The drifting smoke was still so dense that not even the floor of the
valley could be discerned. Jenks dared not leave Iris at such a moment.
He feared to bring her down the ladder lest another shell might be
fired. But something must be done to end their suspense.
He called to Mir Jan--
"Take off your turban and hold it above your head, if you think they
can see you from the warship."
"It is all right, sahib," came the cheering answer. "One boat is close
inshore. I think, from the uniforms, they are English sahibs, such as I
have seen at Garden Reach. The Dyaks have all gone."
Nevertheless Jenks waited. There was nothing to gain by being too
precipitate. A false step now might undo the achievements of many
weeks.
Mir Jan was dancing about beneath in a state of wild excitement.
"They have seen the Dyaks running to their sampans, sahib," he yelled,
"and the second boat is being pulled in that direction. Yet another has
just left the ship."
A translation made Iris excited, eager to go down and see these
wonders.
"Better wait here, dearest," he said. "The enemy may be driven back in
this direction, and I cannot expose you to further risk. The sailors
will soon land, and you can then descend in perfect safety."
The boom of a cannon came from the sea. Instinctively the girl ducked
for safety, though her companion smiled at her fears, for the shell
would have long preceded the report, had it traveled their way.
"One of the remaining sampans has got under way," he explained, "and
the warship is firing at her."
Two more guns were fired. The man-o'-war evidently meant business.
"Poor wretches!" murmured Iris. "Cannot the survivors be allowed to
escape?"
"Well, we are unable to interfere. Those caught on the island will
probably be taken to the mainland and hanged for their crimes, so the
manner of their end is not of much consequence."
To the girl's manifest relief there was no more firing, and Mir Jan
announced that a number of sailors were actually on shore. Then her
thoughts turned to a matter of concern to the feminine mind even in the
gravest moments of existence. She laved her face with water and sought
her discarded skirt!
Soon the steady tramp of boot-clad feet advancing at the double was
heard on the shingle, and an officer's voice, speaking the crude
Hindustani of the engine-room and forecastle, shouted to Mir Jan--
"Hi, you black fellow! Are there any white people here?"
Jenks sang out--
"Yes, two of us! Perched on the rock over your heads. We are coming
down."
He cast loose the rope-ladder. Iris was limp and trembling.
"Steady, sweetheart," he whispered. "Don't forget the slip between the
cup and the lip. Hold tight! But have no fear! I will be just beneath."
It was well he took this precaution. She was now so unnerved that an
unguarded movement might have led to an accident. But the knowledge
that her lover was near, the touch of his hand guiding her feet on to
the rungs of the ladder, sustained her. They had almost reached the
level when a loud exclamation and the crash of a heavy blow caused
Jenks to halt and look downwards.
A Dyak, lying at the foot of one of the scaling ladders, and severely
wounded by a shell splinter, witnessed their descent. In his left hand
he grasped a parang; his right arm was bandaged. Though unable to rise,
the vengeful pirate mustered his remaining strength to crawl towards
the swaying ladder. It was Taung S'Ali, inspired with the hate and
venom of the dying snake. Even yet he hoped to deal a mortal stroke at
the man who had defied him and all his cut-throat band. He might have
succeeded, as Jenks was so taken up with Iris, were it not for the
watchful eyes of Mir Jan. The Mahommedan sprang at him with an oath,
and gave him such a murderous whack with the butt of a rifle that the
Dyak chief collapsed and breathed out his fierce spirit in a groan.
At the first glance Jenks did not recognize Taung S'Ali, owing to his
change of costume. Through the thinner smoke he could see several
sailors running up.
"Look out, there!" he cried. "There is a lady here. If any Dyak moves,
knock him on the head!"
But, with the passing of the chief, their last peril had gone. The next
instant they were standing on the firm ground, and a British naval
lieutenant was saying eagerly--
"We seem to have turned up in the nick of time. Do you, by any chance,
belong to the Sirdar?"
"We are the sole survivors," answered the sailor.
"You two only?"
"Yes. She struck on the north-west reef of this island during a
typhoon. This lady, Miss Iris Deane, and I were flung ashore--"
"Miss Deane! Can it be possible? Let me congratulate you most heartily.
Sir Arthur Deane is on board the Orient at this moment."
"The Orient!"
Iris was dazed. The uniforms, the pleasant faces of the English
sailors, the strange sensation of hearing familiar words in tones other
than those of the man she loved, bewildered her.
"Yes," explained the officer, with a sympathetic smile. "That's our
ship, you know, in the offing there."
It was all too wonderful to be quite understood yet. She turned to
Robert--
"Do you hear? They say my father is not far away. Take me to him."
"No need for that, miss," interrupted a warrant officer. "Here he is
coming ashore. He wanted to come with us, but the captain would not
permit it, as there seemed to be some trouble ahead."
Sure enough, even the girl's swimming eyes could distinguish the
grey-bearded civilian seated beside an officer in the stern-sheets of a
small gig now threading a path through the broken reef beyond Turtle
Beach. In five minutes, father and daughter would meet.
Meanwhile the officer, intent on duty, addressed Jenks again.
"May I ask who you are?"
"My name is Anstruther--Robert Anstruther."
Iris, clinging to his arm, heard the reply.
So he had abandoned all pretence. He was ready to face the world at her
side. She stole a loving glance at him as she cried--
"Yes, Captain Anstruther, of the Indian Staff Corps. If he will not
tell you all that he has done, how he has saved my life twenty times,
how he has fought single-handed against eighty men, ask me!"
The naval officer did not need to look a second time at Iris's face to
lengthen the list of Captain Anstruther's achievements, by one more
item. He sighed. A good sailor always does sigh when a particularly
pretty girl is labeled "Engaged."
But he could be very polite.
"Captain Anstruther does not appear to have left much for us to do,
Miss Deane," he said. "Indeed," turning to Robert, "is there any way in
which my men will be useful?"
"I would recommend that they drag the green stuff off that fire and
stop the smoke. Then, a detachment should go round the north side of
the island and drive the remaining Dyaks into the hands of the party
you have landed, as I understand, at the further end of the south
beach. Mir Jan, the Mahommedan here, who has been a most faithful ally
during part of our siege, will act as guide."
The other man cast a comprehensive glance over the rock, with its
scaling ladders and dangling rope-ladder, the cave, the little groups
of dead or unconscious pirates--for every wounded man who could move a
limb had crawled away after the first shell burst--and drew a deep
breath.
"How long were you up there?" he asked.
"Over thirty hours."
"It was a great fight!"
"Somewhat worse than it looks," said Anstruther. "This is only the end
of it. Altogether, we have accounted for nearly two score of the poor
devils."
"Do you think you can make them prisoners, without killing any more of
them?" asked Iris.
"That depends entirely on themselves, Miss Deane. My men will not fire
a shot unless they encounter resistance."
Robert looked towards the approaching boat. She would not land yet for
a couple of minutes.
"By the way," he said, "will you tell me your name?"
"Playdon--Lieutenant Philip H. Playdon."
"Do you know to what nation this island belongs?"
"It is no-man's land, I think. It is marked 'uninhabited' on the
chart."
"Then," said Anstruther, "I call upon you, Lieutenant Playdon, and all
others here present, to witness that I, Robert Anstruther, late of the
Indian Army, acting on behalf of myself and Miss Iris Deane, declare
that we have taken possession of this island in the name of His
Britannic Majesty the King of England, that we are the joint occupiers
and owners thereof, and claim all property rights vested therein."
These formal phrases, coming at such a moment, amazed his hearers. Iris
alone had an inkling of the underlying motive.
"I don't suppose any one will dispute your title," said the naval
officer gravely. He unquestionably imagined that suffering and exposure
had slightly disturbed the other man's senses, yet he had seldom seen
any person who looked to be in more complete possession of his
faculties.
"Thank you," replied Robert with equal composure, though he felt
inclined to laugh at Playdon's mystification. "I only wished to secure
a sufficient number of witnesses for a verbal declaration. When I have
a few minutes to spare I will affix a legal notice on the wall in front
of our cave."
Playdon bowed silently. There was something in the speaker's manner
that puzzled him. He detailed a small guard to accompany Robert and
Iris, who now walked towards the beach, and asked Mir Jan to pilot him
as suggested by Anstruther.
The boat was yet many yards from shore when Iris ran forward and
stretched out her arms to the man who was staring at her with wistful
despair.
"Father! Father!" she cried. "Don't you know me?"
Sir Arthur Deane was looking at the two strange figures on the sands,
and each moment his heart sank lower. This island held his final hope.
During many weary weeks, since the day when a kindly Admiral placed the
cruiser Orient at his disposal, he had scoured the China Sea,
the coasts of Borneo and Java, for some tidings of the ill-fated
Sirdar.
He met naught save blank nothingness, the silence of the great ocean
mausoleum. Not a boat, a spar, a lifebuoy, was cast up by the waves to
yield faintest trace of the lost steamer. Every naval man knew what had
happened. The vessel had met with some mishap to her machinery, struck
a derelict, or turned turtle, during that memorable typhoon of March 17
and 18. She had gone down with all hands. Her fate was a foregone
conclusion. No ship's boat could live in that sea, even if the crew
were able to launch one. It was another of ocean's tragedies, with the
fifth act left to the imagination.
To examine every sand patch and tree-covered shoal in the China Sea was
an impossible task. All the Orient could do was to visit the
principal islands and institute inquiries among the fishermen and small
traders. At last, the previous night, a Malay, tempted by hope of
reward, boarded the vessel when lying at anchor off the large island
away to the south, and told the captain a wondrous tale of a
devil-haunted place inhabited by two white spirits, a male and a
female, whither a local pirate named Taung S'Ali had gone by chance
with his men and suffered great loss. But Taung S'Ali was bewitched by
the female spirit, and had returned there, with a great force, swearing
to capture her or perish. The spirits, the Malay said, had dwelt upon
the island for many years. His father and grandfather knew the place
and feared it. Taung S'Ali would never be seen again.
This queer yarn was the first indication they received of the
whereabouts of any persons who might possibly be shipwrecked Europeans,
though not survivors from the Sirdar. Anyhow, the tiny dot lay
in the vessel's northward track, so a course was set to arrive off the
island soon after dawn.
Events on shore, as seen by the officer on watch, told their own tale.
Wherever Dyaks are fighting there is mischief on foot, so the
Orient took a hand in the proceedings.
But Sir Arthur Deane, after an agonized scrutiny of the weird-looking
persons escorted by the sailors to the water's edge, sadly acknowledged
that neither of these could be the daughter whom he sought. He bowed
his head in humble resignation, and he thought he was the victim of a
cruel hallucination when Iris's tremulous accents reached his ears--
"Father, father! Don't you know me?"
He stood up, amazed and trembling.
"Yes, father dear. It is I, your own little girl given back to you. Oh
dear! Oh dear! I cannot see you for my tears."
They had some difficulty to keep him in the boat, and the man pulling
stroke smashed a stout oar with the next wrench.
And so they met at last, and the sailors left them alone, to crowd
round Anstruther and ply him with a hundred questions. Although he fell
in with their humor, and gradually pieced together the stirring story
which was supplemented each instant by the arrival of disconsolate
Dyaks and the comments of the men who returned from cave and beach, his
soul was filled with the sight of Iris and her father, and the happy,
inconsequent demands with which each sought to ascertain and relieve
the extent of the other's anxiety.
Then Iris called to him--
"Robert, I want you."
The use of his Christian name created something akin to a sensation.
Sir Arthur Deane was startled, even in his immeasurable delight at
finding his child uninjured--the picture of rude health and happiness.
Anstruther advanced.
"This is my father," she cried, shrill with joy. "And, father darling,
this is Captain Robert Anstruther, to whom alone, under God's will, I
owe my life, many, many times since the moment the Sirdar was
lost."
It was no time for questioning. Sir Arthur Deane took off his hat and
held out his hand--
"Captain Anstruther," he said, "as I owe you my daughter's life, I owe
you that which I can never repay. And I owe you my own life, too, for I
could not have survived the knowledge that she was dead."
Robert took the proffered hand--
"I think, Sir Arthur, that, of the two, I am the more deeply indebted.
There are some privileges whose value cannot be measured, and among
them the privilege of restoring your daughter to your arms takes the
highest place."
Then, being much more self-possessed than the older man, who was
naturally in a state of agitation that was almost painful, he turned to
Iris.
"I think," he said, "that your father should take you on board the
Orient, Iris. There you may, perhaps, find some suitable
clothing, eat something, and recover from the exciting events of the
morning. Afterwards, you must bring Sir Arthur ashore again, and we
will guide him over the island. I am sure you will find much to tell
him meanwhile."
The baronet could not fail to note the manner in which these two
addressed each other, the fearless love which leaped from eye to eye,
the calm acceptance of a relationship not be questioned or gainsaid.
Robert and Iris, without spoken word on the subject, had tactily agreed
to avoid the slightest semblance of subterfuge as unworthy alike of
their achievements and their love. Yet what could Sir Arthur Deane do?
To frame a suitable protest at such a moment was not to be dreamed of.
As yet he was too shaken to collect his thoughts. Anstruther's
proposal, however, helped him to blurt out what he intuitively felt to
be a disagreeable fact. Yet something must be said, for his brain
reeled.
"Your suggestion is admirable," he cried, striving desperately to
affect a careless complaisance. "The ship's stores may provide Iris
with some sort of rig-out, and an old friend of hers is on board at
this moment, little expecting her presence. Lord Ventnor has
accompanied me in my search. He will, of course, be delighted--"
Anstruther flushed a deep bronze, but Iris broke in--
"Father, why did he come with you?"
Sir Arthur, driven into this sudden squall of explanation, became
dignified.
"Well, you see, my dear, under the circumstances, he felt an anxiety
almost commensurate with my own."
"But why, why?"
Iris was quite calm. With Robert near, she was courageous. Even the
perturbed baronet experienced a new sensation as his troubled glance
fell before her searching eyes. His daughter had left him a joyous,
heedless girl. He found her a woman, strong, self-reliant, purposeful.
Yet he kept on, choosing the most straightforward means as the only
honorable way of clearing a course so beset with unsuspected obstacles.
"It is only reasonable, Iris, that your affianced husband should suffer
an agony of apprehension on your account, and do all that was possible
to effect your rescue."
"My--affianced--husband?"
"Well, my dear girl, perhaps that is hardly the correct phrase from
your point of view. Yet you cannot fail to remember that Lord
Ventnor--"
"Father, dear," said Iris solemnly, but in a voice free from all
uncertainty, "my affianced husband stands here! We plighted our troth
at the very gate of death. It was ratified in the presence of God, and
has been blessed by Him. I have made no compact with Lord Ventnor. He
is a base and unworthy man. Did you but know the truth concerning him
you would not mention his name in the same breath with mine. Would he,
Robert?"
Never was man so perplexed as the unfortunate shipowner. In the instant
that his beloved daughter was restored to him out of the very depths of
the sea, he was asked either to undertake the rôle of a disappointed
and unforgiving parent, or sanction her marriage to a truculent-looking
person of most forbidding if otherwise manly appearance, who had
certainly saved her from death in ways not presently clear to him, but
who could not be regarded as a suitable son-in-law solely on that
account.
What could he do, what could he say, to make the position less
intolerable?
Anstruther, quicker than Iris to appreciate Sir Arthur Deane's dilemma,
gallantly helped him. He placed a loving hand on the girl's shoulder.
"Be advised by me, Sir Arthur, and you too, Iris," he said. "This is no
hour for such explanations. Leave me to deal with Lord Ventnor. I am
content to trust the ultimate verdict to you, Sir Arthur. You will
learn in due course all that has happened. Go on board, Iris. Meet Lord
Ventnor as you would meet any other friend. You will not marry him, I
know. I can trust you." He said this with a smile that robbed the words
of serious purport. "Believe me, you two can find plenty to occupy your
minds today without troubling yourselves about Lord Ventnor."
"I am very much obliged to you," murmured the baronet, who,
notwithstanding his worry, was far too experienced a man of the world
not to acknowledge the good sense of this advice, no matter how
ruffianly might be the guise of the strange person who gave it.
"That is settled, then," said Robert, laughing good-naturedly, for he
well knew what a weird spectacle he must present to the bewildered old
gentleman.
Even Sir Arthur Deane was fascinated by the ragged and hairy giant who
carried himself so masterfully and helped everybody over the stile at
the right moment He tried to develop the change in the conversation.
"By the way," he said, "how came you to be on the Sirdar? I have
a list of all the passengers and crew, and your name does not appear
therein."
"Oh, that is easily accounted for. I shipped as a steward, in the name
of Robert Jenks."
"Robert Jenks! A steward!"
This was worse than ever. The unhappy shipowner thought the sky must
have fallen.
"Yes. That forms some part of the promised explanation."
Iris rapidly gathered the drift of her lover's wishes. "Come, father,"
she cried merrily. "I am aching to see what the ship's stores, which
you and Robert pin your faith to, can do for me in the shape of
garments. I have the utmost belief in the British navy, and even a
skeptic should be convinced of its infallibility if H.M.S.
Orient is able to provide a lady's outfit."
Sir Arthur Deane gladly availed himself of the proffered compromise. He
assisted Iris into the boat, though that active young person was far
better able to support him, and a word to the officer in command sent
the gig flying back to the ship. Anstruther, during a momentary delay,
made a small request on his own account. Lieutenant Playdon, nearly as
big a man as Robert, despatched a note to his servant, and the gig
speedily returned with a complete assortment of clothing and linen. The
man also brought a dressing case, with the result that a dip in the
bath, and ten minutes in the hands of an expert valet, made Anstruther
a new man.
Acting under his advice, the bodies of the dead were thrown into the
lagoon, the wounded were collected in the hut to be attended to by the
ship's surgeon, and the prisoners were paraded in front of Mir Jan, who
identified every man, and found, by counting heads, that none was
missing.
Robert did not forget to write out a formal notice and fasten it to the
rock. This proceeding further mystified the officers of the
Orient, who had gradually formed a connected idea of the great
fight made by the shipwrecked pair, though Anstruther squirmed inwardly
when he thought of the manner in which Iris would picture the scene. As
it was, he had the first innings, and he did not fail to use the
opportunity. In the few terse words which the militant Briton best
understands, he described the girl's fortitude, her unflagging
cheerfulness, her uncomplaining readiness to do and dare.
Little was said by his auditors, save to interpolate an occasional
question as to why such and such a thing was necessary, or how some
particular drawback had been surmounted. Standing near the well, it was
not necessary to move to explain to them the chief features of the
island, and point out the measures he had adopted.
When he ended, the first lieutenant, who commanded the boats sent in
pursuit of the flying Dyaks--the Orient sank both sampans as
soon as they were launched--summed up the general verdict--
"You do not need our admiration, Captain Anstruther. Each man of us
envies you from the bottom of his soul."
"I do, I know--from the very bilge," exclaimed a stout midshipman, one
of those who had seen Iris.
Robert waited until the laugh died away.
"There is an error about my rank," he said. "I did once hold a
commission in the Indian army, but I was court-marshaled and cashiered
in Hong Kong six months ago. I was unjustly convicted on a grave
charge, and I hope some day to clear myself. Meanwhile I am a mere
civilian. It was only Miss Deane's generous sympathy which led her to
mention my former rank, Mr. Playdon."
Had another of the Orient's 12-pounder shells suddenly burst in
the midst of the group of officers, it would have created less dismay
than this unexpected avowal. Court-martialed! Cashiered! None but a
service man can grasp the awful significance of those words to the
commissioned ranks of the army and navy.
Anstruther well knew what he was doing. Somehow, he found nothing hard
in the performance of these penances now. Of course, the ugly truth
must be revealed the moment Lord Ventnor heard his name. It was not
fair to the good fellows crowding around him, and offering every
attention that the frank hospitality of the British sailor could
suggest, to permit them to adopt the tone of friendly equality which
rigid discipline, if nothing else, would not allow them to maintain.
The first lieutenant, by reason of his rank, was compelled to say
something--
"That is a devilish bad job, Mr. Anstruther," he blurted out.
"Well, you know, I had to tell you."
He smiled unaffectedly at the wondering circle. He, too, was an
officer, and appreciated their sentiments. They were unfeignedly sorry
for him, a man so brave and modest, such a splendid type of the soldier
and gentleman, yet, by their common law, an outcast. Nor could they
wholly understand his demeanor. There was a noble dignity in his
candor, a conscious innocence that disdained to shield itself under a
partial truth. He spoke, not as a wrong-doer, but as one who addresses
those who have been and will be once more his peers.
The first lieutenant again phrased the thoughts of his juniors--
"I, and every other man in the ship, cannot help but sympathize with
you. But whatever may be your record--if you were an escaped convict,
Mr. Anstruther--no one could withhold from you the praise deserved for
your magnificent stand against overwhelming odds. Our duty is plain. We
will bring you to Singapore, where the others will no doubt wish to go
immediately. I will tell the Captain what you have been good enough to
acquaint us with. Meanwhile we will give you every assistance,
and--er--attention in our power."
A murmur of approbation ran through the little circle. Robert's face
paled somewhat. What first-rate chaps they were, to be sure!
"I can only thank you," he said unsteadily. "Your kindness is more
trying than adversity."
A rustle of silk, the intrusion into the intent knot of men of a young
lady in a Paris gown, a Paris hat, carrying a Trouville parasol, and
most exquisitely gloved and booted, made every one gasp.
"Oh, Robert dear, how could you? I actually didn't know you!"
Thus Iris, bewitchingly attired, and gazing now with provoking
admiration at Robert, who certainly offered almost as great a contrast
to his former state as did the girl herself. He returned her look with
interest.
"Would any man believe," he laughed, "that clothes would do so much for
a woman?"
"What a left-handed compliment! But come, dearest, Captain Fitzroy and
Lord Ventnor have come ashore with father and me. They want us to show
them everything! You will excuse him, won't you?" she added, with a
seraphic smile to the others.
They walked off together.
"Jimmy!" gasped the fat midshipman to a lanky youth. "She's got on your
togs!"
Meaning that Iris had ransacked the Orient's theatrical
wardrobe, and pounced on the swell outfit of the principal female
impersonator in the ship's company.
Lieutenant Playdon bit the chin strap of his pith helmet, for the
landing party wore the regulation uniform for service ashore in the
tropics. He muttered to his chief--
"Damme if I've got the hang of this business yet."
"Neither have I. Anstruther looks a decent sort of fellow, and the girl
is a stunner. Yet, d'ye know, Playdon, right through the cruise I've
always understood that she was the fiancée of that cad, Ventnor."
"Anstruther appears to have arranged matters differently. Wonder what
pa will say when that Johnnie owns up about the court-martial."
"Give it up, which is more than the girl will do, or I'm much mistaken.
Funny thing, you know, but I've a sort of hazy recollection of
Anstruther's name being mixed up with that of a Colonel's wife at Hong
Kong. Fancy Ventnor was in it too, as a witness. Stand by, and we'll
see something before we unload at Singapore."