wal jessop hastily explained to meri that it was their intention to go in pursuit of the white man, and the chief said he would accompany them. the meeting came to an end, the savages dispersing to their various huts.
meri, beckoning to wal and edgar to follow him, led the way across the marum into the forest beyond. they were soon in richly-wooded country, and found progress difficult. edgar constantly stumbled over some tangled, twisted root that lay hidden in his path; thorns, growing on some of the bushes, pricked him and tore his clothes, and wal jessop was in no better plight. meri, however, did not appear to mind the thorns, but walked on at a rapid pace.
they continued their tramp for some time, but saw nothing of the white man who had so quickly and mysteriously disappeared.
when they halted to rest wal jessop questioned meri, and learned that the white man had been on the island for some time. he came in a trading vessel, and was left behind, either wilfully or through his own desire. the natives regarded him with superstition, and thought him scarcely human. meri himself was evidently a believer in the white man’s powers over the natives for good or evil.
on resuming their search they came upon a pathway evidently cut in the bush, and along this meri led them.
he halted at the entrance to a small clearing, and here they saw a strange sight.
standing straight up from the ground were several large trunks of trees, that had been hollowed out and rudely carved in the shape of hideous heads at the top. they appeared to be idols, and meri regarded them with a look of awe.
‘this is a sing-sing ground,’ said wal; ‘i have heard of them before, but never seen one. this is where their gods live, and it is regarded as a sacred grove. if the white man is here it easily accounts for the fear with which he is regarded. no native would remain here alone; in fact, they dare not venture except upon special occasions. i’ll ask meri about it.’
wal questioned the chief, who said he could enter the sacred grove as chief of his tribe, and they walked into the clearing. raising his club meri struck one of the hollow trunks a blow, and it echoed through the forest with a sound like a drum.
edgar looked into the hollow of each tree, but saw nothing. presently a tall figure glided into the grove, and stood still regarding them.
they were at once convinced it was the unfortunate captain of the distant shore standing before them, but he showed no sign that he recognised them.
he was strangely altered from the fine, stalwart seaman they had known as captain manton of the distant shore. his figure was gaunt and thin, and his arms and hands were mere skin and bone. his hair was white, his beard of the same hue, and his eyes looked vacantly from under his bushy eyebrows. he wore an old coat, which reached to his knees, and his legs and feet were bare. as he advanced slowly towards them meri fell back, but edgar and wal stood their ground.
‘begone!’ said this ghost-like figure of captain manton. ‘this is no place for you. begone, and leave me in peace! i harm no one. i am quite alone—alone in a world of my own, peopled with the ghosts of the drowned!’
edgar stepped forward, and, looking him straight in the eyes, said:
‘do you not know me, captain manton? i am edgar foster. i was saved from the wreck with your daughter eva.’
at the mention of eva’s name a momentary light of intelligence came into the man’s eyes, but it quickly died away, and left them dull and vacant.
‘poor fellow!’ said edgar sorrowfully; ‘his brain has given way under the strain. he must have suffered severely.’
‘do you think he is mad?’ asked wal.
‘not a dangerous form of madness,’ replied edgar; ‘but i have no doubt he is not in his right mind. we must humour him, and question him. he has a strange story to relate, if he can be persuaded to tell it, and if he remembers all he has gone through.’
edgar took the unfortunate man by the hand, and persuaded him to sit down.
meri looked on, his curiosity evidently being excited.
edgar tried as gently and simply as possible to lead the wandering mind of the captain back to the wreck of the distant shore, and found, to his delight, that he succeeded in rousing his dormant memory.
captain manton began to talk in a strange, monotonous way. he was evidently recapitulating what had happened to him after the wreck of the distant shore, and he seemed almost unconscious of anyone being present.
from time to time during the course of the strange tale he related edgar refreshed his weak memory.
‘if we can lead him on to tell us everything,’ said edgar, ‘he may recognise us in the end.’
‘i hope so,’ said wal; ‘it is terrible to see him like this, but it may be caused through not having any white men to converse with.’
captain manton—for, indeed, it was that unfortunate seaman—commenced by telling them, in a somewhat incoherent way, that he was on a big ship when it went on to the rocks and crashed to pieces.
‘it was the captain’s fault,’ he said; ‘he ought to have made for a harbour; he is responsible for all our deaths.’
‘you were saved,’ said edgar. ‘you are not dead, and you ought to be thankful. it was not the captain’s fault, for he was a brave man, and a good seaman. i knew him well, and he was incapable of a cowardly action.’
‘i knew him once,’ said captain manton, ‘but it must have been a very long time ago. he’s dead now, and you say i am alive. strange how little i remember of manton, for i must have known him well.’
‘you did,’ said edgar. ‘have you forgotten? can you not remember that you are captain manton, and that i saved your daughter eva?’
‘eva,’ said manton, with a deep sigh, ‘i know the name very well—eva; yes, i once knew little eva.’
he spoke in such pathetic tones that both edgar and wal jessop were affected.
suddenly manton began to talk rapidly.
‘i remember now,’ he said; ‘the captain went down with the ship. i was tossed about on the rocks—washed on and then off again. a huge wave rolled me back into the sea, and i clutched a broken spar. the captain clutched that spar, too, but i pushed him off—ah, ah! i pushed him off because there was only room for one; but he came up again and sat beside me, and i had not strength to push him off again. he did not try to push me off. out to sea we were taken, and then i recollect nothing until i awoke on board a small craft, and the captain was not there. he must have fallen off the spar, and been drowned. i was starved on the boat, for they had very little to eat. when they landed on some island, they went away and left me. the natives were kind to me and gave me food. i have lived here many years. i do no one any harm, and i want to stay here. you will not take me away?’ he said suddenly, turning to edgar and wal, with an imploring look in his eyes.
edgar evaded the question, and said:
‘i will tell you what happened on the night the distant shore was wrecked, and how wal jessop here saved me and your daughter eva.’
‘my daughter eva!’ said manton, with a soft smile—‘my daughter eva!’
he lingered fondly over the name, and edgar said to wal:
‘i believe if i relate all that took place he will remember. his sufferings have caused loss of memory, that is all.’
‘i hope so,’ said wal; ‘it is pitiable to find him like this.’
edgar then told him as briefly as possible all that took place at the wreck of the distant shore. as he described how wal jessop found himself and eva on the rocks, and at great risk got them to the top of the cliffs, manton’s eyes brightened, and he listened with intense interest.
‘eva is now a beautiful little girl,’ said edgar, ‘and she has been expecting to see you. we have always told her you would come back to her, and i am sure you will do so. you remember me now, do you not?’ said edgar; ‘and also your good friend in sydney, wal jessop?’
‘ay, you’ll remember me, skipper,’ said wal, in a hearty voice; ‘i’ve towed you safely into port many a time. come, give me a grip of your hand, and say you know me.’
manton looked, first at edgar, and then at wal jessop. he was wrestling with the memories of the past that had so long been absent from him. gradually they saw his memory was recovering its power. the mind was only clouded, and brighter days would chase the gloom away.
‘my god! can it be true?’ said manton, as he gazed at them. ‘am i dreaming, or am i mad? can this be edgar foster, and my old mate, wal jessop? where am i, and how did i come here?’
he was wrestling with his memory, and gradually drawing it back to life. with the return of reason he failed to comprehend what had happened to him, and why he was on this wild island in the new hebrides.
‘true, true, true!’ he murmured; ‘they are indeed my friends!
he grasped their hands, and his frame shook with the intense emotion he felt. he was in a very weak state, and the reaction was too much for him. the change from darkness to light overpowered him, and he sank back in a dead faint.
meri, when he saw manton fall back, to all appearance dead, sprang forward and brandished his club in a savage manner. he thought edgar and wal must have practised some witchcraft upon this white man, who had been so long amongst them.
wal jessop, leaving manton in edgar’s care, explained, as well as he could, what had happened. meri looked displeased when wal said they would take manton away with them, and said evil would fall upon their tribe if they allowed him to go.
it was some time before manton recovered, and when he did so he was too weak to walk. wal jessop persuaded meri to return with him to the village, and obtain help to carry manton to the beach.
edgar remained with the captain, and did all in his power to cheer him. he knew it would be some time before they returned, and manton was not in a fit state to be left alone. with the return of his memory he had become nervous and excited. for the first time since that fatal night when the distant shore was wrecked, he began to remember clearly what had taken place.
edgar saw what it was preyed upon his mind, and said:
‘everyone will be glad to hear you have been saved in such a strange and marvellous way. you will be heartily welcomed in sydney when we return; and think of little eva waiting and watching for you.’
‘the ship was lost,’ said manton in a hollow voice, ‘and i am responsible. did all on board perish with the exception of three?’
‘yes,’ said edgar; ‘but you were not to blame. everyone praised your conduct, for i told them how you stood by your ship, and went down with her. nothing could have saved her. you did all that man could do.’
‘and my poor wife?’ he moaned.
edgar was silent. he knew words would avail nothing.
‘how did you find me?’ asked manton.
edgar related how his father received a letter, and his own determination to set out in quest of him in order to ascertain the truth.
‘and you did this for my sake?’ said manton.
‘i must not take too much credit for that,’ said edgar. ‘a love of adventure prompted me, and, although i hardly credited your being alive, yet i knew it was not impossible.’
‘and where am i, and how long have i been here?’ asked manton wonderingly.
‘you are on the island of tana, in the new hebrides,’ said edgar. ‘you were no doubt picked up by a schooner on its way to the south seas from sydney.’
‘it is all very strange,’ said manton. ‘i must have been near to death when i was rescued from the sea.’
‘your sufferings were so great that your mind became deranged,’ said edgar. ‘with complete rest, and amongst your friends, you will speedily recover.’
manton shook his head despondingly. he was in a melancholy mood, and his mind was not quite balanced. as edgar looked at him his heart was full of pity for him, and he fervently hoped it would not be many weeks before captain manton was fully recovered both in mind and body.
