A Sailor Boy with Dewey. Stratemeyer Edward

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      CHAPTER V.

      CAST ASHORE ON LUZON.

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      To Watt Brown's vigorous questioning Captain Kenny returned not a word. Either he was still unconscious or he had recovered and come to the conclusion that he had best remain quiet and answer nothing. The mate had caught the captain up, now he flung him down on the hard bottom of the boat as one unworthy of being touched. "I'll settle with him later," he muttered and shut his teeth hard, for the missing man had been one of his best friends.

      "Hadn't we better stay around here until daylight and look for Garwell?" asked Sandram, the sailor who had used his fist so effectually upon Captain Kenny's skull.

      "Yes," said the second mate. "Poor Garwell! He was a fine fellow."

      "None better. Brown," put in Vincent, the second sailor. "Captain Kenny will have a score to settle when this ill-fated cruise comes to an end."

      Slowly the remainder of the night dragged by. With the coming of daylight we gazed around ​eagerly for the body of Garwell and for the other small boats. Nothing came to light but the bluish-green and never-quiet sea, which rose and fell to the edge of the horizon.

      "I want water," was Captain Kenny's demand, as he roused up while the scanty breakfast was being dealt out.

      "Not a drop until you account for Garwell," returned Watt Brown.

      "Account for Garwell? What do you mean?"

      You know well enough. You heaved the poor man overboard."

      "I did not," roared the captain, but his tell-tale face belied his words. "This is a put-up job against me. Give me the water."

      A wordy war followed. Captain Kenny would confess nothing, but that he was guilty there could be no doubt. All that the second mate would allow him was one biscuit and half a cupful of the water, now so warm it was scarcely palatable. The captain continued to grumble, but it availed him nothing, and at last he had to stop, for all of us threatened to send him forth as food for the fishes.

      The second day was coming to an end when far to the eastward we heard a curious booming sound, not unlike a cannonading at a distance.

      "What is that?" I questioned.

      ​"It's the surf, lad!" cried the second mate, "It's rolling up on a shore or over a hidden reef."

      "I hope it's ashore. Any kind of land in preference to this never-ending sea," I said. "Can you see anything?"

      I asked the latter question, for Watt Brown was already on his feet. Now Vincent followed, and both gazed eastward a long time.

      "I think I see something," announced the second mate. "But it looks like smoke more than anything."

      "It is smoke, blowing from off shore," put in Vincent. "We must be about ten miles from land."

      This announcement filled us with hope, and all, even Captain Kenny, took their turns at the oars with renewed vigor. Inside of an hour the booming of the surf could be heard quite distinctly, while some of the smoke the others had noticed floated almost overhead.

      "I see land!" was the second mate's welcome cry presently. "There is a long, low-lying shore and a mountain behind it. We must be at least a hundred miles north of Subig Bay."

      We continued to pull until the land could be seen with ease. There was a wide stretch of sandy beach, backed up by tall rocks and a heavy ​tropical growth. In the distance the mountain loomed up, surrounded by a veil-like mist.

      "To port!" cried Watt Brown. "The breakers are too heavy here!" And we moved up the coast for a quarter of a mile further. Here there was something of a bay and the breakers came to an end. Nearer and nearer we crept to land until the first row of stately palms could be seen with ease. The mate was on the watch, and finally ordered us to port again, and five minutes later, we shot past a tiny coral reef and into the bay mentioned. Here the boat ran up upon the sands, and, throwing down our oars, we all leaped out and hauled her up still further.

      "Thank God we're safe!" murmured Watt Brown, and took off his cap reverently. I did the same, and offered up a silent prayer for my safe deliverance from the perils of the deep. The bay we had entered was pear-shaped and probably five hundred feet deep by a hundred and fifty feet wide. The sandy beach at either side was many yards wide, but at the inner end the rocks and trees overhung the water. From a tropical standpoint it was an ideal spot for a painter, and I could not help but take in its beauty, even at such a trying time as this. Captain Kenny, however, "stuck up his nose" at it.

      "A regular jungle," he snorted. "We can't live here."

      ​"Then you had better take to the water again," returned Watt Brown sharply. "You haven't got to stay with us, you know." And this again silenced the unreasonable СКАЧАТЬ