There was not the slightest doubt about it. The expedition had failed disastrously. Quexo was badly wounded, the white men all more or less exhausted, while barely forty utterly demoralised natives were cowering in their canoes.
"Well, we can't stay here," remarked Mr. McKay, after the mulatto's hurts had been dressed and the wounded man placed on one of the bunks. "They will be starting in pursuit, I'm thinking, and so, Mr. Blight, will you tell those black rascals to man two of their canoes and destroy the others? By that means we may be able to get the survivors back to Ni Atong."
Mr. McKay's opinion of the ex-pearler was undergoing a change. No doubt the man was a bit of a scoundrel, he thought, but he was older and possibly more of a reformed character than in the old days in Torres Strait. He had certainly fought well and had impressed the lads as a resolute and cautious combatant.
"I'll tell 'em, boss," he replied. "But, by snakes, it's a bad look-out."
"It is," assented Mr. McKay, as he prepared to go below and bind up a slight wound on his shoulder. "Your friends will have to be content with Ni Atong for a while, I'm thinking."
Andy was also in the cabin, where he was attending to a surface wound on his forehead—the legacy of one of the savages' showers of stones—so only Terence and Ellerton remained on deck with the ex-pearler.
"Couldn't the boss bring over the rest of your pals and settle our score with those niggers?"
"What pals?"' asked Terence, taken aback by the suddenness of the question.
"Why, the other chaps on your island."
"There are none," replied Terence.
Barely had the words escaped him, when he realised that he had made an admission. He had revealed the comparative weakness of the defences of McKay's Island.
"Oh! Is that so?" was the rejoinder.
Blight said no more on the subject, for the yawl was now within hailing distance of the forlorn flotilla.
The natives accepted their white companion's orders without demur. The two most serviceable canoes were brought up with their full complement, and the rest were scuttled till they floated awash—useless to friend or foe. Then with a light breeze the three craft—the yawl leading the forlorn procession—headed for the opening in the reef.
Jimmy Blight was thinking. He was not of a thinking nature, but scheming and plotting were the only intellectual subjects in which he excelled. In fact, he was a past master in the art of intrigue.
He briefly summed up the situation and enlarged upon it. His house and store at Ahii were in the hands of a hostile race of savages. His wealth of copra and other valuable native products had vanished.
Had his black friends been able to regain possession of Ahii, he would not have hesitated to incite them to fall treacherously upon the white men from McKay's Island, and the doubtless valuable stores of that place would be his. Now, with fewer than forty of his savage friends at his command, the risk was too great—at least at present.
No, he must wait his time, return to Ni Atong, and endeavour to find an opportunity of surprising and slaying the handful of whites. If only he dared! With a fully charged revolver he might make a sudden attack——
This wicked scheming was suddenly interrupted by a shout from one of the canoes. The keen-eyed savages had detected an ominous movement ashore. Their enemies were launching their canoes in pursuit of their discomfited adversaries.
"Say, boss!" exclaimed the ex-pearler, as Mr. McKay emerged from the little cabin. "What's to be done now? There ain't no wind, in a manner o' speaking, and those reptiles'll overhaul us hand over fist."
Mr. McKay did not reply at first, but anxiously scanned the shore with his glasses.
"There are seven canoes," he announced. "Three for us to tackle and two for each canoe. 'Tis long odds, but I reckon we'll come out on top."
"Why not get aboard the canoes, and let this 'ere packet go?" asked Blight. "There'll be more chance with the blacks using their paddles. It'll be a flat calm in a minute or so."
"No," replied Mr. McKay. "We'll fight it out as we are, though we've had quite enough for one day."
The crews of the two friendly canoes were still lying on their paddles, realising that their only hope was in remaining by the white man's boat. Their indifference had vanished, and weapons were brandished in a way that showed a grim determination to fight to the death.
"Tell them to paddle for all they are worth," exclaimed Mr. McKay.
"What for?" demanded Blight, his old aggressive manner beginning to return. "What's the use? Let's keep together, I vote."
"I mean to," replied Mr. McKay coolly. "Now do as I tell you."
Sullenly the ex-pearler obeyed, and the natives, plying their paddles to the accompaniment of a mournful chant, soon increased the distance between them and the almost becalmed yawl.
"Now, Andy, start the motor."
Great was Blight's astonishment as the engine began to purr, and the little craft shot through the water at a good eight knots. He had never seen an internal combustion engine before. Although motor-driven craft are common amongst the pearling and trading fleets in the Pacific, he had left the fishing-grounds some years before the first motor had made its appearance.
Nor was the wonder of the crews of the friendly canoes any the less. To them the white man's boat, vomiting clouds of vapour from the exhaust and producing a series of rapid explosions, was nothing more or less than a fiery-dragon.
"We are going the pace too much," remarked Andy, for the yawl was easily outdistancing the canoes, whose crews were showing signs of physical distress.
"Yes, we must stand by them," replied his father. "See, our pursuers are gaining; you are quite sure the motor is thoroughly tuned up, I hope?"
"Running like clockwork," was Andy's enthusiastic reply.
"Good! Now, lads, it's revolvers for this business. Get the canvas off her, then. Keep well under cover; I'm going to ram the leading canoe."
The sails were quickly stowed, and the bowsprit run in. The five men, revolvers in hand, kept in the cockpit so as to be sheltered by the raised roof of the cabin.
"Now, Ellerton, how's your nerve?"
"Perfectly fit."
"Then put your helm over when I give the word and strike yonder canoe square amidships."
The pursuers had trailed out in a long, straggling line, a couple of hundred yards separating the foremost from the second.
On they came, fearlessly. Ellerton could see the foam flying from the sharp prow, the muscular backs of the straining oarsmen, and hear the steady yet rapid thud of the paddles. Now he could discern the whites of the eyes of the fierce-looking warriors who were gathering in her lofty bows.
"Make due allowance for the way she carries," cautioned Mr. McKay. "Now, hard over!"
The youth at the helm put all his strength against the tiller. The yawl rolled outward as she turned, then recovering herself rushed straight for her gigantic antagonist.
With a yell of defiance the savages let fly a shower of arrows and stones. The masts and deck were literally bristling with darts, while the stones rolled like hail upon the planks.
Under the protection of the cabin-top the white men escaped the deadly volley, but Ellerton, gripping the tiller with a vice-like grip, felt a hot, stinging pain in his left arm.
Then, crash! Fair in the centre of the lightly-built fifty-feet hull struck the sharp stem. There was a terrific splintering of wood and the gurgling sound of inrushing water, while at the same time the fore part of the yawl was crowded with a score of black fiends.
CRASH! FAIR IN THE CENTRE OF THE LIGHTLY BUILT FIFTY-FEET HULL STRUCK THE SHARP STEMCRASH! FAIR IN THE CENTRE OF THE LIGHTLY BUILTFIFTY-FEET HULL STRUCK THE SHARP STEM
CRASH! FAIR IN THE CENTRE OF THE LIGHTLY BUILT FIFTY-FEET HULL STRUCK THE SHARP STEMCRASH! FAIR IN THE CENTRE OF THE LIGHTLY BUILTFIFTY-FEET HULL STRUCK THE SHARP STEM
Then the revolvers barked, and the living mob of savages melted away, and the next instant the yawl was ploughing her way over the shattered remains of the war-canoe.
"Hurrah!" shouted the crew. "Now for the next!"
But the second canoe, profiting by her consort's misfortunes, turned and paddled rapidly back, to obtain the support of the third.
With a difference of barely one knot in speed the advantage of the motor-driven vessel was lost, so the crew had to be content to keep out of range of the arrows and pour in volleys from the rifles.
It was a stern lesson, but one that was absolutely necessary, for the remaining canoes turned tail and paddled hurriedly for the shore.
The sharp and short conflict was ended by the return of the two friendly canoes, whose crews, with true savage instinct, completed the work of destruction by spearing every man whose head remained above water.
"Capitally done, Ellerton!" exclaimed Mr. McKay. "You—Why, what's the matter with the lad?"
The lad's face had turned a ghastly greyish hue, and only Andy's prompt action saved him from falling upon the grating of the cockpit.
"Look! He's hit!" said Andy, pointing to Ellerton's left arm, which had hitherto been concealed.
In a trice Mr. McKay cut away the wounded youth's shirt-sleeve. The arrow had gone through the fleshy part of his forearm, the barb projecting quite a couple of inches.
"Hold his arm as firmly as you can," said Mr. McKay.
Then, grasping the haft of the missile, he dexterously snapped it in two. In spite of his care and skill, the slight motion caused the lad to utter a groan; but the worst was still to come.
Lubricating the broken shaft with some cocoanut oil, Mr. McKay told Andy and Terence to hold Ellerton's arm tightly, so as to compress the veins and arteries, and consequently numb the limb. Then with a rapid and deliberate motion he laid hold of the barbed end and drew the fragment of the missile through the wound. With a low moan Ellerton fainted.
"Couldn't be better," remarked Mr. McKay. "Now, lads, take him into the cabin, and start the stove as fast as you can. I'm afraid the arrow is poisoned."
Andy and Terence lifted their comrade upon one of the bunks opposite to that on which Quexo was peacefully slumbering. Mr. McKay had given the mulatto a strong sleeping draught; he now took up a rifle, and, withdrawing the cleaning rod, snapped it close to the "worm."
"You might take the helm, Blight," he remarked. "You know the course? I shall be busy for half an hour or so."
Blight nodded. Left alone, he gave a glimpse at the compass, put the tiller up till the vessel lay on her proper course, and motioned to the two canoes to follow.
Then he resumed his meditations. Everything seemed in his favour. Half a dozen revolvers, thrown down after the fight, were within hand's reach. In the cabin were two wounded persons and three totally unsuspecting unarmed men. And close by were the two canoes containing his coloured associates. What could be easier?
More than once Blight bent over the array of death-dealing weapons, but on each occasion his nerve failed him.
Accustomed as he was to deal swiftly with the natives, never hesitating to shoot down any black creature that thwarted him, he shrank from tackling his intended victims.
Not from feelings of compunction did he pause; he was a coward at heart, and the thought of a possible failure filled him with a horrible dread. So, nervously sawing at the tiller, he gnawed his lower lip and formed fresh plans for evil.
Meanwhile Mr. McKay, unconscious of his peril, proceeded with his preparations. He deeply regretted the fact that the case of surgical instruments salved from theSan Martinwas at that moment—like the Dutchman's anchor—left at home, or rather on McKay's Island. In the final hurry of embarkation that important item had been overlooked.
Grasping the glowing portion of the cleaning rod, Mr. McKay approached the unconscious lad. Once more telling the other two lads to hold the patient's arm firmly, he inserted the red-hot metal into the wound.
It was the work of a few seconds, but the operation of cauterising the wound was accomplished. Time alone would tell whether this rude surgery was a success or not.
An hour later the low-lying island of Ni Atong was in sight, and just before sunset the yawl and her two native consorts entered the lagoon.
It was a pitiful home-coming. The miserable remnant of the fleet of canoes told the tale, and already the beach was lined with a crowd of wailing women and crying children, with a sprinkling of old men, whose services had been dispensed with on the fatal expedition.
The latter had good cause for being cast down.
In many of the Pacific Islands old age is looked upon as a useless qualification, and, failing a crowd of prisoners to serve as sacrifices and to appease the warriors' appetites, it was their aged and infirm fellow-tribesmen who were doomed to die to keep the angry gods good-tempered.
"Coming ashore, boss?" asked Blight, as if he did not care one way or the other. "I can give you a shakedown in my hut."
"I'm afraid we cannot manage it," was the reply. "You see, with our two patients it is out of the question."
"Well, well! Maybe it will be best, 'specially as them natives are going to have a bit of a bust-up to-night. You mayn't like it, though I'm used to it. When do you set sail for your own island?"
"To-morrow at dawn."
"Oh!"
Mr. McKay looked up sharply. There was a strange sound about that "Oh!" The ex-pearler realised that the exclamation was a weak expression of regret, and hastened to explain.
"I thought as how you would be wanting fresh water, 'specially for your two young chaps. Make a day of it, and have a spell ashore. One more day won't make no difference like."
"Possibly not," assented Mr. McKay.
"Then there are yams and plantains. They'll be rare good for feverish fellows. You're welcome, you know."
"I'll see what the others say. So now, Blight, my son can row you ashore."
"This is a present, isn't it, boss?" asked Blight, pointing to the revolver that he had used to such good purpose at Ahii.
"Certainly, I gave it you," was the reply.
"Thanks!"
Blight picked up the weapon and thrust it with assumed carelessness into his belt; then, bidding the crew of the yawl good night, he stepped into the dinghy.
Hardly had the sun set, than the wearied crew retired to the cabin for rest and refreshment.
Ellerton was awake, feverish, and at intervals in great pain. Quexo still slumbered. Andy and Terence were sleepily nodding their heads in an almost vain endeavour to keep awake.
Mr. McKay, though utterly done up, announced his intention of keeping watch on deck the moment he had finished supper.
Just as the moon rose, a blood-curdling roar came from the island. Instantly the two McKays and Terence rushed on deck. Fires gleamed in the centre of the wretched village, and around the flames danced a hundred natives, yelling, screaming, and invoking their idols.
"What are they up to, pater?" asked Andy, as his father scanned the shore with a pair of night-glasses. "Let me have a look when you've finished."
"You had better not," was the reply. "Take my word for it."
The lads understood. They were fairly well acquainted with the hideous orgies that are practised on these islands.
"And to think we helped those villains," remarked Andy.
"Well," admitted his father, "it was, as I said before, the only course open to us. Now, I think all danger is past. They are not strong enough to attempt to seize our island, so we can go back with easy minds."
"I hope so," returned his son. "But my word, it's cost us something!"
"I can't understand that chap Blight," said Terence. "He seemed mighty curious to know how many of us lived on the island."
"You told him?"
"Yes! I let the cat out of the bag, I fear."
"You did?" replied Mi. McKay gravely. "I'm sorry; but perhaps there's no harm done. However, we'll set sail to-morrow morning in any case. I, for one, will not be sorry to say good-bye to Mr. Blight. Now, lads, you must turn in. I'll be all right here; and to-morrow, all being well, I'll make up arrears of sleep."
Left to himself, Mr. McKay sat in the cockpit and watched the orgies ashore till the fires died out and the sounds of the worshippers ceased. Half-an-hour later he appeared, to all intents and purposes, to be lying in the stern sheets fast asleep.
At about three in the morning the moon, now high in the heavens, threw her beams upon a strange drama.
Swimming with eel-like swiftness and silence towards the unguarded yawl came three men. Two were natives, the third a white man, and each had a glittering knife betwixt his teeth.
Grasping the boat's stern, Blight (for it was he) listened intently. Then, hearing only the sounds of deep slumber arising from the cabin, he cautiously placed his foot over the bobstay, and with slow and stealthy movement hoisted himself clear of the water.
Having made sure that the deck was deserted, he climbed softly upon the fo'c'sle and proceeded to unfasten his revolver, which he had secured to the top of his head by means of a strip of cocoa fibre.
Presently he was joined by one of the natives, and at a short interval by the second. Creeping towards the open skylight the miscreant listened once more. The loud ticking of the cabin chronometer and the deep, regular breathing of the sleepers, alone broke the stillness.
Suddenly Blight perceived Mr. McKay's form lying with his head buried in his arm upon one of the seats of the cockpit. This was awkward. He raised his revolver, then reflected that ere he could reach the cabin after firing the fatal shot the occupants would be aroused.
Sprawling full length upon the cabin-top, Blight watched the slumbering victim with considerable misgivings, till realising that Mr. McKay was sound asleep, he raised himself upon his elbow, and beckoned to the two natives. Uplifting his knife, Blight made an imaginary thrust, then pointed meaningly towards the sleeper.
Just then a shark glided past the boat at barely an oar's length. Rising to the surface it turned on its back and snapped at some floating object. The sharp, almost metallic snap of those powerful jaws filled the would-be murderer with alarm. He realised that the sleeper might awake, and also that his own retreat was cut off.
The sweat poured in torrents from his brow and ran down his chalky cheeks. But the sleeping man stirred not.
Reassured, Blight again signed to the natives. Knife in hand the two glided along the narrow waterways, dropping noiselessly into the cockpit, and crept towards their unsuspecting prey.
Blight, revolver in hand, followed, stopping by the side of the cabin bulkhead, ready to dive into the cabin and complete the murderous business the moment the fatal blow was struck.
Like panthers the two natives launched themselves upon their victim, their knives flashed in the moonlight; the next instant they were buried to the hilt in the body of the sleeper.
Ere the weapons could be withdrawn, two shots rang out in quick succession. One of the natives fell face foremost across the coaming of the cockpit, the other gave a spring and plunged lifeless into the sea.
Then, before Blight could realise the sudden turn of affairs, he felt the contact of the muzzle of a smoking revolver against his temple.
"Hands up, Blight!" exclaimed Mr. McKay resolutely.
The would-be murderer's weapon fell from his nerveless grasp and immediately his hands were raised high above his head.
The noise of the firing had aroused the sleeping inmates of the cabin, and Andy, Terence, and even Ellerton rushed through the narrow doorway into the well.
"Get hold of a few pieces of lashing and secure the rascal," said Mr. McKay calmly.
"You are not hurt?" asked his son anxiously.
"Hurt? Not a bit of it. No thanks to this beauty, though. See!"
And, still keeping the weapon at the would-be assassin's head, he pointed to the made-up figure of himself, in which the hilts of the two knives glittered in the moonlight.
Andy and Terence lost no time in securing the ankles of the prisoner. Then ordering him to lower his hands, the lads deftly lashed his elbows together behind his back.
"So, Mr. James Blight, alias 'Chinese Pork,' I find your delightful character has undergone little change during the last twenty years. One would have thought that your unpleasant experiences in connection with theSea Belle——"
"What d'ye mean?" gasped the prisoner, his eyes rolling heavily in his terror.
"I beg you not to interrupt. A connection with theSea Bellewould have taught anyone but an utter villain or a fool a lifelong lesson. I will pass over those minor affairs at Boni Harbour and Fortescue Strait, though by mentioning them you can realise that I know a good deal of your former career. What you've been doing since is of little consequence, though I'll wager that your existence will not bear investigation. Now, to complete your record, you've been caught in the act of attempting to treacherously slay your white—well, I won't say friends. Thanks to a merciful Providence, your schemes were thwarted. I am now going to keep you in custody till I can hand you over to justice at Brisbane, where you will have a fair trial and be allowed to answer to a number of various crimes."
Mr. McKay paused to note the effect of his accusation, then he continued:
"I am going to keep you a close prisoner in the fo'c'sle till we return to our island. You will then be kept in confinement ashore till such time as we are able to reach some island under the control of a recognised British governor. Have you anything to say?"
The ex-pearler maintained a sullen silence, and, without offering any resistance, he was carried into the fo'c'sle and locked in, there to meditate on the fate in store for him.
"Ellerton, go back to your bunk. You ought not to be here," exclaimed Mr. McKay.
"But I feel all right again," replied the youth.
"Probably you do, but with your arm in that state absolute rest is essential. So go. Andy, we've had enough of this island, so let's clap on all sail and shape a course for home."
In the moonlight the entrance through the reef was plainly visible. There was a favourable breeze, so that the yawl could lay on her course without having to tack.
As the anchor rose, a long-drawn chorus of shouts of rage came from the beach, and a swarm of arrows, all of which fell short, hurtled through the air.
"So much for our native allies," observed Mr. McKay. "They are all in the swim in this business. No matter, they can do us no harm."
To the accompaniment of a farewell shout of anger from the baffled inhabitants of Ni Atong, the yawl glided swiftly across the moonlit sea.
Throughout the night the stiff little craft gallantly breasted the waves, making a much better passage than she had done on her outward voyage, and at sunrise the highest peak of McKay's Island appeared above the horizon.
But with the rising of the sun the wind increased in force, and an hour later it was blowing half a gale, and dead astern.
Trembling on the crest of a huge wave, then sliding with a sickening sensation down the green slope into the trough, the little craft held on her course, steered by Andy's sinewy arm.
Mr. McKay, unable to keep his eyes open, lay deep in slumber upon one of the bunks.
Ellerton, propped up by cushions, was kept awake by the motion of the boat, every lurch causing his wound to pain horribly.
"Another couple of hours will find us home, Hoppy, old man," exclaimed Terence cheerily, as he entered the cabin. "But it does blow."
"So I should think," replied Ellerton. "But how is she behaving?"
"Like a cork; we've only had the tail end of a couple of seas aboard. Well, cheer up! Make yourself at home and wish you were," and with this pleasantry Terence returned to keep Andy company.
Each time the yawl breasted the summit of a wave, the peak of McKay's Island could be seen rearing its head above the waste of storm-tossed waters. Each time it did so it appeared to be getting nearer.
Andy knew that there was danger ahead, but he forebore to mention the fact to his chum.
The "back-wash" from the terrible reef, with its accompaniment of a tumble of dangerous cross-seas, had to be encountered, and the risky passage through the coral barrier made at all costs.
For half-an-hour more the seas, though high, were comparatively regular, but at the expiration of that time the dinghy, which was being towed astern, was filled by a vicious comber. The dead weight of the water-logged craft caused the stout painter to snap like pack-thread, and the next instant the tender was lost to view in the turmoil of foaming water.
"Can't we go back for her?" shouted Terence, for the howling of the wind made ordinary conversation inaudible.
"Impossible!" replied his chum. "She would be swamped before we hauled to the wind. Besides, the dinghy's done for."
"It's a rotten look-out. We shall miss her."
"Yes," assented Andy. "But it can't be helped. Look here, Terence, now we are going through a patch of broken water. I can see it a mile or so ahead. We may have a few seas on board, so lash yourself to this cleat and stand by with the bucket. You may have to bale for all you're worth."
Terence closed the cabin-doors. Fortunately they were close-fitting and comparatively watertight; but, on the other hand, the cockpit was not a self-emptying one. Whatever quantity of water broke over had to be baled out.
"We'll have one of those cans of kerosene out of that locker," continued Andy.
"Going to start the motor?"
"No; to throw oil on the sea. Kerosene's not very heavy, but it's all we have. Now, stand by, here it comes."
Only a mile now separated the yawl from the entrance to the lagoon of McKay's Island, but every yard of that mile was beset with dangers.
Andy gripped the tiller, and braced himself for the ordeal. He had been the chief workman in the task of converting the boat into her present form, and now his handiwork was to be put to the test. A faulty piece of wood, a defective screw, an unsound rope—and their lives would have to answer for it.
With a dull roar a white-crested wave broke over the fore-deck, burying the little yawl as far as the mainmast; then ere she could recover herself another comber came like a cataract over the lee quarter. Well it was that both lads had taken the precaution of lashing themselves on, otherwise they might have been swept clean out of the well.
Andy, wellnigh breathless—for he had been hit in the side by the tiller as the boat attempted to broach to—retained sufficient presence of mind to thrust the helm up and enable the craft to meet the next following wave stern on.
"Bale!" he shouted. "Bale for your life!" and seizing the kerosene can that was floating from side to side of the cockpit, he splayed a quantity of oil over each quarter.
Terence, who was thrown in every direction as far as his tether would allow, struggled manfully with the bucket, but could hardly cope with the frequent showers of spray that literally played over the boat from every point of the compass.
The helmsman noticed, with feelings of deepest concern, that the yawl had made considerable headway since entering the zone of broken water, and it would be touch-and-go whether they could avoid being carried on to the lee side of the coral reef.
It was now nearly high tide, and the cruel ridges were covered, although in the trough of the heavier waves the jagged lines of glistening coral showed themselves above the smother of foam.
Andy tried his best to keep the boat's head towards the channel, but in vain. She had lost ground, and was driving straight for the reef. One chance alone remained. He must put the yawl about and endeavour to claw-off the treacherous reef.
Like a top the little craft responded to the shift of the helm. For a few brief seconds the reefed head-sail slatted violently in the howling wind; then, to the accompaniment of another tremendous sea, the yawl staggered on her fresh course.
Andy's idea was to sail round to the lee side of the island and cruise about in the shelter of the reef till the gale moderated; but a few moments sufficed to show him that the spread of canvas—already as much as the vessel could carry—was not sufficient to take her to windward. She was drifting broadside on to the reef.
"Quick, Terry!" he shouted. "Tell them to stand by and make a rush directly you open the cabin door. The yawl's done for. She'll be smashed to splinters in five minutes."
Mr. McKay received the appalling intelligence fairly calmly. He at once proceeded to fasten a lifebelt round Ellerton's practically helpless form, and then did a like service to Quexo. Nor did he forget the prisoner, Blight. But, on sliding back the fo'c'sle hatch, he found the man lying senseless on the floor. Either he had fainted through sheer fright, or he had been stunned by being thrown against one of the lockers, and bound hand and foot, had been unable to help himself.
Blight was no feather-weight, but in spite of the plunging and rolling of the doomed craft, Mr. McKay gripped him with one hand and dragged his senseless body into the cabin. Then, cutting his bonds, he completed his work of mercy by lashing the sole remaining lifebelt round the body of his would-be murderer.
"You've nothing to put on," gasped Ellerton.
"True; but I have my strength," was the reply, as Mr. McKay stealthily girded on a leather belt in which hung a formidable sheath-knife. It was not the thought of being cast on the waters that troubled him. Death, should it come, would be swift and merciful. But should they survive the dangers of the reef there was the probability of far greater peril.
Though he forbore to mention the fact to Ellerton, Mr. McKay thought of the sharks, and with a fervent unspoken prayer to save them from these creatures, he stood ready for the cabin door to be opened.
Meanwhile Terence and Andy had cut themselves free from their lashings. Twenty yards away the reef showed its teeth as if waiting for its prey.
Then with a noise like the rattle of musketry, which drowned the thunder of the breakers, the staysail burst asunder, and the yawl, in spite of the helmsman's efforts, flew up into the wind.
Down in the trough of a murderous sea she sank. A rapid glance astern showed the glistening reef towering several feet above the little craft, the white foam pouring down the honeycombed ridges as if the rock were baring itself to strike a harder blow.
"The door!" gasped Andy, as a gigantic roller bore down upon the reef.
Terence unfastened the cabin door, and as Mr. McKay appeared, holding Ellerton and Quexo in his powerful grip, the yawl seemed to stand on end. Then, borne on the breast of the roller, the little craft was tossed like a cork right over the rocks, her keel scraping the lee side of the reef by barely a yard!
The next instant the vessel was rolling sluggishly in the sullen swell within the lagoon, with two feet of water in her cabin, yet still afloat and in comparative safety.
"Don't wait to bale out!" shouted Andy. "You take the helm, pater. Run her up into the wind and we'll anchor."
The ground swell inside the lagoon was too great to allow the yawl to run alongside the usual jetty. They would have to wait till low tide, when the reef would be sufficiently exposed to serve as a breakwater.
Quickly Andy and Terence made their way for'ard to let go the anchor.
When within a couple of hundred yards of the beach the yawl was again put head to wind, and with a splash the anchor plunged to the bottom of the lagoon. But just as Andy was checking the out-rushing cable, a sudden blow from the staysail caught him unawares, and the next instant he was struggling in the sea.
The waves carried the lad clear of the vessel, and in spite of his utmost efforts he was unable to regain the boat. His father hurled a coil of rope, but the line, being wet, became entangled and fell short.
Andy saw that it was impossible to swim back, so with a cheery wave of his arm he pointed towards the surf-beaten shore, and immediately struck out for land.
For an instant Mr. McKay intended to plunge into the sea and accompany his son on his perilous swim, till the thought of the possibility of Blight recovering his senses occurred to him. With Ellerton and Quexo disabled, the margin of safety was not sufficient when only Terence remained to guard the prisoner.
Both lads were surprised to see Mr. McKay rush into the flooded cabin and return with a rifle and a belt of ammunition.
"Don't alarm him," said Andy's father hurriedly. "But there may be sharks about."
Placing the rifle on the fo'c'sle of the heaving vessel, Mr. McKay watched the progress of the swimmer with the greatest concern, at the same time keeping a sharp look-out for the expected appearance of the dreaded dorsal fin of one of the tigers of the deep.
Steadily Andy swam shorewards, keeping up a slow yet powerful side stroke. Now he was in the grip of the ground swell. Once his feet touched bottom, but ere he could obtain a firm footing the "undertow" swept him backwards.
The next instant he was lost to sight in a white-capped roller. The wave broke, then receded, but to the alarm of the anxious watchers there were no signs of the swimmer.
Quickly the wide expanse of sand uncovered; then, just as another breaker was preparing to launch itself upon the beach, Andy sprang to his feet.
Knee-deep in water he rushed up the shelving shore, and managed to grasp a ledge of rock ere he was again overwhelmed by the mighty torrent. Fortunately he was able to retain his grasp, and directly the rock uncovered he ran beyond the reach of the waves and sank exhausted on the beach.
"He'll be all right in a minute," said Mr. McKay with a sigh of relief. "Now, Ellerton, you had better stay here while we get rid of the water; the bunks must be saturated. Come on, Terence, we've been through a great deal, and now, thank God, we are safely home; but all the same, we've plenty of work to do."
Thus exhorted, Terence assisted Mr. McKay to lower and stow the mainsail and secure the fragment of the head sail that had caused so much mischief.
This done, they plied buckets and balers till the level of the water they had shipped sank well beneath the floor-boards of the cabin. The yawl was no longer sluggish, but rose buoyantly as each roller passed under her.
"This is the second gale from this quarter," remarked Mr. McKay, as they were partaking of a hastily cooked meal. "It's taught me a lesson. Had our boat been in her usual dock she would have been dashed to pieces. At the first opportunity we'll lay down a heavy set of moorings and keep her afloat. Here, thanks to the reef, the seas can never be really dangerous, though on shore they break heavily."
"When shall we be able to land, do you think?" asked Terence, for the short, sharp motion of the boat as she pitched at her cable was beginning to prove distressing, both to him and Quexo.
"In a matter of three hours Andy will be able to launch the other tender. We will then lay out another anchor, so as to make doubly sure, and get ashore. Is Andy still on the beach?"
Terence went out of the cabin, and on returning reported that his chum was ascending the cliff path.
"Now we'll secure this fellow Blight once more. I see he's coming round," continued Mr. McKay.
Placing the prisoner again in the fo'c'sle he did not attempt to secure his arms and legs. He merely tied the man's thumbs with a piece of strong but fine cord, so that his arms were kept behind his back. Unless he attempted to struggle, the prisoner would feel but slight inconvenience, while this method was a perfect means of keeping him in a state of utter helplessness.
Shortly after this was done Mr. McKay went on deck "to have a look round." Gazing landward, he saw Andy standing on the edge of the lower terrace, striving to attract his attention by means of a handkerchief tied to a stick.
"There's Andy calling me up in the Morse code," said Mr. McKay. "I wonder what's up? Terence, will you please hand me over that signalling flag from the for'ard port locker?"
Andy, though not an expert signaller, knew the Morse system fairly well. Slowly he transmitted the startling message:
"The house has been broken into!"
Without hesitation Mr. McKay replied:
"Do not go to the house. Remain on beach till you can launch boat."
Andy gave the A.F., showing that he understood the signal, and descending to the shore proceeded to divest himself of most of his sodden clothing.
"There's something amiss ashore, lads," explained Mr. McKay. "Andy's just informed me that the house has been broken into. Of course, it may be another unfortunate party of shipwrecked mariners, or a hurried visit of the crew of a passing ship. All I hope is that there are no natives on the island."
"I wonder if any remained after the canoe left," remarked Ellerton.
"Quite possible. I never thought of that, by Jove! They might have slipped away in the night in order to steal all they could lay their hands upon. In that case there are only a few. We may be able to hunt them out without much trouble. Still, I'm sorry it's happened."
From the cabin Mr. McKay produced his pair of marine glasses. After a prolonged examination he exclaimed:
"Yes, the door is ajar. I feel certain I closed it when I left."
"We'll soon see what's amiss," said Terence. "See, the reef is uncovering and the wind is dropping."
"Yes, it is," assented Mr. McKay. "Andy will be able to put off in the boat in less than an hour. Ellerton, I think you had better remain on board."
"Why, sir?"
"Because of your arm."
"I'll take care of it. Besides, I can use a revolver with my sound limb if necessary."
"Very well, then; only don't blame me if anything goes wrong. Quexo must stay in any case. There's no need to worry about Blight."
In less than the predicted time Andy succeeded in rowing the small boat safely through the rapidly subsiding swell. Directly he came alongside, Mr. McKay and the two lads slipped on board, and with no greater inconvenience than a thorough drenching—to which they were now perfectly accustomed—the party landed at the natural quay at the foot of the path leading up to the house.
Everything appeared quiet. A hasty glance at the two storehouses on the lower terrace revealed the astonishing discovery that nothing had been disturbed.
"Strange," exclaimed Mr. McKay. "One would have thought that these would be the first places to be ransacked. Now, carefully, lads! Keep your firearms ready."
Cautiously they scaled the cliff path and gained the terrace on which the house stood. Still no signs of human beings, except that the door was half open.
Mr. McKay knocked quietly, then, pushing open the door, he entered. A strange sight met his gaze. Everything movable had been upset or pushed out of place; the floor of the living-room was littered with bedding and the fragments of earthenware vessels.
"The brutes!" ejaculated Mr. McKay savagely. "They've capsized everything out of sheer mischief. I hope I'll be able to lay my hands on them."
The lads, not without feeling of mysterious awe at the scene of wanton desolation, crossed the floor of the room and entered the sleeping quarters.
Here the state of confusion was, if possible, greater than in the outer apartment; but a clue to the mystery was afforded by the discovery of the dead body of a sheep, its head wedged in between the bars of a chair.
"Why," exclaimed Andy, "the sheep have broken out of their pasture!
"Yes," replied his father. "They managed to find their way into the house, though how I cannot imagine. Something must have frightened them and there was a mad stampede. This poor brute contrived to get his head jammed in the chair, and in his struggles he broke his neck. We've had a rare fright, but, after all, there's nothing of consequence that cannot be set right."
"Hadn't we better get Quexo ashore before it gets dark?"
"Certainly, and Blight as well. I think the best place we can put him is in the small store. He'll be all right for one night, though I'm sorry to keep him bound."
"The treacherous reptile deserves no consideration."
"My dear Andy, we are not Nicaraguan revolutionaries. So long as he remains our prisoner we ought to treat him with the same amount of consideration that any other British criminal receives while awaiting trial. To-morrow we must find a place better suited for his reception."
"There's the farthermost cave, the one beyond those where we've stowed the dynamite," observed Andy. "There's not much in it at present; we can build a partition over the opening and make a door."
"Yes, it will be far more comfortable than his quarters in Ni Atong. We'll make a start to-morrow."
Accordingly Mr. McKay and his son put off in the dinghy—which, by the way, was the larger though more awkwardly-shaped part of theSan Martin'sgig—and transferred Quexo to the shore. The poor fellow was in a bad state, though his wound showed no signs of complications. Ellerton had had his hurts attended to as soon as the house was set in order. Beyond the inflammation caused by the searing-iron, his wound gave no reason for undue anxiety.
"Now then, out you come," ordered Mr. McKay sternly, as Andy and he, armed in case of emergency, returned to the yawl.
Blight obeyed. Indeed, there was no option. His face was a picture of utter cowardice and terror.
"You ain't going to shoot me?" he whined.
"No!" replied Mr. McKay. "I've already told you what I intend to do with you. So long as you behave yourself you'll be treated properly—far better than you deserve."
With that the would-be assassin took his place in the boat, Mr. McKay seated beside him with a revolver in his hand, while Andy rowed.
On arriving at the shore the captive's eyes were bandaged, and, still secured by his thumbs, he was led up to the first terrace and placed in the storehouse. Mr. McKay then severed the cord that bound him, the door was locked, and the rogue left to his own reflections.
The following day was an exceptionally busy one. Ellerton, being unable to do any hard work, was dispatched into the grove to "round up" the sheep, while the three sound members of the establishment, after having conveyed the prisoner his food and water, set off for the cave that was to be prepared for his quarters.
It was situated on the extreme end of the upper terrace, where the level stretch of ground tapered away till it ended in the sheer face of a high precipice.
Outside the mouth of the cave was a belt of grass land about ten yards in width, the cliff falling to a depth of about seventy feet, while above the cave the rocks, too smooth to afford a foothold, towered to nearly a hundred feet.
The cave was quite fifty feet in depth, and averaged ten feet in width, while its height in places was over twenty feet. Its entrance, however, was barely four feet wide and six in height.
"There won't be much light for the poor beggar when once we've inclosed the entrance," remarked Andy.
"That is so," replied his father. "I really don't see why we couldn't inclose a strip of land between the two cliffs, and let him have the run of it."
"How inclose it?"
"I think we can spare enough of the galvanised iron sheeting to make an unclimbable fence. Each sheet is ten feet in height, is it not?"
"Certainly not less."
"Then we'll make a start. Although we cannot possibly hope to complete the work to-day, we may reasonably expect to finish it to-morrow afternoon."
The soil proved to be fairly soft, so that it was necessary to sink the base of the iron sheets at least two feet into the ground. Strong timber uprights with cross-braces of railway iron served to make the fence secure, a doorway being left to afford means of communication with the prisoner's quarters.
"I think we have taken every possible precaution," remarked Mr. McKay, after the fence was completed and the bedding and the other necessary articles for the ex-pearler's use had been placed in the cave. "Of course, this business entails a considerable amount of extra work, for besides the feeding arrangements we must make a thorough examination of the fence every day."
"Why? He cannot possibly pull it down, and I'm sure he will not be able to scale the wall."
"There are at least two ways he might manage to escape. He could either burrow under the fence, or he might manage to spring from the top of a pile of furniture on to the upper edge of the wall. If we make a point of examining both sides of the fence twice a day, we shall be able to detect any sign of a tunnel; while it is unlikely that an effort to scale the wall will meet with any success, for the edge of the iron sheets is sharp enough to cut through his hands should he make a leap at it. I'll talk to him pretty straight and let him know what to expect if he does manage to escape, though, at the same time, it will be an anxious business for us while he's at large—if he's fool enough to try it."
That evening Blight was conducted to his new quarters, duly cautioned as to his behaviour, and safely locked up; and from that day the "prison yard," as Terence termed it, was carefully examined night and morning.
It was, as Mr. McKay predicted, a severe strain on their time, for to guard against a surprise it was necessary that two people, armed in case of emergency, should make a visit to the prisoner twice daily.
At the first opportunity a strong set of moorings was laid down off the little stone quay, sufficiently clear of the shore to be out of the range of breaking rollers. Here the yawl was to make her future berth, the dinghy being kept on the beach well beyond the reach of the tide.
It was proposed to make a trip at an early date to the Marquesas, there to hand over the criminal into the charge of the British Consular Agent.
The planning of this voyage necessitated much thought, for Mr. McKay was loath to abandon the island entirely.
On the one hand he did not like to let Andy and Ellerton make the voyage with the prisoner; on the other, he did not like to leave Terence and Quexo, and, perhaps, Andy, alone on the island.
"I have been wondering," he remarked, "whether my brother and your five cousins would care to join us. There are boundless possibilities in the place, and I don't think they would mind a change. Once we have a few more members of the little colony, we can spare a few months to visit our respective homes. Ellerton, I know, would be pleased to see England again. And you, Terence, would you not like to return to 'Our Lady of the Snows'?"
"Rather!" replied Ellerton. "I should be awfully glad to see my people again; but, I must admit, I haven't had enough of McKay's Island. I should like to spend a great deal of my life here."
"And I, too," added Terence.
"Gently, lads, gently!" replied Mr. McKay. "You must remember that, although the island can be made self-supporting—for there's tons of copra to be had, and I have no doubt that the bed of the lagoon is covered with pearl oysters—the idea of living here is not altogether favourable. It wouldn't be good for us to have only each other's company for long. I'll not deny that this open-air, free-and-easy life is splendid from a physical point of view, but isolation tends to destroy one's mental powers."
"Then you advise me to get away from the island as soon as I can, and never return to it?"
"Not at all. You misunderstood me, Ellerton. The island is as much yours as it is mine, or Terence's. What I meant to imply was that once we can open up communication with the regular ports of call, so that we can leave whenever we wish to, the better it will be for all of us. But once abandon the island it becomes the property of the next comer. To put the matter briefly, I intend to sit tight here; but should any of you go away for, say, even three or four years, you will be welcome to return and secure your part of the commonwealth—such as it is."
Finally it was decided that Blight should be kept on the island for the present, and that Ellerton and Andy should attempt to navigate the yawl to the Society Islands, communicate with their friends at home, and also write to the Agent at Fiji requesting that a British gunboat be dispatched to ratify the annexation of McKay's Island.
They could then return and await events.
A week or more passed. Preparations for the voyage were pushed forward, and at length everything was ready for the lads' adventurous expedition.
"Now, lads, turn in early, for you may not get a good night's rest for some days," observed Mr. McKay, on the evening prior to the day fixed for their departure.
The advice was acted upon, but Ellerton could not sleep. The night was sultry, not a breath of wind rustled the leaves of the palm-trees. Mosquitoes buzzed in and out of the room, while without the glow of the fire-flies betokened a spell of fine weather.
Uneasily the lad tossed from side to side on his bed. A stray mosquito managed to pass the meshes of the mosquito-net, and settled down to business, his object of attack being the lad's nose.
Ellerton knew that rest could only be obtained by killing the insect, so sitting up he began his plan of campaign.
Suddenly his ear caught the sound of the long-drawn shriek of a concertina, followed by a chorus of shouts and exclamations of surprise.
In an instant he was out of bed.
"Wake up! Wake up!" he shouted, shaking the heavy sleepers with unsparing hand. "The savages are upon us!"