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SE VE NTH EDITION
EMPOWERMENT SERIES
vii
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viii CONTENTS
LO 2-4 The Relationship Between Poor Time LO 3-3 Interviewing and Communicating Effectively
Management and Stress 56 in Macro Contexts 84
How Poor Time Management Causes Stress 56 Simple Encouragement 84
Styles of Dealing with Time 57 Sensitivity to Cultural Differences 84
Paraphrasing 84
LO 2-5 Use Time-Management Techniques to Improve Reflective Responding 85
Practice Effectiveness 58 Clarification 85
Planning Your Time 58 Interpretation 85
Get Control of Your Own Behavior 62 Providing Information 85
LO 2-6 Utilize Mechanisms for Eliminating Emphasizing People’s Strengths 86
Procrastination 67 Summarization 86
Reasons for Procrastination 67 Eliciting Information 86
The Cons of Procrastination 68 The Use of “Why?” 87
Battling Procrastination 68 Overlap of techniques 87
Chapter Summary 96
Introduction 73
Competency Notes 97
LO 3-1 Using Empathy and Other Interpersonal Skills
to Work Effectively Within Larger Systems 73 HIGHLIGHTS
3.1 Practicing Empathic Responses
A Review of Basic Micro Skills 74 in Macro-Practice Contexts 81
Verbal and Nonverbal Behavior 74 3.2 Nonverbal Behavior, Communication, Empowerment,
Eye Contact 75 and People Who Have Physical Disabilities 83
3.3 Each of Us Has Certain Assertive Rights 90
Attentive Listening 75
3.4 What Would You Do? 95
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CONTENTS ix
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x CONTENTS
CHAPTER 5 Understanding Organizations 143 LO 5-6 Social Work Values and Organizational Values 184
How to Survive in a Bureaucracy 185
Introduction 144
Management and Worker Empowerment 187
Defining Organizations, Social Services, Constructing a Culture Of Caring 187
and Social Agencies 144 The Learning Organization 187
Organizations 144 Teamwork and Team Empowerment 188
Social Services 145 Managing Diversity 190
Social Agencies 145
Comparing Specific Management Approaches 190
LO 5-1 The Macro Context of Organizations 146 Total Quality Management 190
The Shifting Macro Environment and Shrinking
Resources 146 LO 5-7 Empower Macro Client Systems to Improve
Legitimation 149 Social, Economic, and Environmental Justice 195
LO 5-2 Client Sources 153 Servant Leadership 196
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CONTENTS xi
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xii CONTENTS
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CONTENTS xiii
CHAPTER 9 Macro Practice in Communities 340 CHAPTER 10 Evaluating Macro Practice 378
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xiv CONTENTS
LO 10-4 Problems and Barriers in Program Evaluation 386 CHAPTER 11 Advocacy and Social Action with
Failure to Plan for Evaluation 386 Populations at Risk 412
Lack of Program Stability 386
Relationships Between Evaluators Introduction 414
and Practitioners 387 LO 11-1 Key Concepts Involved with Macro Practice 414
Evaluation Results are Unclear 387 Advocacy 414
Evaluation Results are Not Accepted 388 Social Action 416
When Evaluation is Not Worth the Effort 388 Empowerment 416
LO 10-5 Models of Evaluation 389 Populations at Risk 417
Formative (or Monitoring) Evaluations 389 LO 11-2 Risk Factors for Social, Economic,
Summative (or Impact) Evaluations 389 and Environmental Injustice 418
Effectiveness and Efficiency Evaluations 390 Factors Contributing to Putting Populations at Risk 418
Evaluation Approaches 390 Examples of Populations at Risk 419
Quantitative Methods 391 LO 11-3 Advocacy, Social Action, and Empowerment
Qualitative Methods 391 Activities 422
One-Group Posttest Designs 391
Pretest/Posttest Designs 391 Advocacy 423
Client Satisfaction Surveys 392 The Values and Limitations of Advocacy 423
Goal Attainment Scaling 392 Agency Commitment to Advocacy 424
Target Problem Scaling 393 Opportunities for Macro-Level Advocacy 425
Case Studies 394 Principles of Macro-Level Advocacy 426
Group Comparisons 394 Guidelines for Macro-Level Advocacy 427
Quality Assurance Reviews 395 Advocacy Tactics 428
Summary of Evaluation Designs 395 Grassroots and Grasstop Advocacy
LO 10-6 Stages and Steps in Evaluation 395 and Organizing 431
Stage 1: Conceptualization and Goal Setting 395 Locating Grasstop Supporters 433
Stage 2: Measurement 398 Identity the Help You Need 433
Stage 3: Sampling 398 Recruitment Strategies 433
Stage 4: Design 399 LO 11-4 The Use, Value, and Limitations of Advocacy 434
Stage 5: Data Gathering 401
Stage 6: Data Analysis 404 LO 11-5 Theoretical and Conceptual Models of Social
Stage 7: Data Presentation 404 Action 434
Alinsky’s Social Action Approach 434
LO 10-7 Communicate Evaluation Data 405
Part 1: Introduction 405 LO 11-6 Critique Macro Practice Using Professional
Part 2: Literature Review 405 Knowledge, Skills, and Values 436
Part 3: Methodology 405 Legal Action 437
Part 4: Results 405 LO 11-7 Participatory Action Research: Practice Informs
Part 5: Discussion 406 Research, and Research Informs Practice 439
Part 6: References and Appendices 407 Social Worker Roles in PAR 439
Summary of Data Presentation 407 Empowerment 440
LO 10-8 Uphold Ethics and Values in Evaluation 407 Recognizing Strengths 440
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CONTENTS xv
CHAPTER 12 Ethics and Ethical Dilemmas in Practice LO 12-6 Ambiguity Affects Ethical Decision Making 489
with Organizations and Conforming to Agency Policy 491
Communities 454 Breaching Confidentiality in a Macro Context 493
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xvi CONTENTS
Plan Your Supervisory Agenda Ahead of Time 507 Understanding the Software 525
Put Yourself in Your Supervisor’s Shoes 507 Agency Software Usage 527
Display Openness to Learning and to Improving General Observations About Computers 532
Yourself 507 Other Macro Uses of Technology 532
Demonstrate a Liking for Your Work 508
LO 14-4 Fund-raising 533
Follow the Rules 508
Sources of Funds 534
Think Beyond Tomorrow 508
Work Cooperatively with Other Staff 508 LO 14-5 Differentiating Grants from Contracts 540
Do More Than Expected 508 Grants and Contracts: Who’s Got the Money? 541
Give Your Supervisor Feedback 509 Government Grants 542
Forewarn Your Supervisor Foundation Grants 543
About Problematic Situations 509 Business and Corporate Grants 544
Learn Your Supervisor’s Evaluation System 509
LO 14-6 Key Steps in Securing Grants 545
LO 13-3 Manage Potential Problems in Supervision 510 Pre-Application Phase 545
Supervisor-Supervisee Misunderstandings 514 Application Phase 545
Supervisors Who Take Credit Writing a Grant Proposal 546
for Your Achievements 514 Kinds of Grants and Contract Proposals 549
Supervisory Incompetence 514 Post-Application Phase 563
Laziness 515
Chapter Summary 564
Problems with Delegation 515
Inability to Deal with Conflict 515 Competency Notes 565
A Final Note 515 HIGHLIGHTS
14.1 The Media’s Influence 521
Chapter Summary 515 14.2 Example of a News Release 523
14.3 Example of a Newspaper Editorial 524
Competency Notes 516 14.4 Management Information Systems 528
HIGHLIGHTS 14.5 Fund-raising 534
14.6 My First Grant—A First Person Account 543
13.1 Workers’ General Expectations of Supervisors:
14.7 Critical Topics Regarding Grant Applications 546
Keys to Empowerment 503
14.8 Example of a Cover Page 550
13.2 Games Supervisors and Supervisees
14.9 Example of a Summary or Abstract 550
Sometimes Play 510
14.10 Example of a Grant Application Problem
13.3 What Would You Do? 512
Statement 552
CHAPTER 14 Developing and Managing Agency 14.11 Examples of Goals and Objectives 554
Resources 517 14.12 Example of a Description of the Method 554
14.13 Example of an Evaluation Section 557
14.14 Example of a Bibliography 558
Introduction 519
14.15 Example of a Line-Item Budget 558
LO 14-1 Working with the Media to Advance Social 14.16 Example of a Functional or Program Budget from
a Peer Counselor and Drug Education Program 559
Well-Being and Social, Economic, and Environmental
14.17 Example of Allocating Time and Space Costs 560
Justice 519 14.18 Example of a Budget Narrative 561
The Nature and Role of Social Media 520
General Guidelines for Working with the Media 521 References 567
LO 14-2 Utilize Professional Communication Strategies Name Index 581
with the Media 523 Subject Index 587
Media Interviews 523
Letters to the Editor and Editorials 524
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Preface
This book is a guide to generalist social work practice address significant issues relevant to this practice.
with organizations and communities. The three adjec- Skills include working with the media, using new tech-
tives that best describe this text are relevant, practical, nological advances, fund-raising, grant writing, evalu-
and readable. Generalist practice is clearly defined, ating macro-practice effectiveness, resolving ethical
and specific macro-practice skills are presented in a dilemmas in macro contexts, and advocating for
straightforward and interesting manner. Applications diverse populations at risk.
to actual macro-practice situations are emphasized The fifth basic goal is to present material that is
throughout, as is the importance of client system not only relevant and interesting but also inclusive of
strengths. The content is geared to both the under- major concepts currently considered critically important
graduate and graduate generalist practice sequences. by the social work profession and social work educators.
This text aims to fulfill five major goals. First, it New material and concepts from the current accredita-
provides a readable and practical guide to working in tion standards have been included. (Please see the subse-
and with organizations and communities (macro prac- quent section on new content.) Enhanced emphasis is
tice). Numerous real-world situations and case exam- placed on critical thinking, empowerment and resilien-
ples are presented to make the material interesting and cy, and the global context of social work practice. The
relevant. Organizational and community theories are text adopts a generalist perspective, emphasizes evalu-
examined and linked to practice applications. ation of practice and research-informed practice, fo-
Second, the text proposes a generalist perspective cuses on the use of various communication skills with
to emphasize how micro, mezzo, and macro skills are colleagues and community members, demonstrates the
interlinked. This generalist approach assumes that appropriate use of supervision, and examines practi-
group (mezzo) skills are built on a firm foundation tioner functioning within organizational structures
of individual (micro) skills. Likewise, skills involved and communities.
in working with organizations and communities
(i.e., macro skills) rest on a solid base of both micro
and mezzo skills. This text links the three levels of About the Cover
practice—micro, mezzo, and macro—so that students Generalist Practice with Organizations and Commu-
can clearly see how all three skill levels are used in nities is focused on the need to work with and cre-
everyday practice situations. Whole chapters and nu- ate change within larger systems. Often this process
merous examples throughout illustrate how micro and involves working with others to achieve difficult and
mezzo skills can be applied to macro-practice situ- intractable goals. From citizen protests and dem-
ations. The text also aims to structure how students onstrations in the Middle East (i.e., Arab Spring) to
think about clients and clients’ problems so that, as similar efforts in the United States (e.g., Occupy Wall
practitioners, they will automatically explore alterna- Street, Black Lives Matter), individuals and groups are
tives beyond the individual and small-group levels. demanding changes in their environments, including
The text’s third basic goal is to provide clearly de- both government and business policies. Achieving and
fined, step-by-step frameworks for thinking about and maintaining positive outcomes in any system requires
initiating macro change in organizations and commu- continuous effort, and any gains must be guarded
nities. A model to decide whether to pursue macro in- and protected. Rights won must be defended against
tervention is proposed. Additionally, a procedure for groups and organizations seeking their repeal. This is
pursuing the macro-intervention process is described. part of your obligation as a social worker committed
The text’s fourth goal is to identify, explain, and to the pursuit of social, economic, and environmental
examine specific skills useful in macro practice and justice.
xvii
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xviii PREFACE
Chapter 7
1. Please note that this content addresses standards posed in the
EPAS. In no way does it claim to verify compliance with standards.
● Updated chapter title to more accurately capture
Only the CSWE’s Commission on Accreditation can make those intent
determinations. ● Reduced redundancy
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PREFACE xix
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xx PREFACE
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1 Introduction to Generalist
Practice with Organizations
and Communities
© Anton Oparin/Shutterstock.com
Learning Objectives (LOs)
This chapter will help prepare students to:
LO 1-1 Describe generalist practice using the LO 1-6 Engage human diversity.
Generalist Intervention Model.
LO 1-7 Advocate for human rights and social,
LO 1-2 Recognize sources that guide professional economic, and environmental justice.
values and ethics in practice.
LO 1-8 Work effectively within an organizational
LO 1-3 Demonstrate awareness of personal values. structure.
LO 1-4 Describe the wide range of practice skills LO 1-9 Attend to a wide range of professional
used to target systems of any size. social work roles.
LO 1-5 Differentiate client empowerment, strengths, LO 1-10 Use critical thinking skills.
and resiliency.
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2 Generalist Practice with Organizations and Communities
Rudolph will gRaduate in a week and has already accepted a position in an agency
that provides family counseling, foster care, and adoption services. having done his field
placement in the agency, he feels more comfortable about transitioning to this new position.
however, as he begins to pack up his books, he comes across a book from one of the last
practice courses he completed. the book focused on generalist practice with organizations
and communities using a generalist approach. looking at the title and thinking about his
new position brings up several questions:
these are logical questions for social work students to consider. after all, most students enter
the social work field with a desire to help people and focus their attention on learning how
to work with individuals and families. in this chapter, we will try to answer these questions
and provide information that is essential for generalist practitioners with a specific focus on
working within larger systems.
1. Most of these concepts are taken directly from the Educational is intended to assist in a social work program’s accreditation
Policy and Accreditation Standards (EPAS) developed by the Coun- process.) Throughout the chapter, icons such as that located in this
cil on Social Work Education (CSWE) (CSWE, 2015). One major paragraph call attention to the location of EPAS-related content.
goal of social work education is to facilitate students’ attainment Each identifies what competency or practice behavior is relevant
of the EPAS-designated 10 core competencies and their 41 related by specifying the designated Educational Policy (EP) reference
component behaviors so that students develop into competent number. “Competency Notes” are provided at the end of each
practitioners. Students require knowledge in order to develop chapter that relate EPAS competencies and component behaviors
skills and become competent. Our intent here is to specify what to content in the chapter. A summary chart of the icons’ locations
chapter content and knowledge coincides with the development of in all chapters and their respective competencies or component
specific competencies and component behaviors. (This ultimately behaviors appears in the inside cover of the book.
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CHAPTER 1 Introduction to Generalist Practice with Organizations and Communities 3
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4 Generalist Practice with Organizations and Communities
Step 1 Engagement
Step 2 Assessment
change process, familiarize clients with the agency and and help. With this call, you have engaged Mr. Earl
supply them with information, solicit necessary data in the problem-defining process. Engagement is the
to assist in service provision, provide short-term coun- initial period when a practitioner becomes oriented to
seling when needed, and make appropriate referrals to the problem at hand and begins to establish commu-
agency units and other community resources. nication and a relationship with any other individu-
You receive a referral involving an older adult, als addressing the problem. Subsequently, you figure
Murray Strewynskowski. The person making the initial out what to do about Mr. Strewynskowski. You must
referral, Duke Earl, is one of Mr. Strewynskowski’s con- also engage him as the client in the planned change
cerned neighbors. Mr. Earl expresses concern because process. Of course, as a generalist practitioner, you
Mr. Strewynskowski has twice fallen down on his icy must work with the client to establish what he needs
sidewalk and been unable to get back up and into the and wants.
house. Both times, Mr. Earl happened to notice the fall During the assessment phase, you may decide to
and was able to assist Mr. Strewynskowski into the house. pursue planning and implementation at the micro,
While inside, Mr. Earl noticed extremely chaotic condi- mezzo, or macro level. You might also decide that
tions: Rotting garbage was strewn about the kitchen, and intervention at more than one level is appropriate.
about a dozen cats leisurely wandered around. Mr. Earl
noticed that a black cat with a white patch over the left Example: A Micro Approach
eye was eating what seemed to be canned creamed corn A micro-level plan might be to refer Mr. Strewynskowski
mixed with ketchup from a plate on the table that looked to the appropriate services and oversee service provi-
as if it might have been Mr. Strewynskowski’s lunch. sion. You might then continue Mr. Strewynskowski’s
Mr. Earl also expresses concerns about Mr. Strewyn- assessment and arrange for additional services such as
skowski’s diet in a general sense and wonders whether a traveling homemaker and daily hot meal delivery. You
Mr. Strewynskowski is able to shop or cook adequately might also arrange for supportive services as needed,
because he looks unhealthily thin. such as assisting Mr. Strewynskowski with paying his
Initially, you call Mr. Earl to clarify any ques- bills, obtaining medical assistance, or making arrange-
tions you might have and to thank him for his interest ments to get groceries and other needed items.
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Discovering Diverse Content Through
Random Scribd Documents
the way, what were those shots for? You don't think there's any
danger here, do you?”
“Ay,” replied the captain, with an emphatic tug at his neckerchief,
“that I does, lad! An' why? you naterally axes. Because, d'ye mind
me, the hill's ablaze from stem to starn—blow me if it bain t!
Howsomedever,” leading the way towards a jagged remnant of wall
that stood out in ghostly solitude amid the ruins, “go aloft an' cast
an eye out to lee'ard, lad.”
The captain's ominous words prepared Don for an unpleasant
surprise; yet, when he had scaled the pile of masonry, an involuntary
cry of alarm broke from him.
“Good heavens, captain, we're surrounded by fire!”
“Right, lad! an' the confleegration's gettin' uncommon clost under
our weather bow; says you. An hour back, d'ye see, I sights the first
on 'em alongside o' the path below, an' fires the gun to signal ye to
put about. An' then, flush, my scuppers! what does I see but a hull
sarcle o' confleegrations, as it may be a cable's len'th apart, clean
round the hill; lad! an' so I fires the second wolley.”
“This is the work of those cowardly niggers!” said Don, clenching
his fists. “They daren't come here to fight us, so they mean to
scorch us out!”
“The wery identical words as I says to myself when first I sights
the fires, lad,” rejoined the captain; “an' a purty lot o' tobackie it cost
me afore I overhauled the idee, says you.”
“It's likely to cost us more than a few pipes of tobacco, I'm afraid,
captain,” said Don uneasily, leaping down from his post of
observation. “The fire's close upon us, and once this grass catches,
why, good-bye to the stores! I say, where's Spottie?”
“Belay there!” chuckled the captain, who, somehow, seemed
remarkably cheerful, considering the gravity of the situation.
“Whereaway's the nigger, you axes? Why, d'ye mind me, lad, this
'ere old hulk ain't been a-lyin' on her beam-ends all this time, not by
a long chalk. The nigger's with the stores, d'ye see; an' stow my
cargo, where should the stores be but safe and snug under
hatches?”
With that he seized his perplexed companion by the arm, skirted
the dilapidated wall, and presently halted on the very brink of a
black chasm that yawned to the stars close under its rear. Little else
was to be seen, for the wall cut off the light of both the fire and the
moon. From the depths of the cavity proceeded a sound suspiciously
like snoring. The captain indulged in another chuckle, and then,
shaping his hands into a sort of speaking-trumpet, he bent over the
hole and shouted loudly for Spottie. The snoring suddenly ceased,
and in half a minute or so up the black tumbled, rubbing his eyes.
The captain bade him fetch the lantern, adding strict injunctions that
he should replenish the store of oil before lighting it.
“And now, lad, let's go below,” said he, when Spottie had fulfilled
his mission.
So down they went, the captain leading. First came a dozen or
more moss-grown steps, littered with blocks of stone, which, ages
before, perhaps, had fallen and found a resting-place here. At the
foot of the steps there opened out a subterranean passage, of
height sufficient to admit of Don's standing erect in it with ease.
Upon the floor lay the stores; beyond these again all was blank
darkness. To all appearance the passage extended far into the
bowels of the hill.
“Blow me!” chuckled the captain, turning a triumphant gaze upon
the massive walls, “electric lightnin' itself ud never smell us out in
sich a tidy berth as this, says you.”
“It certainly is a snug spot,” assented Don; “though I wish”—
glancing round at their sadly depleted numbers—“I wish that Jack
and Pug were as safe, poor fellows.”
“Cheer up, my hearty. As I says afore, there's a Providence, lad, as
sits up aloft to keep watch for the life of poor Jack.' Ay, an for the
nigger's too, d'ye mind me, lad,” rejoined the captain, blowing his
nose loudly. “So let's turn out an' see what manner o' headway the
confleegrations makin'.”
Brief as was their absence from “the glimpses of the moon,” the
fire had made alarming progress in the interval. Viewed from the
centre of the swiftly-narrowing cordon of flame, the scene was
awesome in the extreme. The rear column of the invader advanced
the more slowly of the two, but even it was now within a stone's
throw of that godsend, the captain's “tidy berth.”
On the seaward side the flames had overleapt the jungle's edge,
and seized with unsated greed upon the luxuriant grass that
everywhere grew amid the ruins. Nearer still, the dense, parasitic
growth upon the remnant of wall, ignited by the dense clouds of
sparks which the wind drove far ahead of the actual fire, was blazing
fiercely. The heat was stifling; the air, choked with smoke and
showers of glowing sparks, unbreathable. They retreated
precipitately to the cooler shelter of the underground chamber.
Even here the noise of the flames could be distinctly heard.
Indeed, they had been barely ten minutes below when the fiery sea
rolled with a sullen roar over their heads, the fierce heat driving
them back from the entrance.
Some hours must pass before it would be either safe or
practicable to venture into the open air. Accordingly, following the
captain's example, Don made himself as comfortable for the night as
circumstances permitted. A quantity of dried grass, which Spottie
had thoughtfully collected and deposited beside the stores, afforded
an excellent bed, and soon the deep breathing of all three told that
sleep too had made this long untenanted nook her refuge.
Upwards of an hour had passed when a tremendous grinding
crash shook the passage from roof to floor, and brought Don and the
captain to their feet. They had fallen asleep surrounded by a
subdued glow of firelight; they woke to find themselves in pitchy
darkness. Bosin and the scarcely more courageous Spottie began to
whimper.
“Avast there!” the captain sang out at the latter. “Is this a time to
begin a-pipin' of your eye like a wench, I axes? Belay that, ye
lubberly swab, an' light the binnacle lamp till we takes our bearin's.”
This order Spottie obeyed with an alacrity which, it is but due to
him to explain, sprang rather from a dread of his master's heavy
boot than from his fear of the dark. In the light thus thrown on the
situation, the cause of the recent crash became only too apparent.
So, too, did its effect.
The ruined wall which overtopped their place of refuge had fallen,
completely blocking the exit with huge stones, still glowing hot from
the action of the fire.
“Batten—my—hatches, lad!” ejaculated the old sailor, as the full
significance of the catastrophe flashed upon him. “We're prisoners,
says you!”
CHAPTER XI.—INTO THE HEART OF
THE HILL.
T
here was no denying the truth of the captain's disconcerting
announcement. So far as concerned the ancient flight of steps,
egress from the underground chamber was wholly cut off. In
the space of a single moment their refuge had become a prison. For,
to begin with, the stones which blocked the entrance were glowing
hot; while, to end with, these were of such a size, and so tightly
wedged between the walls of the narrow opening, as to render any
attempt at removing them, in the absence of suitable implements,
utterly futile. If ever there existed a dilemma worthy the
consumption of the captain's tobacco, here was one. The huge
meerschaum was lighted forthwith.
And never, perhaps, in all its long and varied history, did the pipe
perform its task of “'ilin' up” the old sailors “runnin' gear” so
promptly and satisfactorily as now. For scarcely had he taken half-a-
dozen “w'hiffs o' the fragrant,” when, “Blow me, lad!” he exclaimed,
triumphantly following with the stem of the pipe the course of a blue
spiral which had just left his lips, “d'ye see that, now? No sooner I
lets it out than away it scuds!”
Under other circumstances this observation would have sounded
commonplace; here it was significant. The fragrant spiral, after
wavering an instant as if uncertain what course to take, broke and
floated slowly towards the wall of débris which blocked the entrance.
“Wery good!” resumed the captain, when this became apparent;
“an' what o' that? you naterally axes. Why, do ye mind me, lad,
when smoke sheers off to lee'ard in that 'ere fashion, it sinnifies a
drorin'; and a drorin', dye see, sinnifies a current o' atmospheric air;
and—as the maintop-gallan's'l says when it sights the squall—-blow
me! if a current o' atmospheric air don't sinnify as this 'ere
subterraneous ramification's got a venthole in it somewheres, d'ye
see!”
“Why, as for that,” said Don, “I noticed a draught drawing up the
steps, as soon as I set foot on them. The entrance seemed to act
like a sort of flue; and, come to think of it, it couldn't do that, in
spite of the heated air above, unless there was an inlet somewhere
below, could it?”
“Ay, inlet's the wery nautical tarm I was a-tryin' to overhaul, lad,”
replied the captain complacently. “An'—shiver my binnacle!—for that
inlet we runs. Legs we has, light we has!—so why not? I axes.”
“More grope than run, I fancy,” said Don, peering into the
darkness of the tunnel. “But there's no help for it, I suppose; though
Heaven only knows where or what it may lead to! The stores, of
course, remain here for the present; they're safe enough, at any
rate.”
Seizing the lantern, he led off without further parley. Spottie—
haunted in the dark by an ever-pursuing fear of spooks—made a
close second; while the old sailor brought up the rear with Bosin on
his shoulder. Here and there a lizard, alarmed by the hollow echo of
their footsteps, or by the glare of the passing light, scurried across
their path.
For a considerable distance the passage continued on the level,
then dipped suddenly in a steep flight of steps. After this came other
level bits, succeeded by other descents, the number of steps in each
successive flight—or, rather, fall—increasing as they proceeded.
“Looks as if we were bound for the foot of the hill,” remarked Don,
pausing to allow the captain to overtake him.
“An' well I knows it, lad!” replied that worthy, as he accomplished
the descent of that particular flight of steps with a sigh of relief like
the blowing of a small whale. “Sleepin' in the open an' that, d'ye see,
's made my jints a bit stiff like—'specially the wooden one!
Howsomedever, let's get on again—as the seaman says when the
lubberly donkey rose by the starn an' hove him by the board.”
On they accordingly went, and down, the level intervals growing
less and less frequent, the seemingly interminable tiers of steps
more precipitous. Even the captain, level-headed old sailor though
he was, detected himself in the act of clutching at the wall, so
suggestive of utter bottomlessness was the black chasm yawning
ever at their feet. The very echoes hurried back to them as if fearful
of venturing the abysmal depths. What it would have been to have
penetrated the tunnel without a lantern Don dared not think.
And now the roof and walls contracted until they seemed to press
with an insupportable weight upon their shoulders. The steps, too,
at first equal in height and even of surface, became irregular and
slippery. Ooze of a vivid prismatic green glistened on either hand;
water gathered in pellucid, elongated drops overhead, shivered for
an instant as if startled by the unwonted light, then glinted
noiselessly down upon the dank, mould-carpeted steps, which no
human foot apparently had pressed for ages. Suppose their advance,
when they got a little lower, should be cut off by the water, as
retreat was already cut off by the fallen wall!
A level footing at last! Twenty yards on through the darkness, and
no steps. Had these come to an end? It almost seemed so.
Suddenly the captain stopped. On the rock floor a tiny pool
shimmered like crystal in the lantern-light. He scooped up a little of
the water in his broad palm and tasted it, “Stave my water-butt,
lad!” cried he, smacking his lips with immense gusto. “This 'ere
aqueous fluid what's a-washin' round in the scuppers ain't no bilge-
water, d'ye mind me! Reg'lar genewine old briny's what it is, an' well
I knows the taste on it! We're under the crik—blow me if we bain't!”
“Shouldn't wonder,” said Don, consulting his watch. “It's now three
o'clock; we've been on the grope just three-quarters of an hour. A
jolly nice fix we'll be in if we reach daylight on the far side of the
creek—with no means of crossing it, I mean. But wherever this
mole-hole leads to, let's get to the end of it.”
More steps, but this time ascending. The walls, too, became
perceptibly drier, the narrow limits and musty air of the vaulted way
less oppressive. With elastic steps and light hearts they pressed
forward, assured that release was now close at hand.
It came sooner than they anticipated, for presently the tunnel
veered sharply to the left, and as Don rounded the angle of wall a
low, musical lapping of waves fell on his ears.
The captain was right in his conjecture; the passage had
conducted them directly under the creek, and it was on that side of
the ravine immediately adjacent to the Elephant Rock that they now
emerged into the fresh night air.
Here the tunnel terminated in a platform of rock, escarped from
the solid cliff, and draped by a curtain of vines similar to, though
somewhat thinner than, that which concealed the hiding-place of the
Jolly Tar. The platform itself lay wrapped in deepest shade, but
through the interstices of the natural curtain overhanging it they
could see the moonlight shimmering on the surface of the creek.
“Blow me, lad!” cried the captain, after peering about him for
some seconds: “this 'ere cove as we're hove-to in orter lay purty
nigh abreast o' the Jolly Tar, says you. Belay that, ye lubber!”
making a dive after the monkey, who, with a shrill cry, had swung
down from his shoulder and scuttled to the edge of the platform.
Don gripped the old sailor by the arm and forcibly held him back.
“Hist!” he cried in suppressed, excited tones. “Did you hear that?”
A moment of strained silence; then, from the direction of the
creek came a faint plashing sound, such as might have been
produced by the regular dip of paddles. Releasing his hold on the
captain's arm, Don crossed the rocky floor on tiptoe, parted the
trailing vines with cautious hand, and took a rapid survey of the
moonlit creek. Then he hastily seized the monkey and darted back to
the captains side.
“Canoes!” he whispered. “Two of them, packed with natives, and
heading straight for us. Back into the passage! And, Spottie! douse
that light.”
CHAPTER XII.—RELATES HOW A
WRONG ROAD LED TO THE RIGHT
PLACE.
T
hey had barely gained the shelter of the tunnel and
extinguished the light, when the prows of the canoes grated
against the rock, and a number of natives scrambled out upon
the platform, jabbering loudly.
Would they remain there, or enter the tunnel where the little band
of unarmed adventurers—for the captain had neglected to fetch a
musket, and Don to load his pistols—lay concealed? It was a
moment of breathless suspense. Then a torch was lighted, and 'the
intruders, to the number of perhaps a score, filed off to the right and
disappeared.
When the last echo of their footsteps had died away, the captain
heaved a sigh of relief, and bade Spottie relight the lantern.
“Not that I be afear'd o' the warmints, dye mind me, lad,” said he,
as if in apology for the sigh; “only—spike my guns!—a couple o'
brace o' fists 'ud be short rations to set under the noses o' sich a
rampageous crew, d'ye see. Howsome-dever, the way's clear at last,
as the shark says when he'd swallied the sailor; so beat up to
wind'ard a bit, till we diskiver whereaway the warmints's bound for.”
“There's another passage, most likely,” observed Don, holding the
lantern aloft at arm's length as they left the tunnel behind and
reemerged upon the rock platform. “Ha! there it is, captain; yonder,
in the far corner.”
“Right ye are, lad,” replied the captain with a chuckle. “We'll
inwestigate into this 'ere subterraneous ramification, says you; so
forge ahead, my hearty.”
The entrance to the second tunnel was quickly gained, and into it,
as nothing was either to be seen or heard of the natives, they
“inwestigated”—to use the captain's phraseology—-as far as a flight
of steps which extended upwards for an unknown distance beyond
the limits of the lantern's rays. Here the captain paused, and
bending forward:
“Scrapers an' holystones, lad!” cried he with a chuckle; “the
quarterdeck of a ship-o'-the-line itself ain't cleaner'n these 'ere
steps. Native feet goin' aloft and a-comin' down continual, that's
what's scraped 'em, says you; an' so I gets an idee. This 'ere
subterraneous carawan as we've been an' diskivered is the tail o' the
'Elephant'!”
“The what, captain?” cried Don.
“Why, d'ye mind me, lad,” the captain proceeded to explain, “when
them lubberly land-swabs as pilots elephants—which I means
mahouts, d'ye see—when they wants to go aloft, so to say, how
does they manage the business? I axes. They lays hold on the
warmint's tail, says you, and up they goes over the starn. Wery
good! This 'ere's a Elephant Rock as we're at the present moment
inwestigatin' into, d'ye mind me, an' when betimes the lubberly crew
as mans it is ordered aloft onto the animile's back, why, up these
'ere steps they goes. An' so I calls 'em the tail o' the 'Elephant'—an'
why not? I axes.”
Don gripped the old sailor's hand impulsively.
“Hurrah! this discovery's worth a dozen hours' groping
underground, captain!” he cried. “For if the natives can gain the
Elephant Rock by following this passage, why can't we do the same?
Jack, old boy, if you're still alive—which you are, please God!—we'll
find you yet!”
“Ay, at the risk of our wery lives, if need be!” responded the
captain, in tones that lost none of their heartiness through being a
bit husky. “An' the bag o' pearls, too, for the matter o' that, lad,” he
added; “for, d'ye see, as the old song says:
We always be ready,
Steady, lad, steady!
We'll fight an' we'll conquer agin and agin!
S
elf-preservation is the first law of life, and no sooner did Don
feel that iron grip compressing his throat, and dragging him
down into the depths of the creep, than he struck out to such
good purpose that the hold of his unknown assailant quickly relaxed.
As he shot up to the surface he found himself confronted by the
dripping head and shoulders of a native. A brief cessation of
hostilities followed; each glared at the other defiantly, the native's
tense breathing and watchful eye indicating that, though baffled for
the moment by his opponents prompt defensive measures, he was in
no two minds about renewing the struggle.
Suddenly, by a lightning-like movement of the hand, he dashed a
blinding jet of spray into Don's eyes, instantly followed up the
advantage thus treacherously gained, grappled with him, and
pinioned his arms tightly at his sides. Then, to his horror, Don felt his
head thrust violently back, felt the fellow's hot, quick breath on his
neck, and his teeth gnashing savagely at his throat.
Luckily for himself Don was no mean athlete, and knew how to
use his fists to advantage when occasion demanded. Wrenching his
arms free, he seized the native by the throat, and in spite of his eel-
like slipperiness and desperate struggles, by an almost superhuman
effort forced him slowly backwards until he had him at effective
striking distance, when, suddenly loosing his hold, he let him have a
tremendous “one-two” straight from the shoulder, that stretched the
native senseless and bleeding on the water.
“You would have it!” he panted, surveying the native's sinewy
proportions with grim satisfaction. “Next time you won't wait to be
knocked out, I reckon. But 'twon't do to let you drown, though you
richly deserve it; so come along, you black cub!”
Seizing the black by the convenient tuft of hair at the back of his
bullet-head, he towed him to the strip of beach, and there hauled
him out upon the sand, directly into a patch of moonlight, as it
happened, that came slanting down through a rift in the canopy of
palm-leaves overhead. Something in the appearance of the upturned
features caused him to drop on his knees at the natives side.
“Hullo!” he cried, peering into the fellow's face, “Jack's lascar, as
I'm alive! By Jove, you are a prize! We'll keep you with us longer
than we did last time, my friend. Ha, ha! won't the captain chuckle,
though!”
With his belt he proceeded to strap the lascar's hands securely
behind his back; but when it came to fastening his legs, a difficulty
cropped up. That is to say, the strap could not be used for both, and
he had no substitute. Fortunately the lascar wore about his loins the
regulation length of strong country cotton—his only covering—and
this Don was in the act of removing when a knife fell out of its folds.
“Lucky thing I didn't run against you in the water,” he soliloquised,
picking the weapon up. “Why, it's the very knife the lascar shot at
Jack from the schooner's deck; the one he let the fellow have back
for sending the boathook through the cutter's side; and that we
afterwards found lying in the ballam here. And yet Jack certainly had
it on him when those niggers carried him off. So, old chap,”
apostrophising the insensible owner of the much-bandied knife, “so
you had a hand in kidnapping him too, had you? All the more reason
for caring for you now that we've got you.”
Following up this idea, he knotted the cloth tightly about the
lascar's legs, dragged him well up the beach, and went in search of
the canoe. This, fortunately, had not been molested in their
absence; in a few minutes he had it in the water. Then, seizing the
paddle, he propelled the light skiff swiftly in the direction of the rock
platform, where he found the old sailor stumping his beat in a
terrible state of uneasiness over his prolonged absence.
“Spike my guns, lad!” cried he, bearing down upon the young man
with outstretched hand and a smile as broad as the cutter's mainsail,
“they warmints's been an' done for Master Don this hitch, I says to
myself when the half-hour fails to bring ye. An' what manner o'
mishap's kept ye broached-to all this while? I axes.”
“Fact is, captain, I was attacked by the enemy. Came within an
ace of being captured, too. But, as good luck would have it, I
managed to get in a thundering broadside, boarded the enemy—
there was only one, luckily—spiked his guns, and towed him ashore,
where he's waiting to pay his respects to you now. But get in and
see for yourself what a valuable prize I've taken.”
The captain got in with all despatch, and, as soon as the canoe
touched the opposite beach, got out again without delay, so eager
was he to inspect, the captive. As it was now daylight, he recognised
the fellow the moment he set eyes on him. His delight knew no
bounds. Bound and round the luckless lascar he stumped, chuckling
as he always did when he was pleased, and every now and then
prodding him in the ribs with his wooden leg, as if to reassure
himself that he laboured under no delusion.
“Sharks an' sea-sarpents, lad!” he roared, when quite satisfied as
to the lascar's identity, “we'll keep the warmint fast in the bilboes a
while, says you; for, d'ye mind me, he's old Salambo's right-hand
man, is this lubber, as comes an' goes at his beck an' call, an'
executes the orders as he gives. So in the bilboes he remains; why
not? I axes.”
“My idea precisely, captain. He can't be up to any of his little
games so long as he has a good stout strap to hug him; and, what's
more, he'll have a capital chance to recover from that nasty slash
Jack gave him the other night. By the way, I've often wondered, do
you know, how he managed to pull through that affair so easily.
Suppose we turn him over and have a look at his shoulder?”
No sooner said than done, notwithstanding the captive's snarling
protests; but, to their great amazement, his shoulder showed neither
wound nor scar.
“Well, this beats me!” exclaimed Don incredulously.
“An' is this the wery identical swab, an' no mistake? I axes,”
demanded the captain.
“Mistake? None whatever, unless Jack was mistaken in the fellow
the other day, which isn't at all likely. Besides, I've seen him twice
before myself; once in the temple, and again on the sands here. I'd
know that hang-dog look of his among a thousand. Then there's
Spottie; he saw him as well. Stop! let's see what Spottie makes of
this.”
Spottie was summoned, and, without being informed of the point
in dispute, unhesitatingly identified the captive as the lascar.
“Then,” said Don, “Jack must have supposed he stabbed the fellow
when he didn't; that's the most I can make of it.”
“Belay there!” objected the captain. “What about the blood in the
canoe and on the knife when arterwards found? I axes.”
“There you have me. This fellow's the lascar fast enough; but how
he's the lascar and yet doesn't show the wound Jack gave him, I
know no more than the man in the moon. Ugh! what a greasy beast
he is! I'd better take the strap up another hole to make sure of him.”
So, for a time, the puzzling question of the lascar's identity
dropped.
No food being procurable here, they decided to push oh to the
Haunted Pagodas ere the sun became too hot, and there endeavour
to clear a passage to the immured stores. Accordingly, when the
canoe had been dragged back to its former place of concealment,
they set out, Don taking charge of the lascar, who, clad in Spottie's
upper-cloth, and having his legs only at liberty, led as quietly as a
lamb.
Two-thirds of the way up they came upon that portion of the hill
which had been ravaged by the fire. For the most part this had now
burnt itself out, leaving the summit of the elevation one vast bed of
ghastly gray ashes, with here and there a smouldering stump or
cluster of bamboo stems still smoking.
At the Haunted Pagodas two surprises awaited them. The first of
these was no other than Puggles himself, alive and lachrymose. On
the floor of the otherwise empty “fo'csle” he sat, blubbering
dolefully. Comical indeed was the spectacle he presented, with his
woebegone face thickly begrimed with a mixture of ashes and tears
—a sort of fortuitous whitewash, relieved in the funniest fashion by
the black skin showing in patches through its lighter veneer, and by
the double line of vivid red, stretching half-way from ear to ear, that
marked the generous expanse of his mouth.
The explanation of his sudden disappearance proved simple
enough. He had stumbled in the very act of following his master
past the swiftly-advancing fire, and crawling back on hands and
knees to a place of safety, had there passed the night alone in the
jungle. On reaching the encampment and finding it deserted, he
jumped to the conclusion that the fire had, as he put it, “done eat
sahibs up,” stores and all. Hence his tearful condition on their return.
The second surprise was one of an equally pleasing nature, since
it concerned the stores. The mass of debris which blocked the
tunnel's mouth had subsided to such an extent in cooling as to admit
of their reaching the imprisoned stores with but little difficulty.
“All the same, captain,” remarked Don, when presently they began
a vigorous attack on the provisions, “I'm jolly glad our fear of being
buried alive drove us to the far end of the hole. We've got the key to
the Elephant Rock, and, what's more, we've got a grip on old
Salambo's right hand,” nodding towards the lascar, who was again
bound hand and foot, “that's safe to stand us in good stead when it
comes to the final tussle for Jack and the pearls.”
“Right ye are, lad,” said the captain in tones as hearty as his
appetite; “an', blow me!—as the fog-horn says to the donkey-ingin—
arter we snatches a wink o' sleep, d'ye mind me, we'll lay our heads
together a bit an' detarmine on the best course to be steered.”
On the stone floor of the “fo'csle” the blacks were already sleeping
the sleep of repletion; and, their meal finished, Don and the captain
lost no time in following their example—for thirty-six hours of almost
unremitting exertion and danger had told heavily upon their powers
of endurance. Dead tired as they were, they gave little heed to the
lascar beyond assuring themselves by a hasty glance that his bonds
were secure. To all appearance he was wrapped in profound
slumber.
The sun was at the zenith when they stretched themselves upon
the flags of the “fo'csle”; slowly it burnt its way downward to the
western horizon, and still they slept. Don was the first to stir. He
raised himself upon his elbow with a yawn, rubbed his eyes, gazed
about him in momentary bewilderment. Twilight had already crept
out of the ravine and invaded the ghostly, fire-scathed ruins. This
was the first-thing he noticed. Then the recollection of the events of
the past day and night rushed upon him, and he turned abruptly,
with a sudden vague sense of dread, to the spot where the lascar
lay.
Lay? No; that place was empty!
He could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses. Had the
fellow somehow managed to shift his position, and roll out of sight
behind one of the numerous blocks of stone that lay about? Or had
he——
With a cry of alarm he threw himself upon an object that lay
where the lascar had lain. It was the leathern belt with which he had
bound the fellow's arms. The tongue of the buckle was broken. He
recollected now, and almost cursed his folly for not recollecting
before, that the buckle had long been weak. Too late! The lascar had
escaped!
Dashing the traitorous belt upon the stones, he hurried to where
the old sailor lay asleep, with Bosin curled up by his side, and shook
him roughly by the shoulder. He was in no gentle mood just then.
“Captain! Captain! Wake up! The lascars off!”
No response. No movement. Only the monkey awoke suddenly
and fell to whimpering.
The captain lay at full length upon his back, his bronzed hands
clasped upon his broad chest, his blue sailor's cap drawn well over
his eyes. Something in the pose of the figure at his feet, in its
stillness—something, too, in the plaintive half-human wail the
monkey uttered at the moment—struck a sudden chill to Don's
heart. He dropped upon his knees, lifted the cap, peered into the
upturned face. It was distorted, purple. He started back with a
fearful cry:
“Not dead! Oh, my God, not dead!”
CHAPTER XIV.—SHROUDED IN A
HAMMOCK.
T
hat was a fearful moment for Don. The quest of the golden
pearl, entered upon with all the love of adventure and
sanguine hope natural to young hearts, began to wear a
serious aspect indeed. Even had Jack been there to share the
heartbreak of it, this sudden, numbing blow would still have been
terribly hard to bear. But Jack was gone—whither, Heaven alone
knew—and the captain was dead.
Ay, the “Providence that sits up aloft” had at last looked out a
snug berth for the old sailor, and shipped him for the Eternal Voyage.
Kneeling by his side in the solemn twilight, with aching heart Don
recalled all his quaint ways and quainter sayings, his large-hearted
generosity, his rollicking good-nature, his rough but ever-ready
sympathy—and sealed the kindly eyes with such tears as are wrung
from us but once or twice in a lifetime, and recalled with sadness
often, with shame never.
But for him the captain would never have undertaken this
disastrous venture. This was the bitterest, the sorest thought of all.
At last Bosin's low wailing broke in upon his sad reverie. Well-nigh
human did the monkey seem, as with tender, lingering touch he
caressed his master's face, and sought to rouse him from this
strange sleep of which he felt but could not understand the awful
meaning. Then, failing to win from the dumb lips the response he
craved, he turned his eyes upon his master's friend with a look of
pathetic appeal fairly heartbreaking in its mute intensity.
No sooner did he succeed in attracting Don's attention, however,
than his manner underwent a complete change. The plaintive wail
became a hiss, the puny, lithe hands tore frantically at something
that showed like a thin, dark streak about the dead man's neck.
What with the waning light and the shock of finding the captain
dead, Don had not noticed this streak before. He looked at it closely
now, and as he looked a horrified intelligence leapt into his face. The
dark streak was a cord: the captain had been strangled!
Oh, the horror of that discovery! Hitherto he had suspected no
foul play, no connection of any kind, indeed, between the captain's
death and the lascar's escape; for had he not taken the precaution
to disarm the native? But now he remembered seeing that cord
about the fellow's middle. He had thought it harmless. Harmless! Ah,
how different was the mute witness borne by the old sailor's lifeless
form! In the lascar's hands the cord had proved an instrument of
death as swift and sure as any knife.
But why had the captain been singled out as the victim? Was the
lascar merely bent on wreaking vengeance on those who had injured
him? Or was he a tool in other and invisible hands?
Feverishly he asked himself these questions as he removed the
fatal cord, and composed the distorted features into a semblance of
what they had been in life; asked, but could not answer them. Only,
back of the whole terrible business, he seemed to see the cunning,
unscrupulous shark-charmer, bent on retaining the pearls at any
cost, fanning the lascar's hatred into fiercer flame, guiding his ready
hand in its work of death.
Could he, alone and all but unaided, cope with the cunning of this
enemy who, while himself unseen, made his devilish power felt at
every turn? The responsibility thrown upon his shoulders by the
captain's murder involved other and weightier issues than the mere
recovery of a few thousand pounds' worth of stolen pearls. Jack
must be rescued, if indeed he was still alive; while, if he too was
dead, his and the captain's murderers must be brought to justice.
This was the task before him; no light one for a youth of eighteen,
with only a brace of timid native servants at his back. Yet he
addressed himself to it with all the passionate determination born of
his love for the chum and his grief for the friend who had stood by
him “through thick and thin.” There was no hesitation, no wavering.
“Do or die!” It was come to that now.
The captain's burial must be his first consideration; for Don had
lived long enough in the East to know how remorseless is the
climate in its treatment of the dead. Morning at the latest must
snatch the old sailor's familiar form for ever from his sight.
A tarpaulin lay in the “fo'csle,” and with this he determined to hide
the lascar's dread handiwork from view before waking the blacks,
who still slept. While he was disposing this appropriate pall above
the corpse, the captain's jacket fell open, and in an inside pocket he
caught sight of a small volume.
“Perhaps he has papers about him that ought to be preserved,”
thought Don. “I'll have a look.”
Drawing the volume from its resting-place with reverent touch, he
found it to be a copy of the Book of Common Prayer, sadly worn and
battered, like its owner, by long service. Here and there a leaf was
turned down, or a passage marked by the dent of a heavy thumb-
nail—the sailor's pencil. But what arrested his attention were these
words written on the yellow fly-leaf in a bold, irregular hand, and in
ink so faded as to make it evident that many years had elapsed
since they were penned:
“To all and sundry as sights these lines, when-somedever it may
please the Good Skipper to tow this 'ere old hulk safe into port,
widelicit. If so be as I'm spared to go aloft when on the high-seas,
wery good! the loan of a hammock and a bit o' ballast is all I axes.
But if so be as I'm ewentually stranded on shore, why then, d'ye
mind me, who-somedever ye be as sights these 'ere lines, I ain't to
be battened down like a lubberly landsman, d'ye see, but warped
off-shore an' shipped for the Eternal V'yage as a true seaman had
ought to be. And may God have mercy on my soul.—Amen. The last
Log and Testament of me,
“(Signed) John Mango, A.B.”
The faded characters grew blurred and misty before Don's eyes as
he scanned them. Closing the book, he grasped the captain's cold
hand impulsively, and in tones choked with emotion, cried:
“You shall have your wish, dear old friend! We'll warp you off-
shore and ship you for the Eternal Voyage in a way befitting the true
seaman that you are.”
And the mute lips seemed to smile back their approval, as though
they would say:
“Ay, ay, wrhy not, I axes? An' cheer up, my hearty, for, d'ye mind
me, lad, pipin' your eye won't stop the leak when the ship's a-
sinkin'.”
What boots it to linger over the noisy, but none the less genuine
grief, of the faithful Spottie when he learned the sad truth? Nor is it
necessary to describe at length the sad preparations for consigning
the dead captain to his long home beneath the waves that had been
his home so long in life. Suffice it to say that without loss of time a
rude bier was constructed on which to convey the remains to the
beach, and that while this was preparing there occurred an event so
remarkable, and withal of so important a bearing upon the future of
the quest, as to merit something more than mere passing mention.
It happened while the three were in the jungle cutting materials
for the litter, and it concerned the fatal cord.
“Until the lascar's paid out, I'll keep this as a reminder of what I
owe him,” Don had said grimly, just before starting; and taking the
lascars knife from his belt he stuck it into a crevice in the “fo'csle”
wall, and hung the snake-like cord upon it.
Spottie and Puggles being too timid to leave with the dead, or to
send alone into the jungle in quest of materials for the bier—for was
it not at nightfall that shadowy spooks walked abroad?—Don was
forced to bear them company. There was no help for it; the captain's
body must be left unguarded in their absence—except, indeed, for
such watch-care as puny Bosin was able to give it.
Up to the moment of their setting out the monkey had not for a
single instant left his master's side. This fact served to render all the
more extraordinary the discovery they made on their return—
namely, that the monkey had quitted his post. What could have
induced him to abandon his master at such a moment was a
mystery.
And the mystery deepened when Don, wanting the knife, sought it
in the “fo'csle,” for, to his astonishment, neither knife nor cord was
to be found.
“Dey spooks done steal urn, sar,” cried Spottie, with chattering
teeth.
“Huh,” objected Puggles, between whom and Spottie there had
grown up a sharp rivalry during their brief acquaintance, “why they
no steal dead sahib? I axes.” Then to his master: “Lascar maybe
done come back, sahib.”
This suggestion certainly smacked more of plausibility than that
offered by Spottie, since it not only accounted for the disappearance
of the cord and knife, but of Bosin as well. Was it too much to
believe that the faithful creature's hatred, instinctively awakened by
the lascar's stealthy return, had outweighed affection for his dead
master and impelled him to abandon the one that he might track the
other? Remembering the intelligence exhibited by the monkey in the
past, Don at least was satisfied that this explanation was the true
one.
By midnight all was in readiness, and with heavy hearts they took
up their dead and began the toilsome descent to the creek. This
reached, the Jolly Tar was drawn from her place of concealment, and
the captain's body lashed in a tarpaulin. Then, with white wings
spread, the cutter bore silently away from the creek's mouth in quest
of a last resting-place for the master whose behest she was never
again to obey.
“This will do,” said Don, when a half-hour's run had put them well
off-shore. “Take the tiller, Pug, and keep her head to the wind for a
little.”
With bowed head he opened the well-worn Prayer Book, and,
while the waves chanted a solemn funeral dirge, read in hushed
tones the office for the burial of the dead at sea. A pause, a tear
glinting in the moonlight, a splash—and just as the morning star
flashed out like a beacon above the eastern sea-rim, the old sailor
began the Eternal Voyage.
“And now,” said Don, as he brought the cutters head round in the
direction of the creek; “now for the last tussle and justice for the
dead. Let me only come face to face once more with that murderous
lascar or his master, and no false notions of mercy shall stay my
hand—so help me Heaven!”
And surely not Heaven itself could deem that vow unrighteous.
CHAPTER XV.—THE CROCODILE PIT.
T
he last melancholy duty to the captain discharged, Don threw
himself heart and fist—as Jack would have said—into the work
cut out for him; and by the time the Jolly Tar was again
rubbing her nose against the inner wall of the grotto, he had decided
to abandon the Haunted Pagodas and to make this secluded spot—
next door to the back entrance of the Elephant Rock—his base of
operations.
“Up to now it's been all take and no give,” he said to himself; “but
now we've got to act, and act like a steel trap, sharp and sure. What
is it the old school motto says?—'bis dat qui cito dat,' 'a quick blow's
as good as two any day.' The old Roman who strung that together
knew what he was talking about, anyhow, and I'll put his old saw to
the test before another sun sets.”
In the letter of which Bosin had been the bearer Jack had said
—“They take me to the Elephant Rock to-night.” Twice since then
had night come and gone; and if his chum had not perished in the
village holocaust, in the Elephant Rock he was probably to be found.
Hurrah for the finding!
The muskets were still at the “fo'csle,” for that sad midnight
descent of the hill had left their hands too full for weapons. Besides,
none were needed then. They were needed now, however, so there
was nothing for it but to climb the hill after them. This, and the time
necessarily consumed in snatching a hasty meal, delayed the start
by a good two hours.
At length all was ready, and tumbling into the canoe they pushed
off. To stick to the literal truth, Spottie did the tumbling. In spite of
all his efforts to assume a dignity of carriage in keeping with his
weapons and the occasion, the cutlass at Spottie's belt would persist
in getting at crosspurposes with his long, thin legs, and so throw
him, physically speaking, off his balance. Once seated in the canoe,
however, with the point of the cutlass in dangerous proximity to
Puggles's back, and the old flint-lock so disposed upon his knees as
to hit Don to a dead certainty if by any mischance it went off, Spottie
looked exceedingly fierce—in fact, an out-and-out swashbuckler.
Not so Puggles. No weapons could make him look other than what
nature had made him—a happy-go-lucky, fun-and-food loving,
sunny-faced lump of oily blackness. The extra broad grin that tugged
at the far corners of bis expansive mouth proclaimed him at peace
with all the world—especially with that important section of it
bounded by his swelling waistband—and gave the lie direct to his
warlike equipment.
Of crossing the creek Don made short work, and soon they stood
upon the rock platform, where, but little more than twenty-four
hours before, the landing and sudden disappearance of the native
crew had put them in possession of the key which was now, if
fortune favoured them, to unlock the secret of Jack's fate, and,
haply, the door of his prison-house.
Yonder on the right—for the spot was light enough by day, despite
its curtain of vegetation—could be seen the black mouth of the
tunnel running under the creek, and so to the summit of Haunted
Pagoda Hill; here, on the left, that by which the natives had taken
their departure. It was with this that Don's business lay now; and as
he led the way into it he recalled with a sorrowful smile that quaint
fancy of the captain's which made this approach to the Rook “the tail
o' the Elephant.” And here was the very spot where he had uttered
the words. He almost fancied he could see the old sailor standing
there still, his wooden leg thrust well forward, his cap well back, and
Bosin perched contentedly upon his broad shoulder. Alas for fancy!
But what was this that came leaping down the dim vista of steps?
No creature of fancy surely, but actual flesh and blood. Only flesh
and blood in the form of a monkey, it is true, but what mattered
that, since the monkey was none other than Bosin himself?
A jubilant shout from Puggles greeted his appearance—a shout
which Don, fearful of discovery, immediately checked—while Spottie
made as if to catch the returned truant. But the impish Bosin would
have none of him; eluding the grasp of the black, he sprang upon
Don's shoulder. Only then did Don observe that the monkey was not
empty-handed. He carried something hugged tightly against his
breast.
Like all his tribe, Bosin had a pretty penchant for annexing any
chance article that happened to take his fancy, without regard to
ordinary rights of property.
“Prigging again, eh?” said Don, as he gently disengaged the
monkey's booty from his grasp. “What have you got this time?”
To his astonishment he saw that he held in his hands the lascar's
cord, and—surely he was not mistaken?—the fellow to that half of
Jack's handkerchief in which his letter had been wrapped up when
despatched from the village per monkey post.
Bosin's mysterious disappearance, then, was explained. In quitting
his dead master's side so unaccountably he had had a purpose in
view—a monkeyish, unreasoning purpose, doubtless, but none the
less a purpose—which was none other than to track the lascar to his
lair and regain possession of the cord. Not that he knew in the least
the value to Don of the yard of twisted hemp, or the significance of
the scrap of crumpled, bloodstained cambric he was at such pains to
filch. With only blind instinct for his guide, he had been guided
better than he knew; for while the cord proved the Elephant Rock to
be the hiding-place of the lascar, the handkerchief proved, or
seemed to prove, that Jack was still alive and that the lascar's
hiding-place was his prison.
Don's heart leapt at the discovery.
Perhaps Jack, unable for some reason to scribble even so much as
a word, had entrusted the handkerchief to the monkey's care,
knowing that the sight of it would assure his chum of his safety, if it
did no more. Or perhaps Bosin had carried it off while Jack slept?
A thousand conjectures flashed through Don's brain, but he thrust
them hastily aside, since mere conjecture could not release his
chum; and calling to the blacks to follow, he sprang up the steps
with a lighter heart. The monkey swung himself down from his perch
and took the lead, as if instinctively divining the object of their
quest; chattering gleefully when the trio pressed close upon his
heels—impatiently when they lagged behind.
The steps surmounted, they discovered an offshoot from the main
tunnel, from which point of division the latter dwindled straight away
into a mere dot of light in the distance. In the main tunnel itself the
light was faint enough; but as they advanced it increased in
brilliancy till presently—the distance being actually much less than
the unbroken perspective of chiselled rock made it appear—they
emerged suddenly into the broad light of day, streaming down
through an oblong cleft or gash cut deep into the solid heart of the
Rock.
The light itself was more welcome than what it revealed.
Directly across their path, at their very feet indeed, extended a
yawning chasm, of depth unknown—but, as the first glance served
to show, of such breadth as to effectually bar their further progress.