“Poisonous. And you?”
“Oh, fair. Beastly close squeak when you turned up.”
Gray became more explicit when Courtenay met him in the chart-room, where the table had to be cleared of debris before some glasses and a couple of bottles of champagne could be staged.
“When those blackguards cast off from the ship,” he said, “we scudded away in a sort of ocean mill-race which threatened to upset us at any moment. In fact, we gave up hope for a time, but, as the boat kept afloat, Mr. Malcolm and I managed to stir up the Chileans, and we got them to steady her with the oars. Some time before daybreak we ran into smooth water, and made out land on the port bow. In a few minutes we were ashore on a pebbly beach, in a place alive with seals. When the sun rose we found we were on a barren island, and, what was more, that one of the ship’s life-boats had been upset on a reef which we just missed, and had lost all her stores, though the men had scrambled into safety. With the aid of our boat, and helped by fine weather, we raised the life-boat, and recovered some of her fittings. The water-casks and tins of food were hauled up by a chap who could dive well. We have been on that lump of rock until today, when I finally persuaded the others that unless we made for the land which we could see in the dim distance the weather would break and our food give out. The trouble with the Chileans was that they were afraid of the natives hereabouts, and preferred to wait on the off chance of a ship showing up. At last they saw that Malcolm and I were right, but we missed the full run of the tide, and were some miles from the mainland, or whatever it is, when night fell. We pushed along cautiously, found the entrance to the cove we had made out before the light failed, and were about to lay to until dawn, when we saw a rocket and heard the fog-horn. That woke us up, you bet. The Chileans pulled like mad, but when we came near enough to discover that the ship was being attacked by Indians, I had a fearful job to get my heroes to butt in. That fellow Gomez is a brick. He orated like a politician, and finally they got a move on. From what I have seen since I came aboard, I guess you were hustling about that time?”
“Yes,” said Courtenay, filling a glass with wine as he heard Boyle’s step without. He handed the glass to the chief when he entered.
“How many?” he asked.
“Huh! We’ve slung fifty-three Indians an’ six of the crew overboard. There’s fourteen wounded natives an’ five of our men in the doctor’s hands. Two Alaculofs died of funk when they set eyes on the nigger who turned up in the life-boat. They thought—well, here’s chin chin to everybody. I’m thirsty.”
CHAPTER XVI.
CHRISTOBAL’S TEMPTATION
“By the way, what of Monsieur de Poincilit?” said Courtenay. “I saw him come aboard with Malcolm, but he dived into the saloon, and has not reappeared. Is he ill?”
Gray’s mouth set like a steel trap; his eyes had a glint in them. He seemed to be unwilling to speak; when words came, they were cold and measured.