From Billabong to London by Mary Grant Bruce

Author:Mary Grant Bruce
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Australia, juvenile, fiction, World War I
Publisher: Distributed Proofreaders Canada
Published: 1915-12-15T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER X.

THE EMPTY CABIN.

“JIM! Wake up, you old sinner!”

Jim, in his sleep, was riding after a bullock on the Billabong plains. The bullock was speedy, and he and Garryowen were doing their utmost to catch and turn him. They drew near—he swung up his arm with the stockwhip, and met a soft obstacle that surprised him effectually from his dream.

“By Jove, you can hit, old man!” said Wally, in a sepulchral whisper, rubbing his side. “Call yourself a pal? Wake up?”

“I’m sorry,” Jim said, struggling to consciousness. “Did I hit you? What’s the matter, Wal?”

“Be quiet, fathead, can’t you?” whispered Wally, impatiently. “I’ve been trying to wake you silently, and you’ll raise the ship. Get up—the signaller’s at work!”

Jim was out of his berth in a moment, and at the port-hole. Far down the side of the ship they could see fitful gleams of light.

“By Jove!” he said, bringing in his head. “We’ll get him this time, Wal. Awfully sorry I was so hard to wake.”

“Well, you’ve had about six hours’ sleep in the last three nights, so it’s much wonder,” Wally answered. “Generally you wake if a fly looks at you.” They were struggling into coats and slippers in the dark. “Come along!”

They hurried noiselessly down the passage, and turned into the narrow alley-way leading to the little empty cabin near Norah’s. The port-hole had been left open, and they peered out in turn.

“There’s no doubt this time,” said Jim, excitedly; “he’s signalling for all he’s worth. No lady with curling-tongs and a spirit-lamp about that chap! he means business.”

“What’s the plan of action?”

Jim considered.

“I don’t believe the captain would like us to tackle him alone,” he said. “I don’t think he’d get away from us—but he might, if he’s that big, powerful Swede. We want witnesses and authority, anyhow. I’ll mount guard at the entrance to that alley-way, Wal, and you go and rouse Mr. Dixon.”

“H’m,” said Wally. “And if the beast rushes you?”

“Well, he must rush,” said Jim, philosophically. “We can’t both stay, and I’d better be the one, being the stronger. Clear out, old man—look sharp! I wouldn’t let old Dixon miss seeing those flashes for a fiver!”

The entrance to the alley-way leading to the suspected cabin was dark and silent, and no faintest glimmer of light came from the skylight over the shut door. Jim took his stand in the narrow passage, bracing his muscles in case of a rush in the dark. No one could get past him, in so small a space; but a strong and determined man would, he knew, make short work of him in a wild dash for safety. Jim was grimly certain that the Swede might go over him, but not without a struggle. He clenched his fists, watching the door—imagining each instant that he heard a stealthy movement, or the slow creaking as the handle turned.

Mr. Dixon, roused from health-giving slumber, was incredulous and wrathful.

“You kids are a first-class nuisance!” he said, sleepily, getting into his coat. “If

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