A Sailor Boy with Dewey. Stratemeyer Edward

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      It was decided that Vincent should walk up the shore on the lookout for the other boats, while Sandram was to skirt the bay and try his luck in the opposite direction. In the meantime the captain, second mate, and myself were to do what we could toward building a fire and finding something to eat beside ship's biscuits.

      "You go find something to eat," grumbled Captain Kenny to Watt Brown and me, and threw himself under the nearest tree to rest.

      "All right, we'll go," answered the second mate. "But remember, Kenny, if you haven't got a good fire started for us when we come back, so we can cook whatever we find, you'll not partake of our supper." And with this pointed remark Brown withdrew and I followed.

      "He's a beast," I said, when we were out of hearing. "I would rather have Ah Sid in the crowd."

      Ah Sid had been the Dart's cook, a little dried-up Chinaman, but a fellow who had always tried to make himself agreeable.

      "If he doesn't behave himself I'll bounce him out of camp," was the second mate's answer. ​"Remember, he is absolutely nothing to us, now we are on land."

      "Where do you suppose we are?"

      "Somewhere north of Subig Bay, or Port Subig, as the English call it. We were making for Point Capones when that dirty hurricane struck our ship and sent us into that Chinese junk. I think we must be somewhere in the neighborhood of Iba, a settlement something like a hundred miles northwest of Manila. But we may be still further away."

      "And what of the natives around here?"

      "They are treacherous people, so I've been told. The majority of them are Tagals, or Tagaloes, as the Spanish call 'em. You know all of these islands belong to Spain."

      "Yes, I know that only too well, for the Spaniards at Manila have caused our business firm no end of trouble. They want to drive the Americans out, if they can."

      "They would like to drive all foreigners out, so that they can have the wealth of the Philippines to themselves," went on the second mate, who was, as I soon discovered, a well-read man. "You see the islands pay an immense sum of money into Spain's treasury every year."

      "But what of this rebellion here, that I heard of at Hong Kong?"

      "Oh, the natives are continually fighting ​among themselves and against the Spanish tax-gatherers, who have their offices located everywhere. You see there is a terribly mixed population, of Tagals, Malays, Papuan negroes, Chinese, Japanese, and Caucasians, with half- and quarter-breeds without number. I understand the Spaniards can count over a hundred different kinds of natives alone, and in the islands over a hundred and fifty different languages and dialects are spoken. It's a great country. But, come, we must rouse up something to eat."

      "I have my pistol and some cartridges," I said, and showed my weapon.

      "Keep your ammunition until you actually need it, lad. We can knock over something alive, as the natives do, with clubs."

      In such a tropical forest clubs were soon found, and, holding these ready for use, we tramped on, through thick, dank moss and under masses of trailing vines.

      "There they go!" shouted Watt Brown suddenly, as a whir sounded out ahead. A dozen or more good-sized birds had arisen and his club brought down two. Then came another whir to our right, and I let fly and brought down a beautiful white pigeon that weighed all of two pounds. Another pigeon was wounded and I managed to catch it alive and wring its neck. With this haul we returned to the beach.

      ​The second mate's warning had had its effect upon Captain Kenny, and a roaring blaze greeted us, which, in the gathering twilight looked quite homelike. The captain had also kicked up about a bucketful of shell-fish in the shallow water of the cove.

      By the time the fish and other things were cooked, Vincent and Sandram came back, each having traveled a good mile out and return. Both brought back with them some nearly ripe plantains, commonly called bananas in America. All were hungry, and never did a meal taste better than did that to me, although I have dined at some of our leading hotels.

      "I saw nothing but some driftwood," reported Sandram. "The wood looked as if it might have belonged to the Dart, but I couldn't get close enough to make sure, as it was out on a reef, among the breakers."

      Vincent had seen nothing of boats or crews, but had made a most grewsome discovery.

      "I thought at a distance they might be big cocoanuts, lying upon the sand," he said. "But when I came closer I discovered that they were the heads of seven negroes, all of whom had been buried in a circle in the sand up to their necks."

      "Negroes' heads!" I ejaculated. "And were the poor fellows dead?"

      ​"Yes, and had been for some time, for the birds had pecked out their eyes and carried off parts of their flesh."

      "This is awful, Brown," I said. "Persons who would do that cannot be short of—of——"

      "Cannibals, eh, lad?" returned the mate. "Well, some savages around here are cannibals yet, Spanish reports to the contrary notwithstanding. But I don't like that ring of heads. It is an old sign among the Malays, and signifies that one tribe of people have made war on another tribe."

      "If that's the case, I hope they don't make war on us," put in Sandram.

      "So do I," I added; and there the talk dropped, for at that moment a sight far out on the ocean thrilled us to the core.

      ​

      CHAPTER VI.

      ADVENTURES IN THE FOREST.

       Table of Contents

       The sight that met our gaze was a small boat dancing far out beyond the breakers. It contained three men, and as it came in closer, through the opening by which we had entered, we made out Tom Dawson, Ah Sid, the Chinese cook, and Matt Gory, an Irish sailor.

      "It is Dawson's craft," murmured Watt Brown. "But it's only got three men aboard instead of five."

      "Dan Holbrook is missing!" I gasped, and once again my heart sank like a lump of lead within my bosom.

      "Boat ahoy!" yelled Vincent and the others, and the cry was speedily returned. Then Tom Dawson noted where we had run in, and ten minutes later beached his craft beside our own.

      "Glad to see ye!" he cried, as he caught one after another by the hand. "I was afraid all of the other boats had gone to the bottom."

      "The captain's boat went down," answered Watt Brown soberly. "We saved Captain Kenny, but could see nothing of the rest."

      ​"And where is Dan Holbrook?" I put in impatiently.

      "It's a sorry tale to tell, lad," answered the first mate of the ill-fated Dart.

      "He was—was drowned?" I could scarcely speak the words.

      "He was. You see it was this way. We were running along during СКАЧАТЬ