sss Island

Chapter 2: How We Came There

Chapter 2

How We Came There

THE SKIPPER looked at each one of us again before reaching for the whisky-decanter and refilling his glass. And Saunders laughed.

"It's a queer tale," he said. "But here's luck to our adventure with the Amazons. I hope they're pretty."

"I don't see," I said, a little resentfully, for I was still sore with disappointment, "why you should remember this island after forgetting it for so long."

"That's where the missionary at Port Moresby comes in," returned the skipper. "He brought me some papers that reminded me of Jeffries and corroborated his story. Jeffries had the idea that the men with whom the escape was planned failed to get away. He was partly wrong. They had built two boats and placed them in different spots; if they failed to reach one, the idea was that they might succeed in reaching the other. A man named Hunter reached the other boat, and thinking, like Jeffries, that the others had been caught, put out to sea. He, more fortunate than Jeffries, was picked up by a tramp whilst still not too far gone to live. Hunter was dumped at his own request at Noumea and drifted around till he finally settled down on one of the islands. He learnt to become an oyster as far as his experiences on sss Island were concerned, for he found that the stories about it that circulated, when he first arrived, brought adventurers anxious to get him to join them in expeditions to the island. He was terrified at the mere idea of returning to it, and considered that to supply information would only send men to destruction. The strength of that feeling made him a recluse, suspicious of all white men who came near him, lest they should be pumping him, He became almost forgotten in time. When he was dying, however, that missionary, Matthews, dropped in on him, found him anxious to speak, to see if something could be done for his shipmates left on sss Island. He felt that, in his terror of the island, his attitude towards them had been that of a deserter, and, later in the day, remorse came to him.

"It was about this that Matthews came to see me at Port Moresby. There were some papers with details that reminded me of all that Jeffries had spoken about incoherently. And the details gave a new queer turn to the whole thing, because the third man concerned in that attempt to escape— the man who did not get away— had been a chum of mine ever since we were at school together— even before; and until we went our various ways on the sea.

"There was a tradition in his family of a buccaneer ancestor who had adventured with Dampier; but he had broken away over some quarrel. He had left a tale about an island where the buccaneers had established a stronghold and planted a great treasure. I presume there had been some attempts to search for this storehouse, but they had gone astray; Thorold and I, as youngsters, used to plan together about making a search. This came back to me when Jeffries mentioned Thorold's name— it gave me a kind of clue. It was perfectly feasible that the tradition in Thorold's family should have prompted the voyage."

"So you think there may be a treasure?" said Saunders, a little scornfully.

The skipper smiled.

"If there's an island there's also a treasure," he said, as he rose to go on deck. "Although I said we didn't need any more, that's one reason why we should have a look for the place, isn't it? That, and curiosity."

"I bet it's neither treasure nor mere curiosity that makes the skipper anxious to find the island," whispered Charters, to me, as we two made our way to take a! turn on deck under the star-strewn sky before turning in. He didn't say more because Halpin joined us just then.

The cry that land was in sight had come to us at breakfast, with the shock of realisation that our discount of the skipper's tale was too severe. One by one we deserted the meal and hastened on deck.

The land which might have been a smudge of opal-grey cloud on the horizon, expanded as we approached; opening out into a definite and enticing line of coast; and while, facing us, it rose sheerly from the water in a manner that made it look imposing, although its height was probably not great, there showed on each side an indication of small islands with palms, strangely dwarfed beside this mass of sheer cliff. The enticement that is in all strange coasts was doubly felt as we watched the panorama develop, with shortly, the line of high coast falling away from its length on our star-board, and a low palm-studded island, rich in vivid colours, unwinding to port.

We were going at a low speed with the small waves gurgling and sighing about our keel as the vessel cut through them; the sunlight danced deep down in the clear water. It was altogether a lovely picture, painted in royal colours; and no less a picture must the Seaflower have appeared to those eyes that watched us—for we saw, here and there, moving dots against the green-blue back-ground of the cliff that told us of other human beings with as great an excitement as our own.

The canoe that had first excited our interest had shot from behind a small toe of land that, jutting down into the sea, marked definitely the change from the sheer cliffs that had greeted our approach.

"A sawn-off mountain-top," Halpin had commented. "It must have been some curious volcanic action that sheered off half the mountain like that."

Even with the slight swell on the waters they beat on this low point in a white surf. As we progressed the higher land fell away, and over the ridge of this small headland we could see the placid green waters of a bay surrounded by slopes rising in tree-decked galleries. With its rich colours it was a sight to please the eyes of a painter; but we were far more concerned about the human occupants than the land itself that was opening up before us. We could see moving forms in open spaces on the little headland, and on a small, golden beach that edged it as it left the shore. My own glasses— hurried dashes to cabins had armed each man with his binoculars— sweeping this alluring little sea nook, had brought the figures upon it startlingly close to me.

They were women, all of them, they came into my view, women whose beautifully-moulded forms showed a bronzed litheness in every movement, and whose faces were lit with curiosity and expectancy. But what startled me even more than the absence of the heaviness of featured expected in the island races, was to find that the forms were seldom more than bronzed; at times there was a positive indication of skin that, although suntanned, was fair, and hair of a blonde colouring. Right into the focus of my sweeping glasses came the splendid figure of one such naiad, standing statuesque on a huge rock. As if she felt my gaze she dived suddenly, cleaving the water in a perfect fashion, to re-appear and continue her gaze at the Seaflower, whilst she trod water.

Amidst our wondering ejaculations at these sights, our main curiosity was for the canoe ahead of us. Having rowed swiftly into our sight, it had remained motionless, as if acting for us as a steering mark. The canoe itself was a matter of interest. It went far beyond the crudeness of the best canoes we had seen elsewhere; beyond the tall ornamental prows at each end, the sides glinted with what Saunders said, as was found rightly, was a decorative in-lay of pearl-shell. It was a large craft of its kind; only the heads and shoulders of the rowers sitting forward with their paddles tilted out of the water could be seen; but; between them, standing, and grouped towards the other end of the boat, were figures each with a long spear held upright and with other weapons in their hands; these figures were those of splendid, firm-breasted women who wore nothing but what seemed to be ornaments, some of them possibly a protection for vulnerable parts of the body against weapons, and some to carry portion of their arms. Standing upon what seemed like a small poop at the stern, however, was the most spectacular figure of them all.

The poop served to lend additional command to a form that was magnificent in itself. Her hair showed a glint of redness— a rich auburn evidently— and it was hung about with ornaments that glinted in the sunlight, as indeed was her whole body.

"If we could capture that Juno," laughed Charters, "we could float her into another gold-mine. If those are really jewels she is wearing they are worth a fortune."

"If they are real!" assented Saunders. "By the Lord, she's a fine woman!"

The skipper had set a man in the bows to wave flags in token of friend-ship; the signal was evidently accepted, for arms waved back to us.

The canoe made way before us, as the Seaflower, wheeling gracefully, swept round the point and into the bay we had noted from the other side; a wide stretch of water which, besides forming a perfect harbour made more secure from storms by the large island, apparently of coral formation, that stretched fully across the entrance about a mile away, presented a new beauty as we entered. The sound of a chanted singing reached us as our engines eased still further.

"The sirens!" remarked the skipper, grimly. "I feel like another Ulysses, who has gone wrong. I want all you men to remember the story I told you—the story of men who preferred to face the certainty of death in trying to get away from this place to the horror of staying.

"There hasn't been a sign of hostility from them; they seem friendly enough," said Saunders.

"Sometimes a tiger looks friendly enough in its enclosure," said Halpin succinctly. "Only a fool would want to enter it."

"Wind-up?" cried Charters. "Honestly, it's the one I like least of all our adventures. I've had experience with women; they're all tigresses at heart— savage and cruel. And what can a man do against a woman?"

"Kill them like other savages, if they prove dangerous," said the skipper, incisively. "I want all you men who haven't got your automatics with you to get them at once. I'm having the gangway lowered. I'm going to invite her ladyship on board!"