Well, one gloriously fine day we sighted a ship going very slowly across the gulf, several miles away.Would to God we had never seen her! We were thrown, as usual, into a perfect frenzy of wild excitement, and the girls dashed here and there like people possessed.Of course, I determined to intercept the vessel if possible, and the girls at once expressed their intention of coming with me.I attempted earnestly to dissuade them from this, but they wept pitifully and implored me to let them come.They were filled with an ungovernable longing to get away--the same longing, perhaps, that animates a caged bird who, although well fed and kindly treated, soars away without a moment's hesitation when an opportunity occurs.Quite against my better judgment, I let them come.Every second was precious and every argument futile.While Yamba was getting ready the canoe I rushed from one group of natives to the other, coaxing, promising, imploring.I pointed out to them that they could propel their catamarans faster than I could paddle my canoe; and I promised them that if I reached the ship Iwould send them presents from the white man's land of tomahawks and knives; gaily coloured cloths and gorgeous jewellery.But they were only too ready to help me without any of these inducements;and in an incredibly short time at least twenty catamarans, each containing one or two men, put off from the shore in my wake and made directly towards the ship, whilst I struck off at a tangent so as to head her off.I now see that without doubt we must have presented a very formidable appearance to the people on the vessel as we paddled over the sunlit seas, racing one another, yelling, and gesticulating like madmen.Of course, the people on board quite naturally thought they were being attacked by a savage flotilla.But in the excitement of the moment I never gave this a thought.Had I only left my faithful natives behind all might have been well.Yamba and I kept the canoe well ahead, and we reached the neighbourhood of the ship first.
As we approached, the excitement of the girls was painful to witness.They could scarcely contain themselves for joy; and as Iforcibly prevented them from standing up in the frail canoe, they contented themselves with frantically waving their hands and screaming themselves hoarse.
Nearing the vessel I was surprised to see the top-sail being hoisted, but, strange to say, the crew kept well out of sight.
This was easy to do, considering the spread of canvas.She was not a Malay vessel, being decidedly of European rig.She was only a small craft, of perhaps ten or fifteen tons, with one mast carrying a main-sail and stay-sail, in addition to the top-sail that had been hoisted as we approached.To us, however, she was a "ship."We were now about one hundred and fifty yards away, and I suddenly leapt to my feet and coo-eed several times.Still no one showed himself, and not a soul was visible on board.My own joyful excitement speedily turned to heart-sickness, alarm, and even terror.By this time the flotilla of catamarans was close behind me; and just as I was about to sit down and take to my paddle again, so as to advance still closer to the vessel, the loud report of a gun was heard; and then--well, what followed next is exceedingly difficult for me to describe accurately.Whether I was wounded by the shot, or whether the girls suddenly stood up, causing me to lose my balance and fall on the side of the canoe and cut my thigh, I do not know.
At any rate, I crashed heavily overboard in spite of Yamba's desperate attempt to save me.The next moment I had forgotten all about the ship, and was only conscious of Yamba swimming close by my side, and occasionally gripping my long hair when she thought Iwas going under.We righted the canoe and climbed in as quickly as we could.I think I was dazed and incapable of any coherent thought.As I collapsed in the bottom of the canoe, I suddenly realised that Yamba and I were alone; and sitting up, I gasped, "The girls, the girls! Where are they? Oh, where are they? We must save them!"Alas! they had sunk beneath the smiling waves, and they never rose again.True, they were expert swimmers, but I suppose the terrible excitement, followed by the sudden shock, was too much for them, and as they sank for the first time they probably clung to each other in the embrace of death.God knows best.Perhaps it was better that He should take my loved ones from me than that they should be dragged through the terrible years that followed.
But for a long time I utterly refused to believe that my darlings were lost--they were truly as sisters to me; and Yamba and I and the natives dived for them time after time, searching the sea in every direction.But at length, seeing that I was exhausted, Yamba forcibly detained me, and told me that I myself would inevitably drown if I went into the water again.The wound in my thigh (I am uncertain to this day whether it was the result of the gun-shot or mere collision with the rough gunwale of the canoe) was bleeding freely; and as it was also pointed out to me that there was a very strong and swift current at this spot, I allowed myself to be taken away without any further opposition.
I simply COULD not realise my bereavement.It seemed too terrible and stunning to think, that when God had provided me with these two charming companions, who were all in all to me every moment of my existence, as a consolation for the horrors I had gone through--it seemed impossible, I say, that they should be snatched from me just at the very moment when salvation seemed within our reach.Every detail of the incident passed before my mental vision, but I could not grasp it--I could not seem to think it real.I can never explain it.These poor girls were more to me than loving sisters.
