The Rescue Read Online Free PDF Page B

interval of silence. During
that time the shape of the boat became a little more distinct. She must
have carried some way on her yet, for she loomed up bigger and nearly
abreast of where Lingard stood, before the self-possessed voice was
heard again:
    "I will show you."
    Then, after another short pause, the voice said, less loud but very
plain:
    "Strike on the gunwale. Strike hard, John!" and suddenly a blue light
blazed out, illuminating with a livid flame a round patch in the
night. In the smoke and splutter of that ghastly halo appeared a white,
four-oared gig with five men sitting in her in a row. Their heads were
turned toward the brig with a strong expression of curiosity on their
faces, which, in this glare, brilliant and sinister, took on a deathlike
aspect and resembled the faces of interested corpses. Then the bowman
dropped into the water the light he held above his head and the
darkness, rushing back at the boat, swallowed it with a loud and angry
hiss.
    "Five of us," said the composed voice out of the night that seemed now
darker than before. "Four hands and myself. We belong to a yacht—a
British yacht—"
    "Come on board!" shouted Lingard. "Why didn't you speak at once? I
thought you might have been some masquerading Dutchmen from a dodging
gunboat."
    "Do I speak like a blamed Dutchman? Pull a stroke, boys—oars! Tend bow,
John."
    The boat came alongside with a gentle knock, and a man's shape began to
climb at once up the brig's side with a kind of ponderous agility. It
poised itself for a moment on the rail to say down into the boat—"Sheer
off a little, boys," then jumped on deck with a thud, and said to Shaw
who was coming aft: "Good evening . . . Captain, sir?"
    "No. On the poop!" growled Shaw.
    "Come up here. Come up," called Lingard, impatiently.
    The Malays had left their stations and stood clustered by the mainmast
in a silent group. Not a word was spoken on the brig's decks, while the
stranger made his way to the waiting captain. Lingard saw approaching
him a short, dapper man, who touched his cap and repeated his greeting
in a cool drawl:
    "Good evening. . . Captain, sir?"
    "Yes, I am the master—what's the matter? Adrift from your ship? Or
what?"
    "Adrift? No! We left her four days ago, and have been pulling that gig
in a calm, nearly ever since. My men are done. So is the water. Lucky
thing I sighted you."
    "You sighted me!" exclaimed Lingard. "When? What time?"
    "Not in the dark, you may be sure. We've been knocking about amongst
some islands to the southward, breaking our hearts tugging at the oars
in one channel, then in another—trying to get clear. We got round an
islet—a barren thing, in shape like a loaf of sugar—and I caught sight
of a vessel a long way off. I took her bearing in a hurry and we buckled
to; but another of them currents must have had hold of us, for it was a
long time before we managed to clear that islet. I steered by the
stars, and, by the Lord Harry, I began to think I had missed you
somehow—because it must have been you I saw."
    "Yes, it must have been. We had nothing in sight all day," assented
Lingard. "Where's your vessel?" he asked, eagerly.
    "Hard and fast on middling soft mud—I should think about sixty miles
from here. We are the second boat sent off for assistance. We parted
company with the other on Tuesday. She must have passed to the northward
of you to-day. The chief officer is in her with orders to make for
Singapore. I am second, and was sent off toward the Straits here on the
chance of falling in with some ship. I have a letter from the owner. Our
gentry are tired of being stuck in the mud and wish for assistance."
    "What assistance did you expect to find down here?"
    "The letter will tell you that. May I ask, Captain, for a little water
for the chaps in my boat? And I myself would thank you for a drink.
We haven't had a mouthful since this afternoon. Our breaker leaked out
somehow."
    "See to it, Mr. Shaw," said Lingard. "Come down the cabin,