The Wings of the Morning

They looked long and steadfastly at the retreating boat. Soon it

diminished to a mere speck on the smooth sea. The even breeze kept its

canvas taut, and the sailor knew that no ruse was intended--the Dyaks

were flying from the island in fear and rage. They would return with a

force sufficient to insure the wreaking of their vengeance.

That he would again encounter them at no distant date Jenks had no

doubt whatever. They would land in such numbers as to render any

resistance difficult and a prolonged defence impossible. Would help

come first?--a distracting question to which definite answer could not

be given.

The sailor's brow frowned in deep lines; his brain throbbed

now with an anxiety singularly at variance with his cool demeanor

during the fight. He was utterly unconscious that his left arm

encircled the shoulder of the girl until she gently disengaged herself

and said appealingly--

"Please, Mr. Jenks, do not be angry with me. I could not help it. I

could not bear to see you shoot them."

Then he abruptly awoke to the realities of the moment.

"Come." he said, his drawn features relaxing into a wonderfully

pleasing smile. "We will return to our castle. We are safe for the

remainder of this day, at any rate."

Something must be said or done to reassure her. She was still

grievously disturbed, and he naturally ascribed her agitation to the

horror of her capture. He dreaded a complete collapse if any further

alarms threatened at once. Yet he was almost positive--though search

alone would set at rest the last misgiving--that only one sampan had

visited the island.

Evidently the Dyaks were unprepared as he for the

events of the preceding half-hour. They were either visiting the island

to procure turtle and bêche-de-mer or had merely called there

en route to some other destination, and the change in the wind

had unexpectedly compelled them to put ashore. Beyond all doubt they

must have been surprised by the warmth of the reception they

encountered.

Probably, when he went to Summit Rock that morning, the savages had

lowered their sail and were steadily paddling north against wind and

current. The most careful scrutiny of the sea would fail to reveal them

beyond a distance of six or seven miles at the utmost.

After landing in the hidden bay on the south side, they crossed the

island through the trees instead of taking the more natural open way

along the beach. Why? The fact that he and Iris were then passing the

grown-over tract leading to the Valley of Death instantly determined

this point. The Dyaks knew of this affrighting hollow, and would not

approach any nearer to it than was unavoidable. Could he twist this

circumstance to advantage if Iris and he were still stranded there when

the superstitious sea-rovers next put in an appearance? He would see.

All depended on the girl's strength. If she gave way now--if, instead

of taking instant measures for safety, he were called upon to nurse her

through a fever--the outlook became not only desperate but hopeless.

And, whilst he bent his brows in worrying thought, the color was

returning to Iris's cheeks, and natural buoyancy to her step. It is the

fault of all men to underrate the marvelous courage and constancy of

woman in the face of difficulties and trials. Jenks was no exception to

the rule.

"You do not ask me for any account of my adventures," she said quietly,

after watching his perplexed expression in silence for some time.

Her tone almost startled him, its unassumed cheerfulness was so

unlooked for.

"No," he answered. "I thought you were too overwrought to talk of them

at present."

"Overwrought! Not a bit of it! I was dead beat with the struggle and

with screaming for you, but please don't imagine that I am going to

faint or treat you to a display of hysteria now that all the excitement

has ended. I admit that I cried a little when you pushed me aside on

the beach and raised your gun to fire at those poor wretches flying for

their lives. Yet perhaps I was wrong to hinder you."

"You were wrong," he gravely interrupted.

"Then you should not have heeded me. No, I don't mean that. You always

consider me first, don't you? No matter what I ask you to do you

endeavor to please me, even when you know all the time that I am acting

or speaking foolishly."

The unthinking naïveté of her words sent the blood coursing

wildly through his veins.

"Never mind," she went on with earnest simplicity. "God has been very

good to us. I cannot believe that He has preserved us from so many

dangers to permit us to perish miserably a few hours, or days, before

help comes. And I do want to tell you exactly what happened."

"Then you shall," he answered. "But first drink this." They had reached

their camping-ground, and he hastened to procure a small quantity of

brandy.

She swallowed the spirit with a protesting moue. She really

needed no such adventitious support, she said.

"All right," commented Jenks. "If you don't want a drink, I do."

"I can quite believe it," she retorted. "Your case is very

different. I knew the men would not hurt me--after the first

shock of their appearance had passed, I mean--I also knew that you

would save me. But you, Mr. Jenks, had to do the fighting. You were

called upon to rescue precious me. Good gracious! No wonder you were

excited."

The sailor mentally expressed his inability to grasp the complexities

of feminine nature, but Iris rattled on----

"I carried my tin of water to the pitcher-plant, and was listening to

the greedy roots gurgling away for dear life, when suddenly four men

sprang out from among the trees and seized my arms before I could reach

my revolver."

"Thank Heaven you failed."

"You think that if I had fired at them they would have retaliated. Yes,

especially if I had hit the chief. But it was he who instantly gave

some order, and I suppose it meant that they were not to hurt me. As a

matter of fact, they seemed to be quite as much astonished as I was

alarmed. But if they could hold my hands they could not stop my voice

so readily. Oh! didn't I yell?"

"You did."

"I suppose you could not hear me distinctly?"

"Quite distinctly."

"Every word?"

"Yes."

She bent to pick some leaves and bits of dry grass from her dress.

"Well, you know," she continued rapidly, "in such moments one cannot

choose one's words. I just shouted the first thing that came into my

head."

"And I," he said, "picked up the first rifle I could lay hands on. Now,

Miss Deane, as the affair has ended so happily, may I venture to ask

you to remain in the cave until I return?"

"Oh, please--" she began.

"Really, I must insist. I would not leave you if it were not quite

imperative. You cannot come with me."

Then she understood one at least of the tasks he must perform, and she

meekly obeyed.

He thought it best to go along Turtle Beach to the cove, and thence

follow the Dyaks' trail through the wood, as this line of advance would

entail practically a complete circuit of the island. He omitted no

precautions in his advance. Often he stopped and listened intently.

Whenever he doubled a point or passed among the trees he crept back and

peered along the way he had come, to see if any lurking foes were

breaking shelter behind him.

The marks on the sand proved that only one sampan had been beached.

Thence he found nothing of special interest until he came upon the

chief's gun, lying close to the trees on the north side. It was a very

ornamental weapon, a muzzle-loader. The stock was inlaid with gold and

ivory, and the piece had evidently been looted from some mandarin's

junk surprised and sacked in a former foray.

The lock was smashed by the impact of the Lee-Metford bullet, but close

investigation of the trigger-guard, and the discovery of certain

unmistakable evidences on the beach, showed that the Dyak leader had

lost two if not three fingers of his right hand.

"So he has something more than his passion to nurse," mused Jenks.

"That at any rate is fortunate. He will be in no mood for further

enterprise for some time to come."

He dreaded lest any of the Dyaks should be only badly wounded and

likely to live. It was an actual relief to his nerves to find that the

improvised Dum-dums had done their work too well to permit anxiety on

that score. On the principle that a "dead Injun is a good Injun" these

Dyaks were good Dyaks.

He gathered the guns, swords and krisses of the slain, with all their

uncouth belts and ornaments. In pursuance of a vaguely defined plan of

future action he also divested some of the men of their coarse

garments, and collected six queer-looking hats, shaped like inverted

basins. These things he placed in a heap near the pitcher-plants.

Thenceforth, for half an hour, the placid surface of the lagoon was

disturbed by the black dorsal fins of many sharks.

To one of the sailor's temperament there was nothing revolting in the

concluding portion of his task. He had a God-given right to live. It

was his paramount duty, remitted only by death itself, to endeavor to

save Iris from the indescribable fate from which no power could rescue

her if ever she fell into the hands of these vindictive savages.

Therefore it was war between him and them, war to the bitter end, war

with no humane mitigation of its horrors and penalties, the last dread

arbitrament of man forced to adopt the methods of the tiger.

His guess at the weather conditions heralded by the change of wind was

right. As the two partook of their evening meal the complaining surf

lashed the reef, and the tremulous branches of the taller trees voiced

the approach of a gale. A tropical storm, not a typhoon, but a belated

burst of the periodic rains, deluged the island before midnight. Hours

earlier Iris retired, utterly worn by the events of the day. Needless

to say, there was no singing that evening. The gale chanted a wild

melody in mournful chords, and the noise of the watery downpour on the

tarpaulin roof of Belle Vue Castle was such as to render conversation

impossible, save in wearying shouts.

Luckily, Jenks's carpentry was effective, though rough. The building

was water-tight, and he had calked every crevice with unraveled rope

until Iris's apartment was free from the tiniest draught.

The very fury of the external turmoil acted as a lullaby to the girl.

She was soon asleep, and the sailor was left to his thoughts.

Sleep he could not. He smoked steadily, with a magnificent prodigality,

for his small stock of tobacco was fast diminishing. He ransacked his

brains to discover some method of escape from this enchanted island,

where fairies jostled with demons, and hours of utter happiness found

their bane in moments of frightful peril.

Of course he ought to have killed those fellows who escaped. Their

sampan might have provided a last desperate expedient if other savages

effected a landing. Well, there was no use in being wise after the

event, and, scheme as he might, he could devise no way to avoid

disaster during the next attack.

This, he felt certain, would take place at night. The Dyaks would land

in force, rush the cave and hut, and overpower him by sheer numbers.

The fight, if fight there was, would be sharp, but decisive. Perhaps,

if he received some warning, Iris and he might retreat in the darkness

to the cover of the trees. A last stand could be made among the

boulders on Summit Rock. But of what avail to purchase their freedom

until daylight? And then----

If ever man wrestled with desperate problem, Jenks wrought that night.

He smoked and pondered until the storm passed, and, with the

changefulness of a poet's muse, a full moon flooded the island in

glorious radiance. He rose, opened the door, and stood without,

listening for a little while to the roaring of the surf and the crash

of the broken coral swept from reef and shore by the backwash.

The petty strife of the elements was soothing to him. "They are

snarling like whipped dogs," he said aloud. "One might almost fancy her

ladyship the Moon appearing on the scene as a Uranian Venus, cowing sea

and storm by the majesty of her presence."

Pleased with the conceit, he looked steadily at the brilliant luminary

for some time. Then his eyes were attracted by the strong lights thrown

upon the rugged face of the precipice into which the cavern burrowed.

Unconsciously relieving his tired senses, he was idly wondering what

trick of color Turner would have adopted to convey those sharp yet

weirdly beautiful contrasts, when suddenly he uttered a startled

exclamation.

"By Jove!" he murmured. "I never noticed that before."

The feature which so earnestly claimed his attention was a deep ledge,

directly over the mouth of the cave, but some forty feet from the

ground. Behind it the wall of rock sloped darkly inwards, suggesting a

recess extending by haphazard computation at least a couple of yards.

It occurred to him that perhaps the fault in the interior of the tunnel

had its outcrop here, and the deodorizing influences of rain and sun

had extended the weak point thus exposed in the bold panoply of stone.

He surveyed the ledge from different points of view. It was quite

inaccessible, and most difficult to estimate accurately from the ground

level. The sailor was a man of action. He chose the nearest tall tree

and began to climb. He was not eight feet from the ground before

several birds flew out from its leafy recesses, filling the air with

shrill clucking.

"The devil take them!" he growled, for he feared that the commotion

would awaken Iris. He was still laboriously worming his way through the

inner maze of branches when a well-known voice reached him from the

ground.

"Mr. Jenks, what on earth are you doing up there?"

"Oh! so those wretched fowls aroused you?" he replied.

"Yes; but why did you arouse them?"

"I had a fancy to roost by way of a change"

"Please be serious."

"I am more than serious. This tree grows a variety of small sharp thorn

that induces a maximum of gravity--before one takes the next step."

"But why do you keep on climbing?"

"It is sheer lunacy, I admit. Yet on such a moonlit night there is some

reasonable ground for even a mad excuse."

"Mr. Jenks, tell me at once what you are doing."

Iris strove to be severe, but there was a touch of anxiety in her tone

that instantly made the sailor apologetic. He told her about the ledge,

and explained his half-formed notion that here they might secure a safe

retreat in case of further attack--a refuge from which they might defy

assault during many days. It was, he said, absolutely impossible to

wait until the morning. He must at once satisfy himself whether the

project was impracticable or worthy of further investigation.

So the girl only enjoined him to be careful, and he vigorously renewed

the climb. At last, some twenty-five feet from the ground, an

accidental parting in the branches enabled him to get a good look at

the ledge. One glance set his heart beating joyously. It was at least

fifteen feet in length; it shelved back until its depth was lost in the

blackness of the shadows, and the floor must be either nearly level or

sloping slightly inwards to the line of the fault.

The place was a perfect eagle's nest. A chamois could not reach it from

any direction; it became accessible to man only by means of a ladder or

a balloon.

More excited by this discovery than he cared for Iris to know, he

endeavored to appear unconcerned when he regained the ground.

"Well," she said, "tell me all about it."

He described the nature of the cavity as well as he understood it at

the moment, and emphasized his previous explanation of its virtues.

Here they might reasonably hope to make a successful stand against the

Dyaks.

"Then you feel sure that those awful creatures will come back?" she

said slowly.

"Only too sure, unfortunately."

"How remorseless poor humanity is when the veneer is stripped off! Why

cannot they leave us in peace? I suppose they now cherish a blood feud

against us. Perhaps, if I had not been here, they would not have

injured you. Somehow I seem to be bound up with your misfortunes."

"I would not have it otherwise were it in my power," he answered. For

an instant he left unchallenged the girl's assumption that she was in

any way responsible for the disasters which had broken up his career.

He looked into her eyes and almost forgot himself. Then the sense of

fair dealing that dominates every true gentleman rose within him and

gripped his wavering emotions with ruthless force. Was this a time to

play upon the high-strung sensibilities of this youthful daughter of

the gods, to seek to win from her a confession of love that a few brief

days or weeks might prove to be only a spasmodic, but momentarily

all-powerful, gratitude for the protection he had given her?

And he spoke aloud, striving to laugh, lest his words should falter--

"You can console yourself with the thought, Miss Deane, that your

presence on the island will in no way affect my fate at the hands of

the Dyaks. Had they caught me unprepared today my head would now be

covered with a solution of the special varnish they carry on every

foreign expedition."

"Varnish?" she exclaimed.

"Yes, as a preservative, you understand."

"And yet these men are human beings!"

"For purposes of classification, yes. Keeping to strict fact, it was

lucky for me that you raised the alarm, and gave me a chance to

discount the odds of mere numbers. So, you see, you really did me a

good turn."

"What can be done now to save our lives? Anything will be better than

to await another attack."

"The first thing to do is to try to get some sleep before daylight. How

did you know I was not in the Castle?"

"I cannot tell you. I awoke and knew you were not near me. If I wake in

the night I can always tell whether or not you are in the next room. So

I dressed and came out."

"Ah!" he said, quietly. "Evidently I snore."

This explanation killed romance.

Iris retreated and the sailor, tired out at last, managed to close his

weary eyes.

Next morning he hastily constructed a pole of sufficient length and

strong enough to bear his weight, by tying two sturdy young trees

together with ropes. Iris helped him to raise it against the face of

the precipice, and he at once climbed to the ledge.

Here he found his observations of the previous night abundantly

verified. The ledge was even wider than he dared to hope, nearly ten

feet deep in one part, and it sloped sharply downwards from the outer

lip of the rock. By lying flat and carefully testing all points of

view, he ascertained that the only possible positions from which even a

glimpse of the interior floor could be obtained were the branches of a

few tall trees and the extreme right of the opposing precipice, nearly

ninety yards distant. There was ample room to store water and

provisions, and he quickly saw that even some sort of shelter from the

fierce rays of the sun and the often piercing cold of the night might

be achieved by judiciously rigging up a tarpaulin.

"This is a genuine bit of good luck," he mused. "Here, provided neither

of us is hit, we can hold out for a week or longer, at a pinch. How can

it be possible that I should have lived on this island so many days and

yet hit upon this nook of safety by mere chance, as it were?"

Not until he reached the level again could he solve the puzzle. Then he

perceived that the way in which the cliff bulged out on both sides

prevented the ledge from becoming evident in profile, whilst, seen

en plein face in the glare of the sunlight, it suggested nothing

more than a slight indentation.

He rapidly sketched to Iris the defensive plan which the Eagle's Nest

suggested. Access must be provided by means of a rope-ladder, securely

fastened inside the ledge, and capable of being pulled up or let down

at the will of the occupants. Then the place must be kept constantly

stocked with a judicious supply of provisions, water, and ammunition.

They could be covered with a tarpaulin, and thus kept in fairly good

condition.

"We ought to sleep there every night," he went on, and his mind was so

engrossed with the tactical side of the preparations that he did not

notice how Iris blanched at the suggestion.

"Surely not until danger actually threatens?" she cried.

"Danger threatens us each hour after sunset. It may come any night,

though I expect at least a fortnight's reprieve. Nevertheless, I intend

to act as if tonight may witness the first shot of the siege."

"Do you mean that?" she sighed. "And my little room is becoming so very

cozy!"

Belle Vue Castle, their two-roomed hut, was already a home to them.

Jenks always accepted her words literally.

"Well," he announced, after a pause, "it may not be necessary to take

up our quarters there until the eleventh hour. After I have hoisted up

our stores and made the ladder, I will endeavor to devise an efficient

cordon of sentinels around our position. We will see."

Not another word could Iris get out of him on the topic. Indeed, he

provided her with plenty of work. By this time she could splice a rope

more neatly than her tutor, and her particular business was to prepare

no less than sixty rungs for the rope-ladder. This was an impossible

task for one day, but after dinner the sailor helped her. They toiled

late, until their fingers were sore and their backbones creaked as they

sat upright.

Meanwhile Jenks swarmed up the pole again, and drew up after him a

crowbar, the sledge-hammer, and the pickaxe. With these implements he

set to work to improve the accommodation. Of course he did not attempt

seriously to remove any large quantity of rock, but there were

projecting lumps here and inequalities of floor there which could be

thumped or pounded out of existence.

It was surprising to see what a clearance he made in an hour. The

existence of the fault helped him a good deal, as the percolation of

water at this point had oxidized the stone to rottenness. To his great

joy he discovered that a few prods with the pick laid bare a small

cavity which could be easily enlarged. Here he contrived a niche where

Iris could remain in absolute safety when barricaded by stores, whilst,

with a squeeze, she was entirely sheltered from the one dangerous point

on the opposite cliff, nor need she be seen from the trees.

Having hauled into position two boxes of ammunition--for which he had

scooped out a special receptacle--the invaluable water-kegs from the

stranded boat, several tins of biscuits and all the tinned meats,

together with three bottles of wine and two of brandy, he hastily

abandoned the ledge and busied himself with fitting a number of

gun-locks to heavy faggots.

Iris watched his proceedings in silence for some time. At last the

interval for luncheon enabled her to demand an explanation.

"If you don't tell me at once what you intend to do with those strange

implements," she said, "I will form myself into an amalgamated engineer

and come out on strike."

"If you do," he answered, "you will create a precedent. There is no

recorded case of a laborer claiming what he calls his rights when his

life is at stake. Even an American tramp has been known to work like a

fiend under that condition."

"Simply because an American tramp tries, like every other mere male, to

be logical. A woman is more heroic. I once read of a French lady being

killed during an earthquake because she insisted on going into a

falling house to rescue that portion of her hair which usually rested

on the dressing-table whilst she was asleep."

"I happen to know," he said, "that you are personally unqualified to

emulate her example."

She laughed merrily, so lightly did yesterday's adventure sit upon her.

The allusion to her disheveled state when they were thrown ashore by

the typhoon simply impressed her as amusing. Thus quickly had she

become inured to the strange circumstances of a new life.

"I withdraw the threat and substitute a more genuine plea--curiosity,"

she cried.

"Then you will be gratified promptly. These are our sentinels. Come

with me to allot his post to the most distant one."

He picked up a faggot with its queer attachment, shouldered a

Lee-Metford, and smiled when he saw the business-like air with which

Iris slung a revolver around her waist.

They walked rapidly to Smugglers' Cove, and the girl soon perceived the

ingenuity of his automatic signal. He securely bound the block of wood

to a tree where it was hidden by the undergrowth. Breaking the bullet

out of a cartridge, he placed the blank charge in position in front of

the striker, the case being firmly clasped by a bent nail. To the

trigger, the spring of which he had eased to a slight pressure, he

attached a piece of unraveled rope, and this he carefully trained among

the trees at a height of six inches from the ground, using as carriers

nails driven into the trunks. The ultimate result was that a mere swish

of Iris's dress against the taut cord exploded the cartridge.

"There!" he exclaimed, exultantly. "When I have driven stakes into the

sand to the water's edge on both sides of the cove, I will defy them to

land by night without giving us warning."

"Do you know," said Iris, in all seriousness, "I think you are the

cleverest man in the world."

"My dear Miss Deane, that is not at all a Trades Unionist sentiment.

Equality is the key-note of their propaganda."

Nevertheless he was manifestly pleased by the success of his ingenious

contrivance, and forthwith completed the cordon. To make doubly sure,

he set another snare further within the trees. He was certain the Dyaks

would not pass along Turtle Beach if they could help it. By this time

the light was failing.

"That will suffice for the present," he told the girl. "Tomorrow we

will place other sentries in position at strategic points. Then we can

sleep in the Castle with tolerable safety."

By the meager light of the tiny lamp they labored sedulously at the

rope-ladder until Iris's eyes were closing with sheer weariness.

Neither of them had slept much during the preceding night, and they

were both completely tired.

It was with a very weak little smile that the girl bade him "good

night," and they were soon wrapped in that sound slumber which comes

only from health, hard work, and wholesome fare.

The first streaks of dawn were tipping the opposite crags with roseate

tints when the sailor was suddenly aroused by what he believed to be a

gunshot. He could not be sure. He was still collecting his scattered

senses, straining eyes and ears intensely, when there came a second

report.

Then he knew what had happened. The sentries on the Smugglers' Cove

post were faithful to their trust. The enemy was upon them.

At such a moment Jenks was not a man who prayed. Indeed, he was prone

to invoke the nether powers, a habit long since acquired by the British

army, in Flanders, it is believed.

There was not a moment to be lost. He rushed into Iris's room, and

gathered in his arms both her and the weird medley of garments that

covered her. He explained to the protesting girl, as he ran with her to

the foot of the rock, that she must cling to his shoulders with

unfaltering courage whilst he climbed to the ledge with the aid of the

pole and the rope placed there the previous day. It was a magnificent

feat of strength that he essayed. In calmer moments he would have

shrunk from its performance, if only on the score of danger to the

precious burden he carried. Now there was no time for thought. Up he

went, hand over hand, clinging to the rough pole with the tenacity of a

limpet, and taking a turn of the rope over his right wrist at each

upward clutch. At last, breathless but triumphant, he reached the

ledge, and was able to gasp his instructions to Iris to crawl over his

bent back and head until she was safely lodged on the broad platform of

rock.

Then, before she could expostulate, he descended, this time for the

rifles. These he hastily slung to the rope, again swarmed up the pole,

and drew the guns after him with infinite care.

Even in the whirl of the moment he noticed that Iris had managed to

partially complete her costume.

"Now we are ready for them," he growled, lying prone on the ledge and

eagerly scanning both sides of Prospect Park for a first glimpse of

their assailants.

For two shivering hours they waited there, until the sun was high over

the cliff and filled sea and land with his brightness. At last, despite

the girl's tears and prayers, Jenks insisted on making a reconnaissance

in person.

Let this portion of their adventures be passed over with merciful

brevity. Both watch-guns had been fired by the troupe of tiny wou-wou

monkeys! Iris did not know whether to laugh or cry, when Jenks, with

much difficulty, lowered her to mother earth again, and marveled the

while how he had managed to carry forty feet into the air a young woman

who weighed so solidly.

They sat down to a belated breakfast, and Jenks then became conscious

that the muscles of his arms, legs, and back were aching hugely. It was

by that means he could judge the true extent of his achievement. Iris,

too, realized it gradually, but, like the Frenchwoman in the

earthquake, she was too concerned with memories of her state of

deshabille to appreciate, all at once, the incidents of the dawn.