III
A blazing, tropic sun shone in mid-heaven upon the motionless waters of the deep, land-locked bay in which the Ceres lay, with top-mast struck and awnings spread fore and aft. A quarter of a mile away was the beach, girdled with its thick belt of coco-palms whose fronds hung limp and hot in the windless air as if gasping for breath. Here and there, among the long line of white, lime-washed canoes, drawn up on the sand, snowy white and blue cranes stalked to and fro seeking for the small thin-shelled soldier crabs burrowing under the loose débris of leaves and fallen palm-branches to escape the heat.
A few yards back from the level of high-water mark clustered the houses of the native village, built on both sides of the bright, fast-flowing stream which here, as it debouched into the sea, was wide and shallow, showing a bottom composed of rounded black stones alternating with rocky bars. Along the grassless banks, worn smooth by the constant tread of naked feet, grew tall many-hued crotons, planted and carefully tended by their native owners, and shielded from the rays of the sun by the ever-present coco-palms. From either side of the bank, looking westward towards the forest, there was a clear stretch of water half a mile in length, then the river was hidden from view, for in its course from the mountains through the heavily-jungled littoral it took many bends and twists, sometimes running swiftly over rocky, gravelly beds, sometimes flowing noiselessly through deep, muddy-bottomed pools and dank, steamy swamps, the haunt of the silent, dreaded alligator.
At the head of the straight stretch of water of which I have spoken there was on the left-hand bank of the river an open grassy sward, surrounded by clumps of areca and coco-palms, and in the centre stood a large house, built by native hands, but showing by various external signs that it was tenanted by people other than the wild inhabitants of the island. Just in front of the house, and surrounded by a number of canoes, the boat belonging to the Ceres was moored to the bank, and under a long open-sided, palm-thatched shed, were a number of brown-skinned naked savages, some lying sleeping, others squatting on their hams, energetically chewing betel nut.
As they talked and chewed and spat out the scarlet juice through their hideous red lips and coaly black teeth, a canoe, paddled by two natives and steered by Mallet, the mate of the Ceres, came up the river. The instant it was seen a chorus of yells arose from the natives in the long hut, and Mary Corwell came to the open doorway of the house and looked out.
“Wake up, wake up, Jack!” she cried, turning her face inwards over her graceful shoulder, “here is Mallet.”
Her voice awoke her husband, who in an instant sprang from his couch and joined her, just as Mallet—a short, square-built man of fifty—stepped out of the canoe and walked briskly towards them, wiping his broad, honest face with a blue cotton handkerchief.
“Come inside, Mallet. 'Tis a bit cooler in here. I'm sorry I sent you down to the ship on such a day as this.”
Mallet laughed good-naturedly. “I didn't mind it, sir, though 'tis a powerful hot day, and the natives are all lying asleep in their huts; they can't understand why us works as we do in the sun. Lord, sir! How I should like to see old Kingsdown and Walmer Castle to-day, all a-white with snow. I was born at Deal.”
Mary Cornell brought the old seaman a young coconut to drink, and her husband added a little rum; Mallet tossed it off and then sat down.
“Well, sir, the ship is all right, and those chaps aboard seem content enough. But I'm afeared that the worms are a-getting into her although she is moored right abreast of the river. So I took it on me to tell Totten and Harris to stay aboard whilst I came back to ask you if it wouldn't be best for us to bring her right in to the fresh water, and moor her here, right abreast o' the house. That'll kill any worms as has got into her timbers. And we can tow her in the day after to-morrow, when there will be a big tide.”
“You did quite right, Mallet. Very likely the worms have got into her timbers in spite of her being abreast of the river's mouth. I should have thought of this before.”
“Ah, Jack,” said his wife, with a smile, “we have thought too much of our gold-getting and too little of the poor old Ceres.”
“Well, I shall think more of her now, Mary. And as the rains will be on us in a few days—so the natives say—and we can do no more work for three months, I think it will be as well for us to sail the Ceres over to that chain of lagoon islands about thirty miles from here. I fear to remain here during the wet season, on account of the fever.”
After further discussion it was decided that Jack and Mallet, with some natives, should make an early start in the morning for their mining camp, six miles away, at the foot of the range, and do a long, last day's work, returning to the house on the following day. Meanwhile a message was to be sent to Harris and Totten to bring the vessel into the creek as soon as the tide served, which would be in forty-eight hours. Then, whilst she lay for a week in the fresh water, so as to kill the suspected teredo navalis worms, which Mallet feared had attacked her, she was to be made ready for the short voyage of thirty miles over to a cluster of islands enclosing a spacious lagoon, where Corwell intended to beach her till the rainy season was over, when he would return to work a very promising stream in another locality. Already he and his men, aided by the natives, had, in the four months that had passed since they arrived, won nearly five hundred ounces of gold, crude as were their appliances.
“Jack,” said his wife, “I think that, as you will be away all day and night, to-morrow I shall go on board and see what I can do. I'll make the men turn to and give the cabin a thorough overhauling. Marawa, the chiefs wife, has given me a lot of sleeping-mats, and I shall throw those old horrible flock mattresses overboard, and we shall have nice clean mats instead to lie on.”
At daylight Mallet aroused the natives who were to accompany him and the captain, and then told off two of them to make the boat ready for Mrs. Corwell. Then he returned to the house and called out—
“The boat is ready, sir.”
“So am I, Mallet,” replied Mary, tying on her old-fashioned sun-hood. Then she turned to her husband. “Jack, darling, this will be the very first time in our married life that I have ever slept away from you, and it shall be the last, too. But I do want to surprise you when you see our cabin again.”
She put her lips up to him and kissed him half a dozen times. “There, that's a good-night and good morning three times over. Now I'm ready.”
Corwell and Mallet walked down to the boat with her and saw her get in. She kissed her hand to them and in a few minutes was out of sight.