By the time that I had cast off the fore topsail halyards, Gurney and Saunders, alarmed by my cry, were out on deck, while in the doorway of the cabin stood Grace Hartley with a wrap of some sort thrown over her shoulders.

"What is it, Mr Troubridge—what, in the name of all that is terrible, is happening?" demanded Gurney, gazing about him in amazement.

"Man the reef tackles, for your lives!" I shouted. "Don't you hear the squall thundering down upon us? If we are not lively it will whip the masts out of her—indeed I am not sure but it will in any case! Here we are; lay hold, and drag—Grace, go back to your cabin—this is no place for you!"

Gurney sprang to one of the reef tackles, while Saunders and I dragged at the other, yelling our "Yo ho's!" as we did so. Meanwhile the awful booming and crashing sounds seemed to be sweeping down toward us on the wings of the squall, and so heavy had they by this time become that we could actually feel the ship trembling with the reverberation of them. The next second that frightful combination of rumbling and crashing sounds was all about us, mingled now with the hoarse roar of heavily breaking water; the ship suddenly began to pitch and roll with a violence which deprived us of all power to do anything more than just cling for our lives to the nearest object that we could lay hold of; the sea all about us suddenly broke into a mad turmoil of raging waters, white with the glare of phosphorescence, leaping, foaming, and swirling hither and thither with appalling violence; huge masses of water flung themselves high in the air and crashed in over our bulwarks, forward, aft, and amidships, all at the same moment, deluging our decks and threatening to sweep us overboard; and in the midst of it all we felt a succession of violent shocks, as though the ship were being swept over a reef by a violent tide race. But there was no wind; not a breath, save such slight baffling draughts as were probably created by the violent motion of the sea around us.

Those grating, hammering shocks lasted perhaps half a minute, then they suddenly ceased; the deep rumbling, crashing sound swept past us away down to the southward, and gradually died away; the roar of broken water changed its note and became the seething hiss of an innumerable multitude of streams rushing over a rocky bed and cascading from one level to the other; and the ship once more floated motionless, or nearly so. And throughout the whole of this soul-shaking experience the stars beamed calmly down upon us with undimmed splendour.

For a few seconds we three men stood staring at each other in awestruck silence; then Gurney spoke, with a curious little quaver in his voice.

"That was no squall, Mr Troubridge," said he. "It was a submarine earthquake, and of extraordinary violence, too. I should not be in the least surprised if you find that its effects have been powerful and widespread enough to make your chart of these seas absolutely useless to you. For instance, we are supposed to be a long way off soundings here, are we not? Yet what are we to make of those shocks that we felt just now; were they merely the result of the earth tremor communicated to the water, and through it to the hull of the ship; or were we actually swept violently over the surface of a shoal? I should like, just for curiosity's sake, to take a cast of the—"

He paused suddenly. While speaking, his eyes had been fixed intently upon something that he seemed to see over my shoulder, away out on the port side of the ship; and now, without attempting to finish his sentence, he abruptly walked to the rail and stood staring out over it.

"What is the matter, Gurney; what do you think you see?" I demanded, going to his side, and somehow thrilled by the queerness of his manner.

"Come up on the poop," he said; "we shall see better from there."

He led the way, and I followed; and as I drew to his side he slowly stretched forth his arm in a pointing attitude, and, sweeping his hand slowly right round the horizon, said, in a low, impressive voice that was almost a whisper, the single word:

"Look!"

Then, for the first time, I saw the explanation of his strangeness of manner. While he had been voicing his anticipations as to the possible effects of the earthquake, I had been looking at him, meanwhile merely catching a suggestion out of the corner of my eye, as it were, of the fact that the disturbance of the ocean's surface around us was very rapidly subsiding, but without grasping the significance of it all; for I was listening to what he was saying, and turning it over in my mind. But now, as we stood together on the poop and gazed out in every direction round about us, I saw, to my unspeakable awe and consternation, that what, a quarter of an hour earlier, had been, to the best of my knowledge and belief, an unfathomable ocean was now, to a very large extent, dry land! That is to say, the ship appeared to be floating—or was she aground?—in a kind of pond, or small lake, of perhaps eight or ten acres in extent, surrounded on every side by land of some sort, off the rugged surface of which the salt water was still pouring in a multitude of little streams and cataracts. How far this land extended it was at that moment quite impossible to say; but, so far as could be seen in the dim uncertain light of the stars, it appeared to extend nearly or quite to the horizon. And the whole of it had been hove up from the ocean depths in the space of a few seconds. True, this part of the great Pacific Ocean was thickly dotted with reefs and shoals, the positions of many of which had never been accurately determined, while it was known that there were many others with a sufficient depth of water upon them to allow a ship to pass safely over them in any weather. This might possibly be one of them; but, even so, the fact remained that a low island of quite respectable extent had suddenly been created.

"Well, Gurney," I exclaimed, looking round in ever-growing amazement, "this is something quite new in the way of shipwrecks; something, indeed, that, if recorded in the newspapers, would be denounced by the clever ones who know everything as an outrageous falsehood, an audacious attempt to impose upon people's credulity."

"Very possibly," agreed Gurney. "I have run up against a good many people in my time who seem to make a point of disbelieving everything that has not come within the scope of their own actual experience. Yet there is nothing so very wonderful in this business, after all. New land is frequently being discovered where deep water is known to have previously existed; and this is a case in point, that is all. And, as to calling our present plight a shipwreck—well, I think it is rather anticipating matters to do that. If we had chanced to be caught floating immediately over any of that portion that has been hove out of water, and the ship left high and dry, we might be justified in calling ourselves shipwrecked; but here we are, still afloat; and who is to say that a way may not be found out of this dock into the open ocean?"

"Yes," I agreed, "there is certainly something in what you say. But are we really afloat? The ship seems too absolutely motionless for that. Let us get the lead-line, and take a cast."

"Ay, ay, Mr Troubridge; that's the proper thing to do!" exclaimed Saunders, who meanwhile had joined us. "I'll get the lead and take a few casts all round her." And he hurried off to put his resolve into execution.

As he descended to the main deck by way of the starboard poop ladder, Grace Hartley, fully clad, ascended to the poop by way of the other, and, approaching us, exclaimed:

"Oh, George—oh, Mr Troubridge, whatever dreadful thing has happened, and what does this unnatural stillness of the ship mean?"

"It means, Gracie dear," answered Gurney, "that there has been a violent submarine earthquake, which has replaced most of the water that was round about us, half an hour ago, with dry land, as you may see by looking about you. And the 'unnatural stillness' of the ship, as you call it, is due to the fact that we are now afloat—at least I hope so— in a small lake, instead of upon the open ocean. That is the sum and substance of what has happened; and to that statement I may add that the earthquake has passed and there is now no further danger. There is therefore no reason why you should not be in bed, Miss Hartley, and there I very strongly advise you to go, forthwith."

"Thank you, Mr George Gurney, both for your information and your advice," answered Grace, with a little quavering laugh, that testified to the extent of the alarm from which the poor girl had been suffering. "As to the latter, however," she continued, "I shall not follow it, for the simple reason that it would be quite impossible for me to sleep, notwithstanding your reassuring statement that all danger has now passed. Therefore, as I imagine that you men will not attempt to turn in again to-night, I shall go to the galley, light the fire, and make you each a cup of good strong coffee, for which I believe you will all be the better."

So saying, she tripped away on to the main deck, and forward to the galley, from the dark recesses of which we presently saw a cheerful light gleaming; and within half an hour our ministering angel had placed within the hands of each of us a cup of steaming hot coffee and a buttered biscuit.

Meanwhile Saunders, having procured the lead-line and a lantern, proceeded to sound systematically all round the ship, with the result that in due time he rejoined us on the poop, reporting as follows:—

"There's a bed of soft mud under our bows, Mr Troubridge, on which we've grounded to about as far aft as the fore riggin'. Beyond that, I reckon the ship's afloat, for at that p'int there's eighteen foot of water, gradually deepenin' to twenty-two foot under the starn-post. I don't reckon that we're so very hard and fast on the mud, hows'ever; for there's a good seventeen foot o' water under the bows; and I noticed, when we'd finished loadin' her t'other day, that she only drawed seventeen foot six for'ard."



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE REEF.

"That is good news," I remarked, when Saunders had completed his report; "for, short-handed though we are, I think it may be possible for us to get the ship afloat again. Then if, as you, Gurney, have suggested, there happens to be a channel carrying depth enough to float us, we may yet hope to find our way into open water once more. Let us pray, however, that the channel—if such exists—does not trend to windward, unless, of course, it happens to be wide enough to work the ship in. And now, I think our first job must be to clew up and furl our canvas, otherwise, when the breeze comes—as come it may at any moment—we shall drive ashore in grim earnest, and perhaps never get afloat again."

My two companions fully agreed with me; and accordingly, the halyards having already been let go, and the yards lowered to the caps, we let go the sheets and manned the clewlines and buntlines, first of the main and then of the fore topsail. Then we let go the fore topmast staysail halyards and hauled down the sail; finally laying out and securing it before going aloft to furl the topsails, which we tackled one at a time.

The next thing to be thought about was how to provide for the safety of the ship when the breeze should come again, as come it soon must. As the ship then lay she was heading almost exactly due east; and if the wind should happen to come away out from that quarter—which seemed to be its prevailing direction thereabout—I thought it not improbable that we might blow off the mudbank and go ashore again on the lee side of the lake, quite possibly in a very much worse position than that which we then occupied. Gurney and Saunders were quite of my opinion; and after talking the matter over for a while, we decided to get the stream anchor over the bows, in place of the one left behind at the island, bend a hawser to it, and have it all ready to let go at any moment. This we did without any difficulty, the anchor in question being of a weight not too great for the three of us to handle.

By the time that this job was ended the first signs of the coming dawn began to show themselves away to the eastward, and with one consent Gurney, Saunders, and I sprang into the main rigging and made our way aloft to the crosstrees, with the purpose of taking a good look round at our surroundings. In those low latitudes the day comes quickly, and we had not occupied our lofty perch many minutes when up leapt the sun, flashing his golden beams over the dark expanse spread out around us, and we saw, to our dismay, that we occupied a small basin—one of many such—situated almost in the exact centre of a vast reef, stretching over a distance which we roughly estimated at thirty miles from north to south, and perhaps twenty miles from east to west. The salt water that had been hove up with the reef had by this time all run off, leaving the dark, weed-covered rock fully exposed to view. Here and there, of course, owing to the exceeding roughness and irregularity of the surface, were scattered numerous pools, some small, and others of considerable extent, which must obviously soon evaporate and disappear under the influence of the sun's beams; and the disagreeable possibility suggested itself to us all that the pool in which the Mercury floated might share the same fate. But we hoped not, for there were at least three channels, wide enough to permit the passage of the ship, leading out of our basin, stretching away across the reef, and joining other channels, until the labyrinth became too intricate for the eye to follow, and we trusted that one or more of these might lead to the open ocean.

While we still remained aloft, discussing our situation and the best means of extricating ourselves from it, a light air from the eastward arose, redolent of the mingled odours of mud and seaweed; and as a wind from this direction, if it would but come strong enough, might greatly assist our efforts to get the ship off the mudbank upon which she was partially grounded, we decided that we would at once try the effect of setting the main topsail and throwing it aback; so while Gurney and Saunders proceeded with this work, I looked about me for a suitable berth in which to moor the ship, in the event of our efforts to refloat her being crowned with success. At the height of the main topmast crosstrees it was easy for me to discern pretty clearly the character of the bottom of the basin in which we lay, and as the light increased I discovered that the mudbank which held the ship was only of very small extent, the remaining portion of the bottom being sandy, apparently of almost uniform depth below the surface of the water, and affording excellent holding ground. There was one place, however, some two hundred fathoms to the southward of the spot where the ship then lay, which seemed to be a trifle deeper than elsewhere, and I at once determined that, if we could by any means clear ourselves of the mud, I would anchor there.

By the time that I had thus decided, the other two had cast off the gaskets from the main topsail. I therefore slid down on deck by way of the topgallant backstay, and cast off the clewlines and buntlines that Saunders might overhaul them prior to coming down from aloft, and then manned the sheets, which, of course, came home easily enough, except for the last few inches, upon which I required the help of Gurney and Saunders. Then, having squared the main and topsail yard, we got the halyard to the winch, with the aid of a snatch-block, and hoisted the sail, flat aback. Gurney then went forward and loosed the fore topmast staysail ready for setting in case of need, while Saunders got the hand lead and dropped it over the side, in order that we might be able at once to detect any movement on the part of the ship.

The wind meanwhile had freshened perceptibly, and was now blowing a ten- knot breeze, the effect of which soon became perceptible, for the lead- line had not been overboard five minutes when Saunders cried out that the ship was moving. At the same moment I distinctly felt a slight tremor in the hull, followed by a barely perceptible jerk, then another, another, and another, and she was once more afloat and driving astern. I at once sprang to the wheel, and put it hard a-starboard, at the same time shouting to Gurney and Saunders to hoist the fore topmost staysail. Then, leaving the wheel to take care of itself, I sprang to the main braces, throwing the port main and topsail braces off their pins, and rounding in on the starboard as well as I could unaided. The ship had now paid off on the port tack; and as soon as the starboard fore topmast staysail sheet was hauled aft, she began to forge ahead, whereupon I rushed back to the wheel, steadied it, and called to Gurney to stand by to let go the stream anchor, and to Saunders to take a cast of the lead. The first cast gave us a bare four fathoms; the next, a trifle over four fathoms; the next, four and a half fathoms; and the next, five fathoms; whereupon I gave the word to let go the anchor and haul down the staysail, at the same time abandoning the wheel and springing to the main topsail halyard, which I let run. By the time that we had once more furled our canvas, breakfast was ready, and we all sat down to it with excellent appetites.

Having breakfasted, Gurney and I again betook ourselves aloft to the main topmast crosstrees, carrying the ship's telescope with us, our object being to subject the reef to a thorough scrutiny, in the hope that, with the sun now high in the heavens, and the light as good as it was likely to be, we might be fortunate enough to discover a way of escape from our extraordinary prison.

As a matter of fact we did now get a much clearer and, on the whole, more satisfactory view of the reef than upon the previous occasion; but although we perceived a perfect network of channels—some so narrow as scarcely to permit the passage of a boat, while others were wide enough in places actually to allow a ship to work to windward in them—the inequalities in the surface of the reef were so great as to render it impossible for us to trace any of them for more than three or four miles at the utmost. There were four channels, wide enough to allow the passage of the ship, branching out from the basin in which we lay, one trending toward the north-east; another running off toward the north- west, and then, apparently, by a zigzag course ultimately leading to open water on the west side of the reef; a third running west out of the basin for a distance of about three miles, beyond which its farther course became untraceable; and a fourth, broad on our starboard bow, which looked the most promising of all. We counted seven pools, or lakelets, in addition and similar to our own—three to the northward, one to the eastward, two to the southward, and one to the south-westward of our own; but the one in which the Mercury floated seemed to be the largest of them all. The reef appeared to be composed wholly of rock, covered for the most part with weed, but with broad expanses of sand here and there, interspersed with mud banks; and its height above the ocean level seemed to vary from about a foot to ten or fifteen feet, with occasional isolated hummocks, rising perhaps as high in some cases as forty feet. With the aid of the telescope we were able to perceive that considerable quantities of fish had been stranded and left to perish by the sudden upheaval, and the appearance of them caused me a slight spasm of alarm on the score of our health, which was only partially dissipated by the fact, to which Gurney directed my attention, that already great flocks of sea birds had appeared and were busily devouring them.

We remained aloft for more than an hour, studying the reef and, so far as I was concerned, making copious notes and a rough sketch map of it in my notebook, and then descended to the deck, having come to the conclusion that the only thing to be done was to make a systematic exploration of the reef, and especially of the channels, by means of one of the boats.

For this purpose we selected the larger of the two quarter boats, a very handsomely modelled craft of twenty-six feet long by six feet beam, with a keel nearly eight inches deep in midships, and rigged as a fore-and- aft schooner. She had been the late captain's fancy boat, used by him for sailing ashore from open roadsteads, and was fitted with air- chambers forward and aft and under each of the thwarts, thus being converted into a sort of unsinkable lifeboat. She was therefore in every respect eminently suitable for the duty upon which we proposed to employ her.

I was rather afraid that, upon learning our purpose, Grace Hartley might express a desire to accompany us; and this would be somewhat awkward, in view of the rough work which might possibly lie before us; but to my relief she expressed herself as perfectly content to remain aboard alone, upon being assured that no harm could possibly happen to the ship. We therefore bent the ensign on to the main signal halyards, showed her how to hoist it, and directed her to run it up to the main truck in the event of anything occurring to render our immediate return to the ship necessary. Then, having hastily stowed away a few biscuits and a piece of cold salt beef in the boat's stern locker, and placed a small breaker of fresh water in her for ballast, we lowered her to the water, brought her to the gangway, rigged her, and got away about six bells in the forenoon watch, Grace waving her farewells to us from the poop.

We decided to begin our exploration by examining the channel which opened on the south side of the basin, as that was the widest and the most promising of the four. Accordingly, upon leaving the ship, we brought the boat close to the wind on the port tack—which just enabled her to point fair for the mouth of the channel—and at once proceeded to take soundings. But we had not been under way five minutes before we found that, under whole canvas, the boat travelled much too fast to enable us to sound with the frequency and accuracy that I considered necessary; we were consequently obliged to take in the foresail altogether, and sail the boat under the single-reefed mainsail and jib, at least during the outward journey.

Within ten minutes of leaving the ship we glided into the channel which it was our intention to explore, and found ourselves slipping along a waterway ranging from two hundred to a thousand feet in width, with an average depth of about five fathoms. The sides of the channel were very rough and irregular, its direction was also exceedingly erratic, varying from east-south-east to south by west. This irregularity of direction was the worst feature of the channel; for, with the prevailing direction of the wind at about due east, there were stretches of the channel looking so close into the wind's eye that the ship could never be sailed through them. True, some of these stretches were so short that Gurney believed the Mercury could be carried through them by making a half- board; but this would be a somewhat hazardous experiment, unless the wind chanced to veer a point or two in our favour, while, even then, there were other stretches that could only be traversed by kedging. But, apart from this disadvantage, there was nothing to find fault with, the channel being everywhere wide enough to permit the passage of the ship, and the depth in it never less than twenty feet, with a fine sandy bottom.

We traversed this channel for a distance of about nine miles, during which the general trend of it might be said to be south-east, and then we arrived at a point where it not only widened out, but also abruptly took a south-south-west direction, to our great delight. For if the ship could by any means be coaxed as far as this, she could then proceed with a free wind. But, alas for our hopes, we had not traversed more than another mile and a half before we found ourselves in a cul-de-sac, the channel coming to an abrupt end.

This was a very severe disappointment to us, for after travelling so far, and meeting with so few difficulties, we were already beginning to congratulate ourselves upon having found a way of escape at the first attempt. However, there was no use in worrying about it, the only thing to be done was to retrace our steps and try one of the other channels.

It must not be supposed that the channel which we had thus traversed to its extremity was unbroken; on the contrary, there were several other channels branching out of it to right and left at various points in its length, two of which at least—one about three miles back, and another five miles back—had struck us as not altogether unpromising, and our idea was now to return and examine these. But before starting upon our return journey Gurney made a suggestion that was destined to exercise an extraordinary influence upon our future. As we lay hove-to in the cul- de-sac, discussing the question of what should next be done, our attention had been more than once attracted toward a large hummock of rock rising some thirty or forty feet above the general level of the reef, at no great distance from the margin of the channel; and Gurney's proposal was that, before attempting anything else, we should land, make our way to the hummock, climb it, and ascertain whether any observations of value were to be made from its summit. The proposal had so much to commend it that it was agreed to forthwith. Laying the boat alongside the rock at a convenient spot, we all three landed, and set out to walk across the reef. The hummock in question was only some two hundred yards from the margin of the channel; we therefore soon reached it, despite the difficulty of the going, the surface of the reef proving to be exceedingly rough, and covered for the most part with weed so terribly slippery that it was positively dangerous to attempt to walk upon it. When at length we reached the summit of the rock we were not much better off; for although we could see from thence a great deal more of the reef than was to be observed from the boat, we made no discoveries that were likely to facilitate our escape.

But while we stood upon the summit of this rock, staring about us, our attention was arrested by the sight of a great brown patch, some three or four acres in extent, showing up strongly against the dull black of the otherwise weed-covered rock. Although it obviously had nothing to do with channels, or extricating the ship from her extraordinary situation, our curiosity was aroused, and we determined to pay it a visit and ascertain its character before returning to the boat. It lay some three hundred yards to the south of the hummock, and we saw that, upon returning from it to the boat, we should only need to pass close to the eastward of the hummock to hit off the correct trail.

Accordingly we descended to the surface of the reef, and headed for the mysterious brown patch, which we soon reached, some suspicion of its true character having dawned upon us, even before we arrived at the spot, from the circumstance that, as we approached, our nostrils became cognisant of a "most ancient and fish-like smell". The suspicion that we had formed was confirmed upon our arrival by the discovery that the object of our curiosity was a great bed of oysters, hove up and exposed to the air by the convulsion of the previous night. But, fond as I am of oysters, I did not care to tackle any of these; for, apart from the fact that many of them were already dead, I did not altogether like the appearance of them. They were very much larger than the ordinary edible oyster; and to my mind they did not look quite wholesome. Saunders, however, was far less fastidious than either Gurney or me; he found one or two that, being immersed in a shallow pool of salt water, were still alive, and announced his intention of trying them. Accordingly, producing a strong clasp knife, he contrived, with some difficulty, to open one; and no sooner had he forced the shells apart than I guessed that we had all stumbled upon a fortune, in extent probably "beyond the dreams of avarice!" For as the shells parted, exposing the fish, three or four small bead-like objects became revealed, that I instantly recognised as pearls. The oysters were undoubtedly pearl oysters; and the millions of shells that lay at our feet doubtless contained gems enough to make us all rich for the remainder of our days!

Not to be behindhand with Saunders, I seized one of the bivalves, already dead and with the shells gaping apart, and tore it open; but although the shell was lined with beautiful lustrous mother-o'-pearl, it was barren of gems. Flinging this away, I tried another, and a third and fourth, with a like result; a fifth yielded nine small pearls about the size of duck shot; numbers six and seven proved barren; but the eighth surrendered to my eager grasp a magnificent pearl, perfectly globular, quite half an inch in diameter, and, when cleaned, of exquisite lustre and colour. Gurney and Saunders meanwhile had been as busily engaged as myself, and between them had secured three more gems not quite so large as mine, and about as much seed pearl as would half fill an ordinary wineglass. One of the three smaller pearls, however— secured by Gurney—amply made up in beauty what it lacked in size, for it was of a most exquisitely delicate yet rich rose colour.

"My friends," said I, as soon as I was able to collect my scattered senses and speak intelligibly, "it is said that the darkest cloud has a silver lining, and the extraordinary accident by which we have become imprisoned in the meshes of this reef—let us hope only temporarily—has at the same time presented us with a treasure of incalculable value. I think we should be almost criminally negligent if we failed to make the utmost of our marvellous good fortune, and I therefore propose that, before we proceed further with the exploration of the reef, we take steps to secure the wealth that lies spread so lavishly at our feet. Let us take these oysters and spread them—or at least a portion of them—in rows, so that the sun may get at them and speedily bring about that state of decomposition which I understand is necessary to enable the gems they contain to be secured uninjured. And I further propose that, whatever be the value of the wealth we may ultimately secure, it be equally divided between all four of us; for it would be manifestly unfair that Miss Hartley should not equally participate in our good as in our ill fortune. What say you?"

My companions cheerfully agreed with my proposal, and, this point settled, we forthwith proceeded to collect the oysters indiscriminately from the enormous heap and lay them out singly upon the seaweed in long rows, taking care to place each bivalve quite flat, in order that, as the process of decomposition proceeded, the precious contents should not roll out and be lost. So absorbed were we in our occupation that we did not desist until the sun hung upon the very verge of the western horizon, by which time we had placed in position very nearly three thousand oysters. And not until then did we find time to remember that we had eaten nothing since leaving the ship!

Then, returning to the boat, we cleansed our hands in the water alongside, shook out our reef, set all our canvas, and headed the boat back to the ship, snatching a hasty meal as we went.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE PEARLS.

The breeze freshened with the disappearance of the sun beneath the horizon, and the boat, under whole canvas and in the perfectly smooth water of the canal-like channel, fairly flew along, careening almost gunwale-to, with a merry buzzing of water at her sharp stem, as she sheared through it with a sound like the rending of silk. In about an hour and a half, favoured with a free wind, and a sufficiency of starlight to enable us to see our way, we found ourselves once more alongside the ship, tired with the fatigues of the day, but excited and happy at the amazing good fortune that had befallen us. For the moment we could neither think nor talk of anything but pearls; the precarious situation of the ship and the consideration of what might happen to her should a gale spring up were entirely lost sight of, and already Saunders, if not Gurney and myself, was anxiously considering what he should do with his wealth when he had conveyed it safely home. Grace Hartley, woman-like, fairly gloated over the sight of the lovely gems that we had brought back with us, and earnestly besought us that she might be allowed to accompany us on our next visit to the oyster-bed, in order that she might have the delight of securing a few with her own hands; and after some demur we promised that she might do so on the following day, by the end of which she would probably have had quite enough of it; for decomposition of animal matter is speedy under a tropical sun, and our experience even of a single day led us all to conclude that another twenty-four hours would reduce the stranded oysters to a condition sufficiently revolting to tax even male endurance pretty severely.

The following morning found us all early astir, and the moment that breakfast was over the boat was brought alongside and our provisions for the day passed down into her. Then Gurney descended and assisted his sweetheart down the side, Saunders following, and I bringing up the rear. The boat's sails were set, and under whole canvas we pushed off on our way to the oyster-bed; for the craving for wealth was upon us all, and we felt that every moment spent otherwise than in gathering it was so much wasted time.

The breeze was still blowing fresh, and, although for the greater part of the distance the boat was jammed close upon a wind, we made excellent time between the ship and our point of destination, arriving there after a pleasant sail of less than two hours. But long before we arrived I began to wish that I had thought of putting a gun into the boat; for while we were still a good two miles from the oyster-bed we saw the birds hovering over it in thousands, and I strongly suspected that upon arrival we should find that those same birds had played havoc with our previous day's work. And so we did; for when we reached the spot we found our neatly arranged rows of oysters turned topsy-turvy by the birds in their endeavours to get at the fish, while the odour that emanated from the millions of dead bivalves was already powerful enough to upset any but a strong stomach.

Although the birds had completely disarranged our labours of the preceding day, they did not appear to have otherwise done any very serious damage. It is true that every single oyster that we had laid out so carefully had been attacked, dragged out of place, and the fish extracted; but nearly a hundred pearls of value were found between the otherwise empty shells, while a careful examination of the ground revealed fully as many more, together with as much seed pearl as would rather more than fill a half-pint measure. Grace Hartley accompanied us from the boat to the oyster-bed, and remained long enough to actually find for herself two very fine pearls; but that sufficed. She confessed that the effluvium was altogether too powerful for her, and beat a hasty retreat to the boat, where she spent the remainder of the day in comparative comfort, only an occasional faint whiff of odour reaching her there. As for us males, we had taken the precaution to bring along with us a ship's bucket, which we filled with salt water upon leaving the boat, and every pearl found, whether large or small, was dropped into this as soon as found.

Our first task was to go very carefully over the ground upon which we had laid out our oysters on the previous day, retrieving the pearls that had been thrown out of the shells by the birds in their endeavours to extract the fish; and when we had satisfied ourselves that no more were to be found there, we turned our attention to the bed itself, where also the birds had been, and still remained, exceedingly busy. But we did not then attempt to look for spilled pearls, for the bulk of the oysters were by this time dead, and had been so long enough to render the opening of the shells quite an easy matter. We therefore wandered about the bed examining such of the shells as happened to be gaping open, extracting any pearls that might happen to be therein, and then flinging fish and shell as far away to leeward as we could. We had done with those, and now tossed them aside, in order that we might not inadvertently find ourselves handling them a second time. We toiled assiduously throughout the whole of that day, my two companions smoking steadily all the time in order to counteract, as far as might be, the sickening odour of the fast-decaying fish.

When we knocked off work shortly before sunset we found that altogether we had gathered during the day five hundred and nineteen pearls varying in size from a large pea to a marble, and nearly a quart measure full of seed pearl. Our prizes were, generally speaking, of the usual soft, sheeny, white colour; but there were exceptions to this, two more pink pearls being found, as well as one of a deep rich exquisite rose colour, one of a very delicate shade of sea-green, and seven of so very dark a smoke colour that they were almost black. We did not think very much of these last, believing that their extremely dark colour was against them; but we ultimately discovered that this was very far from being the case, that precise shade of colour being exceedingly rare.

None of us had much appetite for food that night when we got back to the ship; and when we turned out next morning we were even less desirous of food than we had been on the previous evening. We were all suffering from violent headaches, accompanied by great nausea, and were fain to confess that we had had quite enough of the oyster-bed for the present. We therefore soon agreed to let that part of the reef very severely alone for at least a week, and to devote the interval to the prosecution of our survey of the channel. Accordingly, after making an ineffectual attempt to do justice to the excellent meal which Grace Hartley had provided for us, we three males hauled the boat alongside, descended into her, and got under way.

Our course, for the first seven and a half miles, lay along the canal leading to the oyster-bed, our purpose being to examine two promising- looking channels that branched out of it, and that we had already noticed and commented upon. On reaching the more distant—and, as we thought, the more promising—of the two we bore up and, with the wind over our starboard quarter, ran away on a west-south-west course for about five miles, next hauling up to about south. But by the time that we had run some four miles in this new direction we saw clearly that this channel could be of no possible service to us, for it began to shoal, and ultimately became too shallow to float the ship; therefore as, simultaneously with this discovery, we caught a strong whiff of tainted wind from our oyster-bed, some four miles to windward, we put down our helm, tacked, and retraced our steps, going back a couple of miles along the oyster-bed channel to the other channel which we desired to examine.

It was by this time about noon, and the purer air of the reef generally—although even that was not wholly innocent of a suggestion of decaying fish—had so far restored our appetites that we decided to pipe to dinner; accordingly, upon entering the new channel we opened out the package that Grace had prepared for us, and fell to. The channel in which we now found ourselves trended generally about north-east by east for a distance of some four and a half miles, there were therefore short stretches in it here and there where the wind came too shy to allow the boat to lay her course, and we consequently had to beat to windward, a long leg and a short one, in those stretches.

At length we reached a point where the channel took a due northerly trend, when away we went with flowing sheets, but under short canvas, sounding industriously all the way. Then, after we had traversed some ten miles in all of this new channel, we quite suddenly and unexpectedly found ourselves in a basin, very similar to that in which the Mercury lay peacefully at anchor, but not quite so large. We coasted along the weather side of this basin for a distance of about two miles, and then found another channel, which we at once entered. This channel trended north-east, but we had not sailed above four miles before it narrowed so much that we saw it would be useless to us, and we therefore bore up and returned to the newly-discovered basin. Continuing our progress round this, we found another channel, branching out of its north-western extremity, and as it had a rather promising appearance we plunged into it. It trended away to the northward and westward for the first seven miles, then turned abruptly toward the southward for a distance of some five miles, when we found ourselves in another channel trending about north-north-west and south-south-east.

This channel was even more promising than the one which we had just emerged from, being almost double the width; but we were puzzled for the moment as to which direction to take, whether to head to the northward or the southward. The northerly-trending channel might lead anywhere; the southerly portion, on the other hand, looked as though it might possibly take us back to the ship, the spars of which were visible some nine miles away. We decided to try the latter, as the day was by this time well advanced, and, should we ultimately find ourselves obliged to retrace our steps, it would make us very late in getting back to the ship. Fortunately, however, we were not driven to this latter alternative, for after following the winding course of the southerly channel for a distance of some twelve miles we arrived at the north- eastern extremity of the basin in which the Mercury lay at anchor, and safely arrived alongside half an hour later, having spent the day in circumnavigating a portion of the reef which we thus discovered to be entirely surrounded by channels of a width and depth of water sufficient to allow of the passage of the ship. This discovery, however, was of no practical service to us; for it still left us in our original state of uncertainty regarding the existence of a channel through which the ship might be taken into open water.

The narrative of our efforts to find such a channel has been given thus far with considerable detail, in order to bring home to the reader some idea of the extreme awkwardness of our situation, and the difficulties and perplexities with which we found ourselves confronted; but there is no need to continue the story further in quite so detailed a form, since the progress of our researches was unaccompanied by anything in the nature of adventure. Let it suffice, therefore, to say that we traversed the multitudinous canal-like channels of that labyrinthine reef continuously for ten days longer before we found a passage of sufficient width, and with a sufficient depth of water in it everywhere, to enable the Mercury to go through it to the open sea. This passage, when found, proved to be a continuation of the channel originating in the north-eastern angle of what we had now come to speak of as the Mercury Basin, from the fact that the ship lay anchored in it. Although it was an undoubted fact that we had actually found a channel leading from this basin to open water, the difficulties in the way of successfully carrying the ship through it were so great that we had very grave doubts of our ability to accomplish it. In the first place, the course of the channel was of so winding a character that, according to a very careful estimate, the ship would have to traverse no less than a hundred and ten miles of waterway before clearing the reef; consequently it would be impossible to accomplish the whole distance during the hours of daylight of a single day; while to attempt the navigation of any portion of it during the hours of darkness was altogether too hazardous an undertaking to be calmly thought of. But, as though this difficulty were not in itself sufficient, there was a stretch of twelve miles of channel running in a north-easterly direction which the ship could not possibly negotiate under sail unless a change of wind should occur—of which there seemed to be absolutely no prospect. The only alternative, therefore, would be to kedge those twelve miles; truly a most formidable undertaking for four persons—one of them being a girl—to attempt. Fortunately, however, for us all, the problem of how to overcome these tremendous difficulties was solved for us by accident, and quite unexpectedly. For, upon going over this long and intricate channel again, in order thoroughly to familiarise ourselves with it, and to become better acquainted with its many danger-points, it happened that on the return journey—which was being made by moonlight—we missed our way, continuing along what appeared to be the main channel, instead of diverging into a branch trending to the eastward; and by the time that we discovered our mistake we were so favourably impressed with the appearance of this new, strange channel—which seemed to be running almost straight toward Mercury Basin—that we determined to follow it up and see whither it led.

Not to dilate unnecessarily upon this portion of our adventures, we discovered, to our infinite satisfaction and delight, that it did indeed ultimately conduct us back to the ship; and that, too, by a route which reduced the distance to be travelled to about forty-five miles, or very considerably less than half that of the other channel. Moreover, while the original channel first ran north, then north-east, for the twelve miles that were only to be covered by kedging—before it ultimately changed its course to south—in which direction the point of ultimate egress lay, the new channel left Mercury Basin at its western, or leeward, extremity, running first west, then south-west, and ultimately south, straight out to sea. Thus the whole distance could be traversed under sail and with a free wind. The three following days and nights were devoted to a most careful re-examination of this new channel, with the result that we thoroughly satisfied ourselves as to its absolute practicability.

With our minds thus relieved of a tremendous load of anxiety, we felt ourselves once more able to turn our thoughts in the direction of our pearl harvest. A full fortnight had been devoted to the exploration of the reef since our last visit to the oyster-bed, and we were of opinion that it ought by this time to be in such a condition as to afford us a very handsome return for our labours.

Accordingly, after allowing ourselves a day's rest to enable us to recover from the fatigues of our recent arduous boat duty, we once more repaired to the oyster-bed—Grace Hartley preferring on this occasion to remain "at home", as she put it, rather than again face the disgusting sights and odours that had met her on the occasion of her visit. But upon our arrival at the scene of operations we soon found that a fortnight had made a vast amount of difference in the condition of the oysters. For whereas when we had last visited the oyster-bed the process of putrefaction had only just begun, it had now advanced so far that the fish were not only completely decayed but had also in many cases so completely dried up under the influence of the sun's rays as to have, to a very great extent, lost their odour. Furthermore, the birds had been so busy that more than half the shells had been completely emptied; our task, therefore, although still excessively disagreeable, promised to be far less revoltingly offensive and disgusting than it had been before. Even such offensiveness as still remained we contrived to mitigate to a very considerable extent, by adopting the simple plan of starting work on the windward edge of the bed, whereby the accumulated odours were blown away from us, instead of directly in our faces, as on the previous occasion.

Now we went to work systematically, roughly dividing the bed into three nearly equal portions, one of which was to be gone over very carefully by each of us. Also we each had a bucket, into which to drop our spoils, so that there might be no time lost and no unnecessary fatigue incurred in passing to and fro. Our system of working was simplicity itself, and merely consisted in starting operations on the extreme weather side of the bed, examining the fish just as they came to hand, extracting such pearls as they contained, dropping the gems into the bucket of water with which each of us was provided, and then throwing the shells out on the reef apart from those still untouched. We toiled on thus all day, with a pause of half an hour about midday, when we retired to the boat, cleaned ourselves as well as we could, and snatched a hasty meal, concluding our labours about half an hour before sunset. When, during the run back to the ship at the end of the day, we proceeded to compare notes and take stock of the results of our labour, we came to the conclusion that either the bed was an enormously rich one, or that we had had an exceedingly lucky day, for our combined booty consisted of over fourteen hundred pearls—sixty-three of which were of quite exceptional value from their size or colour—and a full quart measure of seed pearl. I was of opinion, at the time—and am so still— that we might have obtained considerably more than we did of the last, but for the eagerness with which we prosecuted our search for the larger gems, which caused our search for the smaller seed pearls to degenerate into a very perfunctory operation.

The story of one day's work at the oyster-bed is the story of all; it is therefore unnecessary to say more upon the subject than that we spent a full fortnight upon the task of gathering pearls, by the end of which time we had acquired so much dexterity at the work that we did more in one day than we did in two at the beginning of our labours. Then, although at the expiration of the fortnight we seemed to have made scarcely any perceptible inroad upon that enormous deposit, we grew tired of our self-imposed task and mutually agreed that we had accumulated as much wealth as we required. Moreover, as we watched the increase of that wealth day by day, our anxiety grew lest perchance anything should happen to prevent our escape from the reef and our return to that civilisation, where alone our wealth could be of any real value to us. The reader may reasonably ask what grounds of justification we had for the fear that anything could possibly happen to prevent our escape, seeing that we had been fortunate enough to discover a channel through which the ship might be easily taken out to sea; but I think we all still carried a vivid recollection of the terrific natural convulsion that had placed us in the extraordinary situation which we then occupied; and I believe the others shared with me the feeling that, such a thing having once happened, it might possibly happen again. The reef that had held us prisoners for so long might sink again to the ocean depths, perchance carrying the ship with it in the terrific turmoil that must ensue; or it might be hove up still higher, leaving the ship stranded and immovable; and then what would be our plight? Therefore, when on the evening of a certain day Gurney ventured to voice the suggestion that it would now be well to think seriously of making good our escape, while yet the opportunity to do so remained to us, neither of the others raised so much as a single word of protest, but on the contrary agreed to the proposal with an eagerness which clearly showed how welcome it was to us all.

"As for me," said Gurney, when walking the poop with me that night and discussing the matter, "my way is now clear; Gracie and I will get married as soon as we arrive in Sydney; and then I think I may venture to return home and once more hope to find a welcome beneath the roof- tree which shelters those to whom I have given so much sorrow."

"Indeed," remarked I, scarcely knowing what to say, for my companion had spoken those last words in a tone of such intense feeling that I felt convinced a story must lie behind them.

"Yes," he said, and was silent for a minute or two, apparently plunged in deep and painful thought. Then, suddenly throwing up his head, he continued: "I belong to the genus Prodigal Son. Would you care to hear my story? I think I should rather like to tell it you; for you are a good lad, high-spirited, full of generous impulses, eager to excel, and full of pluck. You are bound to make a success of your life if you will only steadfastly follow the path that your feet are now treading. But— forgive me for saying so—the qualities that you possess, excellent as they are, are precisely those that, unless you are very careful, are likely to betray you.

"When I was your age I was just such another lad as you are, and my father was as proud of, and as hopeful for, me as any parent can possibly be of an only son. He gave me a first-class education, and finally procured me an excellent post under Government. My duties took me abroad—there is no need to say where—and I at once found myself the associate and companion of a lot of young fellows who had somehow imbibed the idea that it was incumbent upon them, as Government officials, to adopt a smart, bold, dashing, reckless demeanour, a kind of modern edition of the swashbucklers of the Stuart regime; and they did their best to live up to that idea. This sort of thing was quite new to me; for you must remember that I was fresh from school at the time, and had never seen anything of the kind before, my father being an exceptionally quiet and sober-minded individual, associating only with men of similar temperament to himself. With my new companions, however, 'respectability' was voted old-fashioned and out of date, sobriety of conduct a bore. They were fine, dashing, high-spirited young fellows, fearing nothing and nobody, and they didn't care who knew it. They drank freely, constituted themselves authorities on all kinds of sport, gambled, and did many other things that at first distinctly frightened me, but which, a little later on, I rather admired, and—like the young fool that I was—soon began to humbly emulate. Facilis descensus Averni! The reverence for truth, and purity, and uprightness that had come to me in the atmosphere of home soon died. I recognised that those virtues belonged to a bygone period, but I was going to be up-to-date, in the forefront: nobody should surpass me! I dare say—ay, and I very fervently hope—that all this sounds the most incredible folly to you; but I give you my word that, so imperceptible were the steps by which I descended the down-grade that, looking back upon it all, I am even now not astonished at what I did. I believe that it was inevitable, under the circumstances, for, mark you this, I had never been warned against it! My parents had such implicit faith in me that the possibility of such a warning being necessary never occurred to them! Of course there could only be one end to this sort of thing, and in two years it came. Two years sufficed to convert me, from such a lad as you are now, into an utterly worthless, disreputable blackguard, a confirmed drunkard, a hardened liar, and—a contemptible thief! With my constitution completely shattered, I was obliged to resign my post, to avoid being kicked out, and I returned home a moral and physical wreck. But, even then, my poor father and mother had no suspicion of the truth, for I told them that my condition was due to fever contracted in the discharge of my duty. It was, however, impossible for me to conceal the truth from them very long after I had once more come under their roof; and the grief and shame that overwhelmed them when at length their eyes were opened might have melted the heart of a stone. But it did not melt mine, for I was by that time so completely the slave of my vices that I had lost every vestige of natural feeling. I continued my drunken habits as long as I had money to spend on liquor; and when finally I had exhausted my own resources I stole from my parents the means to still continue in the indulgence of my degrading vice. It broke my poor mother's heart, and she died; and on the day of her funeral I was unable to follow her body to its last resting-place, because I was too drunk to stand or speak! That was the crowning act of my disgraceful career; for on that very day my father gave me twenty pounds and turned me out of his house, forbidding me ever again to darken his door. I went to London, spent my twenty pounds in a wild life, got into a street fight, and was carried to a hospital with a knife-wound between my ribs; and there I lingered between life and death for nearly a month before I took a turn for the better and began to mend; and it was three months before I was up and out again. But during that three months the hospital chaplain contrived to gain my confidence. He induced me to tell him my story; and in return he told me some home truths that had the eventual effect of opening my eyes to the enormity of my guilt, the effect being helped, perhaps, by the fact that during my stay in the hospital I had been cured of my cursed craving for drink. When at length I was ready to leave the hospital my friend the chaplain offered to communicate with my father and endeavour to effect a reconciliation; but I refused. I had vowed that I would never return home until I could do so as a thoroughly reformed character; I therefore made my way down to the docks, took the first berth that offered, and, under the assumed name of George Gurney, became a common sailor. You will think, perhaps, that to go to sea, and in such a capacity, was not quite the best possible method whereby to effect my reformation, and may be it was not, but I was determined that nothing—nothing—should stand in my way; and I think I may now say, without undue confidence, that I have succeeded. Gracie, to whom I have told my story, assures me that I need no longer fear to face my father, and I believe her, for a woman can see more deeply than a man. So now I shall return home, to be a comfort, as I devoutly hope, to my dear father's declining years; and perhaps, with the aid of my wealth, I may be able to do enough good to obliterate the memory of all the grief and shame that I have caused him to suffer. That is my story, Troubridge; and all that I will add to it is this: If ever you feel tempted to stray, though ever so slightly, from the path of rectitude, think of the man whom you once knew as George Gurney; and let his history serve as a warning to you. And now I will say good night; for we must be stirring early to-morrow."



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

ONCE MORE IN OPEN WATER.

I slept anything but soundly that night, fearing that, if I abandoned myself too completely to the influence of the drowsy god, I might not awake early enough in the morning to ensure the accomplishment of all that was to be done next day—for we had to hoist the boat, make sail, and traverse some forty-five miles of winding channel through the reef in order to reach open water before darkness overtook us. But although I was astir with the first signs of the coming dawn, I found, upon going out on deck, that Gurney and Saunders were before me. They too, it appeared, had been too anxious to do more than doze restlessly and intermittently through the hot night, and finally, as though by mutual consent, had turned out about an hour before daylight and, after softly pacing the main deck together, chatting and smoking for about half an hour, had gone forward, lighted the galley fire, and proceeded to prepare an early breakfast, in order that we might all be ready to turn- to the moment that we had light enough to see what we were about. When I went forward and looked into the galley—the light from which had attracted my attention the instant that I emerged from the cabin—I was greeted with the mingled aromas of boiling cocoa and frying bacon, as well as with the cheery "good morning!" of the two men who were bending over the galley stove; but I had scarcely had time to exchange greetings with them when the fourth member of our party, awakened by my movements while dressing, made her appearance and promptly assumed charge of the culinary operations. This left the three males of the party free to tackle the more arduous duties of the day; and we forthwith proceeded to unrig the boat and make her ready for hoisting. By the time that this task had been advanced to the point of hooking on and hauling taut the davit-tackles, we were summoned to breakfast, and in high spirits sat down to partake of what we hoped would be our last meal but one before we should find ourselves once more at sea.

The meal over, we proceeded to get the quarter boat hoisted to the davits, which, heavy boat though she was for three men to handle, we soon accomplished with the assistance of a couple of watch-tackles, in the employment of which we had by this time, through much usage, become experts. Then came the loosing and setting of the canvas. We decided that, as before, we would rely upon the three topsails and the fore topmast staysail to carry us to our destination, that being as much canvas as we could conveniently handle; and an hour and a half sufficed us to get these sails set to our satisfaction and braced ready for casting the ship. Then, sending Grace Hartley aft to the wheel, which she was now able to manipulate as deftly as any of us, Gurney and I stood by the fore braces, while Saunders, armed with an axe, proceeded to the forecastle and stood by to sever the hawser by which the ship rode. At the proper moment the word was given, the axe fell once, twice, and we were once more adrift, the ship gathering stern-way and paying off with her helm hard a-starboard and the port fore braces flattened in. She made a stern board until she was heading about south- south-west, when the squared main and mizen topsails began to fill and checked her, whereupon the head yards were squared, the staysail sheet hauled over, the helm steadied, and the old Mercury began to forge ahead, not to stop again, as we hoped, until she should arrive in Sydney Harbour.

And now the most ticklish part of our task lay before us, for we had to navigate some forty-five miles of narrow, winding channel, and negotiate several very awkward places, where the slightest mistake meant disaster, before we should find ourselves once more rising and falling in safety on the swells of the open Pacific. But we had talked the matter over a dozen times or more before reaching this stage of our adventure, and knew exactly what was best to be done. We therefore proceeded forthwith to do it, for there is no time for hesitation when a ship is under way in narrow waters; whatever has to be done must be done smartly and on the instant. The channel which we had to traverse, and toward the entrance of which the ship was now heading, started by heading due west for a short distance, then it swerved to about south-west, then looked up to about south-by-east, and thence, undulating slightly a point or so east or west, trended south for the remainder of its length. Now, there were two or three short reaches of channel, the longest of them not much more than a mile in length, where we should find the wind shy enough to necessitate the ship being braced sharp up on the port tack to enable her to negotiate them successfully. But it was necessary for one of us to be aloft to con the ship, and as it was obvious that the other two could not brace round the yards of a ship of the Mercury's size, we were no sooner free of our anchor than, although the ship was at the moment running off square before the wind, we sprang to the braces, and braced the yards sharp up on the port tack, in readiness for the negotiation of the reaches of which I have spoken. For, while the ship would run before the wind with her yards braced sharp up, she would not sail close-hauled with her yards square; and we had therefore settled it that the proper thing to do was to provide for the difficult points at once. By the time that this was done we were so close to the western extremity of the basin, and the entrance of the channel, that it became necessary for me to jump aloft at once, while Gurney relieved Grace Hartley at the wheel, and Saunders stood in the waist, with his eye on me in the fore topmast crosstrees, ready to pass the word from me to the helmsman, from whom I was hidden by the main and mizen topsails.

I am bound to admit that when I reached the crosstrees, and noted the speed with which the ship was sliding along in that perfectly smooth water, under the impulsion of a fine brisk easterly breeze, and observed the narrowness and tortuousness of the channel that we had to traverse, winding hither and thither through that vast expanse of reef, my heart almost quailed within me, and I felt inclined to doubt whether we three males possessed the ability, the skill, the quickness of eye, the readiness and strength of hand, to take the ship in safety through that apparently endless, twisting channel. But the feeling was merely momentary; an old adage flashed into my mind to the effect that one need never trouble about crossing a bridge until one comes to it; also that it is very unwise to meet troubles halfway. I told myself that I would not worry about the difficulties and dangers ahead, but would stand up there in the crosstrees and deal with them, one at a time, as we came to them. And so I did, with the gratifying result that when the sun's lower rim had reached to within a finger's breadth of the western horizon the Mercury slid out past the southern edge of the reef and made her first curtsy as she once more dipped to the swell of the open ocean, having triumphantly negotiated and overcome every one of the difficulties of that endless rock-bound channel. I sprang into the topgallant rigging and shinned up to the royal yard, from which elevation I was able to watch, over the head of the main topsail, the great black expanse of reef receding on either quarter, until the sun plunged beneath the horizon in a blaze of purple, crimson, and gold, and then I descended to the deck by way of the backstay, and walked aft to exchange congratulations with the little group of two men and a woman, who stood clustered about the wheel watching the evanishment of that strange rock prison in the fast-gathering gloom of the tropical night. Before descending from aloft I had taken the precaution to fling one long, lingering, all-embracing glance round the horizon ahead, from one quarter to the other, and had pretty well satisfied myself that there were no dangers lurking in the road along which we were going, no white curl of surf to warn us of the existence of treacherous sunken reefs. Our next act, therefore, was to bring the ship as close to the wind as she would lie, on the port tack, lash the wheel, adjust the after braces in such a way that the craft would steer herself, and then all go below to partake of the very excellent meal that Grace Hartley had prepared specially to celebrate the occasion of our happy escape from the reef.

The ensuing fortnight was a period absolutely barren of events, the weather remaining fine and the wind steady during the whole time, so that we had nothing to do but just to permit the ship to drive steadily along to the southward, hour after hour, and day after day, at an average speed of about four knots. It is true that during the course of that fortnight we sighted and passed several islands, at varying distances; and in one case we hove-to for about half an hour to permit a canoe with half a dozen natives to come alongside and barter their load of fruit for a few feet of brass wire and a handful of glass beads. But we determined to anchor nowhere, if we could help it; for we were now all anxiety to reach our destination as quickly as possible. The care of so big a ship was a heavy responsibility to rest upon the shoulders of three men—and a girl, and we desired to free ourselves of it without a moment's unnecessary delay. And, quite apart from that, the monotony of the thing was beginning to get upon our nerves. For Gurney and Grace Hartley it was doubtless well enough; so long as they could be together it mattered little to them to what length the voyage might be spun out, but so far as I was concerned—and I think I might also answer for Saunders—I was beginning to crave for the sight of fresh faces, the sound of new voices, and the stir and bustle and excitement of life ashore.

At length, on our sixteenth day out from the reef, in latitude 1 degree 42 minutes north, the wind showed signs of failing us; and by sunset, that night, it had fallen stark calm, with a rapidly subsiding swell; yet the sky was clear, the barometer high, and, in short, there was every indication that we were booked for a long spell of calm weather before we should find ourselves to the southward of the Equator. So indeed it proved; for I believe I may say with absolute truth that never, for five consecutive minutes during the ten succeeding days, had we sufficient wind to extinguish the flame of a candle. True, there were occasional evanescent breathings that came stealing along from nowhere in particular, gently ruffling a few superficial yards of the ocean's glassy surface into faintest blue for a brief two or three minutes at a time, and then vanishing again; but during the whole of that period we never had enough wind to keep our canvas fully distended for a whole minute. Or course, being short-handed, we could not resort to the various devices usually adopted in a fully manned craft for profiting by those transient breathings. The yards were altogether too heavy for us to attempt to swing them to meet every fickle draught of air that we saw coming toward us; it was therefore only the most favourable that we made any effort to utilise; yet, despite this, we somehow contrived to drift daily a little farther south; it might be, perhaps, no more than a mile, or it might rise to as much as five or six miles. Everything depending upon whether the favourable zephyrs happened to hit the ship, or whether they passed her by—sometimes at a distance of only a few yards.

When we first ran into this belt of calm our horizon was bare, neither land nor ship being in sight—indeed we had not sighted so much as one solitary sail since leaving the island; but at dawn on the sixth morning of the calm we sighted the mastheads of a small craft far away down in the southern board, which, upon being inspected from aloft, proved to be a schooner of, possibly, a hundred or one hundred and twenty tons measurement. During the day it became apparent that she was bound to the northward, for she assiduously utilised every chance breath of wind that touched her to work her way in that direction, while we did what we could to make way in the opposite direction, with the result that by sunset we had shortened the distance between us by three or four miles. The succeeding four days were simply repetitions in all respects of the same wearisome, monotonous state of things; yet the way in which the Mercury and the strange schooner insensibly drew ever nearer to each other during that time was singularly illustrative of what could be accomplished in the way of progress by sailing-ships, even in the embrace of what was to all intents and purposes a stark calm, by active and intelligent officers. It is true that we in the Mercury did but little toward the abbreviation of the distance between the two vessels, for the reason already mentioned, yet when the tenth day of the calm dawned the schooner was hull-up in the southern board, some six miles distant from us.

None but those who have endured a long spell of calm in the vicinity of the Equator can have the faintest idea of the deadly monotony of the experience. Day after day comes and goes, bringing a cloudless sky of dazzling blue, in the midst of which circles a merciless sun, from the scorching rays of which there is no escape, even under an awning; for the stoutest canvas seems incapable of completely intercepting the fiery darts that cause the pitch to bubble up out of the deck seams, and heat metal and dark-painted wood to a temperature high enough to blister the hand unwarily laid upon either. Even though an awning be spread, and shelter sought thereunder, those burning rays are not to be evaded; for they flash up from the mirror-like surface of the sea with a power which is scarcely to be distinguished from that exerted by those which fall direct from the great luminary himself. As to going below in order to escape the arrows of the fiery archer, the thing is not to be thought of; for the whole interior of the ship is, at such times, simply an oven, the air of which is too hot to breathe! Under such circumstances with what eagerness does the long-enduring seaman scan the polished surface of the sleeping ocean in search of the little smudge of faint, evanescent blue, the cat's-paw that betrays the presence of some wandering eddy in the stagnant air which, even though it be too feeble and insignificant to move the ship by so much as a single inch, may at least afford his fevered body the momentary relief of a suggestion of comparative coolness. And how often does the panting and perspiring officer of the deck drag his weary, enervated frame to the skylight in the almost despairing hope that he may detect a depression of the mercury in the barometric tube, giving the promise of a coming change, only to turn away again with a weary, disappointed sigh.

It was under such circumstances as these that, during the forenoon of the tenth day of the calm, Gurney, upon examining the barometer, reported a concavity in the surface of the mercury, which, as we all knew, was the first indication of a tendency to fall; and a falling barometer of course meant a change of weather, which, in its turn, meant wind, from what quarter we scarcely cared, so long as it came with strength enough to fill our canvas and give us steerage-way. Yet the change was long in coming, for the fall of the mercury was so slow as to be all but undistinguishable, while up till noon the only difference that could be detected in the aspect of the sky was a certain subtle thickening of the atmosphere, that robbed the blue of its exquisite clarity, and reduced the sun to a shapeless blazing; mass that could be gazed at without bringing tears to the eyes, although there was thus far no appreciable alleviation of the scorching heat of the rays that he showered down upon us. But there was an added quality of closeness in the air that caused one literally to gasp for breath occasionally, while the slightest exertion—even that of moving from one part of the deck to another—induced instant profuse perspiration. So hot, indeed, was it that with one accord we decided against cooking any food that day, the idea of hot viands of any kind being absolutely repulsive to us all, and we accordingly dined all together upon the poop, under the shelter of the awning, upon such cold food as the steward's pantry afforded.

It was about four bells in the afternoon watch when the upper edge of a great bank of livid purple cloud began to heave itself up above the north-western horizon; but when once it had risen into sight its progress was rapid—so rapid, indeed, that within an hour of its first appearance it had soared high enough to blot out the sun, to our intense relief, for with the disappearance of the luminary we were at once freed from the scorching of his beams, although the closeness of the atmosphere became intensified, rather than otherwise. Of course there was no mystery as to what we were to expect; we were undoubtedly in for a first-class tropical thunderstorm, with its usual accompaniments of torrential rain and, very probably, a sharp squall of wind that might perhaps last half an hour or so, and, if we were in luck, end in a breeze that would carry us across the Line. The moment, therefore, that the sun was hidden we proceeded to make our preparations for the welcome change, beginning by striking the awning, following this by clewing up and furling the mizen topsail, and winding up by close-reefing the fore and main topsails. This task, which kept us all busy until close upon eight bells (that is, four o'clock in the afternoon), left the ship under close-reefed fore and main topsails and fore topmast staysail, which was snug canvas enough to enable a vessel, even as short-handed as the Mercury then was, to face anything like the weather which we had reason to expect. Meanwhile, as we found time to notice, the schooner had followed our example and, long before our preparations were complete, had been stripped of everything except her boom-foresail.

By the time that our labours had come to an end, and we were once more free to sit down and await the issue of events, the pall of thundercloud had overspread the entire visible heavens, from horizon to horizon, enshrouding the scene in a kind of murky twilight, under which the ocean, undulating sluggishly in long, low, irregular folds, like the breathings of a sleeping giant, gleamed pallid and lustreless as a sea of molten lead. The atmosphere was still oppressively close, but it was no longer as deadly stagnant as it had been during the earlier hours of the day; for, at intervals, the vane at our main-royal masthead, which hitherto had drooped heavy as a sodden deck swab, save for the swaying motion imparted to it by the lift of the ship to the heave of the scarcely visible swell, lifted and fluttered feebly for a second or two, pointing now this way, and anon in some other direction, showing that, away up aloft there, and as yet too high to reach and stir the surface of the sea, the air currents were awakening under the brooding influence of the coming storm. These movements occurred at first at long intervals, and were of the most evanescent character; but the intervals rapidly shortened, and within an hour of the occurrence of the first manifestation of atmospheric movement it had increased to such an extent as to cause our topsails to rustle and fill, or fall aback, for a moment, while, a little later still, we could feel the light breathings upon our faces, and even note their light touch here and there upon the glassy surface of the water.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

THE END OF THE VOYAGE.

Suddenly the surface of the water darkened away toward the north-west, showing that a breeze was coming along from that direction, and we sprang to the port braces, rounding them in a foot or two to meet it, and hauling taut and making fast the starboard. We worked quickly, not yet knowing quite what was at the back of the coming breeze; but it proved to be only a trifle after all, creeping down toward us very gradually, and scarcely careening the ship when at length it reached her. But, trifling though it was, it was none the less welcome to us all; for it was inexpressibly refreshing once more to feel a wind fanning our fevered faces, stirring our hair, raising a pleasant tinkling sound of water under the bows and along the bends, and stilling the eternal and distracting flap of canvas aloft after the long period of breathless calm through which we had sweltered. Moreover, the ship was once more moving through the water, with her jibboom pointing in the right direction, and every mile that she now travelled was so much to the good, increasing our chances of getting across the Line and making our escape from the awful region of equatorial calms which constitute such a ghastly bugbear to those who go down to the sea in sailing-ships. Our self-congratulations proved, however, to be premature, for the breeze lasted only about half an hour when it died away again, leaving us as completely becalmed as before. But during that half-hour we had succeeded in covering quite two miles; while the schooner, evidently strong-handed, had snatched at the opportunity afforded her and, hastily setting her mainsail and jibs once more, had managed to creep up to within a short mile of us before the breeze died away, leaving both craft once more boxing the compass.

But we were by no means discouraged, for we had only to glance round us at the great lowering cloud-masses, that seemed to have descended almost to the level of our mastheads, to know that there would be plenty more wind before we again beheld blue sky. And, if appearances went for anything, we should not have very much longer to wait for it, for the blackness overhead was working like yeast, and the outfly might come at any moment. Yet another half-hour passed, and nothing happened. Then, while we all stood gazing and waiting, the canopy of cloud that arched above us was rent asunder by a steel-bright flash of lightning so intensely vivid that we were all completely blinded for a few seconds, and the next instant there followed a crash of thunder that would have drowned the combined broadsides of a thousand line-of-battle ships, and the tremendous concussion of which caused the poor old Mercury to quiver and tremble from stem to stern.

"Now look out for the rain!" shouted Gurney exultantly, as he sprang to close the skylight covers. "Jump below, Gracie dear," he continued, "or get under cover before the rain comes and washes you overboard!"

But the rain did not come, at least not just then; but, as though that first flash had been a signal-gun, the whole of the visible heavens seemed to break at the same moment into lightning flashes, and for a full quarter of an hour there was such a terrific lancing of lightning, such a crashing and roaring and rumbling of thunder, that one might almost have thought the navies of the world had foregathered up aloft there and with one accord had set about the task of annihilating each other. During the whole of this time not a solitary drop of rain fell, and not enough stirring of air occurred to extinguish the flame of a candle; we had nothing to do but simply to stand there, dazzled and deafened, and watch, as far as we might, this wonderful, awe-inspiring manifestation of the conflicting forces of nature.

It happened that the schooner lay right in the wake of the most violent part of the storm; we therefore had her full in view as we stood and watched. Her people were at this time busily engaged in restowing their mainsail and jibs, apparently convinced that the ultimate outcome of all this elemental disturbance must be an outfly of wind against which it would be well to be fully prepared. They had got their mainsail down, and some eight or ten hands were stretched along the length of the boom, tightly rolling up the great folds of canvas, while four more were laid out on the jibboom furling the jibs, when the storm seemed to reach its height, and a great vivid flash of lightning, like a sword of blue-green fire, lighting up the whole scene with its ghastly glare, fell, as it appeared to us, full upon the little craft, and the next instant, as the accompanying peal of thunder crashed and boomed in our ears, we all distinctly saw a flash, as of fire, leap up aboard her, accompanied by a great puff of whitish smoke. It was only momentary, and had the appearance of an explosion; but it was perfectly apparent that something more or less serious had happened to the little vessel. After an appreciable pause on the part of her crew, as though they were collecting their faculties in the face of some sudden disaster, they broke at once into a state of feverish activity, rushing hither and thither about her decks like men who are attempting to do half a dozen separate and distinct things at the same moment. Then came another flash of flame on board her; and all in a moment, as it seemed to us, the whole after part of her burst into a fierce blaze!

"Why, Gurney!" I exclaimed, turning to where the man stood with his sweetheart: "that last flash of lightning seems to have set the schooner on fire."

"Yes," he answered; "and she is blazing like a tar barrel. If the rain doesn't come within the next two or three minutes they will have their work cut out to extinguish the flames."

"Ay," cut in Saunders, "you are right there, George. Look how she flares up. Why, she must be as dry as tinder. Ah! there they go with their buckets. But what is the use of buckets against a blaze like that; why don't they get their hose along and start their head-pump? They'll never put out that fire by balin' up water from over the side."

"No," assented Gurney, "nor by means of a hose and head-pump either. Nothing but a good downpour of rain will do them any good now, and the rain seems to be holding off. Scissors! that ought to fetch it down"— as another terrific flash of lightning illuminated the whole scene from horizon to horizon.

But it did not; the lightning—fierce, vivid, and baleful—continued to flash, the thunder rolled and crashed and reverberated in one continuous deafening uproar; but the rain held off for a good five minutes longer, during which the fire aboard the schooner gained apace and spread with amazing rapidity. When at length the heavens opened, and the overladen clouds began to discharge their contents, it was not by any means the kind of tropical deluge that might have reasonably been expected, but simply a sudden brisk shower lasting less than a minute, and then ceasing abruptly. It was neither copious enough nor of sufficient duration to be of any appreciable service to the crew of the schooner, and indeed it did not perceptibly check the progress of the flames. To the onlookers aboard the Mercury it seemed that the other craft was irretrievably doomed; and such also seemed to be the opinion of her own crew, for they were presently seen to be frantically busy over the clearing away of the longboat, which was stowed on top of the main hatch, and the safety of which was now threatened by the rapidly advancing flames.

"Do you think that they will succeed in extinguishing the fire, George?" asked Grace Hartley, as she clung to her lover's arm and gazed with wide-open eyes of anxiety at the progress of the conflagration.

"No," answered Gurney unhesitatingly; "to be quite candid with you, dear, I do not. Whatever may be the cargo that the schooner carries, it is evidently of a highly combustible character, and now seems to be fairly ignited. The fire gains ground even as we stand and gaze; and if the crew could not conquer it at the outset, they are not likely to do so now. What think you, Mr Troubridge?"

"I quite agree with you," I answered. "That schooner—"

"Then," interrupted Grace passionately, with an impatient stamp of her foot on the deck, "if you really think that, what are we all standing here idly for? Why are we not doing something to help those poor fellows who are in danger of perishing in the flames?"

"Because, my dear, there is no need, as yet, at all events," answered Gurney. "You see," he continued, "they are clearing away their own boat; and if they can only contrive to get her into the water before she is irretrievably damaged they will be all right. They have but to cross that narrow space of water to reach us and safety. But as for us, we can do nothing. It would need two of us to take one of our quarter boats alongside that schooner in time to be of any service to those people; and with the weather as it is at this moment it would be the height of madness for us to make the attempt. For, suppose that this thunderstorm were to end in a heavy squall of wind—as it may at any moment—catching the boat, with Saunders and me in her, halfway or thereabout between the two vessels, what would be the result? Why, that we should be equally unable to reach the schooner or return to the Mercury. We should all part company; and the chances are that none of us would ever again meet in this world! No, no, I suppose we should all be willing to risk a great deal to help our fellow-creatures in extremity; but we must not lightly undertake an adventure that may be fatal to us, while of very problematical advantage to the others. Ah! see, there is the answer to your appeal, Gracie! They have cleared away the longboat, and now they are hoisting her out, none too soon either; for if my eyes do not deceive me, one gang have to sluice her with water to prevent her taking fire while the others are getting her over the side."

It was even as Gurney had said; the flames had spread with such astounding rapidity that the schooner's crew only saved the boat by the very skin of their teeth. But presently she splashed safely into the water alongside, and as she did so the schooner's people seemed to pour over that vessel's low rail in a body, scarcely giving themselves time to unhook the tackles before they flung out their oars and shoved off. Indeed, there was very urgent need for haste; for not only was the entire after part of the schooner ablaze by this time—the flames shooting straight up in the breathless air as high as the little vessel's main truck—but within the last minute or so there had occurred that abrupt cessation which, in the case of tropical thunderstorms, is so frequently the precursor of a sudden and brief but exceedingly violent squall of wind. And if that threatened squall should burst its bonds and come shrieking and howling in fury across the surface of the sea, scourging it into a mad turmoil of foaming, leaping water and blinding spindrift, while the burnt-out crew of the schooner were making their passage across to the Mercury, it might be very bad for them; for even should they be fortunate enough to avoid capsizal, it might be exceedingly difficult, if not altogether impossible, for the ship, smitten and bowed down by the might of the tempest, to pause and pick them up.

Of course, as we fully expected, the boat headed straight for the Mercury; and the only question now was whether she would reach us before the brooding tempest broke loose and involved us all in its clutches. I glanced anxiously round the horizon, and was not reassured by what I saw; for the aspect of the heavens had rapidly grown so threatening that it looked as though the outburst must inevitably come within the next minute or two, while, strive as they might, the strangers could not get alongside us in less than ten minutes at the least. And we could do absolutely nothing to help them, for at this moment there was not the faintest perceptible movement of the atmosphere, and both craft lay as motionless as logs in a timber pond. I looked aloft at the vane at our masthead; it might have been made of cast iron for all the movement that it betrayed; I wetted my finger and held it up, turning it this way and that in the hope of detecting a draught, however slight; but there was nothing. A glance at the blazing hull of the schooner showed that the flames were shooting heavenward as straight as the flame of a candle burning in a vault. No, there was nothing to be done except to get a number of rope's-ends ready to fling into the boat the moment that she came alongside, should she succeed in doing so; and this we did, flinging the coils of braces and what not off the pins to the deck in readiness to cast at the moment when perhaps a second more or less might make all the difference between life and death to some fourteen or fifteen of our fellow-creatures.