Commodore Junk

It was true enough. They did escape in the night, and Mary had been there ready to help them with a boat; but where was she now? and who was this sturdy youth in loose petticoat-canvas trousers, and heavy fisherman’s boots?

Bart stared till his eyes showed a ring of white about their pupils, and his mouth opened roundly in unison for a time. Then eyes and mouth closed tightly, and wrinkles appeared all over his face, as he softly shook all over, and then, after glancing at Abel and the Irish soldier, he uttered a low —

“Haw, haw!”

The figure in the boat swung round and faced him sharply, glancing at the two sleeping men, and holding up a roughened brown hand to command silence.

“All right,” said Bart, half-choking with mirth; and then, “Oh, I say, my lass, you do look rum in them big boots!”

“Silence, idiot!” she whispered, sharply. “Do you want that strange man to know?”

“Nay, not I,” said Bart, shortly, as he too glanced at Dinny. “But I say, you do look rum.”

“Bart,” whispered Mary, fiercely, and her eyes flashed with indignant anger, “is this a time to fool?”

“Nay, my lass, nay,” he said, becoming sober on the instant, “But you do look so rum. I say, though,” he cried, sharply, “what’s gone of all your beautiful long hair?”

“Fire,” said Mary, coldly.

“Fire! what! – you’ve cut it off and burnt it?” Mary nodded.

“Oh!” ejaculated Bart, and it sounded a groan.

“Could girl with long hair have worked her passage out here as a sailor-boy, and have come into that cane-brake and saved you two?” said Mary, sharply; and as Bart sat staring at her with dilated eyes once more, she bent down after gazing at Dinny, still soundly sleeping, and laid her hand with a firm grip on her brother’s shoulder.

He started into wakefulness on the instant, and gazed without recognition in the face leaning over him.

“Don’t you know me, Abel?” said Mary, sadly.

“You, Mary? – dressed like this!”

He started up angrily, his face flushing as hers had flushed, and his look darkened into a scowl.

“What else could I do?” she said, repeating her defence as she had pleaded to Bart. Then, as if her spirit rebelled against his anger, her eyes flashed with indignation, and she exclaimed hoarsely, “Well, I have saved you, and if you have done with me – there is the sea!”

“But you – dressed as a boy!” said Abel.

“Hush! Do you want that man to know?” whispered Mary, hoarsely. “My brother was unjustly punished and sent out here to die in prison, while I, a helpless girl, might have starved at home, or been hunted down by that devil who called himself a man? What could I do?”

“But you worked your passage out here as a sailor?” whispered Abel.

“Ay, and she could do it, too – as good a sailor as ever took in sail; and, Mary, lass, I asks your pardon for laughing; and if I wasn’t such a big ugly chap, I could lie down there and cry.”

He held out his great coarse hand, in which Mary placed hers to return his honest clasp, and her eyes smiled for a moment into his, while Abel sat frowning and biting his lips as he glanced at Dinny.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said, hesitatingly. “It seems – ”

“Heigh – ho – ho! Oh, dear me!” cried Dinny, opening his eyes suddenly, making Mary start and Abel mutter a curse.

There was only one of the two equal to the emergency, and that was Bart, who gave his knee a sounding slap and cried aloud —

“Jack Dell, my lad, you’ve behaved like a trump, and got us away splendid. I on’y wish, Abel, I had such a brother. Hallo, soger, where shall we set you ashore?”

“Set me ashore?” said the Irishman, nodding at Mary; “what for?”

“What for?” cried Bart. “To go back.”

“I’m not going back,” said the Irishman, laughing. “Sure, I want a change.”

“Change!” cried Abel. “You can’t go with us.”

“Sure, and you forced me to come, and ye wouldn’t behave so dirthily as to send me back?”

“But we’re escaping,” said Bart.

“Sure, and I’ll escape too,” said Dinny, smiling. “It’s moighty dull work stopping there.”

“But you’re a soldier,” said Abel.

“To be sure I am – a sowldier of fortune.”

“You’ll be a deserter if you stop with us,” growled Bart.

“The divil a bit! Ye made me a prishner, and I couldn’t help meself.”

“Why, I wanted you to go back last night!” growled Bart.

“To be ate up entoirely by the ugly bastes of dogs! Thank ye kindly, sor, I’d rather not.”

Dinny looked at Mary and gave her a droll cock of the eye, which made her frown and look uneasy.

“Sure, Misther Jack,” he said, coolly, “don’t you think they’re a bit hard on a boy?”

“Hard?” said Mary, shortly.

“Av coorse. They knocked me down and took away me mushket and bagnet, and there they are in the bottom of the boat. Then they made me get over the gate and eshcape wid ’em; and, now they’re safe, they want to put me ashore.”

“We can’t take you with us,” said Abel, shortly.

“Aisy, now! Think about it, sor. Ye’re going for a holiday, sure; and under the circumstances I’d like one too. There! I see what ye’re a-thinking – that I’d bethray ye. Sure, and I’m a Kelly, and ye never knew a Kelly do a dirthy thrick to anyone. Did I shout for help last night when you towld me not?”

“You were afraid,” growled Bart.

“Afraid! – me afraid! Did ye ever hear of a Kelly who was afraid? No, sor; I said to meself, ‘The poor boys are making a run for it, and I’ll let them go.’ Sure, and I did, and here ye are.”

“It would not be wise to go near the shore now,” said Mary, in a whisper to her brother. “You have nothing to fear from him.”

Abel glanced at the happy, contented face before him, and then turned to Bart.

“What do you say?” he asked.

“There’s no harm in him,” said Bart, with a suspicious look at the Irishman.

“Sure, an’ ye’ll find me very useful,” said Dinny. “I was at say before I ’listed, so I can steer and haul a rope.”

“Can you keep faith with those who trust you?” said Mary, quickly.

“An’ is it a Kelly who can keep faith, me lad? Sure, an’ we’re the faithfullest people there is anny where. And, bedad! but you’re a handsome boy, and have a way wid you as’ll make some hearts ache before ye’ve done.”

Mary started, and turned of a deep dark red, which showed through her sun-browned skin, as she flashed an angry look upon the speaker.

Dinny burst into a hearty laugh.

“Look at him,” he said, “colouring up like a girl. There, don’t look at me, boy, as if ye were going to bite. I like to see it in a lad. It shows his heart’s in the right place, and that he’s honest and true. There, take a grip o’ me hand, for I like you as much for your handsome face as for the way you’ve stood thrue to your brother and his mate. And did ye come all the way from your own counthry to thry and save them?”

Mary nodded.

“Did ye, now? Then ye’re a brave lad; and there ar’n’t many men who would have watched night after night in that ugly bit o’ wood among the shnakes and reptiles. I wouldn’t for the best brother I iver had, and there’s five of ’em, and all sisters.”

Mary smilingly laid her hand on Dinny’s, and gazed in the merry, frank face before her.

“I’ll trust you,” she said.

“And ye sha’n’t repent it, me lad, for you’ve done no harm, and were niver a prishner. And now, as we are talking, I’d like to know what yer brother and number noinety-sivin did to be sint out of the counthry. It wasn’t murther, or they’d have hung ’em. Was it – helping yerselves?”

“My brother and his old friend Bart Wrigley were transported to the plantations for beating and half-killing, they said, the scoundrel who had insulted and ill-used his sister!” cried Mary, with flashing eyes and flaming cheeks, as she stood up proudly in the boat, and looked from one to the other.

“Wid a shtick?” said Dinny, rubbing his cheek as he peered eagerly into Mary’s face.

“Yes, with sticks.”

“And was that all?”

“Yes.”

“They transported thim two boys to this baste of a place, and put chains on their legs, for giving a spalpeen like that a big bating wid a shtick?”

“Yes,” said Mary, smiling in the eager face before her; “that was the reason.”

“Holy Moses!” ejaculated Dinny. “For just handling a shtick like that. Think o’ that, now! Why, I sent Larry Higgins to the hospital for sivin weeks wance for just such a thing. An’ it was a contimptibly thin shkull he’d got, just like a bad egg, and it cracked directly I felt it wid the shtick. And what did you do?” he added sharply, as he turned to Mary. “Where was your shtick?”

“I struck him with my hand,” said Mary, proudly.

“More sorrow to it that it hadn’t a shtick in it at the time. Sint ye both out here for a thing like that! Gintlemen, I’m proud of ye. Why didn’t ye tell me before?”

He held out his hands to both, and, intruder as he was, it seemed impossible to resist his frank, friendly way, and the escaped prisoners shook hands with him again.

“And now what are ye going to do?” said Dinny, eagerly.

“We don’t know yet,” said Abel, rather distantly.

“That’s jist me case,” said Dinny. “I’m tired of sogering and walking up and down wid a mushket kaping guard over a lot of poor divils chained like wild bastes. I tuk the shilling bekase I’d been in a skrimmage, and the bowld sergeant said there’d be plinty of foighting; and the divil a bit there’s been but setting us to shoot prishners, and I didn’t want that. Now, ye’ll tak me wid ye, only I must get rid o’ these soger clothes, and – look here, what are ye going to do wid thim chains?”

“Get rid of them,” said Abel, “when we can find a file.”

“I did not think of a file,” said Mary, with a disappointed look.

“There’s plinty of strange plants out in these parts,” said Dinny, laughing, “but I never see one that grew files. Only there’s more ways of killing a cat than hanging him, as the praste said when he minded his owld brogues wid a glue-pot. Come here.”

He took off his flannel jacket, folded it, and laid it in the bottom of the boat, but looked up directly.

“Ye’ve got a bit o’ sail,” he said, “and there’s a nice wind. Where are you going first?”

Mary looked at her brother, and Abel glanced at Bart.

“Ye haven’t made up yer minds,” said Dinny, “so look here. About twenty miles out yander to the west there’s a bit of an island where the overseer and two officers wint one day to shute wild pig and birds, and I went wid ’em. Why not go there till ye make up yer minds? It’s a moighty purty place, and ye’re not overlooked by the neighbours’ cabins, for there’s nobody lives there at all, at all, and we can have it our own way.”

“Wild pig there?” said Abel, eagerly.

“Bedad, yis, sor; nice swate bacon running about on four legs all over the place, and fruit on the trees, and fish in the say for the catching. Oh, an’ it’s a moighty purty little estate!”

“And how could we find it?” cried Mary.

“By jist setting a sail, and kaping about four miles from the shore till ye see it lying like a bit o’ cloud off to the south. Sure, and we could hang our hammocks there before night, and the mushket here all ready to shoot a pig.”

“Yes,” said Mary, in response to a glance from her brother.

“Then I’ll hoist the sail,” said Bart.

“Nay, let the boy do it,” said Dinny, “and you come and sit down here. I’ll soon show you a thing as would make the sergeant stare.”

Dinny drew a large knife from his pocket, and a flint and steel. The latter he returned, and, taking the flint, he laid his open knife on the thwart of the boat, and with the flint jagged the edge of the blade all along into a rough kind of saw.

“There!” he said; “that will do. That iron’s as soft as cheese.”

This last was a slight Hibernian exaggeration; but as Mary hoisted sail, and Abel put out an oar to steer, while the little vessel glided swiftly over the sunlit sea, Dinny began to operate upon the ring round one of Bart’s ankles, sawing away steadily, and with such good effect that at the end of an hour he had cut half through, when, by hammering the ring together with the butt of the musket, the half-severed iron gave way, and one leg was free.

“Look at that, now!” said Dinny, triumphantly, and with an air of satisfaction that took away the last doubts of his companions. “Now, thin, up wid that other purty foot!” he cried; and, as the boat glided rapidly toward the west, he sawed away again, with intervals of re-jagging at the knife edge, and soon made a cut in the second ring.

“Keep her a little farther from the shore, Abel,” said Mary, in a warning tone, as the boat sped westward.

“Ye needn’t mind,” said Dinny, sawing away; “the inhabitants all along here are a moighty dacent sort of folk, and won’t tell where we’re gone. They’re not handsome, and they’ve got into a bad habit o’ wearing little tails wid a moighty convanient crook in ’em to take howld of a tree.”

“Monkeys?” said Mary, eagerly.

“Yes, Masther Jack, monkeys; and then there’s the shmiling crockidills, and a few shnakes like ships’ masts, and some shpotted cats. There’s nobody else lives here for hundreds o’ miles.”

“Then you are safe, Abel,” said Mary, with the tears standing in her eyes.

“Yes, Ma – yes, Jack,” cried Abel, checking himself; and then meaningly, as he glanced at Bart, “you’re a brother of whom a man may well be proud.”

“Ay,” cried Bart, excitedly, “a brother of whom a man may well be proud.”

“Hurroo!” cried Dinny. “Howlt still, my lad, and I’ll soon be through.”

And the boat sped onward toward the west.

The island was found just as the Irishman had foretold, and as evening approached, without having even sighted a sail on their way, the little boat began coasting along, its occupants eagerly scanning the low, rock-reefed shore, above which waved a luxuriant tropic growth, but for some time no landing-place was found, while, though the sea was calm, there was a heavy swell to curl up and break upon the various reefs in a way that would have swamped their craft had they attempted to land.

The last fetter had been laboriously sawn through, Dinny having persisted in continuing the task, and he now sat resting and watching the shore with a critical eye.

All at once, upon sailing round a jagged point to which they had to give a wide berth on account of the fierce race which swept and eddied among the rocks, a pleasantly-wooded little bay opened out before them with a smooth sandy shore where the waves just creamed and glistened in the sun.

“Look at that, now,” said Dinny. “That’s where we landed; but I was ashleep after pulling a long time at the oar, and I disremembered all about where we went ashore.”

“How beautiful!” said Jack, gazing thoughtfully at the glorious scene, and asking herself whether that was to be her future home.

“An’ d’yer caal that beautiful?” said Dinny, contemptuously. “Young man, did ye iver see Dublin Bay?”

“No,” said Jack, smiling in the earnest face before him.

“Nor the Hill of Howth?”

Jack shook his head.

“Then don’t call that beautiful again in me presence,” said Dinny.

“Puts me in mind of Black Pool,” said Bart, thoughtfully.

Further conversation was checked by the interest of landing, the boat being run up on the shore and hidden among the rocks, not that it was likely that it would be seen, but the position of the fugitives and the dread of being retaken made them doubly cautious, Bart even going so far as to obliterate their footprints on the sand.

“Now, then,” said Dinny, “you’ve got the mushket and the bagnet, and those two make one; but if I was you I’d cut down one of them bamboos and shtick the bagnet an that, which would make two of it, and it would be a mighty purty tool to kill a pig.”

The hint was taken, Bart soon cutting down a long, straight lance shaft and forcing it into the socket of the bayonet.

“Then next,” said Dinny, “if I was captain I should say let’s see about something to ate.”

“Hear that, Abel?” said Bart.

“Yes. I was thinking of how we could get down some cocoa-nuts. There are plenty of bananas.”

“Hapes,” put in Dinny; “and there’s a cabbage growing in the heart of every one of thim bundles of leaves on the top of a shtick as they call palms; but them’s only vegetables, captain, dear, and me shtomach is asking for mate.”

“Can we easily shoot a pig – you say there are some,” said Abel.

“And is it aisily shoot a pig?” said Dinny. “Here, give me the mushket.”

He held out his hand for the piece, and Abel, who bore it, hesitated for a moment or two, and glanced at Jack, who nodded shortly, and the loaded weapon was passed to the Irishman.

“Ye doubted me,” he said, laughing; “but niver mind, it’s quite nat’ral. Come along; I won’t shoot anny of ye unless I’m very hungry and can’t get a pig.”

He led the way through an opening in the rough el if, and they climbed along a narrow ravine for some few hundred yards, the roar of the sea being hushed and the overhanging trees which held on among the rifts of the rocks shutting out the evening light, so that at times it was quite dusk. But the rocky barrier was soon passed, and an open natural park spread before them, in a depression of which lay a little lake, whose smooth grassy shores were literally ploughed in every direction with shallow scorings of the soil.

“Look at that now,” said Dinny in a whisper, as he pointed down at some of the more recent turnings of the soft earth. “The purty creatures have all been as busy as Pat Mulcahy’s pig which nobody could ring. Whisht! lie down, ye divils,” he whispered, setting the example, and crouching behind a piece of rock.

The others hid at once, and a low grunting and squeaking which had suddenly been heard in the distance increased loudly; and directly after a herd of quite two hundred pigs came tearing down through a narrow opening in the rocky jungle and made straight for the lake.

They were of all sizes, from little plump fellows, half the weight of ordinary porkers, to their seniors – the largest of which was not more than half the dimensions of an English pig.

They trotted down to the water side, where they drank and rolled and wallowed at the edge for a few moments, and then came back in happy unconsciousness of the fate which awaited one of their number, and passing so near the hidden group that Dinny had an easy shot at a well fed specimen which rolled over, the rest dashing on through the trees squealing as if every one had been injured by the shot.

“We sha’n’t starve here,” said Dinny, with a grin of satisfaction, and before many minutes had passed a fire was kindled in a sheltered nook, where the flame was not likely to be seen from the sea, and as soon as it was glowing, pieces of the pig, cut in a manner which would have disgusted a butcher, were frizzling in the embers.

Chapter Fourteen

“Master Jack.”

They had been a month on the island, leading a dreamy kind of existence, and had begun to sleep of a night deeply and well without starting up half a dozen times bathed in sweat, and believing that the authorities from Plantation Settlement were on their track and about to take them by surprise. The question had been debated over and over again – What were they to do? but Dinny generally had the last word.

“Why, who wants to do anything? Unless a man was in Ireland, where could he be better than he is here, with iverything a man could wish for but some more powder and a wife. Eh! Master Jack, ye handsome young rascal, that’s what ye’re always thinking about.”

“Jack” gave him an angry look, and coloured.

“Look at him!” cried Dinny. “There’s tell-tales. Niver mind, lad, it’s human nature, and we’re all full of it, and a good thing, too. Now come and get some cocoa-nuts, for the powder’s growing very low and we shall have to take to pig hunting instead of shooting when its done.”

“Jack” hesitated, and then, as if suddenly making up his mind, accompanied the Irishman to the nearest grove where the cocoa palms grew close down to the sea.

Here Dinny rolled up the sleeves of his coarse and ragged shirt, and climbed one tree as a lad does a pole; but the fruit when he reached it was immature, and he threw only one of the great husks down.

“We don’t want dhrink, but mate,” said Dinny, selecting another tree, and beginning to climb; but the day was hot, there was a languid feeling induced by the moist atmosphere, and Dinny failed three times to reach the glorious green crown of leaves where the nuts nestled, and slid down again, sore in body and in temper.

“A failure, Dinny!” said Jack.

“Failure! yes. Can’t ye see it is?” said the Irishman sourly, as he bent down and softly rubbed the inner sides of his knees. “Here, I’m not going to do all the climbing. You have a turn.”

“Jack” shook his head.

“No skulking!” cried Dinny; “fair-play’s a jool, me lad, so up you go. Ye’re younger and cleverer wid yer arms and legs than I am. Why, ye ought to go up that tree like a monkey.”

“Jack” shook his head and frowned.

“No,” he said, “I’m no climber. Let’s go back.”

“Widout a nut, and ready to be laughed at? Not I, me lad. Now, then, I shall have to tak ye in hand and mak a man of ye. Up wid ye.”

He caught the youth by the arm, and drew him, half-resisting, toward the tree.

“No, no, Dinny. Nonsense! I could not climb the tree.”

“Bedad, an’ ye’ve got to climb it!” cried Dinny. “Now, thin, take howld tightly, and up you go.”

“Loose my arm,” said Jack, speaking in a low voice, full of suppressed anger.

“Divil a bit. Ye’ve got to climb that three.”

“Loose my arm, Dinny,” said Jack again.

“Ye’ve got to climb that three, I tell ye, boy. Now, thin, no skulking. Up wid ye.”

“Jack” hung back, with the colour deepening in his cheeks, and a dark look in his eyes, which Dinny could not interpret and, half in anger at the lad’s opposition, half in playful determination, he grasped the youth firmly, and forced him toward the tree.

In an instant Jack flung himself round, with his eyes flashing, and before the Irishman could realise what was coming he went staggering back from the fierce blow he received in his chest, caught his heels against the husk of an overgrown nut, and came down heavily on the sand.

Dinny was an Irishman, and he had received a blow.

“Bad luck to ye, ye arbitrary young divil!” he cried, springing up. “It’s a big bating ye want, is it, to tache ye manners! thin ye shall have it.”

Jack trembled with indignation and excitement, but not with fear, for his cheeks were scarlet instead of pale. A blow had been struck, and he knew that no Irishman would receive one without giving it back with interest, and the only way out of the difficulty was to run, and he scorned to do that.

Quick as lighting he snatched a knife from his pocket, threw open the blade, and held it across his chest, half turning from his assailant, but with the point so directed that, if Dinny had closed, it could only have been at the expense of an ugly wound.

“Look at that now!” cried Dinny, pausing with hands raised to grip his adversary; “and me widout a bit o’ shtick in me fist. Ye’d shting, would ye, ye little varmint! Put down yer knoife and fight like a man. Bah!” he cried contemptuously, as his anger evaporated as rapidly as it had flashed up, “ye’re only a boy, and it’s no dishgrace to have been hit by one o’ yer size. I could nearly blow ye away. There, put away yer knoife and shake hands.”

A hail from the cluster of trees which they made their camp, and Bart and Abel came into sight.

Jack closed his knife with a sigh of relief, and dropped it into his pocket.

“An’ ye won’t shake hands?” said Dinny, reproachfully.

“Yes, I will, Dinny,” cried Jack, warmly, holding out his hand; “and I’m sorry I struck you.”

“That’s handsome, me lad,” cried the Irishman, gripping it tightly. “I’m not sorry, for it don’t hurt now, and I’m glad ye’ve got so much fight in ye. Ye’re a brave lad, and there’s Irish blood in ye somewhere, though ye’re ignorant of the fact. Hallo, captain! what ye’re going to do?”

Abel strode up with Bart at his side, looking curiously from one to the other.

“I want to have a talk with you two,” said Abel, throwing himself on the sand. “Sit down.”

“Did he see?” said Jack to himself, as he took his place a little on one side.

“A talk, and widout a bit o’ tobacky!” said Dinny, with a sigh. “What is it, captain, dear?”

“Bart and I have been thinking over our position here,” said Abel, “and we have determined to go.”