Chapter 17

THE CONSEQUENCES

Suddenly the deck slid from beneath my feet and I fell flat upon my face. The ship heaved and rolled as if it were tossing upon the waves of the ocean, and her timbers creaked and groaned mournfully. At the same time crash after crash echoed around us, accompanied by a strange rending sound, as if all creation was being torn asunder.

Then the ship stood firm, as it had been before, trembling slightly at times but no longer tossing at its rock anchorage. The blackness continued, however, and our men lighted the lanterns, disclosing our white, pallid faces as we peered at one another questioningly.

Black Nux had raised me to my feet and was even yet partially supporting me.

“What is it?” I whispered.

“Eart’quake, Mars Sam,” he replied in a calm voice. “Guess it all over now.”

There were a few more trembles, and then came the rain—in a deluge, as it had rained before. We were all driven to seek shelter below, and there we waited anxiously for the sky to clear, that we might discover what cataclysms the quake had wrought.

It rained for two solid hours. The darkness continued for an hour or so longer. It lightened gradually, so that the first intimation I had of it was the clearing away of the shadows that had lurked in the corners of the cabin, where the lamplight did not penetrate. I went on deck, where I found Ned, with Nux and Bryonia and most of the crew, all peering anxiously through the dim light in the direction of the sea.

“What is it, Ned?” I asked, joining them.

“The reefs!” he said, pointing with a trembling finger. “Where are they, Sam?”

I also looked, straining my eyes to discover the two jagged lines of rock jutting out of the sea between us and the open water, as well as the boat patrol that had guarded them ever since the day of our shipwreck. But through the gray atmosphere I could see nothing but the broad expanse of ocean. The waves rolled in, one after another, and broke against the very rocks that held the Seagull a prisoner.

There was something queer about the position of the ship, too. Heretofore we had been perched between the two points of rock, full twenty feet above the sea. Now the waves almost lapped our sides, and instead of the rocky points being below us, they reared themselves far above the deck on either side.

I turned toward the island, from whence not a sound was heard. The light had strengthened sufficiently for me to see the forest line, and presently I was aware that some of the trees near the edge had tottered and fallen their length upon the plain. Otherwise the landscape seemed unchanged, and the open space between us and the forest, which had been the scene of such deadly conflict, looked just as it had before.

Truly the earthquake had wrought wonders, and in some ways had benefited us. The most startling change was the destruction of the reefs, leaving the sea free before us. The boats filled with warriors, placed to guard us from escaping, had been swallowed up with the reefs, and no vestige of that formidable array remained except a few fragments of the canoes which washed ashore.

Perhaps inspired by a common hope we all descended the ladders to the ground. There we were better able to appreciate all that had happened. Except that the sky was still gray and forbidding, we now had plenty of light to examine our surroundings clearly.

One glance at the Seagull dispelled our half formed hopes. Although her keel was now on a level with the ocean, which even lapped her bow, the ship was wedged fast between the two huge rocks. These must have separated during the earthquake and allowed her to settle down into her present position; but they still held her as in a vise.

“If another quake comes, which ain’t unlikely,” observed Uncle Naboth, “them rocks is liable to come together again, in which case they’d crack the Seagull’s sides like a nut in the jaws of a nutcracker.”

It was quite possible, and the statement did not reassure us in the least.

“If we could but manage to launch her,” said Alfonso, “we have now plenty of deep water for her to slide into.”

My uncle looked at the young Colombian reproachfully.

“Them ‘ifs’ seem to excuse a lot of fool remarks,” he said. “The only way to launch the Seagull would be with dynamite, and after that she wouldn’t be likely to float.”

It was now the middle of the afternoon, and although the sky continued gloomy there was no air stirring and I dared not wait longer if I meant to rescue Joe. I was very uneasy about my old chum, for the earthquake was likely to have created as much havoc at the Pearl City as it had at this end of the island.

My father had gone into the hold with the carpenter and Ned to examine the condition of the ship. The little damage we had sustained from the typhoon which had tossed the ship to her elevated perch had already been repaired—quite foolishly we thought. But the Seagull was still dear to the heart of Captain Steele, and he took as much care of her now that she was useless as when she was proudly riding the waves.

“What’s the programme?” asked Uncle Naboth, as I prepared to start.

“I’m going to try to get to the city and find Joe. If possible I’ll get him aboard and fetch him back with me. That’s as far as I can plan now, Uncle.”

“You won’t be foolhardy?”

“I’ll try not to be.”

Then I took my seat, Lucia started the motors, and a moment later I was flying over the forest.