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The Expedition of Captain Flick: A Story of Adventure

Chapter XI. The Chart of Isk

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Chapter XI. The Chart of Isk.

“Say what path shall I pursue,
O'er the waste of waters blue,
To regain the maid whose charms
Late were ravished from these arms.
Shall I seek the sunset dying,
Or to Eastern realms be hieing;
Sail where Southern billows roll,
Storm the white seas of the Pole?
South, and north, and east, and west,
All must know my heart's unrest,
Till in joy do I regain
She whose absence causes pain.”

None of us enjoyed the voyage, as the loss of Bertha made us feel melancholy, and the anxiety of chasing the scarlet ship kept us in constant suspense. Notwithstanding her start of twenty-four hours, we expected to see her shortly after passing the Straits; for it was natural enough that the modern vessel, steaming her eighteen knots an hour, should soon overhaul the primitive tub of the negroes. According to Flick, such a craft would not venture out of sight of land, being but ill-fitted to withstand page 122 the swell and heave of Atlantic rollers; therefore we hugged the coast as closely as we dared, in the fond belief that we should soon espy a scarlet blotch on the horizon. We had glorious weather, and made rapid headway, but day after day passed without our gaining any sight of the ship we sought. Harry had promised ten pounds to the first man who should sight the object of our chase, and, eager to earn the money, all the sailors kept a bright look-out. Reward and vigils were to no purpose, for never a glimpse did we gain of the red ship.

We slipped past Teneriffe, skirted Cape Verde, and came abreast of Sierra Leone. Still no sign of the negroes, and even Flick began to look grave. The strain was telling on my nerves, and Harry himself lost his usual cheerful spirits at the present juncture. We were almost afraid to hint our fears to one another; but as the days passed, and we were still unsuccessful, Captain Flick broached the subject to Harry and myself in his usual blunt fashion.

By this time we were in the Gulf of Guinea, off the Ivory Coast, and the yacht was swirling along at top speed under a purple evening sky. Overhead the constellations burned like lamps, and a yellow moon, showing half her orb above the waters, sent her light streaming in the white froth of our wake. So near were we to land, that the African continent lay like page 123 a dark cloud on our left, while southward stretched the wrinkled waste of the Atlantic, streaked with lines of foam. What with the calm splendour of the night, the humming of the wind among the cordage, and the pleasant heave of the boat as she rode the waters, it was all restful and enjoyable; but the three of us seated on the deck felt worried and ill at ease. Even smoking failed to soothe us, and Captain Flick gave voice to the general discomfort when he suddenly startled the quiet with a round oath.

“May the deuce take this negro ship!” growled Roaring Tom; “she seems to be a kind of Flying Dutchman. Here we are in Guinea Bay, and never a sight of the craft.”

“Perhaps we have made a mistake,” suggested Harry.

“I don't see how that can be, lad,” retorted Flick, unwilling to acknowledge defeat. “The red ship didn't go by Suez, that's certain, or—”

“So the telegram said.”

“Or even up the Nile,” added the skipper, frowning at the interruption.

“H'm,” said I, doubtfully, “I'm not so sure of that.”

“I am,” roared Flick, bringing down his fist on his massive knee. “If she had passed Alexandria, the news would soon have reached Suez, and we page 124 should have had a different reply to our wire. No, lads,” declared the old man, “she only left the Mediterranean by one route—through the Straits.”

“Then why haven't we caught her up?” was my very pertinent question.

“There you have me, Sir Denis. I could swear that those niggers would not venture out of sight of land in that craft; yet, though we have hugged the coast from Gib to this place, we have never seen them. I can't size it up nohow,” concluded Flick in a cross tone.

“I hope the red ship hasn't gone down,” hinted Harry, with a gloomy look.

“Good Lord, Harry, don't talk like that!” I cried, jumping to my feet. “We have had no storm since leaving Greece. Why, any tub could negotiate the Atlantic this weather. There could be no chance of a wreck.”

Harry could find no answer to this, and swung on his heel with a whistle. I was vexed that he should suggest such a thing, and remained silent, considering the remark. From a brown study I was recalled by Flick.

“See here, Sir Denis,” he said earnestly, “I'm in a fix. We can only hope to strike Isk by following in the trail of those niggers. Now, if we are not at their heels—which I am much inclined to doubt—I page 125 don't see how we are going to carry out our enterprise.”

“You have an idea of the whereabouts of the island, at all events,” said I hopefully.

“True enough; but I hardly see how we are to find it even then. We can't go sailing over leagues of ocean for months and months, searching for unknown lands.”

“Did Dosk give you no idea of the latitude?”

“No. I wish I could have found some chart. No doubt there were plenty of charts aboard that Noah's ark of theirs. Had I been certain of that,” added Flick ferociously, “I'd have boarded the boat and got hold of a map somehow.”

This wild wish put an end to our conversation for the time being, and shortly afterwards we turned in, all three in very low spirits. Our voyage had started badly enough, with anxiety and disappointment, nor did there seem any chance of improvement. To find Isk it was necessary to catch up with the red ship, but I, for one, had surrendered all hope of our doing so. With our speed we must have overhauled her before now, always presuming that we were on her track; but, as we had not done so, I was resolved in my own mind that she had not taken the Cape route. Under these circumstances, there did not seem much chance of finding the island, and I page 126 wondered that Flick could steam on so aimlessly when we had not the slightest idea of our destination. Yet find the island and rescue Bertha we must. For the statue, which was the cause of all this trouble, I cared nothing; for my affianced wife, I cared a great deal.

Next morning a miracle happened—I say a miracle, because it took place so soon after our conversation. Then Flick had wished for a chart of Isk, so that he might strike the island without following in the trail of the negro embassy, and lo! on the following day, the chart was found. It was Jenner who made the discovery, and he came aft with a grin on his face which showed him to be the bearer of good news.

“Lookee here, sir,” said he, holding out a roll of what appeared to be reddish-hued paper to Captain Flick, “this is what I found in Dosk's berth, sir.”

With a puzzled look, our commander took the roll, and Harry and myself bent forward to see what could be the cause of Jenner's excitement. He was so eager that he could not wait for Flick to unroll the paper, but snapped out his news there and then.

“'Tis a map of them niggers, gentlemen,” said he, with a smiling nod.

“The devil!” roared the skipper, and reeled it out on the cabin table.

The next moment all three of us were bending page 127 over the chart—for chart it was—a barbaric map of the mysterious island.

The material which we had taken for paper was a smooth copper-coloured square of linen, mounted on two ebony sticks; and thereon was traced in balck paint a kind of pictorial presentation of the Indian Ocean. However hidden the island was, the geographers of Isk seemed to have a fair knowledge of the terrestrial globe. On this map we descried the irregular east coast of the African continent, the bulky island of Madagascar, with its dependencies. At the top appeared the spike of the Indian peninsula, and the pear-shaped island of Ceylon; furthermore Arabia, Persia, and the intervening Gulf -these latter traced to the extreme verge of the linen. We also recognized the bulge of the great Australian continent; and, midway between it and Africa, we noted a conical-shaped mountain, on which stood a woman with star and dove—this set in a space of lonely sea considerably to the north of St. Paul's Island.

“Venus! Isk!” cried Flick, recognizing the now-familiar symbol. “Good. We can now find the island without trouble. These niggers have a rum idea of latitude and longitude, though,” he added, looking at the innumerable lines scrawled over the map. “How the deuce can I steer through all this page 128 scribbling? No matter; Isk lies to the north of St. Paul's Island in a direct line; that's good enough for me. Hurrah, boys, we'll lift this place before many days, rescue the lass, and annex the statue!”

“By all means,” said I dryly, “always provided we are not killed in the meantime.”

“We'll take our chance of that, old Evans,” struck in Harry good-humouredly. “I, for one, do not intend to give in without a fight. By Jupiter!” he continued, running his forefinger over the chart, “this is a find, and no mistake. I wonder how it came into Dosk's possession.”

“Perhaps he brought it from Isk,” I suggested.

“No, by Jove! he didn't,” retorted Flick sharply.

“He wore nothing but a loin-cloth when he boarded my boat. He couldn't have hidden the chart from me.”

“To say nothing of the fact that Dosk, as one of the plebs, had no right to own this map,' said Harry, “if the rulers of Isk want to keep the whereabouts of their island a secret, they certainly wouldn't let a common fisherman keep so important a document.”

“He stole it,” cried Roaring Tom, bending his heavy brows. “He stole it aboard the red ship. No doubt he intended to get back to Isk by means of this map if his countrymen refused to take him with them. However, it's no use surmising. What we page 129 have to deal with is the fact that this chart puts us right for the island; so thither we go.”

He went out of the cabin with Jenner to alter the course of the yacht, so that instead of skirting the coast we should sail in a direct line for the Cape. I picked up the map and looked at it carefully. From Isk up through the Indian Ocean and Persian Gulf ran a thick red line, terminating at the end of the linen. I turned over the chart, and on the other side appeared a tracing of Asia Minor, the Archipelago, and Southern Greece. The red line continued across this, up the Euphrates to Aleppo, thence overland to the Levantine coast, and so on to Cythera, where it stopped. Both Harry and I stared open-mouthed at this. Flick found us thus, tongue-tied.

“I say, captain,” cried Harry, pointing to the red line, “what do you make of that?”

Flick looked at both sides of the chart, and whistled.

“By gad!” he said in a tone of surprise, “it's the route of the red ship. No wonder we didn't pick her up on the African coast.”

“Do you really think the negroes took that route?” I asked doubtfully.

“Why,” said Flick, frowning, “there can be little doubt of that; the red line shows it. It's a new way of getting out of the Mediterranean, and one page 130 which would enable them to escape observation. I wonder if Hesperus took that way in the olden days?”

“Humph!” said Harry, looking at the map, “from Cythera to the Levantine coast. I can understand that. Down the Euphrates, through the Persian Gulf and Indian Ocean. That's all plain sailing. But what about the overland route down Aleppo way?”

Flick scratched his head.

“I can't say, lad,” he replied with some hesitation.

“It's an uncivilized place there; so the niggers might have left their red ship on the coast and have picked up another bark on the Euphrates at a navigable point.”

“Or else,” I suggested, “they might have taken their red ship to pieces, and transported her over the mountains to the river.”

“Anyhow, it's uncommonly clever, however they did it,” said Captain Flick with unwilling admiration. “With the exception of the narrow breadth of land between the coast and Euphrates, it's all water-way. These niggers are better geographers than I thought. How is it they are so well acquainted with the lie of the land?”

“Oh,” said I, “you must remember they come out of their barbaric seclusion at times. Doubtless in one of their Grecian excursions they picked up a set of civilized charts.”

page 131

“No,” said Flick, pointing to the map, “this is incorrect; the coasts are all wrongly drawn. They have ideas, but not correct ones. This chart is of semi-civilized manufacture. However,” added Flick, rolling up the linen, “I guess all they wanted was a good route, mostly water-way, to Cythera. They found that by utilizing the Persian Gulf and the River Euphrates. I don't expect they care a red cent for any other part of the world.”

“Well, captain,” cried Harry, yawning, “I'm glad we've got a hint of the situation of Isk.”

“We've got more than a hint, lad. I'll steam straight for Isk by this map. We won't be long in finding it now. I'll tell you one thing, lads.”

“What's that, captain?”

“We'll arrive at Isk before the embassy.”

“Impossible.”

“I don't see it. We have come the longest way, I know; but think of that rowing-boat against our eighteen knots. No, lads, you can bet we'll fetch Isk before the red ship.”

Flick spoke with great confidence, but in this he reckoned without his host.