CHAPTER XVIII
THE ASIATIC SQUADRON TO THE RESCUE
Two days had passed, and they had made themselves fairly comfortable on the island, when, on chancing to walk some distance up the shore in search of dry driftwood, Larry saw a sight that fairly made his heart stop beating.
"Luke! Luke! come here, quick!" he cried, as soon as he could catch his breath. "Oh, what a find!"
"What is it, Larry?" called back the Yankee sailor, and came running from the hut on the double-quick. "A boat, as sure as you're born! Now ain't we the lucky ones, though!"
He was right; Larry had discovered a boat,—a heavy, cumbersome craft, such as old-time merchantmen were in the habit of carrying for trading purposes among the natives. The boat lay on her side, half in and half out of the water, and had evidently washed up on the beach the night before.
The Boat lay on her Side, half in and half out of the Water Page 174
It was no easy matter to pull the boat in, but the find had raised their spirits wonderfully, and they worked with a will, and once the Treasure, as Larry christened her, was clear of the waves, Striker took the extra precaution to tie her soaked painter to the nearest palm.
"We can't afford to lose her nohow," he said. "See, the sail seems to be in good condition, so is the stumpy mast, and I don't believe she leaks in the least. With a stock of eatables on board we can sail in her to Luzon without half trying."
"Yes, but the eatables, Luke; how can we get them? Fish and birds won't keep, and we'll have to take some water along, and—"
"You leave that to me, Larry. We know we can get all the fish and birds we want, and we can salt 'em, and cook 'em, and perhaps we can take some of the fish along alive, by putting them in some water in the bottom of the boat. As for the other eatables, we'll skirmish around the island for cocoanuts,—which will give us eating and drinking,—and I think I saw a banana tree yesterday, and some wild onions; while as for water, I saw some bamboo on the hill, which is big and hollow, and one piece will hold at least half a pint of water, and can easily be corked up."
Larry could not help but gaze in admiration at the fellow, whose head was so full of resources. "You're a real Yankee, and no mistake, Luke," he laughed. "I believe if nothing but a plank had drifted in, you would have had a boat out of it by sundown. All right; I'm with you, and the sooner we are ready to set sail, the better it will suit me; for even if we have the luck to reach Luzon, we'll still have the job of getting to Manila or some other big town and finding a ship to take us to Hong Kong."
From that moment on work went forward briskly, and while Larry spent his time in fishing and in hunting turtles, Striker hunted up the cocoanuts and other eatables he had mentioned. Yet the preparations for the trip took some time, and it was not until several days later that they were ready to embark.
"Good-by to Lonely Island!" cried Larry, taking off the seaweed cap he still wore. "It served us well, yet I can't say that I care to see its shores again."
"You're right, lad; a Robinson Crusoe life is all well enough in books. Give me the deck of a stanch vessel, every time."
The Treasure was run out across the reefs without great difficulty, and as soon as the single sail was hoisted, Striker set the course as he thought due south, although in reality, as it afterwards proved, his course was to the southwest, just a variation sufficient for him to miss the northwest extremity of Luzon.
Two days and a night were passed upon the somewhat clumsy craft without anything of special interest happening. The weather and wind remained fair, and the only thing which bothered them was the fierce sun, which beat down as pitilessly as ever. Striker had thoughtfully thrown into the boat a number of broad palm leaves, and during the middle of the day they were glad enough to wet these and throw themselves under the shade to be had by setting the leaves up in the form of an inverted letter V—thus Λ—in the stern.
As the sun went down upon the second day, Larry noticed Striker looking anxiously to the eastward. "Yes, I'm afraid we're in for another storm," said the Yankee, in reply to a question on that point. "How soon it will come there's no telling. But it ain't far off, and we'll have to make the best of it."
The hurricane—for it was nothing less—came upon them at midnight, striking the Treasure heavily and sending her prow into a very torrent of water. A large amount of the water was shipped, and both fell to bailing vigorously, knowing their very lives depended upon it.
The storm lasted until daybreak, then cleared off as rapidly as it had come. But, alas! that storm had been the unmaking of the Treasure. The sail with its half-rotted ropes was gone, the boat had sprung a bad if not dangerous leak, and more than half of the drinking-water and eatables were gone.
"It's a sorry pickle, truly, Larry," said Striker, soberly, as he surveyed the mischief, "and I don't know which is the wust,—the leak or the loss of the provender,—but both are bad enough."
"The loss of the sail is the worst, I imagine," answered the boy. "How are we to keep sailing without a sheet?"
"That's true; we'll have to see what we can do with our shirts. But first let us go to work on that leak," concluded Striker, and they started in before either had a mouthful of breakfast.
Quarter of an hour later found them thoroughly alarmed. The leak was growing worse. In vain they tried to mend it. The Treasure had been so strained by the storm she was scarcely able to hold together. Suddenly there was a cracking, and out went a plank of the bottom, and Larry found himself dropping down into the ocean. Then the clumsy craft turned over, carrying Striker with it.
For several minutes there was a splutter and a struggle upon the part of man and boy to save themselves. At length Larry caught hold of the keel of the upturned boat and drew himself up. Soon Striker followed.
"We're in for it now, lad," cried the Yankee, dolefully. "We made a bad miss when we left that island and trusted to such a rotten craft as this."
"I'd like to know how far we are from shore now," said Larry. "All of our provisions have gone to the bottom."
"All but these," answered the tar, holding up half a dozen of the bamboo stems filled with fresh water. "It's not much to save, but a single drink of water may save our lives before we are done with this adventure."
There was but little to add in the way of talk after this. Both were too down-hearted to say much, and clung on in silence as the upturned boat drifted onward, and the rising sun mounted higher and higher in the tropical sky. Larry's head was entirely unprotected, and by noon the sun's rays seemed unbearable.
"I must have a bit of water," he said. "My tongue is like cotton, and my head feels as if it was ready to split open."
"We'll divide the water in one of the sticks between us," answered Striker; and this was done, and once again they relapsed into a moody, distressing silence. The glare of the sun on the water nearly blinded Larry, and often he closed his eyes.
It was getting towards sundown when Striker uttered a sudden shout.
"A boat! a steamship!"
"Where?" ejaculated Larry, rousing up. "I can't see anything," he went on, as Striker pointed with his finger. "I see a bit of smoke, though."
"She is well down in the water and painted dark. I can see her quite plainly."
"Oh, yes, I see her now. Do you think she is coming this way?" was the boy's next anxious question; then, before Striker could answer, he continued: "There is another steamer, over to the left! And there is another—or am I dreaming?"
He pointed this way and that, and the Yankee sailor followed the indications eagerly.
"There ain't no mistake, Larry, they're all there; and see, there's another bit of smoke off to the north'ard. We must be right in the track o' some reg'lar line, though what line I can't imagine, nor why so many of the steamships should be out here at one time," added Striker, in much perplexity.
"I don't care about that, if only one of them will come this way and pick us up."
"They are coming this way—as straight as a string," cried Striker, after five minutes of painful suspense. "I can see all four of the vessels as plain as day, and—yes, there's another! What in the world can this mean? Larry, if I was a drinking man, I would say I had 'em bad," concluded the Yankee sailor, as he raised himself up as high as possible, his eyes meanwhile almost starting from his head.
Another five minutes passed, and the vessels came closer, until they could readily see the black smoke pouring from their funnels. The five vessels were sweeping along in almost a semicircle, and now Striker declared he could see more smoke to the rear.
"If only they see us!" cried Larry, in almost a pleading tone. "Can't we wave something? I'll try my jacket." And he slipped the garment off, and proceeded to bestride the keel of the upturned Treasure. In a moment more Striker was beside him, and both waved their hands like demons.
Boom! loud and clear over the sea sounded the dull discharge of a ship's gun, and they saw the smoke float away from the nearest of the oncoming vessels.
"It's a man-o'-war, that's what it is!" burst from Striker's lips. "And it's a whole fleet of 'em!"
"Yes! yes! and we are saved!" cried Larry, hysterically. "That gun was surely meant for us." They watched on for a few more minutes in silence. "Oh, Luke! see the stars and stripes! They are United States vessels, every one of them!"
"You're right, lad; they are our own Yankee ships, and we have fallen among friends. See, that big fellow is heading directly for us and intends to pick us up. This must be Commodore Dewey's Asiatic Squadron. Hurrah for Uncle Sam! Hurrah!" And Striker cheered so lustily that the men on the approaching cruiser heard him quite plainly.