We were saved! By some extraordinary combination of circumstances a ship—and a ship of war at that—had come upon the scene at the very crisis of our fortunes, and, attracted possibly by the light of the blazing faggots, had approached near enough to hear the sound of our rifle fire, doubtless greatly intensified by the reverberations of the cavern, and probably guessing pretty shrewdly at what it all meant, had intervened in the very nick of time!
“Hurrah!” I shouted, “hurrah! A ship! A ship! And the savages have fled. Go and tell your mother and the others, Julius. I will keep a look-out here.”
But there was no need for Julius to play the part of messenger; for the report of the guns, followed by my jubilant exclamations, brought the others forth with a rush from the innermost recesses of the cavern, eager to know just exactly what had happened.
The rest of my story can soon be told.
To Mr Julius Vansittart, absorbed in the conduct and management of his mammoth engineering business, the thought one morning occurred that a considerable time had elapsed since he had last received news of his wife and family, and that another letter from them must be about due. On referring to the last letter received, and noting the date of its arrival, he instantly perceived that another letter was not only due, but considerably overdue; and knowing how regular and methodical his wife was in the matter of correspondence, it did not take him very long to arrive at the conclusion that something must have gone wrong with the yacht. This conclusion once arrived at, he “got a move on” and “humped himself” (as he himself expressed it). The consequence was that—Vansittart being a man of powerful influence—it was not long before the admiral in command of the U.S. squadron stationed in the Pacific received a communication from Washington, acquainting him with the most recent and contemplated future movements of the Stella Maris, as furnished by Mr Vansittart, coupled with the information that she was overdue, and an instruction to dispatch a vessel in search of the missing yacht. The result of this was the dramatic arrival of the U.S. gunboat Jefferson off our island at the psychological moment.
It appeared that she had already been engaged for nearly a month in a systematic search for the yacht, during which she had picked up no less than three of the bottles which we had dispatched from the reef, containing our appeals for help, and had accordingly visited the scene of the disaster, only to discover the sunken wreck of the yacht in the lagoon. Surmising, or rather hoping that we might somehow have contrived to effect our escape, the commander of the Jefferson, after a careful study of the prevailing winds and currents in those waters, had mapped out a definite plan, in pursuance of which, after unsuccessful calls at a number of other islands, he had headed for the one upon which we had found shelter. It had been sighted just before dark, and the Jefferson had headed for it at half speed, intending to lay to in the offing upon arrival, and send a boat ashore in the morning.
But when still some ten miles off the land a light—the light of the savages’ blazing faggots—had been seen; and, regarding this as a possible signal, the command for full speed ahead had been rung down to the engine room. When the Jefferson arrived close under the cliffs and the searchlight had been turned on, the fact that a fight of some sort was in progress had become evident, and, making a shrewd guess at the actual state of affairs, the Jefferson had taken a hand, with the result already recorded. By the aid of her searchlight and the sounding lead, the gunboat then cautiously groped her way into the harbour and came to an anchor about half a mile from the beach upon which lay the four big war canoes and our apology for a boat. The sight of these not only suggested to the astute commander that at last he had got upon our track, but also confirmed his surmise as to the state of affairs ashore; and no sooner was the anchor down than he dispatched a heavily-armed boat, the officer of which was instructed to make his way instantly to the cave and investigate. The meeting was, for both parties, a joyous one; and as no savages had been seen by the landing party—they had evidently fled into the woods—we lost no time in making our way to the beach, taking our rifles and ammunition with us, and from the beach to the Jefferson, where we were cordially welcomed and highly complimented upon the vigorous defence of the cavern which we had put up. To our infinite satisfaction we found that, acting upon instructions, the commander of the gunboat had brought with him a well-selected wardrobe for each of us, on the off-chance of his search proving successful and the articles being needed. Consequently when, a few hours later, we all sat down to breakfast in the commander’s private cabin, we scarcely recognised each other, clad as we now were once more in the garb of civilisation in place of our discarded rags.
The war canoes and our boat were burnt where they lay on the beach, thus leaving the savages prisoners on the island; and, this done, we got under way for Manila, where we arrived nine days later.
From Manila a cable message was dispatched to Mr Vansittart, immediately upon our arrival, informing him of our safety. And on the following day a reply came from him expressing his delight at the news, together with a cabled credit on the bank for funds amply sufficient to convey the entire party to New York—where, via Yokohama and San Francisco, we eventually arrived safely, by a freak of coincidence, two years to a day from the date of our departure from London.