Slowly from out the plantain thicket tottered, rather than walked, the tall figure of a white man. His long hair flowed unkempt over his shoulders; he was clothed in rags, and leaned upon a long, strong spear.

He stood there for a moment on a patch of greensward, and, shading his eyes from the sunlight, gazed across the lake, and as if listening.

Then he knelt just there, with his right hand still clutching the spear, as if engaged in prayer.

And Tandy knew then without being told that the man kneeling yonder on the patch of greensward was the long-lost James Malone himself. But no one moved, no one spoke, until at last the Crusoe staggered to his feet.

This he did with difficulty, moving as one does who has aged before his time with illness or sorrow, or with both combined.

James had turned to go, when, with a happy cry, Halcott sprang out from his hiding-place, dragging with him the small canoe and her paddles.

"Ship ahoy! James! James!" he shouted, "your prayers are heard. I'm here--your old shipmate, Halcott. You are saved!"

The captain sprang into the canoe as he spoke, and soon shoved her off.

They could see now, in a bright glint of sunshine, that James's hair was long and had a silvery sheen. He gazed once more across, but shook his head. It was evident he would not credit his senses. Then he turned round and moved slowly and painfully back into the bush.

Tandy had not attempted to go with Halcott, though the canoe could easily have held two.

"That meeting," he said to himself, "will be a sacred one. I shall not dare to intrude."

It was quite a long time after he reached the island and disappeared in the grove before anything more was seen of Halcott.

Tandy had thrown himself on the beach in a careless att.i.tude, just as he used to lounge on summer days on the p.o.o.p of the _Merry Maiden_ while slowly moving along the ca.n.a.l, and smoking now as he used to smoke then--smoking and thinking.

But see, Halcott is coming at last. He is leading James by the hand and helping him towards the boat, and in a few minutes' time both are over and standing on the bank of the lake.

"Tandy, this is James. But you know the strange story, and this is the strangest part of all."

Tandy took the hand that was offered to him. How cold and thin it felt!

"G.o.d sent you here," said James slowly, and speaking apparently with some difficulty. "_His_ name be praised. It was for this happy meeting I was kept living on and on, though I did not know it. It has been a weary, terrible time. It is ended now, I trust." Here a happy smile spread over his sadly-worn face, and once more he extended his hand to Halcott. "Heaven bless you, friend--nay, _brother_!"

"Yes, James, and we shall always be brothers now--always, always."

Book 3--CHAPTER FOUR.

PRISONER AMONG SAVAGES--SHIPWRECK.

Not a word about gold was spoken that night. To Halcott had been restored that which is better far than much fine gold--the friendship of a true and honest heart.

For many days James Malone was far too weak to talk much, and he told them his story only by slow degrees as he reclined on the couch in the _Sea Flower's_ cabin, as often as not with little Nelda seated on a camp-stool beside him, her little hand in his. She had quite taken to James, and the child's gentle voice and winning manners appeared to soothe him.

His story was one of suffering, it is true, but of suffering n.o.bly borne.

Hope had flown away at last, however. He found himself too ill to find his own living. At the very time Halcott spied him, he had come forth expecting to look his last at sun and sky, just to pray, and then creep back into the cooler gloom of his hut to die.

How he had been saved from the savages, in the first instance, is soon told. He had leaped, after he had seen every one safely over the bridge, into the deep pool with the intention of swimming down stream, hoping thus to avoid the natives, and, gaining the beach, make his way along the coast or across the promontory to join his friends on the other side.

He had got almost a mile on, and was feeling somewhat exhausted, when the river suddenly narrowed again, and before he could do anything to help himself, he was caught in the rapids and hurried along at a fearful rate.

Sick and giddy, at last, and stunned by repeated blows received by contact with stones or boulders, he suddenly lost consciousness.

"Darkness, dearie," he said, as if addressing Nelda only, "darkness came over me all at once, and many and many a day after that I lived to wonder why it had not been the darkness of death.

"When I recovered consciousness--when I got a little better, I mean, dearie--and opened my eyes, I found myself lying in a clearing of the forest, pained, and bruised, and bleeding.

"Pained I well might be, for feet and hands were tightly bound with a species of willow. But I was alone. I thanked G.o.d for that. I had no idea how long I had lain there, but it was night, and the stars that brightly shone above me were, for a time, my only companions. They gave me hope--oh, not for this world, but for the next. I felt my time would soon come, and that, baulked in their designs on the ladies, the savages would torture and sacrifice me. In spite of my sores and sufferings, some influence seemed to steal down from those holy stars to calm me, and I fell fast asleep once more. It could not have been for long, though. I had a rude awakening. All around me, but some distance off, was a circle of dusky warriors, spear-armed. I could see their eyes and teeth gleaming white in the starlight, as they danced exultingly round and round me, brandishing their weapons and uttering their wild yells, their savage battle-cries.

"But every now and then the circle would be suddenly narrowed, as a dozen or more of the fiercest and most demon-like rushed upon me with levelled spears, and it was then I thought my time had come. But the bitterness of death was past, and now, as if mad myself, I defied them, laughed at them, spat at them. My voice sounded far-off. I could hardly believe it was my own.

"But, as if by magic, suddenly every warrior disappeared, and into the clearing stalked a savage taller than any I had yet seen. His spear was like a weaver's beam, as says the Bible. With hair adorned with feathers, with face, chest, and arms disfigured by tattooing--the scars in many places hardly yet healed--with awful mouth, and gleaming, vindictive eyes, he looked indeed a fearsome figure.

"At each side of him marched three men carrying torches, and close behind two savages bearing a litter, or rude hammock, of branches. On to this I was roughly lifted, and borne away through the dark woods.

"But whither? I hardly dared guess at the answer to that question. To death, I felt certain--death by torture and the stake. The chief would yet, he doubtless believed, have 'white blood' to drink, and that blood should be mine.

"It was to the small lake island, however, on which you found me, that I was carried, more dead than alive, and here I was to be kept a prisoner until the full of another moon.

"I need not tell you how I gradually ingratiated myself into favour, first with the medicine-man, and afterwards with the king himself, whom I taught much that was of use to him in the arts of peace, till he came to consider me far more useful alive than dead. Nor am I willing to speak before this dear child of the awful rites, the mummeries, and fearful human sacrifices that my eyes have witnessed. The wonder is, that instead of living on as I did--though life has been in reality but a living death--I did not become insane, and wander raving through the woods and forests.

"But the savages have been driven from the island at last, terrorised by the demons of the burning mountain, and I do not think that they are likely to return during the few weeks we shall be here.

"They fled in their canoes precipitately on the first signs of eruption.

The boats were terribly overcrowded, and although they lightened them by throwing women and children overboard to the sharks, at least three great war-canoes were sunk before my eyes.

"It was a fearful sight! May no one here ever live to have such experiences as I have pa.s.sed through."

As soon as he could bear to listen to it, Halcott told James all his own story and that of the _Sea Flower_ since she left the sh.o.r.es of England.

"Like myself," said James, "you have been mercifully preserved.

"As to gold," he continued, "I am fully aware that the medicine-man had many utensils of the purest beaten gold. They were used for sacrificial purposes; and, at one time, when the king and his warriors returned from utterly wiping out the inhabitants of an island to the nor'ard of this, and brought with them a crowd of prisoners, these golden utensils were filled over and over again with the blood of the victims, and drunk by the excited warriors. After this I never troubled myself about gold in any shape or form; but just before the exodus, I believe these vessels were hurriedly buried on the little island. If not, they have been thrown into the lake."

"Is it in your power to tell us, James, where these vessels of gold were made, or where the gold was obtained?"

"They were fashioned, dear brother, by the spear-makers, with chisels and hammers of hard wood and stone.

"Even the medicine-man himself knew nothing of the value of the metal.

It was easy to work, that was all, else iron itself would have been preferred. You ask me whence the gold was obtained. I can only inform you that the secret lay and lies with the magician himself, and that the mine is a cave at the foot of the burning mountain, probably now entirely filled up with lava. Once, and once only, was I permitted to accompany this awful wretch to the grove near which this cave is situated. I was not allowed to go further. Here I waited for a whole hour, during which time I now and then heard m.u.f.fled shrieks and yells of pain and agony that made me shudder."

"What could these have been, think you, James?"

"Can you not guess? At least, you may, when I tell you that a poor boy was forced to enter the cave with the medicine-man, but never again saw the light of day.

"I had learned by this time to talk the language of these savages, and all the information I received, when I questioned the monster, was that the demons of the fiery hill had to be propitiated.