King o the Beach | Page 9

was a clicking noise, and spark after spark of faint phosphorescent light across the black darkness.
This was repeated again and again, but without further effect.
"No go, sir," cried Bostock then. "Got my matches wet, sir. If I lives to get through this I'll allus keep 'em corked up in a bottle."
There was another streak of light directly after, followed by a flash and a wax match burned brightly in the doctor's fingers, for those he carried in a little silver box proved to be dry.
"Ha!" ejaculated Bostock, reaching up to the lamp, which was slowly subsiding from its pendulum-like motion. "I hate being in the dark, even if it's only a fog. You never know which way to steer."
"Can you light the lamp?"
"Yes, sir, all right, in a minute. Wick's got shook down. That's better; give me hold, or you'll burn your fingers; mine's as hard as horn. Well done; first go."
For the wick caught and burned brightly, the glass was replaced, and the doctor was able to examine his patient once more.
"How is he, sir?"
"Just the same," replied the doctor.
"Well done; that's better than being worse, sir. And I say, it's blowing great guns still, but nothing like what it was an hour ago. Dessay it'll pass over before long. Come and let's see what it's like on deck."
They went up together into a storm of blinding spray, which swept by them with a hissing rush; but there were no raging billows striking the steamer's sides and curling over in turns to sweep the deck, and, getting into shelter, they tried vainly to make out their position.
They had no difficulty in stepping to the side of the saloon deck, for there was no water to wade through, and the great vessel was as steady now as if built upon a foundation of rock, and as soon as they had wiped the spray from their eyes they tried hard to pierce the gloom.
But in vain. It was not very dark, but there was a thick mist which seemed to glow faintly with a peculiar phosphorescent light that was horribly weird and strange, and after a few minutes' effort they turned to descend to the cabin again.
"This won't last long, sir," shouted the old sailor in the doctor's ear; "these sort o' storms seldom do. Dessay it'll be all bright sunshine in the mornin'. We're safe as safe, with the reef and the breakers far enough away, but the old Chusan will never breast the waves again."
"And all our friends?"
"Don't talk about it, sir. They were in sound boats, well manned, and with good officers to each, but--oh dear! oh dear!--the sea's hard to deal with in a storm like this."
"Do you think, then, that there is no hope?"
"Oh no, sir, I don't say that, for, you see, the waves didn't run high. They may weather it all, but where they're carried to by the wind and the awful currents there are about here no one knows."
"But are they likely to get back to us?"
"Not a bit, sir. They don't know where we are, and they'll have their work cut out to find where they are themselves."
"Have you any idea where we are--what shore this is?"
"Hardly, sir. All I do know is that from the time the typhoon struck us we must have been carried by wind and the fierce currents right away to the west and south."
"And that means where?"
"Most like off the nor'-west coast o' 'Stralia, among the reefs and islands there. It's like it is on the nor'-east coast, a reg'lar coral sea.
"Ha!" continued Bostock, when they were once more in shelter. "S'pose we take turn and turn now to watch young Master Carey. We're both worn out, sir. You take fust rest; you're worst."
"No; lie down till I call you, my man."
"Do you order me to, sir?"
"Yes, certainly."
"Well, sir, I can't help it; I'm dead-beat."
The next minute the old sailor was down on the floor in his drenched clothes, sleeping heavily, while, in thankfulness for the life which seemed to have been given back when they were prepared to die, Doctor Kingsmead watched by his patient's side, waiting for the cessation of the storm and the light of day, which seemed as if it would never come.
CHAPTER FIVE.
"I'm so thirsty! Please, I'm so thirsty; and it is so hot!"
Twice over Doctor Kingsmead heard that appeal, but he could not move to respond to it, for Nature would have her way. He had sat watching his patient's berth till he could watch no longer, since there are limits to everyone's endurance, and that morning he had suddenly become insensible to everything, dropping into a deep sleep that there was no fighting against.
He had slept all that day solidly, if the term may be used, quite unconscious of everything;