"Never mind them now. Let's shout."

"With a will, then, sir, and put your back into it. One, two, three, and ahoy!"

The peculiar duet rang out over the trees—a loud and piercing cry—and as it died away, Billy caught at Mark's arm, and gripped it tightly; his eyes staring wildly, with the pupils dilating, as from some little distance off on one side there came a mocking "Ha—ha—ha!" and from the other direction a peculiar hoarse barking croak, which can best be expressed by the word "Wauck!"

"Let's get away from here, Mr Mark, sir," whispered Billy. "I don't like this."

"Get away?"

"Yes, sir; they're a-making fun of us."

"Who are?"

"Oh, I don't know who they are, sir, but it's something. Let's get away, sir, fast as we can."

"Which way?"

"I d'know, sir, anyways as aren't near them."

"Why, it was a couple of birds of some kind."

"What! them snorky bill birds?" said Billy, alluding to the hornbills.

"Yes, I expect it was one of them, or a kingfisher."

"Birds!" said Billy in tones of disgust. "I never heerd no bird laugh at you when you was in trouble. I'm thinking as there's things in this here place as it wouldn't be nice to meet."

"I daresay there are, Billy; but these were birds."

"Birds! Hark at him! Would a bird shout to you to walk?"

"It didn't. It was a sort of croak."

"If we stops here I shall feel as if I'm going to croak, Mr Mark, sir. Why, them things made me feel cold all down my back."

"Nonsense! Come, shout again!"

Billy shook his head.

"Shout, I tell you. We don't want to stop here all night."

"No, Mr Mark, sir; don't, please don't. It's like showing 'em exactly where we are."

"Well, that's what we want to do."

"No, sir, I don't mean them. I mean them."

"What! the birds?"

"Them warn't birds, Mr Mark, sir," said Billy in a solemn whisper. "Don't you believe it."

"What were they, then?"

"Things as lives in woods, and never shows theirselves till people lies down and dies, and then they eats 'em."

"What do you mean? Vultures?"

"No, no; not them. I know what a wultur is. These is different things to them. Let's get away, sir, do."

"What do you mean, then?" persisted Mark. "Do you think there are goblins in the wood?"

"Something o' that sort, sir, but don't speak out loud. They might hear, and not like it."

"But goblins out here wouldn't understand English," said Mark laughing; but all the same it was rather a forced laugh, for the little sailor's evident dread was infectious.

"I wouldn't laugh if I was you, Mr Mark, sir. Come along."

"Shout," cried Mark, ashamed of the shadow of cowardice which had begun to envelop him, and he gave forth a loud "Ahoy!"

Ha—ha—ha!

Wauck!

The same two responses, but decidedly closer; and as Billy gripped the lad's arm again they heard from out of the darkest part of the jungle close by a peculiar chuckling, as if some one were thoroughly enjoying their predicament.

"Did yer hear that?" whispered Billy, whose sun-tanned visage was now quite pallid and mottled with muddy grey.

"Yes, I heard it, of course," said Mark, fighting hard with his growing alarm, "Ahoy!"

Ha—ha—ha!

Wauck!

And then the same peculiar low chuckle.

"Mr Mark, sir, this is hard on a man," whispered Billy. "I want to run away, sir, but—"

"Ugh! You coward!"

"No, sir, I aren't a coward. If I was I should run, but I can't run and leave you alone, and that's why it's so hard."

"I tell you it's the birds, Billy. Let's shout together."

"That aren't no birds, sir. It's things as it's best not to talk about. Now, look ye here, Mr Mark, sir: I'll run away with you, and fight for you, or do anything you like, sir, or I stands by you till I drops, so don't say I'm a coward."

"You are, to be afraid of birds. Ahoy!"

Ha—ha—ha!

Wauck!

Chuckle—chuckle—chuckle! A regular gurgle in a hoarse throat.

"I won't stand it. You come on," cried Billy, seizing Mark by the hand. "This way."

Mark did not resist, and the little sailor hurried him along as fast as the nature of the ground would allow; and with the full intention of going right towards where they had left the others, at the end of the bitumen river, he went right in the opposite direction, and farther and farther into the wildest recesses of the jungle.



CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

HOW MARK AND BILLY FOUND A STRANGE BED.

For a good half-hour they toiled on through cane-woven thickets, in and out of wildernesses of huge tree-trunks, many of which had great flat buttresses all round, which were difficult to climb over or round, while other trees seemed to be growing with their roots all above ground, green, snaky, twisted and involved roots, that necessitated sheer climbing before they could get by. Now and then they came to an opening where the trees had been burned down by volcanic fires, and here all was light and beauty in the evening sunshine. Again rocky crevices ran through the forest, giving them terribly hard work to get over, perhaps to come at once upon some boiling spring, whose water, where it trickled away and cooled, was of a filthy bitter taste that was most objectionable. Then again there were blistering pools of mud ever rising in a high ebullition, and bursting with strange sounds.

But all these were similar to those they had before encountered, and the hiss of steam, when they stepped upon some soft spot, ceased to alarm them with dread of serpents, but merely made them avoid such spots in favour of firmer ground.

Such signs of the volcanic nature of the isle were constant, and no matter which way they dragged their weary steps it was to find tokens of the active or quiescent workings of the subterranean fires.

At last, just as they were ready to drop, and the sun was rapidly disappearing, as the ruddy sky in the west plainly showed, they staggered out of a more than usually painful part of the jungle into a rugged stony opening, with the rock rising nearly sheer for hundreds of feet, and to the intense delight of both, the ruddy light of the sky was reflected from a rock pool, which glowed as if it were brimming with molten orange gold.

"Water!" gasped Billy. "Come on."

"Be careful!" panted Mark; "it may be bitter or hot."

As he spoke the little sailor threw himself down, and plunged his fist within, scooped out a little, tasted it, and then uttered a shout of joy.

"Drink, my lad," he said hoarsely, and Mark followed his example, placing his lips to the surface as he lay flat down and took in long refreshing draughts of cool sweet water that seemed the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

"Talk about grog!" cried Billy, as he raised his face to take breath, and then he drank again; "I never had grog as come up to this," he continued. "Ah!"

Satisfied at length, they sat there at the edge of the pool looking up at the rocky scarp before them, part of which glowed in the sunlight reflected from the sky, while the rest down by where they sat was bathed in purply shadows which were rising fast.

"Seems to me, my lad, as we must look out for a night's lodging. What says you?"

"Yes, Billy, we must get some shelter for the night. But let's try one more shout."

The little sailor protested, but Mark raised his voice as loudly as he could in a stentorian "Ahoy!" and as if the occupants of the forest had kept close upon their heels there came the same sneering laugh, and the hoarse croaking cry from among the trees.

"There! see what you've done!" groaned Billy. "Who's to go to sleep anywhere near here if they're arter us?"

"Nonsense!" cried Mark. "They'll go to roost directly, and we sha'n't hear them again."

"Roost! Nay, lad, that sort o' thing never roosts. Let's get on."

"Get on! why, it will be dark directly, and we shall be falling down some precipice, or getting into one of those horrible bogs. We must get some shelter where we can."

There seemed to be no difficulty about that, for a few feet up the face of the rock, and where it could easily be reached, there was a depression which looked as if two huge blocks of stone had fallen together, one leaning against the other, and as, after a great deal of persuasion, Billy Widgeon climbed up to it with his companion, they found this really to be the case, save that instead of its being two blocks of stone it was two beds of strata lying together, in such a position that they formed a cavern some ten-feet high and as many wide, and with a peculiarly ribbed and cracked floor.

It was rapidly growing too dark to see of what this floor was composed, the gloom being quite deep as soon as they were inside. Neither could they explore the interior, though it seemed to form a passage going in for some distance; but a careful searching of the floor and the neighbourhood of the entrance failed to show them the slightest trace of animal occupation.

"But it's very risky work, Mr Mark, sir, coming and settling down in a rat's hole of a place like this."

"My dear Billy, if you can show me a better place, one where we shall be in shelter from the rain and the heavy dew, I shall be glad to go to it. I don't like sleeping on stone floors."

"Well, for the matter o' that, I daresay I can get enough o' them big leaves, nice dry uns, to make you a bed, Mr Mark, sir, and I will. But hadn't we better try somewheres else?"

"There will not be time, man," cried Mark angrily.

"All right, Mr Mark, sir! but don't you blame me if anything happens."

"No. Come along, and let's be thankful for finding such a shelter. We may as well get as many leaves as we can."

They found time to collect three loads of large dry palm leaves, and as they carried the last armful into the rocky hole, the night was quite closed in, and the crescent moon shone over the trees and silvered their tops faintly, while a soft wind whispered among them and reached the nostrils of the occupants of the cave, bearing with it the peculiar salt strange odour of the sea.

"Say," said Billy, as they sat upon their heaps of palm leaves gazing out of the mouth of their resting-place, "think of our being 'bliged to stop in a hole like this when you can smell the sea."

"Not a bad place," said Mark; "and I wouldn't mind if I could feel sure that my father and mother were not in trouble about me."

"My father and mother wouldn't trouble about me," said Billy, "even if they know'd. But do you really think it was birds as made those noises, Mr Mark, sir?"

"I feel sure it was."

"I wish we was birds just now. How we could fly right over the wood and get back to the camp! Wonder what's for supper?"

"Birds," said Mark, stretching himself in a comfortable position upon the palm leaves, and gazing at the great stars in the purple sky.

"Ah, yes," said Billy, "birds! and they'll be roasting at the fire now, and spittering and sputtering, and smelling as nice as roast birds can smell. I wish we was in camp."

He sighed and stretched himself on the leaves, grunting a little as he felt the hard rock through.

"Aren't you very hungry, Mr Mark, sir?"

"No; I feel too fidgety about my father looking for us to want any food."

"Ah, it's a bad thing to—Yah!—hah—hah—hah!"

Billy finished his sentence with a tremendous yawn, and then rustled the leaves as he tucked some more of them beneath him.

"Roast birds," he muttered; "and then there'll be some o' them big oyster things all cooked up in their shells!"

Mark did not answer, for though in his mind's eye he saw the camp fire, he did not see the cooking, but the cooks, and thought of how anxious his mother would be.

"I should have said they was mussels," said Billy, in a low voice.

"What, Billy?"

"Them shell-fish, sir, more like oysterses than—I mean more like muss— muzzles—oysters—muzzles—muzzles!"

Mark raised himself upon his arm and looked at his companion, who was dimly-seen in the starlight.

"Why, Billy, what's the matter?" he said. "Sleeping uneasy?"

"Easy it is, sir. Eh? Sleep. No, Mr Mark, sir. What say?—sleep, sir. No; wide-awake as you are, sir."

"That's right," said Mark, gazing out once more at the softly glowing stars. The crescent moon had gone down in a bed of clouds, and all around the darkness seemed to grow deeper and softer, till it was as if it could be touched, and everything was wonderfully still, save when there came from the distance a sharp whistling that might have been from a bird, but was more probably escaping steam.

Now and then Mark could see strange lights glowing, and then feel a tremulous motion such as would be felt at home when a vehicle was passing the house, and as if this might be thunder, it was generally after he had noticed a flashing light playing over the trees, sometimes bright enough to reveal their shapes, but as a rule so faint as to be hardly seen.

He thought about his father going back wearied out with a long search. Then he wondered whether he had gone back, and at last the idea struck him as strange that the party had not fired a gun at intervals to attract their attention.

He had just arrived at this point, and was considering whether a light he saw was a luminous fungus, when a strange noise saluted his ear, a sound that for the moment he supposed to have come from the forest. Then it seemed to be in the cave, and he was about to spring up, when he realised that the noise was made by Billy Widgeon, who was too tired to let his nervous and superstitious dread trouble him any more, and was now sleeping as heavily as if he were in his bunk on board the Petrel.

Mark felt a curious sensation of irritation against a man who could go off to sleep so calmly at a time like this, but the man's words came to mind about his father and mother, and at last Mark was fain to say to himself, "If the poor fellow can sleep why shouldn't he?"

For his own part he had quite come to the determination that he would get what rest he could as he lay awake watching, for he knew that, anxious as he was, it would be impossible to sleep. Besides, he wanted to listen for the possibility of a signal being made. A gun fired would, he knew, be heard an enormous distance, and it would give him an idea of the direction in which the camp lay.

All this while Billy Widgeon lay snoring loudly, but by degrees, as Mark watched the stars that seemed to float over the jungle, the heavy breathing became less heavy, and by slow degrees softer and softer till it quite died away, and all was perfectly still to Mark Strong as he lay watching there.

But it was only in imagination that he watched, for nature had played a trick upon the lad, and in spite of his determination to keep awake, in spite of his anxiety, had poured her drowsy medicine upon his eyes.

For Mark had fallen into as deep a sleep as his companion.



CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

HOW THE ROARING SPOT WAS FOUND.

Ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha!

Wauck! Wauck! Wauck!

There was a loud rustling of palm leaves, and Mark Strong and Billy Widgeon sprang to their feet and stared at one another as the warm glow that precedes sunrise penetrated the cave and lit up their faces.

"What was that?"

"I don't know. Did somebody call?"

"I—I thought I heered them things again," said Billy in a whisper. "Why, Mr Mark, sir, you've been asleep!"

"I'm afraid I have. Have you?"

"Dunno, sir. Well, I suppose I have. I feel like it. But I didn't mean to, sir."

"Neither did I mean to," said Mark. "I wonder I did go. How chilly it is!"

"Yes, sir, like one feels in the early watches. Why, it's quite to-morrow morning!"

"Or this morning, Billy."

"Yes, sir, that's what I mean. Now, then, what's the first thing, Mr Mark, sir? What do you say to finding a coky-nut tree? I'll swarm up and get the nuts."

"Let's start at once, and try to get to camp. That will be better than cocoa-nuts. Now, then, the sun is rising on our right; then it seems to me if we keep it there, upon our right, and walk as straight as we can, we shall hit the shore somewhere near our camp."

"Then you won't look for the Gutty Perchy Road, sir?"

"No, no; they would not have stayed there. We will try and get through the jungle—we must get through it, Billy, so come along."

"Shall I go first, sir?" said the little sailor.

"No, I'll go first. I wish we had lights to look a little further into this hole. Why, Billy, the floor's lava!"

"Yes, sir, I thought it was."

"You thought it was what?" cried Mark, staring.

"What you said, sir."

"Never mind, come along," said Mark; and he went to the edge of the cave and stood looking out like a pigeon in one of the holes of a dove-cot preparing to take flight.

"See anything, sir?"

"Trees, rocks, sky; nothing more," said Mark; "but the sea must be straight before us, and it cannot be many miles away."

He turned and began to climb down backwards, and reached the level at the bottom of the steep scarp, when, looking up, he could not help smiling at the great care Billy displayed in descending, for he lowered his short legs over the edge as he held on and began feeling about in a most absurdly comical manner for the nearest projection which he could touch.

He was in this position, about fifteen feet above the spot where Mark waited, when, with a noise that was almost deafening, the frightful roar which had startled the whole party burst out from just inside the cave where they had slept.

The sound was so awful in its intensity that Mark shuddered as he stood there almost petrified, while at the first burst poor Billy Widgeon loosed his hold and dropped down shrunken up together as if he were trying to emulate the manner of a hedgehog, and as he fell, he just touched the ground, sprang up, and began to run.

"Mr Mark, sir, run—run, my lad, run!"

To his credit, be it said, that he stopped short and waited for Mark to come up, terrified as he was, and then sent him on first, while he covered him from behind.

Neither spoke for some time, but, regardless of direction, ran where they could, but oftener walked, or even crept, through the dense forest, always with the sensation that the huge beast that had uttered that frightful roar was crashing through the trees on their track.

By degrees though they recovered their confidence somewhat, gradually realising that there was no sound behind them, and at last they paused panting and exhausted to wipe the perspiration from their brows, and listen.

"Hear it coming, Mr Mark, sir?"

"No," said Mark after a few moments, "I can hear nothing."

"Jim-a-ny!" panted Billy, "think of us a-going to sleep in his hole. Oh, Mr Mark, sir, what an awful beast! I thought he'd ha' had me. I was that scared I couldn't let go for a moment."

"Did you hurt yourself much?"

"Hurt myself! I should think I did. I must have half my bones broken. But what a roar!"

"What was it like?"

"Like, sir! Oh, I can't tell you what it was like."

"What! didn't you see it?"

"Don't you talk so loud, my lad, or we shall have him arter us."

"No, I won't, Billy; but did you see it?"

"'Cause, if we gets it arter us, it's all over."

"Yes, yes, I know that; but I want to know what sort of a beast it was. Did you see it?"

"Did you hear it roar, Mr Mark, sir?" said Billy, still fencing with the question.

"Of course I did. What was it like?"

"Well, you see, I didn't, as I may say, exactly see it, Master Mark, sir, so I wouldn't venture to say what it was like."

"But you saw something?"

"Well, I won't deceive you, Mr Mark, sir; I didn't see nothing."

"I wish you had, Billy. But what an escape! The thing must have been asleep when we went there last night, and did not wake till we came away. But we've found out its hole."

"Yes," said Billy, dolefully, as he rubbed one leg; "we've found out its hole, Mr Mark, sir, only, as you may say where is it?"

"Why, we could find our way back there, surely?"

"I don't believe nobody could find their way. I can't, sir. You're always going where you don't want, and turning up somewhere else. I feel like the needle in the bottle of hay, sir, and give it up."

Mark stood listening, but all was still.

"Shall we go back and try if we can see it?" he whispered.

"Go back! Now, my dear lad, don't. Don't think about that. Ugh! after such an escape! Come along."

"Wait a moment. Where's the sun? It should be on our right."

"Well, it's on our left, now," said Billy.

"Then we've been going farther away from the sea. Well, we can't go back."

"Go back, my dear lad! no! let's go this way, and make on till we come to somewhere. Anything, so as to get right away from that horrible beast."

In spite of his proposal to go back and try and get a glimpse of their enemy, Mark felt more disposed to hurry away; and for the next two hours they climbed and struggled on, half aware, and yet not willing to alter their course, that they were going farther from help.

Mark said so at last.

"But we don't want help so much now, sir, as miles of distance. Let's get away, right away, Mr Mark, and when we feels we're safe then we'll talk about going for camp."

Mark said no more, but trudged on, and struggled through the trees, with the ground growing higher and higher, till at last they came upon a sight which made Billy Widgeon try to throw up his cap; but he only struck it against a bough, and then made a dash forward in the direction of something which quite for the moment overmastered all his feelings of dread.

"Food!" he shouted; and Mark saw that he was making for a tall cocoa-nut tree; but before he had gone many steps the report of a gun rang out on the morning air, and this brought both to a stand-still.

"Ahoy!" they shouted as nearly as they could together, and a faintly-heard shout answered their call.

"Hurrah!" shouted Mark, and he hailed again and went in the direction of the response, closely followed by Billy, who cast longing eyes on the cocoa-nuts.

The rest was but a matter of time, and was achieved by keeping up the calls and answers. Sometimes they found they were going wrong, but this was soon rectified, and in half an hour Mark's eyes were gladdened by the sight of his father's face, as he forced his way out of a cane-brake.

"Oh, father," the lad exclaimed, "I am so sorry!"

"Oh, Mark, my boy, I am so glad!" cried the captain, catching him by the shoulders, and then pressing him tightly to his breast.

"You young dog! Here, Strong, give me leave to thrash him, and I'm yours truly for ever. Why, Mark, my dear boy, what a stew you put us in! There, if you'll go and look where I lay down to sleep for half an hour you'll find some tears on the leaves."

"I'm so sorry, Major O'Halloran."

"Bedad, and it don't matter, for we've found you again. Ugh! you ugly young ruffian! to go frightening your father into fits."

"It was an accident, sir."

"That's what your father said. He would have it that you had gone down a hole to see what made the mountain burn, and couldn't get out."

"If you wouldn't mind, Mr Mark, sir, I'd like to shake hands," said Small, "afore I punch Billy Widgeon's head."

"It wasn't his fault, Small," cried Mark, shaking hands heartily with the boatswain before turning to the captain.

"Was my mother very much frightened, father?"

"I hope not, my lad."

"Hope not! What! haven't you been back to camp?"

"Not likely, my boy. We found you did not come back so we went off from the mud-stream path to the right and searched for you till we could not see, and have fired off half our ammunition for signals."

"But we went off to the left, father," said Mark.

"And so we got farther and farther apart, so no wonder we did not find you."

"Did you shout?"

"Shout!" cried the major, who sounded very Irish that morning. "Why, can't you hear, boy, how dumb we are with yelling after you!"

"Never mind, you are found, so now for camp. They must be very anxious. But you are none the worse?"

"No, father, not a bit; only hungry."

"But did you hear that roar soon after daybreak?"

"Hear it! Yes," cried Mark; "it came out of the cave in which we slept;" and he related their experience.

The captain looked at the major without speaking.

"Oh, I'm ready," said the latter with a look of determination. "Let's have the rest of what we have to eat, and then set the matter at rest."

"We will," said Captain Strong, "and then we shall have a better right to face those in camp. I don't like for our visit to be purposeless."

Billy Widgeon's eyes glistened as they found a level place to sit down and make a fairly hearty meal, supplemented by some fruit picked by the men during the laborious search, which had only ceased on the previous night when they were quite exhausted.

As they made their sylvan breakfast the question was discussed as to the possibility of finding the cave again. Mark felt that he could not but express his willingness to try, and soon after, with guns loaded ready, they rose and set off in quest of the monster that threatened to make their life a penance.



CHAPTER FORTY.

HOW THE ROAR PROVED TO BE—A ROAR.

The task proved more simple than Mark had anticipated, and he went on, step by step, learning how it was that the Indians tracked their prey. Every now and then he was at fault, but on these occasions some other eye detected the trampled ferns, a broken twig, or a cane dragged out of place, and the result was that in a couple of hours the opening was reached where the rocky scarp rose up high toward the mountain, and the mouth of the cave yawned open before them.

Here there was a pause. What to do next?

"It's awkward," said the major, "supposing our friend's at home. I don't want to go first, and I'm sure I don't want you to go, Strong."

"Shall we send Billy Widgeon in first, sir?" said Small. "He's a little un, and knows his way. Here, Billy, where are you?"

An inarticulate noise above their heads made them turn, to find that Billy had rapidly climbed a tree.

"Well, of all the cowards! Here, you come down," cried Small.

He pointed his gun at the little sailor, and vowed so heartily that he would fire at his legs if he did not descend, that Billy swung himself reluctantly on to a thin elastic branch, and let himself swing lower till he could touch the ground.

"I think the best way will be to get a fire, and as soon as the brands are well alight one of the men must go underneath and throw them in, while we stand ready with our guns."

The plan was carried out; and eager now to show that he was not so great a coward as the boatswain had suggested, Billy volunteered to throw in the burning wood.

All was ready. The captain, major, Mark, and Small, with loaded pieces, and the latter with instructions to fire calmly and with good aim, and Billy with the burning wood, which was of a resinous nature, and burned fiercely.

"Now, my lad," said the captain after a glance round, and finally fixing his eyes on the mouth of the cavern, which looked black and grim, "when I say 'Ready!' get well under the cave mouth, climb up a little way, and hurl in the burning wood as far as you can."

"But suppose he comes out, sir?"

"If he does, you will be out of sight, and the beast will come right at us."

"You won't shoot me, gentlemen?"

"No, man, of course not."

"Nor you, Mr Small," pleaded Billy.

"Lookye here, Billy Widgeon," growled the boatswain, "if you don't do your dooty like a man, and chuck them there blazing sticks right into the back o' that there hole, I'm blest if I don't."

Billy Widgeon said never a word, but got his wood well ablaze, while the captain and major stood right in front of the cave, with Small and Mark on their right and left.

"Now, be careful," said the captain; and then Billy Widgeon crept cautiously under the mouth of the cave, and then began to climb, with the smoke rising from the fire, till he was so high that he could hold on with one hand and throw with the other.

"Ready!" cried the captain.

Whizz went the burning brands, so well aimed that they went right into the cave, and an unexpected result was produced. One of these went right in, and the other fell upon the bed of palm leaves which Mark had occupied. This began to blaze, the other caught, and in a few minutes the interior was full of flame and smoke, the former roaring, and the latter eddying out and up the face of the rock.

"Not at home," said the major, as they all stood breathlessly waiting for the outburst of the furious monster, which Mark painted mentally as something between a lion and a bear, but elephantine in size.

"Think not?"

"No wild beast would stand that without making a run for it."

Hardly had the major spoken when there was a deafening roar, accompanied by a rushing sound; Billy Widgeon dropped down, and rolled over, to lie among some ferns, crouched together like a ball; Small ran to the nearest tree, and peered round it, taking aim, while the other two men followed Small's example. The captain, major, and Mark stood firm, but the latter had so hard a fight with self that he would have had but little for any furious beast that had charged. For all the time nature kept on saying, "Run for your life!" while education whispered, "Face the danger like a man!"

Education won, and Mark stared as he saw his father uncock his piece and throw it over his shoulder, while the major began to laugh.

"Well, Mark, there's your wild beast," he said merrily, and he pointed up at the mountain.

"I—I don't understand."

"Steam, boy, gas, or something of that kind. Didn't you see the smoke and flame come out with a puff?"

"Yes, I saw that; but don't you think it is a wild beast?"

"No beast could roar like that, my lad," said the captain. "Don't you see that this is one of the ways into the mountain, and every now and then it blows off so much steam, or heated air. It must come from a tremendous distance through rocky passages, and the sudden blast makes this roar."

At that moment Billy Widgeon raised his head and looked up at them curiously.

"Aren't you going to shoot, gen'lemen?"

"Not this time," said the captain. "There, jump up, and let's get back. We shall be able to live here in peace while we get our boat built. I'm glad we've solved the problem."

"Well, I'm glad," said the major, "but it's a shabby end to the affair. I should have liked to get the monster's head and skin for my room."

"It's a rum un," said Billy Widgeon, climbing up and staring in at the hole. "That's what it is, Mr Mark, sir; it's a rum un."

"What's that?" cried Mark suddenly. "Here! hi! Bruff! Bruff! Bruff!"

He whistled loudly, and there was a joyous barking heard in the distance, and soon after the dog came bounding up from the more open ground at the end of the rocky scarp.

"That must be our way, then," said the captain. "Here, Mark, do you think he could lead us home?"

"I don't know, father—let's try," cried Mark, and after the dog had given every one a friendly recognition, and received his due meed of pats and caresses, he was sent on in front, going forward quite as a matter of course; but before they reached the end of the rock-encumbered opening, there was a roar of laughter from the men, as Billy Widgeon struck an attitude, smiling all over his face, resting his hands upon his short knees, and shaking his head.

"A pritty creetur! Look at that now, Mr Mark, sir!"

All joined in the roar of laughter as the "pritty creetur," to wit, Jack, came ambling along, and hopping from rock to rock, having followed the dog; and as soon as he reached Billy, leaping upon his back, and clinging tightly to his neck, chattering loudly the while.

"Forward!" cried the captain; and, following the dog, the little party went on, to find that they had a couple of hours' hard struggle through the tangled jungle, at the end of which time a familiar whistling sound was heard, one of the mud-pools reached, and from that point, over known ground, their course was comparatively easy to the camp, where the anxiety of the ladies ceased, though they owned that, knowing how difficult travelling was, they were not very much alarmed.

Judging, however, from the face of his mother, Mark rather doubted this, while, though as a soldier's wife she would not show it, Mrs O'Halloran had evidently passed a bitter night, and when Mark went up to Mary O'Halloran to shake hands, that young lady told him it was horribly cruel, that he ought to be ashamed of himself, and that she would never shake hands with him again.



CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

HOW THERE WAS NO PEACE ON THE BEAUTIFUL ISLE.

Three months glided happily away, during which time there was no renewal of the earthquake, the lightning ceased to play about the cone of the beautiful mountain, and the roar from the lion's mouth, as Mark and Mary christened it, grew gradually less and less audible till it finally died away.

It was a busy time, and seemed to pass like magic in that wonderful clime of sunshine, verdure, and brightly winged bird and insect. There were occasional showers, such as fall with terrible violence in the tropics, but the mornings after were so delicious that the rains were welcomed.

There was shooting, and fishing, and fruit gathering, climbing for cocoa-nuts, work in abundance, which seemed almost like play; but the main task was the journey round to the ship to bring stores, of which there were ample, and to commence building a small sailing vessel, which would easily convey them all to Singapore.

But this part of the daily work was the only one which was distasteful to the men.

"You see, Mr Mark, sir, it's like this here," said Billy. "Me and my monkey's as happy here as the day's long, and so's my mates; for now, as Mr Morgan and Stowaway Jimpny and t'other chap's strong as horses again, what we says is this here, what call is there for us to want to get back to London town?"

"Ah, what, indeed, Billy!" said Mark.

"To smoke and fog and blacks, and black-beadles, and blackguards, and colds and coughs, and no sun never shining. Let's stop here, I says."

"To be sure, Billy!"

"I'm glad you think so, sir. Jack does, and so does old Bruff; and as for David Jimpny, 'Let me live and die here,' he says, 'for I didn't know as there was such places in the world.' But Mr Small says 'No,' he says, 'We've got to make that there boat,' he says, and he's a nigger-driving all day long. Blow the boat! I wish as it had never been begun, and the gig was burned."

But the making of the boat progressed, and at the end of six months from their landing she was finished, fitted with stores, and lay in Crater Bay ready for the projected voyage.

This readiness was welcome and unwelcome, for though the idea of getting back to civilisation was gladdening for some reasons, and the captain longed to give an account to the owners of the Petrel of his misfortune, and to get a vessel and men from Singapore to try and save all possible of her lading, there was something painful in the idea of giving up their deliciously calm and peaceful life.

"I shall never get such shooting again," said the major. "But duty, duty. 'Tention!"

"It has been a pleasant life," said Morgan thoughtfully. "I don't think I could have recovered from that wound any where else so soon."

"Yes, it's pleasant," said Mr Gregory, "but one can't study oneself. I've got a wife at home, who must think me dead."

"And I have someone waiting who is to be my wife," said Morgan, "and she must think me dead."

The men could not hear these words, or several of them could have spoken similarly; and somehow, in spite of the beauty of the place and the abundance, with the sun shining constantly, England mentally seen from a distance began to appear more and more attractive, and the time was coming when the place would be wearisome.

One day, while they were still halting before making a start, the captain wishing to make a few more additions to their vessel and then take her on a trial trip before venturing with all on board so far, the signal for starting came in a very unexpected manner.

David Jimpny, who had grown to be one of the strongest and healthiest looking of the men there, proved still to be one of the most useless as far as helping in matters nautical. But in anything relating to trips inland he was invaluable. There was so much of the vagabond spirit in him that he liked nothing better than being sent off inland to collect palm tops or shoots for cooking like vegetables. These he would get and bring into camp, and, what was more, try experiments on other promising things. He would come back hot and scratched, but generally with an eager look in his eyes as he had to announce the discovery of some fruit-tree of which there was an abundance, but almost invariably hidden in the depths of the jungle.

Off these trees he would bring in a splendid supply of fruit of strange look, but often delicious quality, and nothing delighted Mark more than a journey to one or other of these sylvan stores.

Upon this special day Mark had to take charge of the camp, for a rule was made never to leave the ladies entirely alone. The island, as far as they could make out, was uninhabited, the strange noises heard occasionally being invariably attributed to the volcano; but there was the possibility of danger coming from without, and it was considered advisable that someone should always stay to be on the watch.

Mark had been wandering listlessly about for some time wishing he could fish, or shoot, or collect insects—though he might easily have done the latter, for an abundance of beautiful butterflies came from the forest to settle wherever the skins of fruit were thrown. But he wanted to be free, and it was tiresome, he thought, to be so useless and do nothing better than to idle about the camp and watch the cooking—a tantalising matter when you could not eat.

It was getting toward afternoon when Bruff, who was with him, lying on the sand with his eyes shut and shaking his ears to keep out the flies, suddenly sprang up and uttered a low growl.

"What is it, old boy?" cried Mark.

Another growl, and a short snapping bark, which was answered by a chattering noise, told that the monkey was coming, and he appeared soon after followed by the stowaway.

Something was evidently wrong, for the man was waving his hand wildly, and beckoning to him to come.

Mark ran to meet him, to see, as he drew nearer, that Jimpny's face and hands were bleeding and his shirt hanging in strips from his shoulders, while his staring eyes and open mouth showed him to be suffering from excess of terror.

"Why, David, what's the matter?" cried Mark as he ran up to him, the stowaway sinking down upon the sand unable to answer, and his breath coming and going with a hoarse roaring noise that was terrible.

"Can't you speak?" cried Mark. "What is the matter?"

The stowaway uttered a few words hoarsely, but nothing was comprehensible but "quick!" and "run." He pointed seaward, though in the direction opposite to that which the party had taken that morning on their way round to Crater Bay, a journey which familiarity had made appear now comparatively short.

Mark looked in the direction in which he pointed, and could see the blue water of the lagoon, with to his left the long line of creamy surf and to his right the fringe of cocoa-nut trees just beyond the sand.

Jimpny pointed again, and on once more looking searchingly Mark made out a flock of the beautiful long-tailed parroquets which haunted the island groves, but nothing more.

"Have you seen anything—has anyone touched you? Oh, I say, David, do speak! What is the matter?"

The stowaway made signs again and pointed, striving once more to rise, but sinking back from utter exhaustion.

"Point, then, if you can't speak," cried Mark. "If the ladies see you like this they will be frightened to death."

The man pointed again toward where a long low point ran out into the lagoon, fringed with luxuriant growth, but nothing more was visible.

"There, I thought as much!" cried Mark as he saw his mother coming up, followed by Mrs O'Halloran, and Mary with them, the latter running on in advance.

"What's the matter, Mark?" she cried as she came up—and then, "Oh, Mr Jimpny, how you have got scratched!"

"There's nothing the matter, I think," said Mark laughing, for the stowaway's face was comical with terror. "I think David has seen another noise, or found a steam snake, like I did."

"No, no," panted the stowaway. "Boats! pirates! coming!"

"What! where?" cried Mark excitedly, as he looked in the direction pointed out; and as he did so Bruff set up the hair about his neck, and uttered a fierce and prolonged bark.

For there, just coming into sight beyond the point, was one of the long, low, peculiar-looking boats which the Malays call praus, boats which have been famous for ages as the means by which the fierce tribesmen made their way from place to place, killing and destroying ship and town wherever plunder was to be had.

"Down, Bruff! quiet, sir!" cried Mark. "Quick, every one! In amongst the trees!"

Mrs Strong and the major's wife had hardly comprehended what was wrong before they were hurried in among the trees, Jimpny following, limping and still breathing hoarsely.

"I was up—up the side of the mountain," he panted, "when I—I saw them coming. There's three boats."

"Three!" cried Mark, peering out from among the trees; and as he looked it was to see one prau clear of the point, and another coming slowly out into view.

"Do you think they saw us?" said Mary in a frightened whisper.

"No; not they," said Mark. "They could not, unless they had telescopes and were watching; but ah! they'll see that. Come along, quick!"

He led the way, taking upon himself the guidance of the little party in his charge, and together they hurried on through the trees to where the huts were erected among the trunks of the cocoa grove.

"They could not see these places unless they landed," said Mark, looking sharply about him, "and there is no boat nor anything that would take their attention, only that."

"Only what, my boy?" said Mrs Strong eagerly.

"That," said Mark—"the fire. Jimpny, hold Bruff and don't let him come after me. Lie down, sir. Let no one else show outside the trees."

"What are you going to do, Mark?" cried Mary.

"Put out the fire," he said quickly. "It will betray where we are."

He did not hesitate, but going down upon hands and knees crept down the sand toward where, in the midst of the coral rocks, the fire was burning in what they had called the kitchen.

Fortunately it was clear and glowing, the smoke having given way to clear flame, but there was still a faint thread rising, and unless the Malays took it for steam from one of the hot springs they might land there to see, and if they did, though nothing was visible from a distance, the trampled sand and litter of the camp, as well as the tracks left by the keel of the boat, would show plainly enough that there were inhabitants in the isle.

Those within shelter watched intently as Mark got over the intervening space and disappeared behind the rocks, where, using his hands as shovels, he rapidly threw on quantities of sand till the fire was completely smothered out, and the birds roasting for their dinners destroyed.

This task accomplished, Mark crept back, satisfied that if seen by the Malays he would be taken for some animal, and as soon as he reached the shelter of the trees, rising upright and gazing between the trunks out to sea.

The stowaway was right; there were three praus now visible, and Bruff was growling angrily, as if he recognised enemies in every long low boat.

"What are you going to do?" said Mrs Strong. "Keep in hiding and let them pass?"

"No," said Mark. "I must get round to Crater Bay and warn them there."

"Yes," said Mrs Strong, "that is right."

"How unfortunate that every one should have gone and left us this morning!" said the major's wife.

Mark hesitated for a moment as if making his plans.

"I can't leave you all and go," he said at last. "You must come with me. It will be a long hot walk; but you must come."

"I'm afraid the pirates have been round there, Mr Mark," said the stowaway hoarsely.

"No, no," cried Mrs Strong.

"Which, begging your pardon, ma'am, they seemed to come from that way as if they'd been round there."

"You've no business to say that," cried Mark excitedly. "It is only guesswork, mother—Mrs O'Halloran. Come along, and keep well in among the trees. Bruff, to heel, sir! You, Jimpny, lead the monkey."

"Yes, Mr Mark, sir; but hadn't I better get a gun?"

"Yes, of course," cried Mark eagerly, and together they ran into the officers' quarters, to come forth again, armed to the teeth, to where the ladies were waiting on the sand.

"Where is Mrs O'Halloran?" cried Mark, for she had disappeared.

"She ran into the hut," said his mother.

As the captain's wife spoke Mrs O'Halloran reappeared, laden with a bag and a couple of bottles.

"You must help me carry all this," she said. "We may be obliged to take to the jungle, and this will keep us from starving."

Mark saw the wisdom of the proceeding, and the load was shared as they went on through the loose sand, the lad's heart sinking at the thought of Jimpny's words, and he wondered what would be the result if it should prove to be true that the pirates had landed and attacked the party in Crater Bay.

He kept his thoughts to himself as he pressed on through the loose sand, giving an occasional glance through the trees to see what course the Malays were pursuing, and seeing clearly that their vessels were coming steadily along, evidently with a pleasant wind, while among the trees there was not a breath of air, and as they tramped on through the loose sand he could see that his companions were beginning to suffer.

There was nothing to be done, however, but to keep on and try to get round to Crater Bay. The stowaway began once about it being impossible that day, and Mark felt that it would be a tremendous task; but even if they did not, there was the prospect of their getting on past several of the points and well out of the sight of the Malays, so that if they only got far enough to encounter the boat returning to camp they could warn the occupants and then take to the woods.

Mark explained all this to comfort his companions as they tramped wearily on, and he had been successful in his efforts, giving comfort to his own mind as well, when it was swept away at a stroke, for Jimpny crept close up to him and laid his hand upon his arm.

"I say, Mr Mark, sir," he said in a whisper, "do you expect to meet them all as they comes back?"

"Yes."

"But Billy Widgeon told me this morning when they started as they was coming back t'other way."



CHAPTER FORTY TWO.

HOW THEY STRUGGLED TO CRATER BAY.

The stowaway's news fell like a thunderbolt, and Mark felt a curious chilling sensation come over him, as he tried to keep it from his mother and Mrs O'Halloran. But the latter was quick at seeing there was something wrong, and she stopped and asked what it was, and wrung it unwillingly from the lad.

"That's bad," she said quietly. "What do you propose doing?"

Mark stared at her in surprise to see how calmly she took the announcement of what might mean destruction, certainly a temporary separation from their friends.

"One of us must go back," said Mark, "and try to meet them that way. I will go."

"No," said Mrs O'Halloran; "the force is so small it cannot be divided. They may not be coming back that way; and if they do, we must hope and pray that they will be keeping a sharp look-out."

"But they may come right back to the camp and find the Malays in possession."

"If they are in possession," said Mrs O'Halloran, "it would be impossible for you to get along by them to give our party warning."

"Do you think I could get round at the back through the jungle?" said Mark, addressing Jimpny.

"No," said the latter. "I've tried it lots of times. You couldn't get a quarter of a mile through the woods in a day. There's no getting in till you come to the little river."

"And that is past the camp," said Mark sadly. "Ah!"

The ladies clung together, for at that moment they realised a sensation as if some monstrous roller were running slowly along beneath the sands and the roots of the trees. The ground heaved like a wave of the sea, the cocoa-nut trees rocked and bent their heads together just as the ears of corn do when a breeze sweeps over a field, and then all was still once more, save that a low muttering sound as of thunder ran along over their heads, leaving them all giddy, and feeling as if the qualms of sea-sickness were coming on.

They were to a certain extent familiar with such phenomena, and the minute it was over the dread it caused was swallowed up by that which was pursuing them, for a glance through the tree-trunks showed that the Malays were still coming on.

Mark hesitated for a moment or two, and then feeling that Mrs O'Halloran's prompt soldierly advice was for the best, he accepted it, and led the way.

Their march grew more toilsome as they kept on, the sand appearing to become looser and drifted up in waves among the cocoa-nut palms, while the presence of these was alone sufficient to keep them at work threading their way in and out till the peculiar growth came to an end; and they were stayed by the thick jungle.

Their only way of progression now was by the sands, where the walking would be easy in the extreme by comparison, for wherever the tide rose and retired the sand was either level and firm or slightly rippled by the sinking wave.

But to go along here was to place themselves in full view of the praus, and Mark felt that they would certainly be seen.

There was nothing to be done then but risk it or wait till night, while to hide till then might mean destruction to the party round at Crater Bay.

"Yes," said the major's wife, "we must risk it;" and Mark stepped boldly out, gazing anxiously back at the three praus.

They had no means of telling whether they were seen or no; all they could make out was that the praus were coming steadily along, sometimes sailing, at others, when the wind dropped, being urged forward with long oars.

The heat grew more painful as the fugitives kept steadily on, unable to select the best road on account of the necessity for keeping close in to the trees: but at last, worn out and exhausted, after leaving the sheltering rocks where Mark had rested during the storm, far behind, they came in sight of one of the points or angles of the island, where the land trended round to the north-west, and once past this the way would be out of sight of the praus.

With this to inspire them they all exerted themselves to the utmost, and reaching the rocks that ran out seaward they struggled by them, for the dog to lie down panting, and the monkey to display his distress by hurrying to a tree and eagerly picking some of its harsh sour fruit.

It was an example to be followed, though the party did not dare to rest, but gladly partook of some of the food Mrs O'Halloran's foresight had provided, and this and the firm sand they were now enabled to choose for their road, joined to the knowledge that they were screened from the enemies' view, gave strength to their efforts as they ate and walked on.

At the end of a mile they reached water—clear, cold, bubbling water— refreshed by which they pressed on quite cheerfully till they had passed another of the points of land and found double shelter from their enemies' gaze.

By this time a strange alteration had taken place in the weather. The sun, which had been shining brilliantly, now gradually changed in appearance till it grew copper-coloured; then its light came through a thick haze, which gradually darkened, and they were screened from the burning rays by a black cloud, which grew more and more dense, and seemed to float only a few hundred yards above their heads.

"A bad storm coming," said Mark, "but it may not break till we get to the bay."

Judging from appearances, however, it was likely to pour out its waters upon them at any moment; while, to add to their excitement, from over the jungle there were deep thunderous noises as if the storm were raging right in the interior.

The journey seemed interminable, but in spite of the thunder and coming darkness they toiled on, keeping a sharp look-out over the lagoon lest those they sought should have been in the gloom.

By degrees, though, the obscurity grew less, and seemed to be slowly floating in the direction of the praus. Once there was the wave-like motion of the earth again, making them catch at each other to keep themselves from falling, and then the sun appeared, growing momentarily more bright as it passed out from behind the dense black cloud which was gathered about the mountain, rolling along its flanks as they came to an opening in the jungle, and then appearing to circle slowly round and round.

The hours crept by as they toiled on exerting themselves to the utmost, for one of the dreads that oppressed them, now that they were out of sight of the praus, was that they would not get to Crater Bay before their friends started to go round the other way, though, saving on their own account, there was a certain hopefulness about their position, since the last they had seen of the praus showed them that they were coming their way, and therefore they might not see the gig and its occupants after all.

There was no fear of the captain passing the fugitives now, for as evening approached the lagoon was perfectly clear and the sky of a dazzling blue, but there seemed to be no end to the weary tramp over the hot sands, and at last Mary looked so exhausted that they were obliged to take shelter under a tree at the edge of the jungle.

"How much farther is it, Mark?" said Mrs Strong.

"About six miles," he replied. "Look here, Jimpny, we must wait here now. You go on and warn my father, and they'll come back with the boat."

"I shall be better soon," said Mary; but there was such a look of exhaustion in her eyes that Mark knew she would not be able to proceed, and he signed to the man to go on.

The stowaway looked at him blankly, and he repeated his orders.

"Yes, I see," said the man, staring stupidly, as if he were in a dream; and starting off, he went on a dozen yards, and then reeled, threw up his arms, and fell heavily.

Mark was at his side in an instant to find that the poor fellow was perfectly insensible, his face blackened with the heat, and his breath coming heavily and in gasps.

"Over exertion," said Mrs O'Halloran as she hurried up. "The poor fellow was done up before we started."

"Will—will he die?" faltered Mark.

"No, no," said the major's wife, "I've often seen men fall out of the ranks exhausted like this by hot marches in India."

"But what is to be done?"

"Help me," said Mrs O'Halloran. "That's it, get your arm well under his, close to the shoulder. Now together."

Mark followed her instructions, and together they dragged the poor fellow over the sand, in spite of their exhaustion, right up under the trees, and then let him sink down in the shade.

"Now, Mark, you go on and get help," said Mrs O'Halloran.

"And the Malays?" he said.

"They will not see us hidden here among the trees. They will pass us if they come. Make use of your landmarks, so as to find us, and Heaven give you good fortune, my dear boy!"

"No, no," cried Mark. "I cannot leave you all like this."

"It is to help us," said his mother. "Mrs O'Halloran is right. You see we can get no farther."

Mark saw that his duty lay in fetching help, and after a sharp look-out in the direction from which danger was expected, and another at the salient points of the shore, so as to guide him to the point where the ladies and the sick man were hidden, he forgot his own fatigue in the excitement, and leaving arms, ammunition, and everything weighty, he started off alone.

It seemed as if he would never reach that ridge of black rocks which formed the eastern curve of Crater Bay, and even when it came in sight there was a nightmare-like feeling upon him that he was no nearer.

Then, too, his despairing thoughts would keep getting the mastery, and asking him what he was going to do when he reached the bay and found that there was nothing visible but the charred hull of the ship, and that his friends were gone.

At last, though, he could feel that he was nearing the black ridge; the sand began to change from its yellow and white coral look, and became dashed with black. Then it grew blacker, and at last the grains were all jetty in colour, and there was the great black pile of basaltic rock, with its columns and steps rising higher and higher, and the question ever present:

Were his father and the rest all behind there busy over the little smack they had built lying now in the safe anchorage of the bay?

He could bear it no longer, and drawing a long breath, he started to run, though it was only a feeble trot, till the rocks rose up steeply, and he was compelled to climb slowly and painfully with many a slip, but always urged by the sensation that if he did not use every effort he would be too late.

He had climbed that ridge dozens of times. He knew the easiest way; but now its difficulties were terrible, and in his heated exhausted condition he could hardly drag himself up over the last steep block. The nightmare-like sensation grew more painful, and he felt that he must give way, but that dread of being too late spurred him on till he was on the very summit, where he sank down with a groan of despair, for there, hundreds of yards from where he lay, right on the other side of the western arm of the black crater, was the boat with a white sail spread, skimming along so rapidly that in another few moments it was hidden from his longing eyes.

He raised himself upon his hands, his eyes staring wildly, his lips parting to give utterance to a hoarse cry, but so feeble, that it was like the querulous wail of a sea-gull, and as his cry was lost in the immensity around, the boat glided onward and was gone, leaving him with his spirit as dark as the waters at his feet where they filled up the crater that lay between him and the help he had come to seek.



CHAPTER FORTY THREE.

HOW HOPE REVIVED LIKE A SUNSHINE GLEAM.

"What shall I do? what shall I do?" groaned Mark, as he stared at the black ridge which ran down to the sea on the other side of the bay.

Then he looked down at the carefully-moored little vessel that lay near the old charred and well-stripped hull, and lastly with a sigh at the cloud-draped mountain high up to his left, beyond the head of the little black-beached bay.

Wearied out, parched with thirst, and with his throat seeming to be half-closed up, he tried to give another hail, and then, knowing that his feeble voice would not travel across the bay, he descended slowly from step to step, from rift to rift. Sometimes he missed his footing, and slipped or rolled down; sometimes he lay for a few moments too much exhausted to attempt to rise, till the thought of those who were awaiting his return came back to him reproachfully, and struggling to his feet once more he continued his descent, gazing anxiously now before him in search of the praus, but the calm horizon, illumined by the setting sun, showed no sign of enemy, and he continued his descent and reached the sands.

"I must get back to them before it's dark," he said to himself; and this thought spurred him on to new efforts.

"What a coward I am," he said aloud, "to be damped at such a trouble as this! They will take care that the Malays don't touch them, and we can get round to them in the morning."

Some insane idea of getting on board the little vessel that lay in Crater Bay came into his mind for the moment, but with only David Jimpny for helpmate he felt that such an attempt would be useless, and gave it up.

He walked as fast as he could, but the pace was slow, and his feet felt heavy in the deep sand, which was once more growing white, and as he trudged on, wondering how soon he could get back to where his friends were waiting, and whether he would be able to make out the spot in the dark, the thought occurred to him that he would be able to guide his steps easily enough by means of the luminous rim of the sea, and make his presence known by uttering a low call from time to time, when his heart gave a tremendous bound, and he stopped as if petrified.

"Mark! Ahoy!"

There it was again, and turning, trembling in every limb, it was to see Morgan on the top ridge of the black rocks between him and the bay, distinctly seen against the sky-line, while directly after another figure appeared—that of his father.

He took off and waved his cap, for he could not speak, and then, suffocating with emotion, overcome by exhaustion, he reeled and sank half insensible upon the sands, but only to struggle up once more, and try to retrace his steps toward the black rocks.

He was in a kind of dream for the next few minutes—a dream in which sea, rocks, sand, and trees were slowly gliding round him. Then he was aroused by a pair of strong arms catching him by the shoulders, and a familiar voice crying:

"Why, Mark, my lad, what's all this?"

He could not speak, only stare, and as he looked in the second-mate's face another voice rang in his ears:

"He is overcome with walking in the heat. Hail the lads, Morgan, and we'll have him carried to the boat. Why, Mark, my boy, how foolish of you to come—and on such a day! Here, drink."

The captain held a flask of cool fresh water to his lips, and as he drank with avidity the reviving liquid seemed to give clearness to his brain, and the troubles there came back to mind.

"Let me help you toward the bay, my boy," said the captain. "There, your trouble's over now. We'll give you a ride back."

"No, no! Stop here. Listen, father," panted the lad; and then in agitated tones he told of their position, and of those who were waiting for succour among the trees.

The captain started and looked at his son half doubtingly, and as if he believed that this was some hallucination; but just then he raised his eye, and there, faintly seen in the evening haze, was the long low form of a prau just coming out from the projecting land.

"Hah!" he ejaculated, "we have left it too long. Morgan, go and take command, and send here the major, Small, and two men. We must help them to the bay. No; they are wearied out now, and there is a sick man. Let the major and you get the boat round as quickly as you can. Follow us along the shore—but you are too tired, Mark."

"No, father; I'm better now. I felt so miserable at seeing you go— that's what made me seem ill."

"Luckily Small caught sight of you as we were rounding the corner there, and we put back directly. But you are not strong enough to go. Turn back with Morgan and come on in the boat."

"I must go with you, father," said Mark desperately, "or you cannot find the place where they are hidden."

"True," said the captain. "There, lean on me. Quick as you can, Morgan."

The mate hurried back to where two or three more figures were visible now on the fast darkening ridge, while the black and purple clouds about the mountain peak seemed to grow richer in colour and to tremble as if there was a hidden light within.

But father and son gave but a glance at this, so anxious were they to reach the spot where the ladies were awaiting help.

The forms of two praus were now visible for a few moments and then they faded out, and the darkness came down as if poured out of the heavens upon the sands—a thick transparent darkness through which the stars seemed to peer and light up the sea on their left.

They had gone quite half-way before the regular rhythmical beat of oars, and the splash and rattle of water beneath the gig's bows were heard. Soon after the boat was abreast of them, the waves showing up luminously as the oars dipped.

"Now, Mark, go aboard," said the captain. "You can halt when you think we are abreast of the place, and give me a hail."

"No; you want me here," replied Mark. "I'm not so tired now."

The captain was so anxious that he did not press him; and after a word or two to the occupants of the boat, from which the major had sprung to join them, they went on.

The walk seemed as if it would never end; but at last Mark pointed to a couple of particularly tall palm-trees.

"It was about a hundred yards beyond these, father," said Mark; and as his voice was heard a sound or two came off the water, when a low angry bark was heard, and then a dull rushing sound of feet.

"Bruff! Bruff!—where are they, Bruff?"

The dog uttered a joyous whine as he seemed to leap upon them from out of the transparent darkness, and five minutes later the ladies' anxieties were temporarily at an end.

"There is nothing to mind," the captain said as he helped them down to the boat. "The Malays will no doubt pass us by. I expect that by morning they will be many miles away. Still it is a bit of a scare."

Neither Mark nor Mrs Strong made any reply; but the stowaway, who was pretty well recovered from his exhaustion, whispered to Billy Widgeon that he hoped it might be so; and then silence fell upon the boat as they rowed slowly back toward the crater, where it was the captain's intention to get the ladies on board the little vessel. But this proved to be no easy task in the darkness, and at last it was decided to make the sands their couch for the night, and then see what the day would bring forth.

Mark was so utterly wearied out, that after partaking of his share of the refreshments left, he lay for a few minutes gazing at the reflections of the flickering light from the mountain cast upon the sea, and then dropped fast asleep, but only to be awakened by a sound like thunder reverberating overhead. It died away and all was silence and darkness again; and then all seemed to be nothingness as he fell into a dreamless sleep, hardly even conscious of whether a watch was kept.

Mark was awakened by a hand being laid upon his mouth and a voice whispering in his ear the one word, "Hush!"

It was dark still and the stars were shining, while every now and then there was a flash as of lightning followed by an intense blackness in which the pained eyes seemed to repeat the form of the flash.

"What is the matter?" whispered Mark.

"Don't speak, but get up and follow. The others have gone on. Above all things keep that dog from barking."

"The Malays have come!" thought Mark on the instant, and as he rose he looked round; but there was nothing to be seen, and he was wondering where the danger lay as he followed his father over the black sand towards where the boat was always dragged over the low point beyond the rocks, where he had just time to catch Bruff's head and press his hands round his pointed muzzle; for from about a couple of hundred yards away there came the low muttering of voices, followed by a yawn, and by Bruff with a low muttering growl.



CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.

HOW MATTERS GOT TO THE WORST.

It took Mark some minutes to get rid of the confused, half-stupefied sensation that remains after a very deep sleep when the sleeper is suddenly awakened; but as his head cleared he found himself threading his way among the rocks behind his father and crossing the lower part of the arm which separated Crater Bay from the lagoon. Once the highest part was cleared and they were descending toward the black waters the captain caught his son's arm.

"You may speak now in a whisper," he said. "The rocks are between us and the Malays."

"Have they come then, father?"

"Yes; Morgan heard them come stealing along the lagoon in the darkest part of the night, and they are lying less than a quarter of a mile away."

"Do they know we are here?"

"I hope not, my boy; but when daylight comes they are sure to come over into the bay, and—"

He stopped short, for a vivid light flashed out, and for a moment Mark could see the black bay, the wreck, the little cutter-like vessel lying by her, and a group of people down below them at the water's edge.

"Lightning?" said Mark.

"No; it is from the mountain."

As he spoke there was a dull vibration and a low rumbling sound, as if some heavy body had passed heavily beneath their feet.

"What are we going to do?" asked Mark eagerly.

"Escape if we can," said the captain. "We cannot take the ladies inland. The jungle about here is impassable."

"Then you are going to steal away?"

"Yes, my lad, if we can get aboard. We ought to have got the boat across last night, Mark, instead of leaving it till now."

"Are they going to get it across the point now?"

"Yes," replied the captain; and at that moment they were joined by Gregory, Morgan, Small, and the major.

"Ready?" said the captain.

"Yes," replied Gregory. "Come along, my lads."

Three men came up and stood waiting for orders, and the major joined the captain.

"You understand," said the captain, "there must not be a sound. If there is, we are lost."

"I understand," said Gregory gruffly.

"Have you got everything out?"

"Everything. She's light enough now."

"Come, major, then," said the captain. "You must be guard, Mark. Go with the major, and help to take care of the ladies. No, stop. Perhaps you can help me pick out the best route for the boat, but mind only one person has to speak, and that is I. Get rid of that dog."

Mark hesitated for a moment, and then laying hold of Bruff's ears, the dog followed him eagerly to where the ladies stood together shivering with anxiety in the darkness.

"Keep Bruff with you, mother," he whispered; and then, after a stern order to the dog to lie down, he hurried back over the black sand, and found the little party threading its way among the rocks and over the ridge to reach the spot where the gig lay drawn out of the water of the lagoon.

They all halted for a few moments as Mark joined them, and just then a vivid glare of light shone out, showing them plainly the hulls of three long low boats lying out in the lagoon, whose waters quivered, and looked for the moment as if of molten steel.

Then all was pitchy darkness, and through it came the sound of voices.

"They have seen us," said Morgan excitedly.

"No," said Captain Strong, "we were in the shadow. Now, then, three on each side. I'll lead. Slowly does it. Mark, my boy, go to the stern; you may keep it from touching the rock. Every pound of help will be worth something now."

Mark eagerly went as directed, and the next minute, with three strong men on either side, the gig was lifted up, and borne softly forward almost without a sound, the party listening intently to the loud jabbering going on aboard the praus.

The task was fairly easy at first, for it was for some distance over the nearly level sand that the gig was carried, but soon rocks began to crop up in their path, and in spite of the care exercised the keel of the boat suddenly grated loudly upon a projecting piece of stone; an effort was made to slew her round slightly to avoid it, and this caused Mr Gregory to catch his foot on another block of stone, and nearly fall.

The captain uttered a loud "Hist!" and all stood fast, with beating hearts, for a loud voice spoke in Malay, and the jabbering on board the boats ceased, as if all were listening to try and make out what the unusual noise was ashore.

Just at this moment there was another vivid flash from the mountain, and the praus could be plainly seen, while now the little party by the boat realised how thoroughly they were in the shadow of the black rocks.

"If there is a blaze like that when we are on the top of the ridge," whispered the captain, "we shall be seen."

Not another word was spoken, and for quite a quarter of an hour there was an ominous silence as they all waited for the talking to begin again on board the vessels.

But there was not a sound, and it was evident that the crews were listening, when suddenly Morgan laid his hand upon the captain's arm, and pointed in the direction of the lagoon about half-way between them and the praus.

Every one grasped the meaning, and a chill of dread ran through Mark, in whose mind's eye wavy krisses were flashed and razor-edged spears darted, for there, plainly enough, as shown by the flashing and undulating of the luminous creatures of the water, which they knew so well, two men were swimming ashore, to see what was the cause of the noise.

"It means fighting," said the captain.

"Why not leave the boat, father, and get aboard the cutter at once?"

"How?" said the captain coldly. "Wade through water five hundred feet deep?"

Mark felt as if he could have bitten off his tongue, and then his heart seemed to stand still, for there suddenly arose a shriek from the lagoon—a shriek that was terrible in its agonising intensity; there was the sound of splashing, and the water became ablaze with a beautiful lambent phosphorescent light, while there was an outburst of yelling and shouting on board the praus, accompanied by tremendous splashing, as if the water was being beaten with the oars.

"Quick! All together!" said the captain hoarsely. "Now, forward!"

The men were so paralysed with horror as they each for himself pictured the fearful scene of two Malay sailors swimming ashore, and being attacked by the sharks, that for a few moments no one stirred. Then with the hubbub and splashing increasing, and the water being, as it were, churned up into liquid fire, the sides of the boat were seized, and it was borne over and among the rocks to the very ridge, and then, with a feeling of relief that it is impossible to describe, down lower and lower, with the sounds dying out; while Mark, who was last, felt that if the horror had been continued much longer, it would have been greater than he could have borne, and he must have stopped his ears and run.

"I don't think they can hear us now," said the captain. "Hah!"

There was a tremendous flash, accompanied by a deafening roar from the mountain, and the whole of the bay, with its overhanging blackened rocks, were for a few moments illumined by the quivering light, so that everything was as distinct as if it were noon.

Then all was pitchy blackness again, and the thunderous roar died slowly away, as the thunder mutters into silence in a storm.

"That was a narrow escape from being seen," said the captain, cheerily. "Two minutes sooner, and we should have been in full view. All together, the ground is getting clearer now."

"If we might only give one good hooray, Mr Mark, sir," said a familiar voice, "it would seem to do us good;" and the lad realised that it was Billy Widgeon who had been working all along close to his elbow.

Mark felt with the man, for in his own breast there was an intense desire to cry out or shout, or give some vent to the pent-up excitement. But there was plenty to take up their attention, for the captain, now that the ridge was between them and their enemies, hastened their steps, in spite of the blackness, so that, after a few slips, and a narrow escape of breaking in the bows of the boat through a sudden fall upon an awkwardly-placed rock, she was safely run down to the edge of the crater, and the oars, mast, and sail replaced.

The next proceeding was to get the ladies on board the little cutter, which lay some twenty fathoms from the sands, and in darkness and silence they were handed into the gig, and were half-way to the little vessel, when, without warning, a vivid light flashed out from the mountain, and the oars ceased to dip.

But this was no lightning-like flash, but a continuous glow, which lit up jungle, rock, and the black waters of the bay, while every eye was turned in the direction of the ridge in expectation of seeing the praus plainly standing out in the glare.

Fortunately, the ridge was sufficiently high to conceal the occupants of the boat, and in place of the light proving their betrayal, it aided the embarkation, the boat going on at the end of the next few minutes, and all climbing safely on board. Then the gig was secured by a rope astern, and there was nothing now to be done but wait till daylight, and then trust to being able to escape by running southward along the lagoon before the praus could get round the northern arm of the little bay.

"Look at that," cried Billy Widgeon suddenly, as the light flashed out as quickly as it had appeared, the glowing scene changing instantaneously to the most intense darkness, while now a peculiar odour began to pervade the air, a suffocating hot puff coming from the land, charged with sulphurous vapours.

Everything was ready for a start, but there was one thing needful, light, for the risk was too great to attempt to get round the southern point in the darkness. It was dangerous with the gig, but they had learned the positions of the rocks by heart, and could come round now with ease. With a boat drawing so much water, however, as the cutter, it was different, and the course necessary so intricate, that, tremendously in their favour as a start would now be, the captain dared not run the risk.

"It's death to stay," said Gregory, as they stood in a group waiting for day.

"It's death to go," said the captain gloomily. "One touch on a sharp rock, and we shall fill, or be fast."

"Well, Strong," said the major, "I don't like to interfere in your navigating matters, but in this case, as a soldier, I say if we are to die, let's die like Englishmen trying our best."

"We are trying our best, Major O'Halloran," said the captain coldly.

"Yes, my dear fellow; but for Heaven's sake let's start."

"What should you do, Mark?" said the captain, laying his hand on his son's shoulder.

Mark was silent for a moment or two, and then said huskily:

"I don't like going against your opinion, father, but I should start now."

"In the darkness?"

"Yes. It seems to be our only chance."

The captain made no verbal reply, but took out his knife, and stepping to where the rope passed out from the stern, mooring them to a crag of rock that seemed to rise from unfathomable depths, he divided the strands, and the rope fell with a splash in the water. Then, going to the bows, where the other rope ran to one of the timbers of the Petrel, he cut that, and there was another splash.

Then giving his orders, a couple of the men passed sweeps over the side with the greatest of care, and the head of the cutter began to turn, and she was moving slowly toward the mouth of the bay when once more the intense darkness was cut as by a knife, and the little vessel seemed to be destined to have a light as clear almost as day for making her way round into the lagoon, where she could catch the wind and escape.



CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.

HOW NATURE SEEMED A FOE.

The distance was not great, and as Captain Strong gazed before him, knowing, as he did, the perils to be encountered, he hesitated, and was disposed to stay. But the first step had been taken, and, giving his orders in a whisper, he went to the helm, while Gregory and Morgan prepared to hoist the sail, and the men bent steadily to their long oars.

The light increased, and there seemed to be nothing to prevent the little vessel from passing safely round the southern point, for the water looked smoothness itself; but none knew better than the captain the rocks that were in his path, while away to his right over the northern arm of the bay lay three praus teeming with bloodthirsty savage men who would be ready to rush in pursuit the moment they were seen.

It was a painful dilemma for the captain, who had, however, been longing to make his present venture, but shrank therefrom as too risky till opinions other than his own urged his attempt. But there was his position. If he kept to the darkness, wreck seemed certain; if to the light, he must be seen.

And now the light was most vivid, but still he kept on, the little cutter gliding slowly on over water that seemed to be golden, while Mark held his breath as he watched the northern point till by slow degrees first one and then another and then the third of the praus came full into view with their rough rigging and cordage distinctly seen in the glowing light.

Other eyes than Mark's watched the praus, and it was a matter of surprise to all that the cutter went on and on to the second passage through the rocks off the south point, round which, if they were fortunate, she would be able to pass—the first passage being only safe for the gig—while the praus, if they started in pursuit, would have to sail out quite half a mile before they could round their point, and as great a distance back, which would give the fugitives a good start along the lagoon.

No one spoke as the cutter glided slowly on, the sweeps dipping regularly and almost without a sound. For fully five minutes this continued, but to all on board, as they crouched down for the shelter of the low bulwark, it seemed more like five hours. There they were in full sight of the praus, but not a sound reached them, and in a whisper the captain said to Mark, who was at his side:

"They must be all asleep. Oh for a little wind!"

But there was not a breath of air nor even a hot blast from the mountain, and in spite of the agonising desire to escape they could only creep slowly over the golden water in a terribly sluggish motion, though two men toiled hard now at each sweep.

Suddenly, and with a spontaneity which showed how suddenly they had been perceived, a tremendous yell arose from the occupants of the praus.

"Now, Strong," cried the major, as a thrill of horror ran through the occupants of the little cutter, "war is declared."

"Be ready with that sail," said the captain; but his words were not needed, for his two officers were standing with the ropes in their hands, and at a word the mainsail would have been hoisted.

The yelling continued and the thrill increased, for from moment to moment the escaping party expected to hear the sharp ring of the brass guns of the Malays and to have their tin bullets whizzing overhead.

It was a curious position, for the yelling of the Malays was as that of so many wild beasts unable to reach their prey, the long low spit of rocky sand lying between them and the bay, and near as they were now, they could only attack by rowing or sailing right out to where the current ran swiftly and tumultuously about the point, rounding it, and then making straight for the bay.

"They are going to fire," said the captain quietly as he stood at the tiller; "everyone but the men at the sweeps lie down or keep below."

"Which order does not apply to me, Mark," said the major coolly. "I'm an officer. Lie down, sir! Do you want to be shot?"

"Certainly not, sir," replied Mark, who, in spite of his dread and excitement, could not help feeling amused at the major's satisfied air, and the way in which he seemed to play with his gun.

Bang! A sharp ringing report from a lelah as the praus began to move, and the charge of tin bullets came screaming overhead as the report echoed from the rocks that surrounded the bay.

"Bad shot at close quarters," said the major; "and they are moving off. Can't you whistle for the wind and let's show them our heels!"

"The wind will come as soon as we get out beyond the shelter of the point," said the captain. "Pull, my lads."

The men tugged at the long sweeps, but the cutter was so substantial and heavily-built that she moved very slowly through the water, beside which, it was extremely nervous work to keep on pulling while at intervals of a few minutes there came a shot from one or other of the receding praus. Still they progressed, and if once they could get over a few hundred yards there was a prospect of their clearing the rocks off the south point and getting well along the lagoon.

Shot after shot, some whistling by the mast, some striking the water, and others going before or behind, but not one touched the cutter, and as the three praus rowed out and grew more distant the practice became more wild.

"Ah!" said the major, "being shot at is very exciting; but I don't think I like it after all. How are you setting on, Mark?"

"I'm all right, sir."

"Well, ladies, we shall not have breakfast till two hours after sunrise," said the major, as he bent over the entrance to the rough cabin where they were sheltered, "so I should advise a short nap."

A sad smile was the only reply to the major's cheery remark, and he nodded and then sighed as he turned to the captain.

"Cease firing, eh?" he said as there was a cessation. "They must be near the end of the point. Now, Strong."

"In another ten minutes they will be round it, and—what's that, Gregory? Did we touch on a rock?"

"No," said the mate. "It's deep water here."

There was another shock as if the cutter had gone upon a rock; but she went slowly on.

"Earthquake," said the major. "The mountain seems uneasy."

Almost as he spoke there was another shock communicated through the water, which suddenly boiled up and eddied about them, making the cutter rock to and fro and then roll heavily.

"Pull, my lads!" said the captain; and the men tugged furiously as their commander looked anxiously out toward the north point, round which the praus were faintly seen in the glow from the mountain, and then gazing round him at the black rocks of the little bay and its uneasy waters.

"No fear of their pulling," thought Mark, "if they feel as I do in this black hole!"

In fact the men were thoroughly sharing the horror of the lad, and sparing no efforts to get out of the water-filled ancient crater into the smooth lagoon.

For the black water that always lay so smooth and calm was now rapidly changing its character, and there was no doubt that a tremendous amount of volcanic action was going on beneath their feet. The surface heaved and eddied; waves rose in unexpected places; huge bubbles rushed to the top from the terrible depths below and burst with a loud puff. And all the time the cutter swayed and seemed to be receiving a succession of blows below water-mark, always suggesting rocks about her keel.

But still with the indomitable energy of Englishmen the long oars were used, and the little vessel moved forward till they were so near the point that in another ten minutes the captain felt that they would have the wind and be able to sail steadily along between the rocks where he had mapped out and sounded his course.

It was an awful piece of navigation, but he had no fear if they could only catch the wind.

Still there was that hundred yards to clear; and now, favoured by the currents that played round the north point, it was evident that at least one of the praus had cleared it and was coming down upon them straight for the bay. There was the loud rhythmical yelling of the men shouting together, and the slow beat of the sweeps as they rowed vigorously; while the two long oars of the cutter, only intended to help her out of harbour in a calm, hardly gave her headway.

The glare from the mountain increased so that every object was plainly seen; and Mark could not help gazing at the wondrous aspect of the mountain, the top of which emitted a light of dazzling brilliancy, while a thin streak of red seemed to be stealing in a zigzag fashion from one side.

Then there was a tremendous burst as if of thunder; a rushing, hissing noise, as if a shower of stones had been hurled into the sky; and then all was darkness for a few moments.

"Blown out!" said the major laconically as if he were speaking of a candle; but the words had hardly left his lips before with a frightful explosion the mountain blazed forth again, with the glare far more intense, and showing the prau they had dimly-seen before coming on fast.

"The eruption does not seem to scare them," said the captain.

"Well, it does me," said the major. "It's a kind of warfare I don't understand." Then in a whisper which Mark heard: "Shall we get round the point, or must we fight for it?"

"Unless we catch the wind," replied the captain, "they will be down upon us first; and then—"

"We must fight for it," said the major coolly. "Well, fortunately we are well prepared. Look here, Strong, you keep on with your navigation as long as you like, while I have the fighting tools ready. The moment retreat is useless, say the word and we'll show fight."

Captain Strong gave his hand a grip, and then stood gazing straight before him perfectly unmoved.

The position was one that would have blanched the cheek of the bravest man. For there in front was the prau coming rapidly on, full of bloodthirsty pirates, who had ceased firing as they saw their prey within their grasp; while behind was the volcano, whose eruption was minute by minute growing more terrible, and around them the luridly lit-up waters of the old crater in which they were, boiling up, hissing, and emitting great puffs of steam, where, as the cutter rocked and plunged, it seemed to be only a matter of moments before she would be engulfed—sucked down, as it were, into the awful depths below!

Gregory and Morgan stood ready to hoist the sail, but there was not a breath of air where the cutter lay. It was one awful calm, with the glow from the volcano seeming to scorch their cheeks, though high overhead there was a rushing sound as of a mighty wind setting toward the burning mountain, which now began to hurl volleys of red-hot stones through the dense cloud which hung above the top, and reflected the light far and wide upon the sea.

"Hopeless!" said the captain suddenly. "Arm, major, and let's fight it out like men! Stop!" he cried; "the boat—the shore!"

"Bah!" ejaculated the major angrily. "Are we fishes, captain, that you want to send us out of the frying-pan into the fire?"

He pointed to the shore as he spoke, and the captain grasped the horror of the scene. It would, he knew, be madness to land, for there were signs of fire now in place after place among the rocks; while before they could have crowded into the gig and tried to row to sea the Malays would have been upon them—shut in as they were in the bay, which was literally a trap.

Just then, too, the water began to heave and toss, huge geyser-like fountains shot up and fell back with a fearful hissing sound, and, as the light gig was tossed on high, the madness of attempting to crowd into her was manifest to all.

The arms were passed round, and every man's eyes glistened in the ruddy glare as with a furious yelling the prau came on, the water looking like golden foam on either side, and the glint of spears flashing out from her crowded bamboo deck.

"Don't fire till you can make sure of your man!" said the major sternly; and a low murmur arose from the little group behind the cutter's bulwarks, which told in its fierce intensity that if stubborn determination could save the helpless women crouching below they had nought to fear.

The prau was not fifty yards away now, and seemed to be glowing as if red-hot in the glare shed by the golden cloud above the mountain. The sight of their prey so close at hand set the Malays yelling more fiercely than ever, and at a shout the sweeps ceased beating the water, and every man seized his arms, when there was a peculiar hissing sound heard; the cutter heeled over, then righted, and, to the wonder and horror of all on board, she began to turn round slowly as upon an axis, as if preparatory to being sucked down into a frightful whirlpool. In one short minute she had turned twice, and then, as if caught in some mighty current, began to glide rapidly round the bay at first toward the burning mountain, and then outward to sea.

For the moment the horror and strangeness of their position made all on board forget their enemies, among whom a terrible silence had fallen, but as the captain glanced in the direction of the praus he saw that the distance between them had increased, and that, caught in the same wondrous current, the enemy's vessel was being carried rapidly out to sea.

The force of the current increased till they seemed to be rolling along the surface of some cataract, and in a few minutes, as everyone clung to bulwark or stay, the distance they had striven so hard to compass was passed again and again, for the sea was shrinking from the isle and they were being carried out on the retiring wave.

They were now opposite the rocks that they had striven to pass, while the prau, lighter in construction, was a hundred yards away. The hissing, rushing sound of the retiring water was terrible, and in blank despair in face of this awful convulsion of nature all gazed wildly before them, when all at once there was a sharp shock, the cutter heeled over a little, and this time there could be no mistake, she had struck upon the rocks of the north point or arm of Crater Bay, and the sea was retiring from them and leaving them fast.