“If they did,” I asserted, “they’d realize their ability to capture all we have. But I understand these people never treat with intruders.”
“We did not mean to intrude!” exclaimed Madam de Alcantara in a frightened voice.
“No; it was forced upon us,” I agreed. “I wonder if these fellows, to whom a ship like ours is unknown, are not amazed to find the Seagull set high upon the rocks of their coast.”
“All savage tribes,” remarked Señor de Jiminez, reverting to the former subject, “are said to deal with foreigners as they are dealt with. These people may be inimical to other native tribes, who sometimes come to fight and rob them, but it seems to me if we treat them politely they will become friendly in return.”
“You may try it, if you like,” said Uncle Naboth dryly. “They didn’t wait to discover whether Ned Britton’s party were polite or not; they jest shot ’em up an’ asked no questions.”
“Oh, dear!” wailed Madam de Alcantara. “I’m sure we shall all be murdered by these heathen brutes. Why—oh, why—did I ever sail on your ill-fated ship!” and the poor lady began to shed real tears.
Lucia’s mother had a weak character, in spite of her proud and haughty airs when safe ashore in a civilized community. Any adverse fortune floored her at once and I am sure she had already suffered agonies such as ordinary death could not equal. Her daughter, attentive and sympathetic in a charming, unobtrusive way, sought to console and encourage her parent; but it was a hopeless task. The sight of the natives had completely unnerved Madam de Alcantara, and she sobbed so bitterly that Lucia had to lead her to her room.
Madam de Jiminez had nothing to say. She seldom asked a question, and knowing she would be cared for as well as circumstances would permit, showed us always a benign and cheerful face. She was never in the way, and we all so admired the old lady’s courage that she suffered no lack of attention. The one beautiful thing about her son and grandson was the devotion they lavished upon her. Selfish they might be in all other ways, but both were willing at all times to sacrifice their pleasure to insure her comfort. Misadventures such as this are sure to bring out the good and bad in one’s nature, and we learned to gauge one another quite correctly during this period of mutual danger and suffering.
On gaining the deck after breakfast we found that the idea of turning the ship into a fort was being carried out in a practical manner. We always carried a supply of rifles and cutlasses in the gun room, in case of an emergency such as this. These had been brought out and distributed lavishly along the deck, where one could conveniently seize them. We had plenty of ammunition without having recourse to the revolutionary supplies, and we judged that from the shelter of our bulwarks we could repel any horde of savages attempting to clamber up the rocks. Even if we allowed them to reach the summits of the twin peaks unmolested they could not scale the ship’s side; so, with plenty of provisions and an arsenal to fight with, we felt fairly safe for the present. In addition to the small arms, we had two brass howitzers mounted at the bow and stern of the Seagull. These were usually masked with canvas sacks, designed to disguise them so the ordinary observer would not notice our armament; but they were now uncovered and put in order for action, our men training them so as to command the open space between us and the edge of the dark forest.
We had ample time for these preparations. The canoes guarding the reef passages lay motionless and no sign of life was observable on the land side. We hardly knew how to account for this; whether they were tempting us to leave the ship or were themselves preparing for an assault. However, it was our business to “stand pat” and await results.