Queensland Cousins

by Eleanor Luisa Haverfield

  CHAPTER XV.

  WHO IS IN THE BOAT?

  "Really, Miss Chase," said Bob next morning, "I'm glad you didn'tburst all your accomplishments on us at once. We might have beenrather frightened of you."

  Miss Chase smiled. She was looking very pale, and unlike her usualbright self.

  "I hope I didn't do an awfully wrong thing," she said nervously;"but I had only two definite ideas--one was to save Nesta, theother not to let the man get away."

  "You were perfectly right, Dorothy," Mr. Orban said; "there wouldnever have been any end to the worry until he was caught. He maythank his stars I didn't find him out. I should not have been somerciful."

  "So that is why you aimed at his ankle, Aunt Dorothy?" saidEustace. "It was clever of you to think of laming him."

  "She says she did," said Bob, the tease.--"But are you quite sure,Miss Chase, that you really didn't aim at his head? For most womenhis ankle would have been wonderfully near the mark."

  "I shall treat the aspersion with silent contempt," laughed MissChase.

  "Where did you learn to shoot like that, Dorothy?" asked Mrs.Orban.

  "Oh, I've patronized every shooting gallery that has come to thevillage for the last eighteen years, I should think," was theanswer. "But, do you know, I feel most awfully remorseful aboutthat poor fellow. He will be lame for a long time."

  In the kitchen sat Manuel, the stable-boy, his leg bandaged andresting on a chair; for the midnight visitor on both occasions hadbeen no other. He confessed to the first performance quite readily,and declared that this second had been at the instigation of SinkumFung, who promised always to get the reward for stolen goods, andgive him half. Mr. Orban was not sorry to get hold of some definitereason for turning Sinkum Fung out of the place. He had longsuspected him to be a cheat, and he wanted an Englishman in thestore. But Manuel, when he was well, was to be allowed to retrievehis character, as he protested vehemently he would.

  "You needn't worry about Manuel," said Bob. "We shall all be comingto you to shoot us, if you'll just bind us up as beautifullyafterwards. Did you learn that in the shooting galleries too, incase you put the showman's eye out?"

  Miss Chase really did treat this speech with silent scorn, andchanged the subject.

  The clearing up of the black-fellow mystery was a great relief toevery one's mind.

  "Though it comes rather late in the day, just when we are goingaway," said Mrs. Orban.

  "Do you know, I don't feel a bit as if we were really going," MissChase declared the very evening before their departure.

  All the same, when the next day came, they started in theplantation schooner for Cooktown, accompanied by Bob and Mr. Orban,who were going to see them off.

  The children found many excitements on the way; and when finallythey were hoisted on board the big boat by means of a crane andbasket, Peter's joy knew no bounds.

  Nesta found it was certainly not very nice saying the last"good-byes," and she wished Eustace had not said anything to herabout the possibility of not coming back to Queensland for years.

  But when they were fairly off, and out of sight of waving hands andthe two strong, kind faces that had been his ideals from hisbabyhood, even Eustace began to cheer up considerably. He had beenvery much like a bear with a sore head, rather to his mother's andMiss Chase's astonishment; for Eustace could generally be countedon as sensible and fairly serene in temper. To get short answersfrom him, to find him unreasonably uninterested in things, and tosee him really snappy with Nesta and Peter, was something new andextraordinary.

  "Well, good-bye, old chap," said Bob. "Let England see the bestside of you, and be a credit to us."

  The words rang in the boy's ears long after, and he pulled himselftogether with a sudden consciousness that he had not been much of acredit to any one for some days. He hoped Bob hadn't noticed it,for never, never could he explain to him that it was just thethought of leaving him that made going away so hard. If only hehad not been possessed by the horrible feeling that he would nevercome back again, or at least not for years and years, it would havebeen different.

  It was impossible not to become interested in the boat before verylong--it was so huge, such a real house afloat, and so unusual.Peter revelled in going downstairs to bed. Becky wanted to play inwhat she called her "bunky-bye" instead of going to sleep. Nestaeyed some other families of children speculatively, wondering howmuch good they would prove as friends on the voyage. But Eustaceonly wanted to talk to the officers, especially the captain, ofwhom he determined to ask hundreds of questions about themachinery, how he knew his way, and the exact time the boat wouldreach every port, just to be able to check it off, and see how farhe was right in his estimates.

  The first day was a lovely one--a less likely one to be productiveof adventures could scarcely be imagined.

  "Calm as a duck-pond, isn't it, sir?" said one of the seamen toEustace, who stood staring out to sea. "Yet I've seen some stormshere too. It's a nasty bit of coast, with some ugly reefs about."

  "Are there many wrecks here?" asked Eustace with interest.

  "A goodish few," said the seaman; "but one doesn't look for themthis kind of weather."

  "No, of course not," said Eustace, with a great show of certainty,for he did not want the man to imagine he was scaring him.

  Peter had been fairly irrepressible all day. He was always afidget--made on springs, his father said--and the excitementcarried him away entirely. He talked to every one indiscriminately,especially if they happened to be in uniform, and had no shyness inasking questions. He had a dozen friends in a very few hours.Afraid lest he should weary people, Mrs. Orban tried to keep himwith her, and towards evening she said,--

  "You might play with poor Becky a little, Peter. She will have togo to bed very soon, and I think it has been a duller day for herthan for any one else."

  Which was probably true, as Becky was too tiny to have thesustained interest in things the others had.

  So Peter began a game of romps with Becky, which at first consistedof careering round and round and in and out between their mother'sand aunt's chairs, Peter making the reiterated assertion, "I'llcatch you, I'll catch you," Becky retorting with delightedchuckles, "Oo can't, oo can't!"

  Mrs. Orban was just congratulating herself that Becky would bedelightfully sleepy after the exercise, when the child made asudden dive away from the chairs in her excitement, Peter behindher. The next minute she was rolling head over heels down thecompanion-ladder, down which it had evidently been her intention togo right side up, for a joke.

  The yells that proceeded from the passage below assured every onethat Becky was not killed; but when she was picked up it wasdiscovered that one poor little wrist was terribly sprained. Shemust have fallen with it doubled under her. To put her to bed insuch pain was out of the question; her mother's arms was the onlyplace in which she could find any rest. So Mrs. Orban remained ondeck in the cool with Miss Chase near her. The children's bedtimewas quite forgotten; in fact, after the doctor had examined Beckyand reported on her injuries, Nesta, Eustace, and Peter haddisappeared--probably out of range of orders to go to bed. Theirmother, when she gave them a thought, supposed them to be alltogether, and in her anxiety over Becky never realized how late itwas getting.

  It was quite dark. All the other children had disappeared. Most ofthe grown-ups who had begun the voyage together, and were friendlyby now, were in the music-room below having a concert. The ship wasutterly still but for the throb of the engines and the "swish" ofthe water as the bows cut through it. They were running at fullspeed, without a pitch or a roll, the sea as clear as glass, whenall of a sudden there was an awful crash, and the boat shudderedfrom bow to stern.

  In an instant the peaceful scene was changed to one of wildestconfusion. There were cries of terror, hurried questions, rapidorders, the crew dashing hither and thither, and a stream ofhorror-stricken people began swarming up from below. It was awful,the intense darkness of the night adding to the confusionimmeasurably.

/>   "We've struck on a rock," Mrs. Orban heard some one say. "Thereisn't a minute to lose."

  "Man the boats!" called a strident voice, and there was a runningof ropes over pulleys, a creaking and a splashing not far away.

  "Here you are, ma'am," a seaman said, taking her by the arm.

  "Oh, the children!" said Mrs. Orban, holding back.

  "We're here, mother," said Nesta's voice at her elbow.

  "We'll see to them, ma'am," said the seaman; "you and the littleone first."

  He was almost rough in his kindness; and Mrs. Orban found herselfswinging down into the boat below before she had time to make anyprotestations.

  One after another, through pitch darkness into the only chance forsafety, people were sent down. It was impossible to know whocame--nothing could be seen or heard. The seamen above could notstop to pick and choose, but whoever they could lay hands on went.

  Then came a hoarse cry--the boat was becoming overcrowded, the crewpushed off, and away they went with a bound at every stroke of theoars. To Mrs. Orban it was a hideous nightmare of awful anxiety.She could not tell whether all her children and her sister werewith her or not. Her one ray of hope was that as they hadapparently been all standing close together, the others must havebeen put in after her. But people had rushed so the moment theyknew the boats were lowered, there was an awful possibility thechildren had been swept aside. They were certainly not near her,for she called their names and Dorothy's again and again, and therewas no answer.

  The men had not been rowing for seven minutes when there was asudden awful sound behind them, and the boat plunged and rocked asif she were a living thing gone mad with terror.

  "Oh, what was that?" Mrs. Orban cried, and the question ran frommouth to mouth.

  "The ship," answered a solemn voice with a break in it; "she's goneunder, poor thing. Must have been ripped from bows to stern."

  The silence that followed was dreadful. How many boats had gotaway? Who was left on board? There was not one in the boat who hadnot a thought of agonized pity for the poor souls left behind.

  It was so unexpected; every one was so unprepared. Who couldsuppose that with a sea as calm as a mill-pond a great vessel couldstrike on a rock and sink in less than seven minutes?

  Afterwards, when the matter came to be investigated, it wasdiscovered that the _Cora_ had run on to a coral reef unmarked inthe charts. Coral reefs form with extraordinary rapidity, and areinfinitely dangerous, because they are so sharp as to cut likerazors. The loss of the _Cora_ was no one's fault; but that factwas of but little comfort to those whose friends went down in her.

  The boat pulled steadily on awhile, then paused, for no one couldbe certain where she lay as regarded the shore.

  "Easy, mates," said the man in command. "We must hang about tillthere's a gleam of light to give us our bearings, or we shall godown like that poor thing over there."

  In the hush that fell it was possible to hear each other speak.People began to question who was in the boat with them.

  "Eustace, Nesta, Peter, are you there?" cried Mrs. Orban.

  "Yes, mother; yes, mother," she heard, and her heart bounded withthankfulness.

  "And you, Dorothy?" she forced herself to say.

  But to this there was no answer.

  "Children," Mrs. Orban said, "isn't your aunt there?"

  "I don't know," Eustace said; "she wouldn't come before us."

  There could be no doubt that Miss Chase was not there.

  The first streak of daylight fell upon a boatload of haggard menand women, afraid of, yet longing for, the day. It was discoveredthat they had come within half a mile of shore, and the crew pulledwith a will till they beached the boat. One after another in theshadowy gloom the stiff, cramped figures landed. There weremeetings, but no open rejoicings, because of those others leftbehind.

  Eustace and Nesta clung to their mother, half sobbing.

  "And Peter," she said--"where is Peter?"

  "Peter?" said the other two blankly.

  "I thought you said he was there?" said Mrs. Orban.

  "We--we answered for ourselves," faltered Eustace. "I didn't noticehe didn't speak."

  The boat was empty now. Groups of shivering, unstrung people stoodabout, utterly incapable of thinking what to do next. But Peter wasnot there--nor was Dorothy.