The day passed tediously. Lounging by the rail we looked down upon the grim line of warriors, so silent and motionless, and they looked up at us. Fortunately for them they were beyond the range of our rifles. I brought up my glasses and focused them so the natives were distinctly visible in every detail. They were handsome, stalwart fellows, averaging fully six feet in height I judged, although now all were crouching in the canoes. They were not black, as were Nux and Bryonia, but a dark chocolate brown. Their hair seemed straight and fine of texture and was allowed to grow long and be curled into a knot at the back of the head, as women often wear it. Their only article of dress was a loin cloth, made of a dark colored material on which were sewn curious designs in pearls. All wore ornaments of pearls, such as necklaces, armlets and anklets, the gems being of such size and color that I believe the humblest native in the line carried the equivalent of a fortune upon his person.
I watched the Pearl People for hours. Their marked characteristic seemed to be patience. Their features seemed finely cut and intelligent, but the members of the patrol were just now very apathetic, seldom changing their positions or indulging in the interchange of remarks. Their business was simply to wait, and they displayed marvelous resignation to duty. If they were curious they did not show it; if they resented this inactivity they gave the resentment no expression. Automatons could not have been more docile. Yet the Faytans struck me as being dignified, reserved and most admirably trained to obedience, while their stern countenances marked them as cold and cruel.
In the afternoon, while a dismal silence pervaded the ship, I was startled by hearing the clear tones of our piano. Some one began to play a spirited march, and of course I knew it was Lucia. The brave girl was trying to cheer us all with her music, and I am bound to admit it had an animating effect. For an hour she played and sang, choosing the most stirring tunes she knew, and when I finally went below I found all the passengers had gathered in the cabin with Joe and Uncle Naboth, while young Alfonso was joining in a Spanish madrigal that was popular in his own country and all thoughts of our precarious position seemed thrust into the background.
That evening De Jiminez played écarté with his mother while Madam de Alcantara was led to forget her fears far enough to read a book. We lighted the cabin brilliantly, making no further attempt to evade the watching eyes of the natives, and enjoyed a few hours of solace if not of pleasure.
Next day the waiting game was continued. South Sea natives seldom or never attack at night, according to Nux; but these Faytans were so unlike other savage tribes that we could not be sure this was one of their customs. So we divided the watch and kept a sharp lookout night and day.
CHAPTER IX
ALFONSO’S ANTOINETTE
Nothing happened this second day of our imprisonment. The Faytans evidently had some plan of campaign mapped out, or they would not have established the patrol of canoes. We began to consider what their intentions could be.
“Let’s give ’em credit for a leetle intelligence,” said Uncle Naboth, who had been studying the natives through his binoculars. “The chief that runs this place must have some ability, and as soon as he discovered us here he must ’a’ thought it all out. Mebbe he lay awake doin’ it, for next mornin’ we found them canoes on guard. That was the first trick in the game.”
“Not a bad one, either,” I remarked.
“Not from the chief’s standpoint. It kept us from escapin’ in the boats, which is the one thing, it seems, he don’t intend to let happen. Now, our boys here,” pointing to Bryonia and Nux, “have a notion that the Pearl People don’t want any strangers around. They never let ’em land, if they can help it, and drive ’em away or kill ’em. Accordin’ to that theory the Faytans ought to be glad to have us go. But here they are, keepin’ us fast prisoners. Why’s that, Bry?”