Isle o' Dreams

by Frederick Ferdinand Moore

From the time they had raised the island, Trask had seen on the part of Jarrow a decided reluctance to arrive at anchorage before dark. There was no doubt about it. He had allowed the schooner to lag when she could have been driven ahead. Whether this was due to Jarrow's deliberate contrivance, or was the result of a tacit acceptance of Peth's dilatory ways in seamanship, Trask had no means of determining with accuracy. He could only draw conclusions.

It might have been that Jarrow was willing to overlook Peth's delays in order to avoid bringing on a new argument with the mate. And Jarrow might have been wise to avoid a resumption of trouble, for, as Peth had been openly insolent and had carried a chip on his shoulder all the way from Manila, it was just as well that the captain did not give him the satisfaction of a row.

But Trask blamed Jarrow for being too complacent in small things, which had encouraged Peth to insubordination. It would have been far better if the mate had been brought into place with a sharp and short encounter which would determine just who was master, than to continue strained relations which only allowed Peth to smoulder and feed his rising anger with growls and grumbles in the hearing of the crew.

There was no doubt that Jarrow was trying to smooth things out and avoid a direct clash. He dreaded unpleasantness in the presence of Locke. But to Trask the obvious delay in coming up to the island was only a small part of his growing fears that the situation aboard the schooner was worse than a mere temporary ill-feeling between the captain and the mate.

A decided change had come over the crew. They were strangely quiet, and when Trask or Locke or Marjorie came in sight, the men were full of covert looks and signals to each other with their hands for caution and whispers.

There was a feeling of tension, a sudden stiffening of demeanour once the anchor was down. It was not so much expressed as shown by repression. There was a soberness of purpose in the most trifling details of their duties, as if a crisis long expected had arrived.

This change in manner was best exemplified by Doc Bird. Trask had noticed that when serving the table he had a way of looking over his shoulder suddenly, or taking on a look of scared intentness at any unexpected sounds from the deck or in the cabin. Doc had become strangely alert, watchful of everybody, and nervous to the point of sudden shivering attacks. Trask ascribed Doc's actions to an unexplained coolness which had sprung up between the steward and Shanghai Tom, although it was quite possible Doc was aware of something of the nature which had given Trask a sense of disquiet, this undercurrent of insincerity, of hidden meanings, of an evil spirit lurking under the friendly relations of Jarrow and Dinshaw with the trio who had come seeking the island.

Considering these matters, Trask undressed and put on his pajamas. Then he opened the door of his room, and rolled into his bunk, purposely accentuating the creaking of the boards under his mattress so that any listener might be assured he had turned in for the night.

The hole cut in the upper part of Jarrow's door was open and dark. The captain, to all appearances, had gone to sleep, but Trask had plans for the night and did not care to take chances at having them upset.

There was a mild snoring from Dinshaw's room and despite the chafing of the schooner's gear and the patter of the water under her counter, she seemed deathly quiet after the interminable groaning of her timbers during the passage from Manila.