The Wreckers of Sable Island

by J. Macdonald Oxley

  CHAPTER V.

  ERIC LOOKS ABOUT HIM.

  It was broad daylight when the boy awoke, and he felt very well pleasedat finding no one in the room but Ben, who sat by the table, evidentlywaiting for him to open his eyes. As soon as he did so the latternoticed it, and coming up to the bunk, said in his gruff way,--

  "Oh, ho! Awake at last. Was wondering if you were going to sleep allday. Feel like turning out?"

  "Of course," replied Eric, brightly. "I feel all right now."

  On getting out of the bunk, however, he found himself so dreadfullystiff and sore that it was positively painful to move, and he had muchdifficulty in dragging himself over to the table, where he found a pileof ship's biscuit and a pannikin of tea awaiting him. He did not feelat all so hungry as he had the night before, and this very plain repastseemed very unattractive, accustomed as he was to the best of fare. Henibbled at the biscuit, took a sip of the tea, and then pushed thethings away, saying,--

  "I don't want any breakfast, thank you. I'm not a bit hungry."

  Ben was too shrewd not to guess the true reason of the boy'sindifferent appetite.

  "There's not much choice of grub on Sable Island," said he, with one ofhis grim smiles. "You'll have to take kindly to hard-tack and tea ifyou don't want to starve."

  "But really I am not hungry," explained Eric eagerly, afraid of seemingnot to appreciate his friend's hospitality. "If I were, I'd eat thebiscuits fast enough, for I'm quite fond of them."

  Ben now proceeded to fill and light a big pipe.

  "Do you smoke?" he asked, after he had got it in full blast.

  "Oh, no," answered Eric. "My father doesn't believe in boys smoking,and has forbidden me to learn."

  "Your father's a sensible man, my boy," said Ben; then added, "Well,you'd best stay about the hut to-day, since you feel so stiff. I'vegot to go off, but I'll be back by mid-day." He put on his hat andwent away, leaving Eric and Prince in possession of the establishment.

  Eric did not by any means like the idea of being left alone, but henaturally shrank from saying so. He went to the door and regretfullylooked after the tall figure striding swiftly over the sand until itdisappeared behind a hillock, beyond which he thought must be the ocean.

  Now that he was left entirely to his own resources, Eric's curiositybegan to assert itself. Had he but known in what direction to go, andfelt equal to the task, his first business would certainly have been toset forth in search of the scene of the wreck, if haply he might findtraces of other survivors besides himself.

  But neither could he tell where to go, nor was he fit to walk any greatdistance. For aught he knew, he might be miles from the beach wherethe _Francis_ finally struck. Anyway, Evil-Eye was certain to bethere, hunting for more prizes, and he had no wish to encounter him.So he proceeded to examine his strange surroundings.

  The hut--for, despite its size, it was really nothing more than ahut--was a very curious building. It had evidently been put togetherby many hands, out of the wreckage of many ships, the buildersapparently being more proficient in ship-carpentry than inhouse-joinery. Their labours had resulted, through an amazingadaptation of knees, planking, stanchions, and bulk-heads, in a long,low-ceilinged, but roomy building, something after the shape of a largevessel's poop. For lighting and ventilation it depended upon a numberof port-holes irregularly put in. Running around two sides of the roomwas a row of bunks, very much like those in a forecastle, the tierbeing two high. Eric counted them. There were just thirty, and hewondered if each had an occupant. If so, he must have slept in Ben'slast night, and where, then, had Ben himself slept?

  Upon the walls of the other two sides of the room hung a great numberof weapons of various kinds--cutlasses, swords, muskets, dirks,daggers, and pistols, a perfect armoury, all carefully burnished andready for use. They strongly excited Eric's curiosity, and he occupiedhimself examining them one by one. One pair of pistols especiallyattracted his attention. They were of the very latest make, and thehandles were beautifully inlaid with silver. He took one from thewall, and aimed at one of the port-holes with it. As he did so athought flashed into his mind that gave him an electric thrill, andsent the blood bounding wildly through his veins.

  What if that port-hole were the repulsive countenance of Evil-Eye, andthey were alone together? Would he be able to resist the impulse togive with his forefinger the slight pressure upon the finely-balancedtrigger that would send a bullet crashing into the ruffian's brain? Sointense was his excitement that he almost staggered under itsinfluence. For the first time in his life an overmastering passion forrevenge, for retribution, took possession of him, and carried him outof himself. Smooth, clear, and bright as the lovely stream thatwatered the Oakdene meadows had been the current of his life hitherto.To few boys had the lines fallen in pleasanter places. Yet this happyfortune had not rendered him unmanly or irresolute. He was capable ofconceiving and carrying out any purpose that lay within the range of aboy's powers. The Copeland courage and the Copeland determination werehis inheritance.

  Now never before had he been brought into contact with any one who hadso roused his repulsion or hatred as Evil-Eye. Not only because of hishideous appearance and threatened violence, but because of Ben's darkhints and his own suspicions as to Evil-Eye being no better than amurderer, the very depths of his nature were stirred, and he felt asthough it would be but right to inflict summary vengeance at the firstopportunity.

  Trembling with these strange, wild thoughts, he held the pistol stillpointed at the port-hole, and unconsciously pressing upon the trigger,there was a sharp report, which caused Prince, dozing comfortably bythe fire, to spring to his feet with a startled growl, following thecrash of broken glass, as the bullet pierced the port-lid.

  Almost at the same moment the door was thrown roughly open and Evil-Eyeentered the room.

  "What are you doing with my pistols?" he cried, his face aflame withrage, as he strode toward Eric.

  Scarce knowing what he was doing, Eric snatched up the other pistol anddarted around the big table, so that it would form a barrier betweenhimself and Evil-Eye. His hand was perfectly steady now, and levellingthe pistol at his assailant, he said in a firm tone,---

  "Let me alone, or I'll shoot you."

  With a fearful oath the ruffian drew a pistol from his belt, and inanother moment blood would undoubtedly have been shed, had not BenHarden rushed in through the open door, and snatching Evil-Eye's pistolout of his hand, thrown it to the other end of the room, where it wentoff without harm to any one.

  "You scoundrel!" he roared. "If you don't leave that boy alone, I willbreak every bone in your body."

  At first Evil-Eye was so completely taken aback by this unexpectedinterference that he seemed dazed for a moment. Then his hand wentagain to his belt, as though he would turn his baffled fury upon Ben.But evidently a wiser second thought prevailed, and choking down hiswrath, he growled out contemptuously,--

  "Don't be in such a stew. I'm not going to hurt your baby. I was onlyteaching him manners, and not to meddle with other people's belongingswithout first asking their leave."

  This speech drew Ben's attention to the pistol Eric still held in hishand.

  "Ah," said he, "you've got one of Evil-Eye's pets there, have you?Well, put it back in its place, and don't touch it again."

  Feeling very confused, Eric replaced the pistols carefully, their ownerwatching him with a malign glare which boded him no good. Its meaningwas not lost upon observant Ben.

  "Come, my lad," said he; "a bit of an airing will do you good. Put onyour cap, and come out with me."

  Only too glad to obey, Eric picked up his cap, and calling to Prince,followed Ben out into the open air, leaving Evil-Eye alone in the hut.

  The sun was shining brightly, the sky was almost cloudless, and thewind blew as softly and innocently from the south as though it had notraged with fatal fury but a few hours before. Eric's spirits, whichhad been wofully depressed by the events of the pa
st two days, began torise a little, and he looked about him with much interest as he trudgedalong through the deep sand.

  Ben appeared to be in no mood for talking, and stalked on ahead inmoody silence, puffing hard at the short black pipe which was hardlyever away from his mouth except at meal-time and when he was sleeping.Eric therefore did not bother him with questions, and foundcompanionship in Prince, who showed lively satisfaction in beingout-of-doors, frisking about and barking loudly in the exuberance ofhis glee. One good night's rest and plenty to eat had been sufficientto completely restore his strength. He looked and felt quite equal toanything that might be required of him, and was an inexpressiblecomfort to Eric, to whom he seemed much more than a mere dog--aprotector and friend, who could be trusted to the uttermost.

  Half-an-hour's walking brought Ben to the highest point of asand-ridge, where he threw himself, waiting for Eric, who had laggedbehind a little, to come up.

  "Sit ye down, lad," said he, when the boy reached him. "You're feelingtired, no doubt."

  Eric was tired, and very glad indeed to seat himself near Ben, whocontinued to puff away at his pipe, as though he had nothing more tosay. Thus left to himself, Eric let his eyes wander over the strangeand striking scene spread out before him.

  He was upon the crest of a sand-hill, a hundred feet or more in height,which sloped to the beach, upon whose glistening sands the greatbillows were breaking, although the day was clear and calm. Far outbeyond the serried lines of white-maned sea-coursers the ocean could beseen sleeping peacefully. Here and there, upon the sand-bars, thehulls of vessels in various stages of destruction told plainly howcommon was the fate which had befallen the _Francis_, and how rich afield the wreckers had chosen for their dreadful business.

  Turning to his right, Eric saw a long narrow lake in the middle of theisland, its banks densely grown with rushes and lilies. Upon itsplacid surface flocks of ducks were paddling, while snipes andsand-pipers hopped along the margin. The valley of the lake presenteda curious contrast to those portions of the island that faced seaward,for it was thickly carpeted with coarse grass and wild vines, whichwere still green enough to be grateful to the eye weary of the monotonyof sand and sea.

  Upon the left the island rose and fell, a succession of sand-hills.Far in the distance, a faint line of white showed where it once moretouched the ocean, and gave cause for other lines of roaring surges.All this and more had Eric time to take in before Ben broke silence.He had been regarding him very thoughtfully for a few moments, and atlength he spoke,--

  "Well, lad," said he, "I've been thinking much about ye. I've savedyour life, but I'm not so clear in my mind but what it 'ud have beenbest to have let you go with the others."

  Eric gave a start of surprise, and there was an alarmed tone in hisvoice, as he exclaimed,--

  "Why, Mr. Ben, what makes you say that?"

  "Well, you see, it's just this way," answered Ben slowly, as though hewere puzzling out the best way to state the case. "You're in a mightybad box, and no mistake. Evil-Eye does not fancy you, and will takethe first chance to do for you, if he can keep his own skin whole.Dead men tell no tales is what he goes by; and if the folks overthere"--jerking his thumb in the direction of the mainland--"only knewwhat goes on here, they'd be pretty sure to want to put a stop to it,and make us all smart for it finely. Now, it's not likely you want tojoin us; and I'm no less sure that Evil-Eye will take precious goodcare not to let you go, for fear you should get his neck into thenoose. That's the only thing he's afraid of. And so it just bothersme to make out what's to be the end of the business."