Chapter V. The Cyclone
We enjoyed our voyage exceedingly. In Egypt, a land I was glad torevisit, we only stopped a week while the Star of the South, which werejoined at Suez, coaled and went through the Canal. This, however, gaveus time to spend a few days in Cairo, visit the Pyramids and Sakkarawhich Bastin and Bickley had never seen before, and inspect the greatMuseum. The journey up the Nile was postponed until our return. It wasa pleasant break and gave Bickley, a most omnivorous reader who was wellacquainted with Egyptian history and theology, the opportunity of tryingto prove to Bastin that Christianity was a mere development of theancient Egyptian faith. The arguments that ensued may be imagined.It never seemed to occur to either of them that all faiths may be andindeed probably are progressive; in short, different rays of lightthrown from the various facets of the same crystal, as in turn these areshone upon by the sun of Truth.
Our passage down the Red Sea was cool and agreeable. Thence we shapedour course for Ceylon. Here again we stopped a little while to run upto Kandy and to visit the ruined city of Anarajapura with its greatBuddhist topes that once again gave rise to religious argument betweenmy two friends. Leaving Ceylon we struck across the Indian Ocean forPerth in Western Australia.
It was a long voyage, since to save our coal we made most of itunder canvas. However, we were not dull as Captain Astley was a goodcompanion, and even out of the melancholy Dane, Jacobsen, we hadentertainment. He insisted on holding seances in the cabin, at which theusual phenomena occurred. The table twisted about, voices were heard andJacobsen's accordion wailed out tunes above our heads. These happeningsdrove Bickley to a kind of madness, for here were events which he couldnot explain. He was convinced that someone was playing tricks upon him,and devised the most elaborate snares to detect the rogue, entirelywithout result.
First he accused Jacobsen, who was very indignant, and then me, wholaughed. In the end Jacobsen and I left the "circle" and the cabin,which was locked behind us; only Bastin and Bickley remaining there inthe dark. Presently we heard sounds of altercation, and Bickley emergedlooking very red in the face, followed by Bastin, who was saying:
"Can I help it if something pulled your nose and snatched off youreyeglasses, which anyhow are quite useless to you when there is nolight? Again, is it possible for me, sitting on the other side of thattable, to have placed the concertina on your head and made it play theNational Anthem, a thing that I have not the slightest idea how to do?"
"Please do not try to explain," snapped Bickley. "I am perfectly awarethat you deceived me somehow, which no doubt you think a good joke."
"My dear fellow," I interrupted, "is it possible to imagine old Basildeceiving anyone?"
"Why not," snorted Bickley, "seeing that he deceives himself from oneyear's end to the other?"
"I think," said Bastin, "that this is an unholy business and that we areboth deceived by the devil. I will have no more to do with it," and hedeparted to his cabin, probably to say some appropriate prayers.
After this the seances were given up but Jacobsen produced an instrumentcalled a planchette and with difficulty persuaded Bickley to try it,which he did after many precautions. The thing, a heart-shaped pieceof wood mounted on wheels and with a pencil stuck at its narrow end,cantered about the sheet of paper on which it was placed, Bickley, whosehands rested upon it, staring at the roof of the cabin. Then it began toscribble and after a while stopped still.
"Will the Doctor look?" said Jacobsen. "Perhaps the spirits have toldhim something."
"Oh! curse all this silly talk about spirits," exclaimed Bickley, as hearranged his eyeglasses and held up the paper to the light, for it wasafter dinner.
He stared, then with an exclamation which I will not repeat, and aglance of savage suspicion at the poor Dane and the rest of us, threwit down and left the cabin. I picked it up and next moment was screamingwith laughter. There on the top of the sheet was a rough but entirelyrecognizable portrait of Bickley with the accordion on his head, andunderneath, written in a delicate, Italian female hand, absolutelydifferent from his own, were these words taken from one of St. Paul'sEpistles--"Oppositions of science falsely so called." Underneath themagain in a scrawling, schoolboy fist, very like Bastin's, was inscribed,"Tell us how this is done, you silly doctor, who think yourself soclever."
"It seems that the devil really can quote Scripture," was Bastin's onlycomment, while Jacobsen stared before him and smiled.
Bickley never alluded to the matter, but for days afterwards I saw himexperimenting with paper and chemicals, evidently trying to discovera form of invisible ink which would appear upon the application of thehand. As he never said anything about it, I fear that he failed.
This planchette business had a somewhat curious ending. A few nightslater Jacobsen was working it and asked me to put a question. To obligehim I inquired on what day we should reach Fremantle, the port of Perth.It wrote an answer which, I may remark, subsequently proved to be quitecorrect.
"That is not a good question," said Jacobsen, "since as a sailor I mightguess the reply. Try again, Mr. Arbuthnot."
"Will anything remarkable happen on our voyage to the South Seas?" Iinquired casually.
The planchette hesitated a while then wrote rapidly and stopped.Jacobsen took up the paper and began to read the answer aloud--"To A,B the D, and B the C, the most remarkable things will happen that havehappened to men living in the world."
"That must mean me, Bickley the doctor and Bastin the clergyman," Isaid, laughing.
Jacobsen paid no attention, for he was reading what followed. As he didso I saw his face turn white and his eyes begin to start from his head.Then suddenly he tore the paper in pieces which he thrust into hispocket. Lifting his great fist he uttered some Danish oath and with asingle blow smashed the planchette to fragments, after which he strodeaway, leaving me astonished and somewhat disturbed. When I met him thenext morning I asked him what was on the paper.
"Oh!" he said quietly, "something I should not like you too-properEnglish gentlemens to see. Something not nice. You understand. Thosespirits not always good; they do that kind of thing sometimes. That'swhy I broke up this planchette."
Then he began to talk of something else and there the matter ended.
I should have said that, principally with a view to putting themselvesin a position to confute each other, ever since we had started fromMarseilles both Bastin and Bickley spent a number of hours each day inassiduous study of the language of the South Sea Islands. It became akind of competition between them as to which could learn the most.Now Bastin, although simple and even stupid in some ways, was a goodscholar, and as I knew at college, had quite a faculty for acquiringlanguages in which he had taken high marks at examinations. Bickley,too, was an extraordinarily able person with an excellent memory,especially when he was on his mettle. The result was that before weever reached a South Sea island they had a good working knowledge of thelocal tongues.
As it chanced, too, at Perth we picked up a Samoan and his wife who,under some of the "white Australia" regulations, were not allowed toremain in the country and offered to work as servants in return for apassage to Apia where we proposed to call some time or other. With thesepeople Bastin and Bickley talked all day long till really they becamefairly proficient in their soft and beautiful dialect. They wished me tolearn also, but I said that with two such excellent interpreters and thenatives while they remained with us, it seemed quite unnecessary. Still,I picked up a good deal in a quiet way, as much as they did perhaps.
At length, travelling on and on as a voyager to the planet Mars mightdo, we sighted the low shores of Australia and that same evening weretowed, for our coal was quite exhausted, to the wharf at Fremantle.Here we spent a few days exploring the beautiful town of Perth and itsneighbourhood where it was very hot just then, and eating peachesand grapes till we made ourselves ill, as a visitor often does who isunaware that fruit should not be taken in quantity in Australia whilethe sun is high. Then we departed for Melbourne almost befo
re ourarrival was generally known, since I did not wish to advertise ourpresence or the object of our journey.
We crossed the Great Australian Bight, of evil reputation, in the mostperfect weather; indeed it might have been a mill pond, and after ashort stay at Melbourne, went on to Sydney, where we coaled again andlaid in supplies.
Then our real journey began. The plan we laid out was to sail to Suvain Fiji, about 1,700 miles away, and after a stay there, on to Hawaiior the Sandwich Islands, stopping perhaps at the Phoenix Islands and theCentral Polynesian Sporades, such as Christmas and Fanning Isles. Thenwe proposed to turn south again through the Marshall Archipelago andthe Caroline Islands, and so on to New Guinea and the Coral Sea.Particularly did we wish to visit Easter Island on account ofits marvelous sculptures that are supposed to be the relics of apre-historic race. In truth, however, we had no fixed plan except to gowherever circumstance and chance might take us. Chance, I may add, orsomething else, took full advantage of its opportunities.
We came to Suva in safety and spent a while in exploring the beautifulFiji Isles where both Bastin and Bickley made full inquiries aboutthe work of the missionaries, each of them drawing exactly oppositeconclusions from the same set of admitted facts. Thence we steamed toSamoa and put our two natives ashore at Apia, where we procured somecoal. We did not stay long enough in these islands to investigate them,however, because persons of experience there assured us from certainfamiliar signs that one of the terrible hurricanes with which they areafflicted, was due to arrive shortly and that we should do well to putourselves beyond its reach. So having coaled and watered we departed ina hurry.
Up to this time I should state we had met with the most wonderful goodfortune in the matter of weather, so good indeed that never on oneoccasion since we left Marseilles, had we been obliged to put thefiddles on the tables. With the superstition of a sailor Captain Astley,when I alluded to the matter, shook his head saying that doubtless weshould pay for it later on, since "luck never goes all the way" andcyclones were reported to be about.
Here I must tell that after we were clear of Apia, it was discoveredthat the Danish mate who was believed to be in his cabin unwell fromsomething he had eaten, was missing. The question arose whether weshould put back to find him, as we supposed that he had made a tripinland and met with an accident, or been otherwise delayed. I wasin favour of doing so though the captain, thinking of the threatenedhurricane, shook his head and said that Jacobsen was a queer fellow whomight just as well have gone overboard as anywhere else, if he thoughthe heard "the spirits, of whom he was so fond," calling him. While thematter was still in suspense I happened to go into my own stateroomand there, stuck in the looking-glass, saw an envelope in the Dane'shandwriting addressed to myself. On opening it I found another sealedletter, unaddressed, also a note that ran as follows:
"Honoured Sir,
"You will think very badly of me for leaving you, but the enclosed whichI implore you not to open until you have seen the last of the Star ofthe South, will explain my reason and I hope clear my reputation.I thank you again and again for all your kindness and pray that theSpirits who rule the world may bless and preserve you, also the Doctorand Mr. Bastin."
This letter, which left the fate of Jacobsen quite unsolved, for itmight mean either that he had deserted or drowned himself, I put awaywith the enclosure in my pocket. Of course there was no obligation on meto refrain from opening the letter, but I shrank from doing so both fromsome kind of sense of honour and, to tell the truth, for fear of whatit might contain. I felt that this would be disagreeable; also, althoughthere was nothing to connect them together, I bethought me of the scenewhen Jacobsen had smashed the planchette.
On my return to the deck I said nothing whatsoever about the discoveryof the letter, but only remarked that on reflection I had changed mymind and agreed with the captain that it would be unwise to attemptto return in order to look for Jacobsen. So the boatswain, a capableindividual who had seen better days, was promoted to take his watchesand we went on as before. How curiously things come about in the world!For nautical reasons that were explained to me, but which I will nottrouble to set down, if indeed I could remember them, I believe thatif we had returned to Apia we should have missed the great gale andsubsequent cyclone, and with these much else. But it was not so fated.
It was on the fourth day, when we were roughly seven hundred miles ormore north of Samoa, that we met the edge of this gale about sundown.The captain put on steam in the hope of pushing through it, but thatnight we dined for the first time with the fiddles on, and by eleveno'clock it was as much as one could do to stand in the cabin, while thewater was washing freely over the deck. Fortunately, however, thewind veered more aft of us, so that by putting about her head a little(seamen must forgive me if I talk of these matters as a landlubber) weran almost before the wind, though not quite in the direction that wewished to go.
When the light came it was blowing very hard indeed, and the sky wasutterly overcast, so that we got no glimpse of the sun, or of thestars on the following night. Unfortunately, there was no moon visible;indeed, if there had been I do not suppose that it would have helped usbecause of the thick pall of clouds. For quite seventy-two hours weran on beneath bare poles before that gale. The little vessel behavedsplendidly, riding the seas like a duck, but I could see that CaptainAstley was growing alarmed. When I said something complimentary to himabout the conduct of the Star of the South, he replied that she wasforging ahead all right, but the question was--where to? He had beenunable to take an observation of any sort since we left Samoa; bothhis patent logs had been carried away, so that now only the compassremained, and he had not the slightest idea where we were in that greatocean studded with atolls and islands.
I asked him whether we could not steam back to our proper course, buthe answered that to do so he would have to travel dead in the eye of thegale, and he doubted whether the engines would stand it. Also there wasthe question of coal to be considered. However, he had kept the firesgoing and would do what he could if the weather moderated.
That night during dinner which now consisted of tinned foods and whiskyand water, for the seas had got to the galley fire, suddenly the galedropped, whereat we rejoiced exceedingly. The captain came down into thesaloon very white and shaken, I thought, and I asked him to have a nipof whisky to warm him up, and to celebrate our good fortune in havingrun out of the wind. He took the bottle and, to my alarm, poured outa full half tumbler of spirit, which he swallowed undiluted in two orthree gulps.
"That's better!" he said with a hoarse laugh. "But man, what is it youare saying about having run out of the wind? Look at the glass!"
"We have," said Bastin, "and it is wonderfully steady. About 29 degreesor a little over, which it has been for the last three days."
Again Astley laughed in a mirthless fashion, as he answered:
"Oh, that thing! That's the passengers' glass. I told the steward to putit out of gear so that you might not be frightened; it is an old trick.Look at this," and he produced one of the portable variety out of hispocket.
We looked, and it stood somewhere between 27 degrees and 28 degrees.
"That's the lowest glass I ever saw in the Polynesian or any other seasduring thirty years. It's right, too, for I have tested it by threeothers," he said.
"What does it mean?" I asked rather anxiously.
"South Sea cyclone of the worst breed," he replied. "That cursed Daneknew it was coming and that's why he left the ship. Pray as you neverprayed before," and again he stretched out his hand towards the whiskybottle. But I stepped between him and it, shaking my head. Thereon helaughed for the third time and left the cabin. Though I saw him onceor twice afterwards, these were really the last words of intelligibleconversation that I ever had with Captain Astley.
"It seems that we are in some danger," said Bastin, in an unmoved kindof way. "I think that was a good idea of the captain's, to put up apetition, I mean, but as Bickley will scarcely care to join in it I willgo i
nto the cabin and do so myself."
Bickley snorted, then said:
"Confound that captain! Why did he play such a trick upon us about thebarometer? Humphrey, I believe he had been drinking."
"So do I," I said, looking at the whisky bottle. "Otherwise, aftertaking those precautions to keep us in the dark, he would not have leton like that."
"Well," said Bickley, "he can't get to the liquor, except through thissaloon, as it is locked up forward with the other stores."
"That's nothing," I replied, "as doubtless he has a supply of his own;rum, I expect. We must take our chance."
Bickley nodded, and suggested that we should go on deck to see what washappening. So we went. Not a breath of wind was stirring, and even thesea seemed to be settling down a little. At least, so we judged fromthe motion, for we could not see either it or the sky; everything was asblack as pitch. We heard the sailors, however, engaged in rigging guideropes fore and aft, and battening down the hatches with extra tarpaulinsby the light of lanterns. Also they were putting ropes round the boatsand doing something to the spars and topmasts.
Presently Bastin joined us, having, I suppose, finished his devotions.
"Really, it is quite pleasant here," he said. "One never knows howdisagreeable so much wind is until it stops."
I lit my pipe, making no answer, and the match burned quite steadilythere in the open air.
"What is that?" exclaimed Bickley, staring at something which now I sawfor the first time. It looked like a line of white approaching throughthe gloom. With it came a hissing sound, and although there was still nowind, the rigging began to moan mysteriously like a thing in pain. A bigdrop of water also fell from the sides into my pipe and put it out. Thenone of the sailors cried in a hoarse voice:
"Get down below, governors, unless you want to go out to sea!"
"Why?" inquired Bastin.
"Why? Becos the 'urricane is coming, that's all. Coming as though thedevil had kicked it out of 'ell."
Bastin seemed inclined to remonstrate at this sort of language, but wepushed him down the companion and followed, propelling the spaniel Tommyin front of us. Next moment I heard the sailors battening the hatch withhurried blows, and when this was done to their satisfaction, heard theirfeet also as they ran into shelter.
Another instant and we were all lying in a heap on the cabin floor withpoor Tommy on top of us. The cyclone had struck the ship! Above the washof water and the screaming of the gale we heard other mysterious sounds,which doubtless were caused by the yards hitting the seas, for the yachtwas lying on her side. I thought that all was over, but presently therecame a rending, crashing noise. The masts, or one of them, had gone, andby degrees we righted.
"Near thing!" said Bickley. "Good heavens, what's that?"
I listened, for the electric light had temporarily gone out, owing, Isuppose, to the dynamo having stopped for a moment. A most unholy andhollow sound was rising from the cabin floor. It might have beencaused by a bullock with its windpipe cut, trying to get its breath andgroaning. Then the light came on again and we saw Bastin lying at fulllength on the carpet.
"He's broken his neck or something," I said.
Bickley crept to him and having looked, sang out:
"It's all right! He's only sea-sick. I thought it would come to that ifhe drank so much tea."
"Sea-sick," I said faintly--"sea-sick?"
"That's all," said Bickley. "The nerves of the stomach acting on thebrain or vice-versa--that is, if Bastin has a brain," he added sottovoce.
"Oh!" groaned the prostrate clergyman. "I wish that I were dead!"
"Don't trouble about that," answered Bickley. "I expect you soon willbe. Here, drink some whisky, you donkey."
Bastin sat up and obeyed, out of the bottle, for it was impossible topour anything into a glass, with results too dreadful to narrate.
"I call that a dirty trick," he said presently, in a feeble voice,glowering at Bickley.
"I expect I shall have to play you a dirtier before long, for you are apretty bad case, old fellow."
As a matter of fact he had, for once Bastin had begun really we thoughtthat he was going to die. Somehow we got him into his cabin, whichopened off the saloon, and as he could drink nothing more, Bickleymanaged to inject morphia or some other compound into him, which madehim insensible for a long while.
"He must be in a poor way," he said, "for the needle went more than aquarter of an inch into him, and he never cried out or stirred. Couldn'thelp it in that rolling."
But now I could hear the engines working, and I think that the bowof the vessel was got head on to the seas, for instead of rolling wepitched, or rather the ship stood first upon one end and then upon theother. This continued for a while until the first burst of the cyclonehad gone by. Then suddenly the engines stopped; I suppose that they hadbroken down, but I never learned, and we seemed to veer about, nearlysinking in the process, and to run before the hurricane at terrificspeed.
"I wonder where we are going to?" I said to Bickley. "To the land ofsleep, Humphrey, I imagine," he replied in a more gentle voice than Ihad often heard him use, adding: "Good-bye, old boy, we have been realfriends, haven't we, notwithstanding my peculiarities? I only wish thatI could think that there was anything in Bastin's views. But I can't, Ican't. It's good night for us poor creatures!"
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