Authors: Dennis Wheatley
More bombs were hurled, and, falling among the blacks, did appalling execution. As the islanders advanced from the maize fields their comrades manning the stockade slipped down from their posts, flung open the gates of the compound, and came charging out. The two parties converged on the yelling mob of blacks and drove them back with frightful slaughter. Bomb after bomb was flung into their midst and suddenly they broke.
Basil let out a loud ‘hurrah!’ and all those with him, standing up in their excitement, crowded to the edge of the cliff; cheering the advance of the little body of victorious whites, which was now driving the mass of Negroes helter-skelter before them.
The cheer echoed back from the rock-face, and, as the echo ceased, there came another from higher up on the cliff.
Juhani looked round, ‘What in thunder was that?’
The others scarcely heeded him. All their thoughts were concentrated on the rout of their enemies below, but another cheer,
coming from somewhere to the right, above them, caused them all to turn and stare up the bleak rock.
‘Hullo there!’ Basil hailed excitedly. ‘Hullo! above!’
Next moment an English voice with a strong Cockney accent floated down to them.
‘Hullo! down there! … where are yer?’
‘Here!’ bellowed the whole party on the big ledge. ‘Here!’
With intense excitement De Brissac and his friends stared up the cliff. They continued shouting and shouts came in reply until a bright ginger head appeared over the cliff top almost directly above them.
‘Who are you?’ shouted Basil.
‘Bo’sun of the
Sally Ann
, stuck here these two years,’ replied the red-head. ‘ ’Oo are you?’
‘Survivors of the Swedish ship
Gafelborg
,’ Basil called back.
‘ ’Ow the ’ell d’yer get up there?’ inquired the stranger.
‘Climbed,’ replied Basil promptly, ‘but how we’ll get down again God knows!’
‘ ’Ang on a moment,’ shouted the bo’sun. ‘I’ll fetch the mate and we’ll ’aul you up.’
The red-head disappeared and Deveril’s men began to speculate about this new party of survivors from another wreck. They knew nothing of any ships that might have reached Satan’s Island since Father Jerome’s time but had always supposed that the current carried all vessels in the weed sea to one or other of the two big bays on opposite sides of the channel. It now appeared that a third bay existed which was protected from the murderous Negroes by the great barrier which shut off the southern end of their island.
While Deveril’s party waited they divided their attention between the cliff-top and the valley below. There, Uncle Cornelius was now inflicting a final defeat upon the savages. Fifty or sixty of them had taken to their heels and were making off in various directions through the maize fields. The main body, of some two hundred, were driven up against the mighty barrier of rock and were flinging down their arms in token of surrender.
A tall figure which they could clearly recognise as Yonita’s uncle left the white force, and, walking some way away from it, began to signal in semaphore with his arms.
Several of them spelt out the message. They learned that it had been Uncle Cornelius’s idea to bring over a store of explosives salvaged from the German gunboat. The old man had feared
that they would never be able to overcome such a superior force with so little ammunition, so sent the second party, which had got boxed up in the compound, ahead to help Deveril, while waiting for the explosives to be landed before coming on with the main body himself. Their casualties totalled four killed and nine wounded, but the remaining Negroes had now surrendered except for the few who had fled, so there was no further fear of their being surprised and overwhelmed.
Deveril signalled back, giving particulars of what had happened to his party and De Brissac’s. He said that, with the aid of ropes from above they would be able to make their way down later, but, for the time being, most of them were too done-up to hazard the descent, so they proposed to take advantage of the succour offered by the castaway who had so unexpectedly appeared on the cliff-top.
Before he had completed his signals the red-headed bo’sun hailed them again. With him, this time, there were several other bearded men who called greetings to the marooned party. A good stout rope was lowered and Deveril insisted on being hauled up first to test its strength. One by one the others were drawn up after him, and, when they arrived, they found him in close conversation with a stocky little man whom he introduced as Mr. Thomas, the only surviving officer of the
Sally Ann
.
Thomas related that his ship, a 2,400-ton tramp steamer with a cargo of canned goods, agricultural implements and silk stockings, when outward bound from New York to Buenos Aires two years before had sustained a breakdown in her engines. She had been caught in a hurricane while disabled and driven down into the weed sea. Ever since, she had been lying derelict in a small bay to the south of Satan’s Island. Her crew had suffered many casualties during the hurricane and afterwards, while for three weeks they drifted fast in the weed. On reaching the island their captain had landed with the bulk of the survivors to explore and they had camped on the beach. The party had been attacked that night by giant crabs, and only the bo’sun, with one other, had escaped. They had succeeded in getting back to the ship the following morning, where Thomas and five more men had been left. From that time onward they had never been ashore except in the day time and only then to gather seaweeds and other things to help out their store of supplies.
‘Didn’t you ever attempt to get down the cliff to the Negro village?’ Basil inquired.
‘Yes, indeed,’ replied Mr. Thomas indignantly. ‘In the first week we explored all the high tableland hereabout, and, seeing the natives in the valley there, we brought good stout hawsers from the ship and lowered one of our chaps. The murderous devils just pulled him off the rope as he touched ground and butchered him before our eyes. Think of it, man!’
De Brissac nodded. ‘They are worse than genuine savages. Having had just a touch of civilisation makes them vicious. But have they never attempted to get up the cliff at you?’
‘Indeed no. It’s no easy climb whatever and none of them has tried it since we’ve been here. But the ladies look all-in and every one of you could do with a good square meal. Let us get back to the
Sally Ann.
’
His invitation was a welcome one and they set off across the mile-wide plateau which sloped down a little at its south-eastern edge. The tableland ended in sheer cliff, falling straight to the sea, except at one spot where two or three hundred yards of beach showed below and a break in the cliffs formed a miniature bay. In the middle of it the
Sally Ann
rode at anchor.
As the newcomers gazed down they exclaimed in surprise; for the bay and the sea beyond it presented a most curious spectacle. On either hand the weed stretched as far as they could see but the bay itself, and a channel several hundred yards wide running out to southward, was completely free of it. Instead the still water shone, iridescent in the sunlight, reflecting every shade of brilliant colour as though a portion of rainbow had been pinned down to make a roadway through it.
Thomas laughed at their exclamations. ‘That’s oil,’ he said. ‘There’s a gusher here and three times since we’ve been stuck in the bay it has overflowed. Look at the black streaks of it down that cliff yonder. The oil kills everything that lives in the sea, or else they get away from it. Indeed even the weed shrinks back to give it passage. Ever since we got here the bay’s been clear and each time the oil gushes like this there’s a channel of open water as far as we can see, but the weed closes up again in a day or two after the oil stops flowing.’
‘Good Heavens!’ exclaimed Basil. ‘Why the devil do you stay here then? Surely you can make your way out to sea if you want to and sail away home?’
Thomas shook his head. ‘Didn’t I tell you, man, it was a breakdown in our engines led to us getting carried into this devilish place, and from one mishap after another we lost every engineer
in the ship. None of my chaps understands anything about engines and they’re double-dutch to me.’
‘You could have made sails out of your awnings,’ Basil suggested.
‘We tried it,’ Thomas told him. ‘But there’s little wind in these parts and to sail a ship you’ve got to have room to manœuvre. There’s never a free channel of more than two hundred yards in width; we got stuck in the weed half a mile out and had to kedge the ship back again.’
Juhani laughed. ‘I’m an engineer. Just get me aboard and let me look at that engine. I’ll put it right if it’s mendable.’
A chorus of excited joy went up from the red-headed bo’sun and the rest of the
Sally Ann’s
small company. Basil’s eyes met Unity’s and they clasped hands with a sudden thrill. If Juhani
could
repair the
Sally Ann’s
engines it meant—escape—home—England. De Brissac shot a swift glance at Yonita. Could he persuade her to sail with him to France? But Synolda went deathly white. If they sailed she must lose Juhani or face extradition from the first port they touched and trial in South Africa.
The whole party made its way down a rough track in the cliff-side, piled into a lifeboat which was beached on the shore, pulled out through the oily water and was soon on board the tramp.
Their first thought was food, and Thomas provided them with a fine stew of corned beef and vegetables from the stock of tinned goods in the cargo on which, eked out by sun-dried fish and boiled seaweed, he had kept himself and his men alive for the past two years.
After this belated breakfast Juhani went to the
Sally Ann’s
engine-room. He returned from his inspection positively trembling with excitement, declaring enthusiastically that with the help of a dozen strong men and a block and tackle he felt confident he could make the necessary repairs.
‘How long d’you reckon it’ll take you?’ Thomas asked.
‘Six-hours, maybe eight. Not more, since you’ve had the sense to keep your engines well greased. I’ll be through by sundown.’
The survivors of the
Sally Ann
numbered seven but all the newcomers volunteered to help, so Juhani did not lack assistance. Thomas’s men were overjoyed at the thought that they might see their homes again after having long given up any such hope.
Deveril pressed them not to hurry and to accept his hospitality for a few weeks, at least, but Thomas shook his head gravely.
‘We’d all like to see your island, sir, but indeed it can’t be done. It is a week since the oil started gushing and it gave out two days ago. The channel will be closed within twenty-four hours now and the oil may not gush again for another nine months or a year. If we’re going to make a bid for our homelands we must not delay sailing later than tonight.’
‘Holy smoke! I’d best get busy on those engines then,’ Juhani cut in. ‘Come on, boys!’ and with a party of eager volunteers crowding after him, he hurried below.
As Juhani had more help than he needed Deveril, De Brissac, Thomas, Basil and the three girls decided to land again, cross the high plateau and see how Uncle Cornelius was faring. De Brissac had the good sense not to rush his fences. Instead of asking Yonita right away to accompany him on the voyage, he exerted every atom of his wonderful power to charm and fascinate her. Never had he cut a more gallant figure or displayed a more brilliant wit than on their climb and walk. Synolda alone among the party remained unsmiling at his sallies; she scarcely heard them, her brain half-numbed by the misery in her heart.
A few minutes after they arrived at the further cliff edge, Uncle Cornelius caught sight of them against the skyline and signalled up to report that all was well.
He had discovered the fissures in the cliff farther west from which, by a rude apparatus, the Negroes filled their balloons with natural gas, and he proposed that half a dozen of Deveril’s men should form a permanent guard there, being relieved at regular intervals. They could act as a local police force to the remaining natives who should be left in possession of their own lands but never again allowed arms or balloons, and so rendered harmless. Their chief and principal witch doctors were dead.
Deveril signalled back telling him of the presence of the
Sally Ann
. He added that an attempt would be made that night by her crew to sail for the outer world and asked if any of his own people wished to accompany them.
There was a short consultation among the whites down in the valley and the reply came up, ‘Good fortune to those who adventure forth, but we are all resolved to remain.’
The men with Deveril held the same view, which he duly reported to Uncle Cornelius; informing him that they would remain to see the
Sally Ann
on her way and descend the cliff by ropes the following morning.
The party on the cliff-top made its way back to the ship in time
for a high tea at which the islanders much enjoyed the strange foods that came out of Thomas’s cargo of canned goods. He added to their joy by presenting Deveril with several cases of agricultural implements for their use, and Yonita with twenty gross of silk stockings for herself and the women.
After the meal De Brissac skilfully drew Yonita aside from the rest and took her up to the after-deck.
‘Listen!’ he said urgently, his voice strained with anxiety now that the time had come to make his bid for her. ‘I hate to rush things so—but we are sailing tonight. Yonita, you must come with me.’
Slowly she shook her head. ‘Methinks you are joking. How could I possibly abandon Deveril?’
‘
Peste
!’ he exclaimed. ‘You do not love him?’
‘You wrong me there,’ she said gravely.
‘You cannot,’ he urged. ‘How can you say such a thing seeing what we were to each other two nights ago?’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘That was not love—only youth. Love is something very different.’
He made an angry gesture with his shoulders. ‘You are so young, Yonita. You do not understand. Come with me to France. All the world lies before us. I am not rich but my family do not lack money. We shall have everything that anyone could wish for. My machine-gun is lost, down there on the rocks, but I have the plans of it with me and when my Government see it they will honour me and give me rapid promotion. There are a million things I want to show you.
La Belle France
is so beautiful. Paris! It is the loveliest city in the world. The buildings, the cafés, the shops——’