the weather side of the Gunfleet. Fancy she must have broke up, can't make her out now. Wish ye good luck," was the reply.

"Thank'ee," roared back Bill. "Ease up main and jib-sheets, boys, and stand clear for a jibe."

All eyes were now keenly directed ahead and on the lee bow, anxiously watching for some indication of the whereabouts of the wreck, and in a few minutes the welcome cry was simultaneously raised by three or four of the watchers, "There she is!"

"Ay, there she is; sure enough!" responded old Bill from his post at the tiller, he having like the rest caught a momentary glimpse under the foot of the main-sail of a shapeless object which had revealed itself for a single instant in the midst of the whirl of boiling breakers, only to be lost sight of again as the leaping waves hurled themselves once more furiously down upon their helpless prey.

As the smack rapidly approached the scene of the disaster the wreck was made out to be that of a large ship, with only the stump of her main- mast standing. She was already fast settling down in the sand, the forepart of the hull being completely submerged, while the sea swept incessantly over the stern, which, with its full poop, formed the sole refuge of the hapless crew.

"Now, boys," remarked old Bill when they had approached closely enough to perceive the desperate situation of those on the wreck. "Now, boys, whatever we're going to do has got to be done smart; the tide's rising fast, and in another hour there won't be enough of yon ship left to light a fire wi'. Are yer all ready wi' the anchor?"

"Ay, ay; all ready," was the prompt response.

The helm was put down, and the smack plunged round head to wind, her sails flapping furiously as the wind was spilled out of them. There was no need for orders; the men all knew exactly what to do, and did it precisely at the right moment. Jib and main-sail were hauled down and secured in less time than it takes to describe it; and then, as the little vessel lost her "way," the heavy anchor--carried expressly for occasions like the present--was let go, and the cable veered cautiously out so that the full strain might not be brought to bear upon it too suddenly. Old Bill, meanwhile, stood aft by the taffrail with the lead- line in his hand, anxiously noting the shoaling water as the smack drifted sternward toward the wreck.

The smack was now fairly among the breakers, which came thundering down upon the shoal with indescribable fury, boiling and foaming and tumbling round the little vessel in a perfect chaos of confusion, and falling on board her in such vast volumes that had everything not been securely battened down beforehand she must inevitably have been swamped in a few minutes. As for her crew, every man of them worked with the end of a line firmly lashed round his waist, so that in the extremely likely event of his being washed overboard his comrades might have the means of hauling him on board again.

Nor wore these the only dangers to which the adventurers were exposed. There was the possibility that the cable, stout as it was, might part at any moment, and in such a case their fate would be sealed, for nothing could then prevent the smack from being dashed to pieces on the sands.

Yet all these dangers were cheerfully faced by these men from a pure desire to serve their fellow-creatures, and without the slightest hope of reward, for they knew at the very outset that there would not be much hope of salvage, with a vessel on the sands in such a terrible gale.

A light heaving-line was quickly cleared away, and one end bent to a rope becket securely spliced to a small keg, which was then thrown overboard and allowed to drift down toward the wreck, the line being veered freely away at the same time.

"Let's have one more try, boys," exhorted old Bill; "and if we misses her this time we shall have to shift our ground and trust to our own anchor and chain to hold us until we can get 'em off."

Risky work that would be, as each man there told himself; but none thought of expressing such a sentiment aloud, preferring to take the risk rather than abandon those poor souls to their fate.

The line and keg were rapidly hauled on board the smack once more, and Bill was standing aft by the taffrail watching for a favourable moment at which to make another cast, when Bob exclaimed excitedly--

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