The Crew of the Water Wagtail by Robert Michael Ballantyne (first ebook reader .txt) 📕

not our plan. We are _not_ murderers--by no means!"

"Certainly not," growled Blazer, with virtuous solemnity.

"Well, that bein' so, we must take them alive. I will creep into the tent with you, Jim Heron, for you're big and strong enough. You will fall on Trench and hold 'im down. I'll do the same to Burns. Garnet will manage the boy. The moment the rest of you hear the row begin, you will jump in and lend a hand wi' the ropes. After we've got 'em all safe into the boat, we will pull to the big island--land them there, an' bid them a tender farewell!"

"But surely you won't land them without a morsel to eat?" said Taylor.

"Why not? They're sure to fall in wi' their _dear_ friends the savages, who will, doubtless, be very grateful to 'em, an' supply grub gratis! Now, lads, you understand what you've got to do?"

"Ay, ay," was the response, in a low tone, as they moved cautiously away, like evil spirits, to carry out their wicked plans.

"Fortune," it is said, "favours the brave," but in this case she did not thus bestow her favours, for the cowardly plan was successfully carried out. Before the sleepers were well awake, they were overwhelmed by numbers, secured and bound. They were not gagged, however, as no one was near to hear even if they shouted their loudest, which they knew it was useless to do. In a few minutes the three prisoners were hurried into the boat and rowed across the wide channel that separated the islet from the opposite shore.

At that time it was not supposed, either by the original discoverers or those who immediately followed them, that Newfoundland was one large island--considerably larger than Ireland. Not till many a year afterwards did explorers ascertain that it was an island of about three hundred and seventeen miles in length, by about the same in breadth; but so cut up by deep bays, inlets, and fords as to have much the appearance of a group of islands.

During their passage across the channel both Trench and Paul attempted to reason with Swinton, but that hardened villain refused to utter a word till their prisoners were marched up the shingly beach, and told to sit down on a ledge of rock under the steep cliffs, where innumerable sea-birds were screaming a clamorous welcome, or, perchance, a noisy remonstrance.

"Now, my friends," said their foe, "as you are fond of commanding, you may take command o' them there sea-birds--they won't object!--and if ye fall in wi' your friends the savages, you may give them my love an' good wishes."

"But surely you don't mean to leave us here without food, and with our hands tied behind us?" fiercely exclaimed Master Trench, whose wrath at any thing like injustice was always prone to get the better of his wisdom.

"As to grub," answered Swinton, "there's plenty of that around, if you only exert yourself to find it. I won't cut your lashin's, however, till we are fairly in the boat, for we can't trust you. Come along, lads; and, Garnet, you bring the boy with ye."

Under the impression that he was to be separated from his father and friend, and taken back again to the islet, poor Oliver, whom they had not thought it worth while to bind, struggled with a ferocity that would have done credit to the wildcats with which he had been compared; but Garnet was a strong man, and held him fast.

"Take it easy, my boy," said Paul, who, being helpless, could only look on with intense pity. "Submit to God's will--we will pray for you."

But Olly's spirit could by no means reach the submitting point until he was fairly exhausted. While they dragged him towards the boat, Taylor turned back and flung a small canvas bag at the captain's feet.

"There, Master Trench," he said, "you'll find a lump o' pork in that bag to keep you goin' till ye get hold o' somethin' else. An' don't take on about the boy. _We_ don't want 'im, bless you. Why, we only want to prevent him settin' you free before we gets fairly away."

This was true. When the boat was reached and the men were on board, ready to shove off, Garnet, still holding Olly fast by the arm, said, "Keep still, will you, and hear what Master Swinton has got to say?"

"Now, you fiery polecat," said Swinton, "you may go and cut their lashin's, and take _that_ as a parting gift."

The gift was a sounding box on the ear; but Olly minded it not, for while Garnet was speaking, as he stood knee-deep in the water close to the boat, he had observed an axe lying on one of the thwarts near to him. The instant he was set free, therefore, he seized the axe, and, flourishing it close past Garnet's nose, with a cheer of defiance he sprang towards the beach. Garnet leaped after him, but he was no match for the agile boy, who in another minute had severed Paul's bonds and placed the weapon in his hands.

"Hallo! hi, you've forgot _me_. Cut my--ho!"

But there was no occasion for Master Trench to cry out and struggle with the cords that bound him. A furious rush of Paul with the axe caused Garnet to double with the neatness of a hunted hare. He bounded into the boat which was immediately shoved off, and the sailors rowed away, leaving Paul to return and liberate the captain at leisure.

Silently the trio stood and watched the receding boat, until it was lost in the darkness of the night. Then they looked at each other solemnly. Their case was certainly a grave one.

"Cast away on an unknown shore," murmured the captain, in a low tone; as if he communed with his own spirit rather than with his companions, "without food, without a ship or boat--without hope!"

"Nay, Master Trench," said Paul, "not without hope; for `God is our refuge and our strength, a very present help in trouble,' so says His own Word, as my mother has often read to me."

"It is well for you, Paul," returned the captain, "that you can find comfort in such words--I can find none. Stern realities and facts are too strong for me. How can I take comfort in unfulfilled promises? Here we are in trouble enough, surely. In what sense is God a `refuge' to us--or `strength,' or a `present help'? Why, we are left absolutely destitute here, without so much as a bite of food to keep our bodies and souls together."

He spoke with some bitterness, for he was still chafing under the sense of the wrong which he had suffered at the hands of men to whom he had been invariably kind and forbearing. As he turned from Paul with a gesture of impatience his foot struck against the canvas bag of pork which the man Taylor had flung to him on leaving, and which had been forgotten. He stopped suddenly and gazed at it; so did Paul.

"Looks like as if God had already helped us--at least to food--does it not?" said the latter.

"It was Taylor helped us to that," objected Trench.

"And who put it into Taylor's heart to help us?" asked Paul. "He is one of the worst men of our crew, so we can hardly say it was his own tenderness, and certainly it was not the devil who moved him to it. Am I wrong in holding that it was `Our Father'?"

"I believe you are right, Paul. Anyhow, I have neither the capacity nor the inclination to dispute the point now. Pick up the bag, Olly, and come along. We must try to find some sort of shelter in which to spend the rest o' the night and consider our future plans."

With a lighter heart and firmer faith, Paul Burns followed his leader, silently thanking God as he went along for thus far, and so opportunely, demonstrating His own faithfulness.

They had to wander some time before a suitable camping spot was found, for that part of the Newfoundland coast on which they had been landed was almost inaccessible. The cliffs in many places rose sheer out of the water to a height of full three hundred feet. Only in a few places little strips of shingly beach lay between the base of the cliffs and the sea, so that the finding of an opening in those stupendous ramparts of rock was no easy matter in a dark night.

At last they came to a place where the cliffs appeared to rise less precipitously. After careful clambering for some minutes they discovered a sort of gap in the rampart, up which they climbed, amid rugged and broken masses, until they reached a somewhat level plateau, or shelf, covered with small bushes. Here they resolved to encamp.

"Whether it's the top o' the cliffs or not, there's no findin' out," remarked Trench, as he tried to survey the ground; "but whether or not don't matter, for it looks level enough to lie on, an' we're as like as not to break our necks if we try to go further."

"Agreed," said Paul; "but now it occurs to me that our pork may be raw, and that we shall want fire to cook it. Have you got flint and steel in your pocket, Master Trench?"

"Ay--never travel without it; but by ill-luck I've got no tinder. Flint and steel are useless, you know, without that."

"If ill-luck troubles _you_," returned Paul, "good luck favours _me_, for I have got a bit of tinder, and--"

"The pork's raw," exclaimed Oliver, who had been hastily investigating the contents of the canvas bag; "but, I say, there's more than pork here. There's a lot o' the little flour-cakes our cook was so fond of makin'."

"Good. Now then let us have a search for wood," said Paul. "If we find that, we shall get along well enough till morning. But have a care, Olly, keep from the edge of the cliff. The ledge is not broad. Have an eye too, or rather an ear, for water as you go along."

Success attended their search, for in a few minutes Paul and the captain returned with loads of dry branches, and Olly came back reporting water close at hand, trickling from a crevice in the cliffs.

"Your shirt-front tells the tale, Olly. You've been drinking," said Paul, who was busy striking a light at the time.

"Indeed I have; and we shall all be obliged to drink under difficulties, for we have neither cup nor mug with us."

"Neither is wanted, boy, as I'll soon show you," said Paul. "Why, a bit of birch-bark, even a piece of paper, forms a good drinking vessel if you only know how to use it. Ha! caught at last," he added, referring to some dry grasses and twigs which burst into flame as he spoke.

Another moment and a ruddy glare lit up the spot, giving to things near at hand a cosy, red-hot appearance, and to more distant objects a spectral aspect, while, strangely enough, it seemed to deepen to profounder darkness all else around. Heaping on fresh fuel and pressing it down, for it consisted