New Year’s Day! What a lump in the throat the words brought. In three days it would be Christmas, in seven more the New Year! Though, from the beginning of the voyage, they were prepared to pass both festivals at sea, there was all the difference in the world between a steady progress towards home and friends and the present plight of the Kansas. Death, too, had thrown its shadow over them. Some there were to whom the passing of the years would mean no more in this world. Others, the great majority of the ship’s company, were probably hidden by the same eternal silence; the last sight they had of them was a dim vision of boats rushing into a chaos of angry seas and sheeted spray.
But Courtenay would have none of these mournful memories. He had solved the mystery of the ship’s breakdown, and an expert mechanical engineer had just pledged his reputation to restore wings to the Kansas—somewhat clipped wings, it is true, but sufficient, given fair weather and reasonable good fortune, to bring her to a civilized settlement in the Straits. Why, then, should they yield to gloom?
“Isn’t that glorious news?” he cried. “Now, Christobal, that motor trip in June through the Pyrenees looks feasible once more. And you, Miss Maxwell, though you have never quailed for an instant, can hope to be in England in the spring. As for you, Tollemache, surely you will say that our prospects are ‘fair,’ at the least.”
“I would say more than that if it were not for these poisonous Indians,” replied Tollemache. “Here they come now, a whole canoe load of ’em. I have never seen such rotters.”
And, indeed, Francisco Suarez, detailed to keep watch and ward over the ship until noon, ran up the companion and cried excitedly:
“Four head men have just put off from Otter Creek. They have missed me, I expect. They will want me to go back. I beseech you, señor captain, not to give me up to them, but rather to send a bullet through my miserable heart.”
“Tell him to calm himself,” said Courtenay, coolly, when Christobal had translated this flow of guttural Spanish. “He has no cause to fear them now; let him nerve himself, and show a bold front. A palaver is the best thing that can happen. We must display all the arms we possess. Bid any of your invalids who can stand upright show themselves, Christobal. We must lift you outside, Boyle. Bring your camera, Miss Maxwell. If we could give these fellows a good picture of themselves it would scare them to death.”
The captain of the Kansas was not to be repressed that day. He refused to look at the dark side of things. He even found cause for congratulation in the threatened visit of cannibals whom Suarez feared so greatly that he preferred death to the chance of returning to them, although they had spared his life.
And Courtenay infected them all with his splendid optimism. It was with curiosity rather than dread that they watched the rapid approach of the canoe and its almost naked occupants.