"Turn out, Hoppy!"
Ellerton was awake in an instant, but forgetting that the cabin of a small craft does not possess unlimited headroom, he sat up and brought his head violently in contact with the deck beams.
"What's up?" he exclaimed, grasping his revolver. "Anything wrong?"
"No," replied Andy. "Only it's two o'clock, and your watch."
"Goodness! I feel as if I've only been asleep five minutes."
"Sorry for you, then, old chap, for you've got to keep awake five hours."
So saying, Andy slid into his bunk, and within a minute his regular breathing showed that he was asleep.
Ellerton took up his position under the shelter of the dew-sodden awning. Everything was quiet, save for the occasional splash of a fish as it played upon the surface of the placid water, and the ever-present rumble of the breakers upon the distant reef.
Shorewards the outline of the island was dimly visible against the loom of the starlit sky, while a light from the seaward window of the house and the dull red gleam of the dying embers of the fire the natives had kindled were the only sign of human occupation.
Yet, Ellerton reflected, the bush might be alive with savages, awaiting the opportunity to fall upon the settlement, murder his friends, and possess themselves of the valuable stores.
Perhaps the story of the seizure of Ahii and the flight of the inhabitants to Ni Atong was a myth, invented by that rogue Blight for the purpose of luring the castaways into a false position.
There could be no doubt about it, Ellerton's nerves were "jumpy." Perhaps it was that the suddenness of coming into contact with human beings other than his comrades had acted upon his nerves.
Ellerton realised that he was entering into a new phase of his existence. He regretted it, for, beyond his natural anxiety concerning his parents, he had grown to love the isolated life on McKay's Island.
Then, should Blight's story prove to be correct, Ellerton felt sure that Mr. McKay's action was the only course permissible. The little colony was to fight for its existence, and the more remote the scene of hostilities the better chance they had of securing the sole proprietorship of the island.
Hist! A succession of faint sounds like those of a man stealthily swimming caused Ellerton to sit bolt upright, grasp his rifle, and peer intently through the darkness.
There was no mistake about it. It was some object heading directly for the yawl, its track being marked by a faint blur of phosphorescence.
Visions of bloodthirsty savages, swimming, knife in mouth, to surprise the crew of the little craft, filled Ellerton with alarm. He raised his rifle, released the safety catch, and took aim at the mysterious intruder.
"Andy," he whispered, but his friend was too deep in slumber to be awakened by a whisper.
"I'll wait till he's close alongside," muttered Ellerton, fingering the trigger.
At that moment there was a perceptible jar alongside the boat, followed by a prolonged grating sound, as if a piece of sandpaper were slowly drawn over a rough surface. Then, with a swirl and a succession of phosphorescent splashes, the object vanished.
The sound had roused Andy.
"What's up?" he exclaimed, springing into the cockpit.
Both lads looked over the side. Deep beneath the surface they saw a huge luminous shape slowly gliding away.
"My word!" whispered Andy. "Can't you see what it is? It's a shark."
"I thought it was some natives swimming off to us."
"Never fear. They'll never attempt such a thing with a sentry like that brute," replied Andy as he re-entered the cabin.
Slowly the weary hours passed, till the sun rose in a sky of misty grey, and the inhabitants of McKay's Island, both black and white, bestirred themselves into activity.
"Not much wind, boss," was Chinese Pork's salutation as Mr. McKay and his companions arrived at the beach, whither Andy had rowed in the tender.
"There'll be some before long," replied Mr. McKay. "It usually springs up about an hour after sunrise."
"It'll mean a long pull if it doesn't," rejoined Blight. "Shall I lend you four or five hands to work the sweeps?"
"I'll not trouble you, thanks. It's your men who will find it hard work, I fancy."
"Say, why? You just see them use those paddles. They'll keep it up for hours at a stretch. Your craft'll be the tail end of this 'ere procession, I guess."
"We shall see," replied Mr. McKay quietly, for he had no desire to enlighten the ex-pearler upon the subject of the motor.
"Say, boss?"
"Well?"
"That's a rum packet," said Blight, indicating with a jerk of his thumb the boat the lads had made from the wreck of the gig. "I bet you never bought her at Hilo?"
Mr. McKay did not reply. He quite realised that the ex-pearler was trying to pump him, while, on the other hand, he was equally determined to conceal the fact that he and his companions were on the island through shipwreck.
Although Mr. McKay hated deception, he wished to convey the impression that they settled here by choice, yet Blight's question showed that he kept his eyes open.
"Are you ready to start?" demanded Mr. McKay. "There's a wind springing up from the south-east'ard."
"As soon as you like. But can you lend me a revolver, cap'n? I've got a bloomin' Martini, but I've run out o' cartridges months and months ago."
"Here you are, and here are fifty cartridges. I'll make you a present of the pistol," replied Mr. McKay, though he realised that he was playing into the man's hands.
Then, without waiting to receive the ex-pearler's thanks, he stepped into the boat and was rowed off to the yawl.
"Good morning, Ellerton," he exclaimed. "All quiet, I suppose? Well, let's get the canvas on her."
Already the natives were hauling their canoe down the beach, and by the time the yawl had set her sails the splash of a score of paddles showed that they had lost no time in embarking.
"Up with your helm, Andy; check the jib sheets."
Then, as the little craft drew clear of the land, the freshening breeze caused her to heel and glide through the ruffled water of the lagoon.
By the time they had gained the passage through the reef the yawl was ahead of the canoe.
"Glorious!" ejaculated Andy. "See, they're setting their sail. It will be a good race, after all."
Half a dozen bronzed natives were setting the raking mast and bending the yard with its enormous sail of cocoa fibre. Then, as the sail rose swiftly in the air, the breeze filled the mat-like canvas. The crew took in their paddles and watched the yawl with curious eyes.
"We are gaining on her, I think," remarked Andy.
"Yes; we must shorten sail," replied Mr. McKay. "But I want particularly to note the respective speeds of the two craft. I should think that, under sail and aided by her paddles, that canoe could overhaul us under sail alone. Yes," he continued, after a few moments' careful observation. "I think I've seen enough in case of future developments, so we'll strike the topsail."
Under reduced canvas the yawl kept the canoe at a regular distance from her, neither gaining nor allowing the latter to overhaul her. Quexo, fearing an attack of sea-sickness, had retired to the seclusion of a berth in the fo'c'sle, while Ellerton and Terence, who had kept the last portion of the previous night's watch, followed his example, though from other motives.
Andy was steering. His father, who had given him the course, was below preparing a meal.
The wind held steadily all the forenoon, and by eleven o'clock the summit of McKay's Island had dipped beneath the horizon. It was not without feelings of regret that Andy saw it disappear. He, too, realised that they were embarked upon a hazardous mission, and that possibly great sacrifice would have to be made ere they returned to their island home.
At midday the wind died away to a flat calm, the yawl rolling sluggishly in the oily swell, with her boom swaying violently from side to side, and threatening dire disaster to the heads of any of the crew that incautiously came within its reach.
The canoe, similarly situated, did not hesitate to lower the sail, and paddle close alongside.
"This is a bit rotten, cap'n," shouted Blight. "Shall I give you a tow?"
"No thanks, don't trouble about us," replied Mr. McKay. "You can paddle on ahead, and we'll follow when the breeze springs up. If we can't fetch Ni Atong before dark you might get those fellows to light a fire on the beach, so that we can come up to the anchorage."
"Righto, boss! Ta-ta!"
There was a peculiar glint in the man's eye. He fancied that the superior speed of the canoe under paddles was an asset in his favour for the events he had already planned.
The chief gave the word, the blades dipped, and, gathering way, the canoe soon gained a rapid pace. The long-drawn song of the paddlers gradually died away as the distance increased, and an hour later the canoe was lost to sight.
"Now, Andy, we'll start the motor, and creep up within a couple of miles of Ni Atong. They will think we have picked up a breeze."
"Why don't you want to let that chap Blight know we've a motor?"
"Frankly, Andy, I don't trust him. If he plays a straight game, well and good; but, should he act treacherously—and I have every reason to believe he will, judging by his past career—we must keep a trump card up our sleeves. That's why I wanted to make sure of the respective speeds of the two craft, for you may be certain that, since the chief is in her, yonder canoe is the largest and swiftest they possess. Under power we can easily outstrip her, I have no doubt."
No sooner had the motor started than Terence and Ellerton appeared.
"Hullo! Where's the wind?" asked the latter.
"And where's the canoe? added Donaghue.
"Hull down," replied Andy. "They've gone on ahead to give us a house-warming. Now, you fellows, get yourselves something to eat, and then give us a spell. I'll let you have the course. Keep your weather eye lifting, and look out for a breeze. It may come down suddenly."
"You bet I will," assented Ellerton. "How far are we from Ni Atong?"
"About twenty miles. Directly the island hoves in sight call us."
At about four in the afternoon Terence, who had climbed the main-mast and had taken up a perch upon the diminutive cross-trees, reported land ahead.
Mr. McKay and Andy were instantly warned, and, a breeze springing up, the motor was shut off.
Half an hour later the heads of a patch of palm trees were visible from the deck.
"That's Ni Atong, right enough," commented Mr. McKay, as bit by bit the land appeared to rise above the horizon. "Blight told me that the entrance to the lagoon is easily picked out."
Ni Atong resolved itself into a low, regularly outlined island barely two miles in length. Its surface was covered with dense scrub and a few cocoanut palms, the soil being apparently loose and sandy. So far as could be seen, a coral reef extended round the island at a distance of half a mile from the shore, the rocks in places protruding above water to a height of nearly three feet.
"There's another island showing up on our port bow, sir," announced Ellerton.
"Then that's Ahii. It's a lofty island something like ours, judging by the appearance of that mountain. However, we'll hear and see more of it later on. Now, Andy, we are approaching the reef. Do you climb aloft and con the boat in through the channel."
This is the only practical method of entering an unbeaconed lagoon, for owing to the sudden increase in depth, a lead line is of little use. On the other hand, the extreme clearness of the water makes it possible for a man aloft to detect instantly any rocks or shoals that lurk beneath the surface.
For the space of five minutes it was an anxious time. On either hand the breakers thrashed themselves in masses of milk-white foam upon the glistening coral reef, while ahead a narrow patch of undulating, yet unbroken water showed the presence of the only available channel into the shelter of the lagoon.
"Starboard—bear away—starboard again—port, steady!"
Under the light breeze the yawl was in danger of dropping to leeward upon the merciless rocks. One moment her stern was lifted high in the air, the rudder consequently being useless. The next she threw her streaming bows above the following wave, then, shaving the edge of the reef by a bare five yards, the little vessel glided into the quiet waters of the anchorage.
The crew now had time to look about them. Drawn up on the sandy beach were seven large canoes, similar to that which had paid an unwelcome visit to McKay's Island, while others, only slightly smaller in size, were hauled up beneath the shelter of the bushes, their lofty carved prows alone being visible.
The beach was lined with natives, numbering at least 180 men, besides a host of women and children.
The men were of medium stature, muscular, and well built. In colour they resembled that of Quexo, being considerably lighter than the natives of New Guinea. Many of them bore scars, possibly self-inflicted or the result of inter-tribal wars.
"Stand by to let go!" shouted Andy to Terence and Ellerton. Then, as the yawl shot up into the wind, he followed up with: "Let go!"
With a roar and rattle of chain the anchor plunged to the bottom of the lagoon, and as the crew prepared to lower and stow the sails, Mr. McKay waved his arm towards the crowded shore.
"Well, lads," he exclaimed, "what do you think of our allies?"
"A rum-looking crowd," observed Terence. "They look as if they could do a lot of damage, though."
"Yes," replied Mr. McKay, "I am sure of it. These fellows often fight for fighting's sake, and a pretty spectacle they make of it at times. I've seen them at it before."
"What, these natives?"
"No, the inhabitants of New Guinea. They are strongly associated, however, not only in manners and customs, but in language. I must polish up my Polynesian lingo, though after acquiring a smattering of Spanish I'm afraid I've become very rusty. Come, now, hurry up and snug down, and we'll go ashore."
"Armed, of course?"
"Yes, certainly. Take your revolvers only. I don't think we need fear anything at present. If there's to be trouble it will be after the natives have made the best use of us."
Accordingly the little crew worked with a will; then, directly the canvas was stowed and a second anchor laid out, the whole party went ashore.
They were received with great show of goodwill, the natives crowding round them with shouts of welcome, while the ceremony of rubbing noses was duly performed.
Several of the women advanced bearing long garlands, and, to the undisguised bashfulness of the three lads, placed the flowing chains round the necks of their visitors. Quexo, however, was denied that honour. He was a coloured man, and therefore, in the eyes of the natives, of no consequence.
"You made a quick passage, boss, after all," observed Blight.
"Aye, we picked up with a breeze," replied Mr. McKay, though he did not offer to explain when the breeze was encountered.
"They've prepared a feast for you," continued the ex-pearler. "So let's put our best foot foremost."
At a short distance from the shore was a large clearing, temporary huts made of branches and leaves of palm trees being erected in a vast double circle. Here a number of natives were busy baking pigs and fowls, while there was an abundance of yams and cocoanuts.
"They are very improvident with their supplies," remarked Andy. "They evidently seem as if they are certain of returning to the land of plenty."
"Yes," replied his father, who had taken an early opportunity of examining the roasted pigs to make sure they were pigs. "We may as well set-to and enjoy their hospitality; now, keep close together and see that your pistols are easy to draw."
The chiefs, each distinguishable by his huge mop of greased and frizzed hair, had squatted in a semicircle, and no sooner had the guests seated themselves than there was a terrific scramble on the part of the native chiefs to help themselves.
"We must forget for the moment that we are civilised and follow their example," remarked Mr. McKay, seizing a bit of pork in his fingers.
His companions did likewise, and notwithstanding the absence of knives and forks they managed to eat and enjoy their share of the feast.
This done, there was a war-dance performed by the young men of the tribe, the warriors brandishing their clubs with such energy that it seemed wonderful that no one was hurt.
The natives did not appear to use their heavy clubs for the purpose of knocking their imaginary adversaries over the head; instead, they utilised the upward swing of their arms, lunging with the weapon on its upward stroke.
Andy particularly noticed this, and remarked it to his father.
"Yes," was the reply. "It's a favourite 'knock-out' blow with these fellows. I've seen them at it in actual combat. The idea is to get underneath their antagonist's guard, and strike him on the chin with the upward sweep of the club, and knock him senseless. Afterwards the winning side secure those who are only stunned and——"
"And what?"
"Eat them!"
At length the display came to an end, and the guests prepared to return on board. Mr. McKay had attempted to converse with some of the chiefs, but the result was a failure. He therefore told Blight to inform the chief that an early start was to be made on the morrow.
The news was received with redoubled shouts of delight, and the entire population escorted the white men to the beach. Nor did they stop there, for men, women, and children rushed headlong into the sea, and formed a huge bodyguard of swimmers till the yawl was reached.
All round the boat the water was black with the heads and arms of the swimmers, for these natives of the Pacific Islands take to the water often before they can walk.
Splashing and shouting loud enough to scare every shark within a mile, they swam round and round the yawl, none offering to climb aboard, till at a shout from one of the chiefs they turned and swam rapidly to the shore.
"We must set watches to-night, I suppose?" asked Andy.
"Certainly! Although these people are supposed to be our friends, we must imagine ourselves in hostile waters. I remember once that a small schooner put into Niihau. The natives came off to barter, and appeared to be extremely friendly. During the night about a couple of hundred swam off to the schooner and took her crew entirely by surprise. We found the charred remains of her timbers about a month afterwards, but not a trace of her unfortunate crew. They had been made into 'big pig.'"
"What's that?" asked Ellerton.
"Otherwise killed, roasted, and eaten."
"Then what happened?"
"The usual. Gunboat, landing party, etc. The village was shelled and burnt, and the island afterwards annexed to the Empire. So, you see, we must exercise due caution, although I don't want to upset your nerves."
It must have been shortly after midnight when the crew was awakened by a warning shout from Terence. Turning out of their comfortable bunks, the others rushed from the cabin, armed in anticipation of a sudden and treacherous attack.
A low rumbling greeted their ears, the sound apparently coming from the shore. For more than a minute the mysterious sound continued, then it suddenly ceased.
"What is it?" asked Donald.
"I'm afraid I cannot tell you," replied his father. "It's rather like the sound of a submarine explosion; probably a volcanic eruption."
Again the noise was repeated, yet no agitation of the placid water took place. The natives did not appear to be disturbed, for no commotion due to human agency could be heard from the island. This time the rumbling continued for quite five minutes, dying away in a succession of long-drawn tremors. Then all was quiet.
"I can't make it out," remarked Mr. McKay. "Whatever it is it seems to be accepted by the natives without a protest. To-morrow I'll inquire."
The party remained on deck for nearly an hour, but as the mysterious noise was not repeated, they at length retired to the cabin, leaving Terence to continue the remainder of his watch.
Just after sunrise Ellerton called Mr. McKay's attention to something on the beach. Seizing his glasses, the elder man brought them to bear upon the spot, and the next moment he exclaimed:
"Come on, lads, get your arms and row ashore as hard as you can."
Without waiting for an explanation, the three lads jumped into the boat, Mr. McKay taking his place in the stern sheets.
"Don't look ahead; keep your eyes on the boat and pull," said Mr. McKay quietly, yet there was a grim, determined expression on his face that betokened trouble ahead.
The moment the little craft touched the beach the lads jumped out, and led by Mr. McKay, they made their way at top speed along the sandy shore.
Fifty yards from where they landed was the chief's canoe, which had been hauled up on shore since the previous night. At regular intervals betwixt its lofty prow and the water were six dark objects lying on the sand.
The lads gave a gasp of horror, for lashed firmly to bamboo poles were six natives. Their fellows were preparing to launch the canoe over their bodies.
"Stop that!" shouted Mr. McKay sternly, holding up his hand to arrest the progress of the heavy craft, which was quivering under the grasp of fifty stalwart blacks.
The natives hesitated, glaring at the interrupters of their ceremony, while some of the chiefs made signs for the interfering strangers to stand aside.
"Where's Blight?" shouted Mr. McKay, as he opened the cut-off of the magazine of his rifle.
"Here I am, boss," replied that individual, coolly sauntering forward.
"Tell them to knock off this horrible business."
"Let 'em carry on, boss," was the reply, almost apologetic. "You see, they ain't got no prisoners, and the chief's canoe must be launched in this 'ere way, else it's bad luck. So they picked on some of their least wanted pals. Bless me, you'll soon get used to it. I did years ago."
"You can tell them from me that the moment that canoe moves we'll open fire. You might also explain that if our wishes are not carried out, we'll go back to our own island, and those rascals can stay here to starve. Now be quick, and let them know we mean business. Cover these tow-headed rogues," he continued to his companions. "If I give the word, let fly continuous volleys till the rest of the rascals bolt."
Evidently the chiefs knew the power of the white men's rifles, for they stepped back a few paces. Some of their followers grasped their clubs and spears, and courageously awaited their leaders' orders.
Jimmy Blight spoke rapidly. At first his words seemed to enrage the chiefs, but finally they expostulated.
"What do they say?"
"They are willing to let the brutes free if you promise that your power'll keep off the—the—you know what I mean, boss, the——"
"Evil eye?"' suggested Mr. McKay.
"Aye, that's it."
"You can tell them that there's nothing to fear on that score. Let them know that six men alive are worth something, and that six squashed to a pulp will do them no earthly good."
Once again Blight turned to the half-pacified chiefs, a rapid exchange of words followed, and in the end the latter signed to their people to free the captives from their terrible position.
"That's over, thank God!" ejaculated Mr. McKay with intense fervour. "Tell the chiefs I'm going to make them a present," and putting his rifle to his shoulder he fired six shots in the air in rapid succession.
Astonishment held the natives spell-bound; they had never before seen a magazine rifle discharged. The sharp "crack" of the weapon, its smokelessness, and the peculiar screech of the nickel bullets filled them with awe, and with great hesitation they accepted the six empty cartridge-cases as an exchange for the release of the intended victims.
"They've given you a tally, boss," observed Blight. "They call you 'The Wonder that Breathes Fire.'"
"I hope they will bear it in mind then," replied Mr. McKay. "Now let them proceed with the launching operations. When all is ready we will set sail. By the by, what was that noise we heard last night?" he inquired, turning to the ex-pearler.
"Noise! What noise, boss?"
"A kind of prolonged roar of distant thunder. Twice it occurred."
"Oh! I know what you mean. We don't take no notice of it in these parts. It's the 'Barking Sands.' See yon hills?"—pointing to a ridge of sand dunes about sixty feet in height. "The stuff's slippery like, and often it rolls down, and makes a row. There's a sight of other islands about here like it."
Half-an-hour later a flotilla of nine canoes, crowded with armed natives, paddled slowly towards the entrance of the lagoon. As they passed the white men's craft, their paddles rose in the air to the accompaniment of a sonorous salute.
Then, as the dripping anchor rose clear of the water, the breeze filled the sails of the yawl, and she, too, started to play her part in the hazardous enterprise.
Another five hours would decide whether Ahii would fall into the hands of its former possessors, and, what was still more important, the fate of the little band from McKay's Island.
Once clear of the reef, the canoes ceased paddling, and the brown cocoa-fibre sails were hoisted.
The yawl, by reason of her superior spread of canvas, soon forged ahead till, drawing in line with the largest canoe, in which were Blight and the head man of the tribe, the speed was regulated so as to keep within hailing distance of the ex-pearler.
Mr. McKay had already been given a rough chart of the island of Ahii. Like their own island and Ni Atong, Ahii was surrounded by a reef, only that on the eastern side the rocky barrier practically touched the shore. There were four large passages through the reef, two on the southern side—which they were approaching—one on the western, and the fourth on the northern.
The summit of Ahii was clearly visible from Ni Atong, and as the flotilla neared the island its peculiarities could be gradually discerned. It was considerably larger than McKay's Island, and composed chiefly of a dark brown rock, its flat portions covered with verdure. The general outline resembled a saddle, the higher of the two peaks being over two thousand feet above the sea.
But in place of the glistening sands of McKay's Island there was a beach of black sand, apparently the ground-up deposit of lava, for from the lower of the two peaks a thin cloud of smoke was emitted, showing that Ahii was still an active volcano.
At the western termination of the beach was perceived the entrance to a small creek, while beyond this opening low, dark-coloured cliffs rose sheer from the sea.
The approach of the invaders was observed long before the flotilla reached the entrance of the lagoon, and by the aid of their telescopes and field-glasses the crew of the yawl saw that the beach was lined with warriors, armed with formidable beak-headed clubs, long spears and oblong shields, the natives being bedecked with barbaric finery and plentifully bedaubed with paint and ochre.
"That's their boat harbour," shouted Blight, pointing to the creek. "Their canoes are drawn up on the banks about half-a-mile up the river. The village is on the port side. Shall I tell our men to push right in and burn their blessed canoes?"
"No," replied Mr. McKay. "I don't want unnecessary violence; besides, if their canoes are destroyed, how can they leave the island? Let our boats remain about two hundred yards from shore. You will then stand in the chief's canoe and tell the natives to clear out. Say that we give them till midday. Otherwise we must open fire on them."
"Then you don't want these fellows to have a set-to?"
"No! No bloodshed unless it cannot possibly be avoided. Now carry on and we'll be ready to open fire to cover your retreat if they give trouble."
Blight could not but obey. The chief's canoe was paddled slowly towards the shore, the natives regarding the late inhabitants of Ahii with contemptuous gestures not unmingled with curiosity. They expected a mad rush, a fierce conflict on the shore, and an easy victory; but the apparently timorous approach of a solitary canoe mystified them.
THE CHIEF'S CANOE WAS PADDLED SLOWLY TOWARDS THE SHORETHE CHIEF'S CANOE WAS PADDLED SLOWLY TOWARDS THE SHORE
THE CHIEF'S CANOE WAS PADDLED SLOWLY TOWARDS THE SHORETHE CHIEF'S CANOE WAS PADDLED SLOWLY TOWARDS THE SHORE
The ex-pearler stood up and shouted to the hostile chiefs. Whether he gave Mr. McKay's message in a conciliatory manner the Australian was not in a position to ascertain. More than likely, Blight, with a white man's contempt for "niggers," put his own construction upon the request, for before he had spoken half-a-dozen sentences there was a blood-curdling yell, and a shower of stones was hurled at the canoe.
The crew paddled out of range, while their companions, with loud counter-shouts of defiance, urged their boat to the attack, till by dint of much hand-waving Mr. McKay kept them temporarily in check.
"They've asked us to come ashore and be made into 'big pig,'" shouted Blight. "Shall we let our men loose?"
"Not here," replied Mr. McKay. "Paddle along the shore and we'll make a landing as far from the village as possible. That will give the enemy a chance to clear out if they get the worst of it."
Headed by the yawl, the little fleet kept parallel with the shore, a crowd of about two thousand armed savages keeping pace with the invaders, yelling, dancing, brandishing their weapons, and hurling the direst insults of which the natives were capable at their apparently inferior enemies.
"It must be a sharp lesson, lads," observed Mr. McKay. "What wouldn't I give for a Maxim or an automatic Colt. Ellerton, you take the helm and keep the boat just so, no nearer to shore."
The flotilla was now abreast of that part of the beach that was terminated by the cliffs. Here the flat shore consisted of a wedge-shaped piece of ground, so narrow that the enemy was unable to take due advantage of its superiority in numbers. The rapid fire of four magazine rifles would play havoc with the dense serried ranks of bronzed and painted warriors, but still Mr. McKay refrained from making the first advance.
"Let them fight it out between themselves," he shouted to Blight, who, however eager he was to send the natives to the fight, did not show any strong inclination to lead them. "We'll open fire if our fellows get the worst of it."
It was plainly impossible to keep the invaders in hand. With a roar of defiance that momentarily drowned the yells of their more numerous adversaries, the natives urged their canoes towards the shore.
Then, as craft after craft grounded upon the beach, their crews dropped paddles, grasped their clubs and spears, and plunged waist deep into the water.
It was a veritable struggle between a host of bronzed paladins.
Clubs met with a loud and ponderous clang, spears met shields or else found a softer billet, while those of the defenders of the island who could not gain the van hurled enormous stones over the heads of their foremost ranks at their vindictive foes.
Above the shouts of the combatants could be heard the shrieks of the desperately wounded.
Several received serious wounds on both sides, yet save in extreme cases, they bore their hurts bravely, returning to the fray with the utmost determination, till failing strength caused them to drop, still fighting so long as they could wield a club or thrust with a spear.
Twice the rightful inhabitants of Ahii gained a footing on the shore, and twice were they swept back by the weight of numbers, for as fast as one of the defenders fell, another filled his place, while on the other hand the invaders had no reserves. True, there were the white men, but it was impossible to wield a rifle without serious consequence to friend as well as foe.
"How these fellows fight!" exclaimed Andy. "They simply won't give way; they'll be exterminated."
"It's fighting for fighting's sake," replied his father. "We must chip in or we'll find ourselves opposed to the whole island without a native to help us. Luff her up, Ellerton. That's right; now keep her as she is."
The yawl moved slowly in the opposite direction to her previous course, though still parallel with the shore. By this means the scene of the actual struggle was passed and only the serried rearguard of the defenders was abeam.
"Now, lads, aim low!"
The four rifles opened a rapid fire. It seemed like butchery, yet, as Mr. McKay had said, there was no alternative. Twenty human beings cannot stop a modern rifle-bullet fired at one hundred yards' range.
The defence seemed to melt away, and with redoubled shouts of triumph the friendly natives started in pursuit of the fugitives, knocking over the head all who were overtaken.
"If those fellows won't keep in hand, they will be in danger of being cut off," exclaimed Mr. McKay. "We must follow our friends up. Ellerton, you stay on board, and keep our craft underway."
Hurriedly the two McKays, Terence, and Quexo jumped into the tender, rowed ashore, and followed the ghastly trail of the victorious natives.
It was a hazardous undertaking, for some of the fugitives had fled inland instead of following their main body in their retreat upon the village. At any moment these might rally and fall upon the little band of white men, the dense scrub being favourable for such tactics.
There was no sign of Jimmy Blight. He had not accompanied the natives in their first attack, although he was known to have been in the chief's canoe, nor had he made his appearance when the white party landed.
"Keep a bright look-out, lads," cautioned Mr. McKay. "Have your revolvers ready. They are more serviceable than rifles here."
At almost every yard of the way lay natives either dead or grievously wounded. Many of the latter were bold enough to attempt to rise and threaten the white men. So far as possible, the wounded were ignored, greatly to their surprise, for a savage rarely gives and never expects quarter.
Once or twice, however, a warrior would spring to his feet after the white men had passed, and with his remaining energy throw his club or spear at his enemies. In that case it became necessary to silence the desperate native for ever.
Suddenly from the shelter of a dense belt of scrub three powerful blacks dashed upon Quexo, who had strayed a few yards behind the rest of the party.
The mulatto raised his revolver and fired, and a huge native sprang a good three feet in the air and tumbled on his face. But ere Quexo could repeat his shot a triple-barbed spear pierced his shoulder. He fell, the weapon still embedded in his flesh.
The man who had thrown the lance drew a stone knife, and threw himself upon the prostrate mulatto, while the third native raised his club to complete the business.
With admirable presence of mind Quexo shot the man with the club, who in his fall completely covered the hapless mulatto.
Alarmed by the first shot, Mr. McKay and the two lads ran to the aid of their companion, but ere they emerged from the bush a third shot rang out, and the savage who had hurled the spear at the mulatto fell shot through the head.
Then as Andy rushed to the spot where Quexo lay, Jimmy Blight stepped from the cover of a group of palm trees.
"Not a bad shot, eh, boss?" he exclaimed, as he thrust fresh cartridges into his revolver. "You'd best get your young fellow on board as quick as you can, I reckon."
Quexo was groaning dismally, now the actual struggle was over. The triple spear-head had made a ghastly wound in his shoulder, for in his fall the haft had broken off short. Mr. McKay managed to extract it skilfully.
In the midst of their misfortunes the roar of the combatants came nearer and nearer. The enemy had rallied; the savages were driving back their attackers. Already men were streaming by, flying for their lives.
"Guess we'd best hook it," exclaimed Blight.
"Bear a hand, Andy," said his father, as he pointed to his helpless servant.
"Don't be a fool, boss!" shouted the ex-pearler, who was already beginning to retire. "He's about done for, and we'll be the same if we stop. Come along!"
"Not I," replied Mr. McKay sturdily. "You go if you want to. Come on, Andy, move him across to yonder thicket. We'll make a last stand here if it comes to the worst."
Something in Mr. McKay's reply must have appealed to the better nature of this low-down specimen of the white race, for, turning swiftly on his heel, he returned. Kneeling beside the unconscious man he helped himself to his bandolier, revolver, and rifle.
Without another word the four men lifted Quexo to the shelter of the trees, and quietly and resolutely made ready to receive the horde of triumphant savages.
Already the last of the fugitives had passed, rushing blindly for the shelter of their canoes, and the foremost of their pursuers were emerging from the clearing.
Mr. McKay, cool in the time of extreme peril, calculated that only about a hundred of their allies remained alive, while, making due allowance for the tremendous execution, there were at least a thousand bloodthirsty foes. Four against a thousand!
"Don't fire yet!" he whispered.
The main body of the savages crossed the clearing at breakneck rate, and disappeared in the direction of the beach, but others came at a more leisurely pace, examining those of the fugitives who had fallen. Those who showed signs of life were bound hand and foot, for what purpose the white men had no doubt whatever.
Presently the keen eye of one of the savages caught a glimpse of one of the rifle barrels. The man was evidently a chief, for, in addition to his coat of paint, he wore a short cloak of feathers.
Without a moment's hesitation the savage uttered a loud shout and ran straight in the direction of the white men, followed, at a distance of about twenty paces, by some fifty yelling natives.
"You take that fellow, Blight!" exclaimed Mr. McKay quietly.
Blight raised his rifle to his shoulder, took a sight in the centre of the chief's broad chest, and pressed the trigger.
"Missed, by smoke!" he cried, for the man came on steadily.
It was the work of a few seconds to open and close the bolt of the rifle, and in that time the chief still ran on; but before Blight could discharge his weapon a second time, the native's knees appeared to give way, and he pitched headlong on his face.
All four men were firing fast into the hostile press. The rush was stopped, although some of the savages came near enough to hurl their spears, several of which stuck in the trunks of the palm trees behind which the little band took shelter.
Many of the attackers fled for safety, others did not deign to run, but retired slowly, brandishing their weapons at their enemies as they did so. Some paid for their rashness, for it was a case of fighting for existence, and every native put out of action told.
"The beggars are going to corral us," exclaimed Blight. "See, they are running round to our left."
A couple of volleys drove the natives back still farther, yet without attempting to take cover they continued their tactics of trying to cut off their enemies' retreat.
The South Sea Islanders rarely resort to strategy in actual fighting. They may, indeed, take steps to surround their enemies, and then charge fearlessly to close quarters.
The white men were even now surrounded, for the advanced body, having failed to prevent the embarkation of the discomfited invaders, had been attracted by the sound of the firing and had completed the hostile cordon.
In the lull that ensued, Mr. McKay contrived to place a temporary bandage over Quexo's shoulder. The mulatto was still unconscious, but showed no symptoms of having been poisoned by the spear thrust.
"I wonder what Hoppy is doing?" remarked Terence, after moistening his parched lips with a draught from his water-bottle. "I guess he's in a terrible stew."
"He may manage to make our friends attempt another attack. If so, we can bolt for the shore; though I'm not going to put much faith in that," replied Mr. McKay. "They've had too much of a licking, I fancy."
"Pity you didn't let us burn those blessed canoes, boss; these black rascals will be able to follow our craft now."
"Yes, I admit I erred on the side of mercy, Mr. Blight," was the reply. "It's my fault, and I must take the blame."
"That comes o' being so mighty particular," retorted the ex-pearler bluntly. "If we come out o' this I guess your opinion of a nigger will have an almighty change. Now, stand by, for here they come."
"Don't be taken alive, lads," continued Mr. McKay, and the next instant the rifle-fire reopened.
Upon the dense masses of natives every shot told, yet having only one rifle for each front the fire was not sufficiently extended to keep the advancing enemy at bay.
The air was filled with shouts and shrieks, while stones and spears flew in deadly showers. Once the magazines were empty there was no time to recharge. The heated rifles were flung aside and the revolvers were brought into use.
The four men shot rapidly and well, the heavy lead bullets stopping the headlong rush far more effectively than did the nickel rifle ammunition.
Once again the attack failed, the savages drawing off and leaving at least fifty of their number dead or wounded on the field. Not one of the enemy had got within twenty yards of the death-dealing weapons of the white men.
"Now, boss," gasped Blight, as he bound a discoloured silk handkerchief round a spear-scratch on his left wrist. "Shall we make a bolt for it? We can fight our way to the shore."
Mr. McKay pointed to the still unconscious Quexo.
"Put a bullet through his head. He won't feel it. Why should we chuck away our chance for a wounded nigger?"
"Look here, Mr. Blight, I've told you before you can go if you want to. Here are two revolvers you can take; there's a good chance now, so go, and good luck to you! I must stay here—what do you say, lads?"
Terence and Andy grimly signified their intention of remaining with their stricken comrade.
Blight saw there was a chance, but, in his opinion, far from a good one.
Although the spot the little band had chosen for their stand was within a hundred yards of the sea, to return to where the canoes had landed their armed contents was at least a quarter of a mile distant.
Then, again, directly he left cover and began to run, a hundred natives would join in the pursuit. Even could he manage to fight his way through the ring and outstrip his pursuers, there was a long swim in front of him.
Good swimmer though he was, Blight recognised that he was decidedly inferior in speed to the amphibious natives.
"I see it's no go, boss," he exclaimed. "So let's stick at it to the end. Come on, you black fiends!" he added, shaking his fist at the dark masses of warriors, as they prepared to renew the attack.
"Don't waste a single shot," cautioned Mr. McKay. "Here's the main attack, so direct a combined fire in that direction, till they get within fifty yards. Then each man must look to his front and do his best."
The words were scarcely spoken ere the fierce yells of the savages redoubled, and the rush began.
Scorning to take advantage of the slightest bit of cover, they raced furiously, leaping over the low scrub that would have stopped a civilised race.
Then the rattle of the rifle-fire rose above the shouts of the natives. Scores were hit, some falling on the spot, others running several yards ere their strength failed, while many of the wounded, in their mad thirst for vengeance, staggered after their comrades in an endeavour to launch themselves upon the white men.
No longer was there need to raise rifle to shoulder. Firing from the hip, the little knot of desperate men emptied their magazines into the throng of natives, then, casting aside their rifles, as before, they grasped their revolvers, hardly daring to hope to check the headlong rush.
Suddenly to an accompaniment of a peculiar screech, a trail of thin smoke flashed earthwards from the sky. Then, with a terrific report, an explosion took place right in the middle of the surging pack of savages, and ere the cloud of dense, suffocating smoke cleared away, the natives fled in all directions. Some, indeed, were so terrified that they fell flat on their faces, clapping their hands to their ears to shut out the echoes of the thunderous report.
Those who were on the remote side of the encircling body of natives, though far from the scene of the explosion, were also seized with panic, and the whole crowd, save those who had been hit or were too dazed to move, fled helter-skelter for the village.
For a full minute none of the white men spoke. Terence and Andy looked with utter amazement at the retreating foes; Mr. McKay and Blight, more hardened in peril, seized the opportunity to thrust fresh clips of cartridges into their magazines.
"Guess a gunboat's been dropping a shell," observed Blight, who was the first to break the long-drawn silence.
"You are wrong," replied Mr. McKay quietly. "A shell would never throw out a cloud of smoke like that; it's not the colour of lyddite either."
"Then what is it? Who fired it?"
"Young Ellerton," was the astonishing reply.
Mr. McKay was correct in his surmise. Ellerton, on seeing his companions start in support of their coloured allies, was not altogether at his ease. He kept tacking the yawl, so as to be within easy distance of the landing-place in case of a hasty retreat on the part of the invaders.
Gradually the sounds of the running fight died away; but no report of firearms served to show that the white men had got in touch with their foes.
Seen from seaward the scrub seemed almost so thick as to be impassable. Mr. McKay and his companions were literally swallowed up in the trackless waste that lay beyond the low range of cliffs.
Ellerton looked around at the canoes. Beyond a man left in each as a boat-keeper they were deserted. Blight had vanished; when and where the young Englishman knew not.
Suddenly the distant report of a revolver burst upon his ears. He knew it to be a pistol shot, for it had not the short, sharp crack of a rifle. That meant foes at close quarters. Then came two other reports in quick succession, followed by a prolonged silence.
The firing reassured him. He realised that his friends were not with their savage allies, and that they were, in consequence, between the village and the beach. Rightly enough he guessed that they were dealing with a party of stragglers, the noise of only three shots and the absence of rifle-fire showed that the conflict was brief and decisive.
The youth tacked once more, and steered eastward along the beach. Again the long silence filled him with a nameless anxiety. He regretted the evil day when Blight and the natives came to McKay's Island; but in the circumstances nothing else could be done. They had put their hand to the plough; there was no turning back.
Then, gradually but surely, came the sound of the natives still engaged in conflict, unaccompanied by the report of firearms. There was no mistaking it. Their allies were being driven back; but where were the white men?
Nearer and nearer came the sounds of the retreating natives and their pursuers, till the foremost of the fugitives gained the shore. Jumping into their canoes they pushed off, panic-stricken and utterly fatigued. Then came the main body, a sorry remnant at most, grimly fighting their foes at almost every step.
Waist deep in water they fought, till the survivors contrived to escape in their boats. Two canoes were left unmanned, their solitary occupants paddling laboriously out of the reach of their foes.
Nor did the pursuit cease at the water's edge, for several of the enemy dashed boldly into the waves and swam after the retreating craft.
One of the latter was, indeed, overtaken, and a desperate struggle ensued between the rival natives, till the crew of another canoe, seeing their companions' plight, returned and saved them from being wiped out.
Then the flotilla moved well out into the lagoon, and took up a position beyond the yawl, the natives, many of them badly wounded, being too exhausted to paddle another stroke.
Ellerton was now confronted with a real peril. His friends, if alive, were cut off; he was unable to gather any tidings from the natives, who replied to his gestures by grunts and meaningless exclamations.
Just then came the rattle of musketry. At all events, Mr. McKay and his party were still in a position to offer resistance, but against what odds?
Just then the wind, hitherto light, died utterly away. Ellerton knew nothing about the motor, and he himself was now in a position of peril. Unable to move, save by using a sweep, which was hard work, he was at the mercy of the savages, who, lining the shore, had realised his predicament, and were preparing to swim off and carry the yawl by storm.
Ellerton had plenty of rifles and revolvers, but even then he could not hope to keep the mob of foes at bay.
Seizing a rifle, he sprang upon the cabin-top and opened fire. It was a fairly long range—some six hundred yards—but Ellerton gauged the distance to a nicety; with the correct elevation, missing a man in that throng was about an impossibility. A commotion showed that the shot had taken effect. Another with equally good result! Ellerton again felt the lust of battle.
Suddenly, in the midst of his cool and deliberate firing, a blow from the boom nearly knocked the youth overboard. The breeze had again sprung up.
Recovering himself by grasping the main shrouds, Ellerton laid his rifle on the deck and jumped into the cockpit. He meant to steer along the coast towards the village, and, if possible, aid his friends by a long, dropping fire.
His progress was slow, the wind being still light, and ere the yawl had travelled a hundred yards the firing on shore died away.
What did it mean? He thought. Were his companions at length overwhelmed by dint of numbers? If so he would take revenge; he would cruise up and down the shore and blaze away so long as a savage remained on the beach, or a cartridge remained on board.
And after? He gave but a brief thought to that—a solitary existence on a boat far from the little island he regarded as his home—but the thought filled him with the rage of despair.
Steering by means of the tiller between his knees, Ellerton headed diagonally towards the shore, at the same time charging the magazines of half-a-dozen rifles.
While thus engaged, to his astonishment and delight the sound of firing was resumed, the scene of action being nearly abreast of where the yawl was steering. He immediately hove-to, and again ascending the cabin-top, looked ashore. The scrub and several small groves of cocoanut palms prevented him from seeing the combatants, and on this account he refrained from opening a dropping fire, for fear of harming his friends.
He was in a helpless state of perplexity till all at once a thought struck him which gave him new-born hope.
The night he and Andy kept watch on board, in the lagoon of McKay's Island, they had taken some rockets to use should they require assistance. These rockets were of the ordinary sea-pattern, making a loud explosion by means of a small charge of gun-cotton.
Hurriedly Ellerton fixed one of the rockets so that it would assume a curved flight instead of soaring upwards, then turning the vessel's course till the direction of the projectile would be as near as possible towards the scene of action, he discharged the novel weapon.
*****
"That was a lucky thought of yours, Ellerton, my boy," exclaimed Mr. McKay, when the little party was safely on board. "They scooted like rabbits. But, by Jove! it was a narrow squeak."