So we parted from our companions, to be gone from them for two or three days at most, yet there were some of us never more to meet in this world. So I parted from my tried friend and comrade, Phips, thinking that we should sail home together as we had sailed out--yet, alas! but little more was I to set eyes upon him in this world neither. Both of us were to succeed and prosper--though he to die young--yet were we only to come together once again for a short time. Yet, why digress from my story? Better to go straightforward and plain, and so make an ending.
We reached our little isle, and rounding the point to get to our old landing place, lost sight of the Furie, and, taking the boat after we had anchored her in "Safety Cove," as we called it, all went ashore but two, being right glad to once more step on land for a stretch. We meant that day, by Phips' leave, to take our ease, to lie about, and to gather some of the sweet fruits that therein do grow, and to catch some fish to take back to our comrades. Then, the next day, we did intend to fill up our casks, cut some wood for the cook's galley, and so back. And this we did do, getting yams and shaddocks, and so forth--and catching of many pounds of what in these parts are called mullets, though, indeed, they are full-sized trouts, and many crayfish and some soft-shell'd crabs. So the day went and we lay down to sleep.
And on the next we fished again and gathered more fruits; we filled all our casks and carried them in the boat to the galliot; we cut and corded of the wood, and made all ready for rejoining the Furie at daybreak, since on that burning sea the first two hours of day are best and coolest. Then the muskettoes are, I think, not awake, the sun is not so fierce as later, the air is cool and fresh, with generally a soft pleasant wind. So that second night, ere we lay down, we put in all our fruits, our ananas, bananas, toronias, limes, and wild apricots, as well as some wild parrots we had shot, which are sweet and good eating, and then all was done and we distributed ourselves for taking of our rest. Only we set a watch, there being six of us in all, and so broke the night into three, I and a young lad taking the first watch.
'Twas eleven of the clock, as we made it by the nearly full moon, when we were relieved, and all was most calm and peaceful. The birds of the isle were all long since hushed to rest, and even the insects that do here abound disturbed us not. So I and the boy lay ourselves down, and soon we were asleep.
How long I so slept I knew not, yet 'twas not day when I awoke, springing up as did the others, all as though shot, while the watch came running to us. For through the calm night air--or, rather, that of the morning, for the chill told us the dayspring was nigh--there had come the loud booming of a cannon--Once, twice! "What did it mean?" we asked each other, with wonder starting from our fresh opened eyes. "What did it mean?" and then all with one voice we exclaimed, "'Tis from the Furie! from the Furie!"
So, swift as we could run, down we got to the boat, and so by threes to the galliot--for although we heard no more cannon, we knew that our place was in the ship at such a time--and getting to her and all in at last, we dragged up her anchor, pulled in the boat, and, to the fresh breeze arising with the coming day, shook out her main, her mizen, and her gaff-main sail. And so out of the cove and away.
And as we did so, up over the trees of the little isle there went from the neighbourhood of where the Furie lay two bright blue rockets, which, as Phips and I had agreed upon, should be the signal for our immediate return, as well as to warn us to be ready for danger.
CHAPTER XVIII.
TREACHERY AND FLIGHT.
"What can it mean?" the sailors asked of one another as we got into the open, while, for myself, I was as lost in wonderment as it was possible to be. Naturally, my first thought was that the Furie had been attacked by either the Spanish or the French, the first from St. Dominic, or the latter from Aittii. Yet I knew not either how this could be, since the sound we had heard was that of our own cannon, which I knew well enough, we having practised all of them considerably on our voyage out. Moreover, two cannon shots, and that from one side only, do not make a battle, so I was sorely puzzled as I stood at the tiller of the galliot.