"Personally, I have seen no reason whatever for such a hubbub," was the
flippant answer.
It was evident that Dr. Christobal was annoyed. Notwithstanding his
conventional polish, he was not a man to conceal his feelings when
deeply stirred. Yet Elsie failed to catch his intent, other than that
he was adopting his usual nonchalant tone.
"But something must have caused Captain Courtenay and Mr. Tollemache to
fire their revolvers so frequently. And, if they were mistaken, the
dog would not have shared their error. Besides, one of the canoes did
not get away. See! Its mast is fastened there."
"Ah! I had forgotten Tollemache. He was selected to join the
captain's watch, of course."
"Yes, I was present when the watches were formed. Have you seen Mr.
Tollemache? Is he safe?"
"He is among those making the round of the ship. I hope you will
forgive me."
"Forgive you! What have you done that calls for forgiveness?"
"There are errors of speech which equal those of conduct, Miss Maxwell."
"Oh, what nonsense--at one in the morning--when we are threatened by
savages!"
Christobal was relieved that she took this view of his abrupt
utterances. He thought the incident was ended. He was mistaken; Elsie
was able to recall each word subsequently. At the moment she was
recording impressions with uncomprehending accuracy, but her mind was
quite incapable of analyzing them; that would come later.
The lantern was brought. Courtenay stood on the lowermost rail, and
carefully paid out a rope to which the light was slung. He was far too
brave a man to take undue risks. He was ready to shoot instantly if
need be, and, by his instructions, Tollemache and Walker kept watch as
best they could in case other canoes were lying close to the ship.
Any doubt in this regard was dispelled in a singular manner. The
flickering rays of the lantern had barely revealed the primitive craft
lying alongside when a voice came from the depths, crying in broken
Spanish: "Don't shoot, señors--spare me, for the love of heaven! I am a white
man from Argentina."
Christobal and Elsie alone understood the exact significance of the
words. Courtenay, of course, knew what language was being spoken, and
it was easy to guess the nature of the appeal. But the lantern showed
that the canoe was empty. In the center lay the Fuegian fire, its
embers covered with a small hide. The pole, fastened to a cross-piece
in the thwarts, was not a mast, but had evidently been shipped in order
to give speedy access to the deck by climbing.
Then Courtenay caught sight of two hands clinging to the stern of the
canoe. He swung the lantern in that direction, and an extraordinary,
and even an affrighting, object became visible. A caricature of a
human head was raised slightly above the level of the water. It was
crowned by a shock of coarse, black, knotted hair, tied back from the
brows by a fillet of white feathers. An intensely black face, crossed
by two bars of red and white pigment, reaching from ear to ear, and
covering eyelids, nose, and lips, was upturned to the watchers from the
deck. The colors were vivid enough, notwithstanding the sheets of rain
which blew in gusts against the ship's side, dimming the dull light of
a storm-proof lamp, to convey a most uncanny effect; nor did Courtenay
remove either his eyes or the revolver while he said to Christobal: "Ask him who he is, and what he wants."