Hastily throwing on portions of their clothing and seizing their rifles and revolvers, which, by a general custom, were in variably kept loaded, the four white men prepared to dash out of the house.
"Don't show a light on any account," cautioned Mr. McKay. "We must let the storehouses go and hold this terrace."
It was a complete surprise. The natives, who had wrested Ahii from its former owners, had followed up their success in driving off the invaders by paying a return visit to Ni Atong. The population of that island had either been killed or reserved for a more lingering death, and from one of the latter their captors learnt of the existence of McKay's Island and its wealth of metal goods so prized by the South Sea Islanders.
Accordingly ten large canoes set out on an expedition to raid the white men's dwelling.
Arriving within sight of the peak of the island, they kept in the offing till night, then with torches blazing aloft they found the passage into the lagoon, and, paddling rapidly, landed on the beach below the settlement.
Thereupon three hundred powerful savages, armed with club, bow, spear, and knife, and bearing torches, began the ascent of the path that led to the three terraces.
The lower storehouse was their first discovery. Quickly finding that no white men were within, the host of warriors resumed their advance. Some, however, tempted by the various articles stored in the building, began to help themselves.
Then it was that a savage laid hold of the concertina that Ellerton had brought from the wreck and had hitherto been left neglected in the store. The native was examining his prize in the torchlight, when, happening to come into collision with another plunderer, the concertina gave out a startling screech as if to atone for its days of idleness.
Dropping the musical instrument of torture like a live coal, the savage rushed from the building, his yells of terror being taken up by his companions. This diversion was the cause of alarming Ellerton, and consequently saving the inhabitants of McKay's Island from a massacre.
"Aim low, lads!" shouted Mr. McKay. "Let 'em have it!"
The conflict was short and sharp. Although many of the attackers got within throwing distance, not a single native succeeded in gaining the top of the steep and narrow path.
They fled hurriedly to the shore, where they rallied to await the dawn.
"Anyone hurt?" inquired Mr. McKay.
There was a general reply in the negative, though in the heat of the firing there had been several narrow escapes, for the ground was bristling with spears and littered with stones, which, had they struck anyone, would have caused serious if not fatal wounds.
In the excitement Ellerton had forgotten his crippled arm, and had used a rifle equally as well as his comrades; but the exertion had caused the blood to flow afresh.
"Rotten luck, I call it," he grumbled as Andy readjusted the bandage. "You must load at least a dozen revolvers for me. Thank goodness it's my left arm."
"It's a fair surprise," remarked Mr. McKay. "We've our work cut out to drive them off. Won't they play old Harry with the storehouse—and the yawl."
"Oh!" exclaimed Andy in dismay, at the thought of his particular treasure being in the hands of the savages. "Whatever can be done to save it?"
"Nothing, I'm afraid," replied his father. "Perhaps if the mischief is not already done and the vessel holed, we can keep them off with a long range fire, though I can hold out no strong hopes in that direction. The plain truth is, that we are in a tight corner, and we must make the best of it."
For some minutes the defenders kept silence, listening to the subdued sounds of their foes.
"Look here," said Mr. McKay, "it's no use sitting here and doing nothing. Terence, will you go back to the house and bring three or four spades? We'll dig a shelter trench along the edge of the cliff so as to be able to command the path without unduly exposing ourselves to the rascals. Andy, you had better go with him and bring some more rifles and some ammunition."
Upon the lads' return, the little band set to work to throw up their defences, and barely had the work been completed ere the day broke.
"There are not so many of them after all," remarked Andy, when the full strength of the attacking party was revealed. "We had greater odds at Ahii."
"And a worse position," added his father. "We can hold out here, I fancy, but we cannot prevent the damage to our stores and gear. See, they've begun again."
Numbers of the savages were engaged in looting the store, while others, to Andy's great disgust especially, had paddled off to where the yawl lay at her moorings.
"Now," exclaimed Andy, setting the backsight of his rifle. "Eight hundred yards!"
"That's about the range," assented his father, and four rifles opened fire upon the daring natives, Ellerton contriving to rest the barrel of his weapon upon the ridge of the earthwork, so as to avoid using his damaged arm.
The bullets all fell close to the yawl, several of the natives being hit; but possibly in their hour of triumph the savages scorned the white men's weapons. Casting off the moorings, they leisurely towed the yawl out towards the reef and plundered her.
Great was the defenders' rage to see the blacks hacking at the rigging, sails, and cordage, throwing the contents of the cabin-lockers into the bottom of their canoe, and wrenching the metal cleats, hinges, and shroud-plates from her hull. This done, a powerful savage stove a hole in the craft, and slowly sinking by the stern, she at length plunged to the bottom of the lagoon.
"It's hard lines, Andy," exclaimed his father as he paused to recharge his magazine. "But I'm afraid we shall have to make greater sacrifices before this affair is over."
"We seem to have horrible bad luck," replied Andy savagely. "First at Ahii, and now here."
"Remember we were saved by the merciful intervention of One above," added Mr. McKay. "And if it please Him, we'll come out of this in safety. We've had a lot to be thankful for."
"I know, but all the same it's hard lines. Take that, you brute!" Andy added, pressing the trigger.
It was a splendid shot. A group of natives had begun to batter the yawl's tender to splinters. They were a good four hundred yards away, but Andy's shot struck a tall savage, clad in a gorgeous cloak of white and red feathers, fairly between the shoulder-blades.
Andy had laid aside his rifle immediately after discharging it, and had snatched up a pair of field-glasses. The effect of the chief's death—for a chief he evidently was—caused the wreckers to abandon their task, and they fled to join their fellows under the shelter of the lowermost cliff.
"They are preparing for another rush," observed Terence.
"Yes. I wish we had a Maxim or two," replied Andy. "That would stop them."
"I have an idea," exclaimed Ellerton. "I can best be spared, so I'll run over to the caves and bring back a few sticks of dynamite and some detonators."
"Good! Good!" replied Mr. McKay. "You're a wonder, Hoppy. Mind how you come back, and don't stumble, or we won't be able to find even your fragments."
Ellerton set off on his self-imposed mission, and presently returned with about fourteen pounds of dynamite and half a dozen time-fuses.
"What do you propose to do?" asked Terence. "Make a bomb and roll it over the cliff?"
"No!" replied the youth. "We can load up one of those trucks, set the time-fuse, and turn the thing adrift."
"It will mean good-bye to our storehouse," observed Mr. McKay. "But that cannot be helped, so let's to work; they'll be rushing us in a few minutes."
At the top of the cable-railway stood three empty trucks. In ordinary circumstances these would be filled with water, and their increased weight would cause them to descend and, at the same time, bring up the loaded trucks from the shore or the storehouse. Half-way down the line, and almost abreast of the building, were three other trucks, waiting to be loaded should occasion require. Around these trucks, which were invisible from the upper terrace, were most of the savages, who were massing for the attack at the base of the second terrace.
"You are quite sure you can unshackle the thing easily?" asked Mr. McKay. "If there's a hitch we shall be the ones to be blown to smithereens."
"I'll make sure of it," replied Ellerton, and securing the lowermost of the three trucks to the second one by means of a piece of rope, he unfastened the proper connecting shackles.
Then placing the explosive in the truck he asked Mr. McKay to take the time.
"It's set for four minutes," he announced. "Half-a-minute will be quite enough, so at three and a half minutes from the time the fuse is lit I'll cut the rope and off she'll go."
"Stand back, you fellows! If it goes wrong we need not all be blown sky-high. Are you ready? Stand by!"
The fuse began to hiss and splutter. Ellerton, knife in hand, kept his eyes fixed on Mr. McKay, who, standing fifty yards off, held his watch before him.
"Precious long three and a half minutes," thought the lad.
It was not a pleasant task standing within two yards of a highly-charged explosive. More than once he felt tempted to cut the rope and let the truck go.
"Time?" he shouted huskily, for his heart seemed literally in his throat.
"No, not yet," replied Mr. McKay.
Realising the strain on the plucky youth, he began to walk slowly in the direction of the truck.
"Stand back, sir!"
Mr. McKay stopped and slowly raised his hand.
"Stand by! Let go!"
One swift sweep of the sharp blade and the cord was severed. Slowly the truck began to gather way, then moving with increased speed it plunged on its headlong course.
Ten seconds later—before the fuse had time to complete its work—the descending truck crashed into the stationary ones. There was a deafening roar, a cloud of dust, in which was mingled a number of heavy, shapeless objects, and then an ominous silence, broken only by the crash of some fragments of wood and metal hurled high in the air by the explosive.
Rushing to the edge of the cliff the four defenders gazed upon the result of their stratagem.
Where the trucks had stood gaped a pit six feet in depth, for one of the peculiarities of dynamite is that it shows its power mainly where it meets resistance. Of the storehouse scarce a vestige remained, while the double line of rails had been uprooted for a distance of nearly twenty yards.
The havoc wrought amongst the savages was appalling. So many were killed that had the white men so wished it they could have fallen upon the survivors and exterminated them; but such was not their intention.
"We must act with prudence or we shall be left with fifty wounded savages on our hands," said Mr. McKay. "Those who are unhurt will take to their canoes, and leave the others to their fate, and that won't do!"
"How can we stop them taking to their canoes?" asked Andy.
"By taking advantage of their cowed condition and disarming them. Come, let's to work."
Fearlessly the four defenders descended the path to the lower terrace.
"We'll begin with those fellows first!" exclaimed Mr. McKay, pointing to a group of natives cowering, with their hands over their eyes, against a spur of the cliff. "Stand by with your revolvers in case they resist."
There was no resistance. Passively the savages allowed Mr. McKay to remove their weapons, which had fallen from their nerveless grasp.
Seizing one man firmly but gently, Mr. McKay dragged him from his companions. The native's face bore a strong resemblance to that of a sheep led to the slaughtering-block; no doubt he thought he was to be slain.
Escorted by the three lads the prisoner was taken to the fringe of the cocoa-nut grove, where Mr. McKay presented him with a branch of a palm—the almost universal emblem of peace.
At this the native began to see a chance of having his life spared, and Mr. McKay, pointing to the canoes and then to the wounded savages, made signs to the man that they desired their crippled enemies to be placed in the native craft.
This experiment was tried upon some of the other unharmed savages, with equally good results, and quickly recovering their senses the natives set to work with a will.
One powerful-looking savage, however, refused to deliver up his club, but instead made a sudden rush at Mr. McKay with the evident intention of knocking him over the head.
Mr. McKay had discarded his rifle, and his revolver was in the side pocket of his pyjama coat. Coolly his hand sought his pocket, and without attempting to withdraw the weapon he discharged it at his assailant, who was barely five yards off.
The heavy bullet, striking the man full in the chest, laid him dead on the ground, while the other savages, awestruck at the sight of one of their number being killed by no visible agency, were again thrown into a state of panic.
At length all the wounded were distributed between five of the canoes. Then Mr. McKay made signs for the rest of the natives to embark, keeping the other five canoes on the beach, and within an hour of the explosion the sorry remnant of the invaders was paddling back towards the island of Ahii.
"Do you think they will ever return?" asked Terence.
"I think they have had enough," replied Mr. McKay. "They've had a lesson."
"And so have we," added Ellerton, dolefully regarding the fragments of the storehouse and the shattered line of rails.
"And our boat; how shall we be able to leave the island now?" asked Andy.
"Perhaps the damage done to that is not so great as we imagine. With the help of these canoes we may be able to raise her. But we'll go into that question later. At present I feel as if I could enjoy a good square meal."
So back to the dwelling-house they went, where Quexo, who had been quaking all the time, was reassured.
"Don't you think we could rig up an electric alarm?" said Terence during the progress of the meal. "There's plenty of insulated copper wire in the small store."
"It would be as well," replied Mr. McKay. "We might have a return visit; though, as I said before, I don't anticipate one."
"But some natives from another island might try and surprise us," said Andy. "News travels quickly, and perhaps we might again be favoured with the unwelcome attentions of these savage gentry."
"And I tell you what," continued Terence, waxing enthusiastic, for electrical engineering was his strong point, "we brought one of theSan Martin'ssearchlights ashore. I'll try and fix it up and connect it with the dynamo."
"We'll see what's to be done. But now, how about Blight? It's time we paid him a visit."
"I guess he's been wondering what the dust-up was about," remarked Andy, as he prepared the prisoner's daily ration.
Andy and Terence were deputed to visit the prisoner, and, armed as usual and carrying a supply of food and water, they set off for the fenced-in dwelling.
From the elevation of the upper terrace they could see the distant dark brown sails of the canoes, for the wind was light and their progress had been slow.
"They'll have a nice yarn to pitch into their friends when they return," observed Terence.
"They stood a good chance of pitching into us," replied Andy grimly. "The rascals!"
For his mind was still sore on the subject of the scuttled yawl.
On arriving at the fence Andy put down his load, and producing a key unlocked the door. The space without the cave was deserted.
"Strange," muttered Andy. "Blight is generally anxious for his food."
Carefully relocking the door, the lads made their way to the mouth of the cave. Here, too, silence reigned.
"Blight! Where are you?"
There was no answer. Andy repeated the call, but without result.
"Is he asleep, or is he dead?" asked Terence, and gripping their pistols the two lads entered the cave.
Contrasted with the brilliant sunshine without, the apartment seemed plunged into utter darkness, but by degrees the lads' eyes grew accustomed to the gloom.
"Be careful," whispered Andy. "Perhaps he's up to some of his tricks."
"You locked the door in the fence?"
"Yes."
"Then let us explore the cave thoroughly."
This they did, penetrating into the cavern and examining every recess as they advanced, till the daylight which filtered in was insufficient to allow them to continue their search.
"Where's his lamp? I know the pater let him have one."
"I saw it on a ledge close to the entrance. Have you any matches?"
Andy had; matches were becoming scarce on McKay's Island, and whenever possible a burning glass was used for obtaining fire. Being, in this case, without his magnifying glass, Andy had to use one of the precious hoard of matches that he kept in a watertight gun-metal case, and lighting the lamp the two explorers resumed their search.
"He's gone right enough," exclaimed Terence, as they "drew blank."
"But where? And how?"
"Goodness only knows. Let's run back and tell the others."
Mr. McKay was greatly upset at the news, and seizing a light rifle he strode off towards the prisoner's quarters, accompanied by the three lads.
"Did you leave the door open?" he inquired, as they came in sight of the fence.
"Yes," replied Andy. "I was in a hurry to tell you, and what does it matter now that the man has escaped?"
"For all we know he might have been lying concealed within the fence the whole time you were looking for him, and finding the door unlocked after you left he coolly walked out. Andy, I'm surprised at such carelessness."
It was seldom that Mr. McKay was annoyed with his son, but the apparent laxity was enough to justify his displeasure.
With Blight roaming about the island, the existence of the others would be a continual round of anxiety. The man was no ordinary criminal. He was versed in all the wiles of the savage life, possessed of considerable strength, skill, and reliance, and was not above resorting to treachery and murder to gain his ends.
A careful examination of the outside of the fence revealed no signs of a burrow under the iron sheeting, but close to the part of the wall that touched the cliff there were unmistakable signs of a man's feet.
"There you are! He did not escape by the door after all, Andy," remarked his father. "See, these two footprints close together show us that he jumped, and, what is more, jumped skilfully, for there are no traces of his heels. We'll find out how he scaled the fence by examining the other side."
Entering the door, the gaolers found that Blight had cut a number of niches in the rock and had thus managed to climb to the top of the fence. The cutting of these footholds must have taken a considerable time, and in spite of the daily examination of the ground for any sign of a tunnel, the niches had escaped observation.
"You see how he hoodwinked us," said Mr. McKay, pointing to the little heap of dried grass and mud. "He dug out those footholds and filled them up with grass and clay, so that they presented the same appearance as the rest of the cliff. Now, lads, we must find him, and the sooner the better."
Accordingly they returned to the house, where Terence was told off to remain on guard with Quexo in the event of the escaped prisoner breaking in and securing arms. The mulatto, though far from having recovered from his injuries, was strong enough to use a pistol, so the two could hold the dwelling-house against a surprise.
Having supplied themselves with enough provisions for the day, the two McKays and Ellerton set out on the trail of the fugitive. Mr. McKay and his son took rifles and revolvers and also an axe to "blaze" the palm-trees, while Ellerton, by reason of his damaged arm, carried a revolver only in addition to his canvas knapsack containing his share of provisions.
Tracking was a new experience to the English lad, and he could not help wondering at the keenness displayed by father and son as they followed the scantiest trail.
Andy would walk with considerable speed for a hundred yards, his eyes fixed upon the ground; while Mr. McKay would follow at his heels, at the same time keeping a sharp look-out on all sides in order to guard against a sudden attack.
Then the order would be reversed, Mr. McKay following the trail, and his son acting as a cover to his father.
For nearly a mile the track was fairly well-defined, though Ellerton had to confess that he would have failed to notice it.
The fugitive had skirted the base of the cliff, then plunging into the palm grove, he had gone by a round-about way towards the left; and was evidently heading for the thickly-wooded belt of land surrounding the base of the highest peak of the island.
Then the pursuers met with an unexpected rebuff. The trail led up to a broad tract of barren country, the surface of the land consisting of rocky mounds covered with a deposit of lava—the result of volcanic action many years previously.
"This kind of stuff extends right up to the base of the peak," said Andy. "We had a rough scramble when Quexo and I climbed the mountain. I know what it's like. There are hundreds of rifts where a man might hide himself."
"He's covered his tracks," announced Mr. McKay. "See, he's gone in that direction, then back again and off in entirely the opposite way."
"And the trail is getting very much fainter," added Andy.
"It's my belief that he's lying low within a few yards of us," continued his father. "It's an admirable hiding-place, but it's certain that he must have food, so he's bound to make for the cocoanuts and bread-fruit trees sooner or later. That's why he's doubled on his tracks."
"We must double on our tracks before long," replied Andy. "That is, if we don't want to spend a night in this wilderness."
"That's what I intend to do," said his father in a low voice. "I want you two to go back to the house. Make plenty of noise, and grumble at having been unsuccessful. I'm going to remain here."
"Alone?" queried Andy.
"Hist! Don't speak so loud. Yes, alone. You don't imagine I'm afraid to tackle an unarmed man, do you? Now, listen to what I have to say. It will be dark in an hour or so, but the moon will rise at nine o'clock. Make your way here at sunrise to-morrow, and I'll warrant you'll find me safe enough—and not alone, I hope."
Andy knew that it was no good arguing, and the two lads set off towards their home. The blazed track was followed without difficulty, and just as the sun set they emerged from the forest and gained the terrace on which the house stood.
"Where's Mr. McKay?" asked Terence.
"Left behind."
"Left behind? What for? Has anything gone wrong?"
"I hope not. He insisted, so there was no help for it. We've to rejoin him at sunrise to-morrow," replied Andy.
All that night the lads did not attempt to sleep. Filled with anxiety, they listened intently for the sound of a rifle shot. The air was perfectly still, and though the strained nerves of the watchers caused them to hear a variety of imaginary sounds, no reassuring report of firearms broke the echoes of the palm-groves.
"Look here," exclaimed Ellerton, after hours of weary vigil, "the moon's up quite enough to allow us to find our way; so let's make a start."
Andy shook his head.
"You ought to know the pater well enough by this time, Hoppy. It's rotten hanging about here, I admit, but it's part of the game. So let's make the best of it."
Mr. McKay, left to himself, prepared for his all-night watch. His hiding-place consisted of a crevice which commanded a view of the route his companions had taken. Standing upright he could also see over the rock in which he was concealed, though prudence urged him not to show his head above the gaunt stone walls of his lair.
He rested himself on a convenient ledge, and waited, with his rifle across his knee. Then, as the sun set and intense darkness brooded over the land, he braced himself for his task. Instinct told him that the fugitive would skulk in the rocks till the moon rose; then in all probability he would prowl for food.
More than once Mr. McKay fancied he heard the crunching of a boot upon the pumice stone. Twice he grasped his rifle, as a dark shadow seemed to loom up against the darkness.
"Imagination," he remarked to himself. "What is the matter with my nerves?" But a finger pressed upon his wrist showed him that his pulse was beating regularly.
Then came a sound that could not possibly be mistaken—a smothered sneeze.
Blight was within a few yards of Mr. McKay, but in which direction the latter was unable to decide.
Then came the scuffling of feet. The fugitive was scuffling blindly across the rock. At any instant he might pitch into the crevice right into the arms of his pursuer.
Nearer and nearer he came, cursing under his breath as his feet came in contact with the ruts and sharp corners of the rocks. Mr. McKay could even hear the laboured breathing of his quarry.
Realising the danger of making his way over the pitfalls, Blight sat down, muttering angrily at being baulked, at the same time abusing the moon for its tardy appearance.
Mr. McKay waited, rifle in hand, feeling almost pleased. He pictured the fugitive's consternation when the moonlight revealed his tracker covering him at ten paces. It was the old animal instinct, the joy of the chase, whether hunter and hunted be human beings or mere beasts of the field.
Above the tops of the distant palm-trees a pale yellow light dawned in the eastern sky. Stronger and stronger it grew, till the golden disc of the queen of night appeared, the brilliant light throwing the rocks into strong relief.
The escaped prisoner, now that his path seemed clear, prepared to make his journey towards the trees once more, and obviously fearing no danger, he scrambled over a flat-topped boulder. Barely had he stood erect when Mr. McKay, rifle to shoulder, shouted:
"The game's up once more. Throw up your hands!"
So great was Blight's surprise that he stood stock still, with mouth agape, staring at the silhouetted form of his enemy; then, recovering himself, rushed wildly towards Mr. McKay, shrieking:
"You'll never take me alive, bad luck to you!"
It was the act of a madman. Ere he could cover the intervening apace, Mr. McKay could have shot him dead on the spot. But the Australian was loath to be the rascal's executioner; the business seemed to him to be mere butchery.
Turning down the muzzle of his rifle, the solitary tracker aimed the weapon at his enemy's feet. This action had a most restraining effect upon the rogue. He would welcome a swift and almost painless death, but to be deliberately crippled, secured at leisure, and dragged back to his prison, did not appeal to him. He turned swiftly and, dodging from side to side as he ran, he sped rapidly across the rocks.
Mr. McKay fired, but the shot went wide. He could have perforated the man's body between the shoulders with the greatest ease, but a pot-shot in the moonlight at a pair of swiftly-moving legs afforded plenty of opportunities of missing.
The fugitive uttered a yell of defiance, and sped onwards. Another fifty yards and he would be lost to sight in the midst of a labyrinth of fantastically-shaped rocks.
Mr. McKay did not attempt to fire a second shot. The success of his long vigil depended upon keeping the chase in view. Laying his rifle on the ground and making sure that the flap of his pistol-holster was loose, he vaulted upon the rock and set off in pursuit.
Although "hard as nails" and sound of wind, Mr. McKay forgot for the time being that the result of his accident on board theSan Martinhad left him somewhat weak in his lower limbs.
With elbows pressed close to his sides he ran, but ere forty yards were covered he found himself lurching dangerously. Setting his jaw firmly, he persevered, keeping his eyes fixed upon the form of the fugitive, yet he was forced to confess that he was losing ground.
Blight was now within twenty yards of the sheltering rocks. Dare the pursuer use his revolver and stop this headlong flight? The odds were too great, for with the exertion of running his aim would be erratic. No, he must continue to run and trust to chance that his quarry might be cornered somewhere.
Suddenly Blight stumbled, kicking up a cloud of pumice dust that looked silvery in the moonlight. Two yards he traversed ere he fell headlong in the soft lava, and before he could stagger to his feet his pursuer was almost within arm's length.
"Give in, you idiot," shouted Mr. McKay, drawing his revolver.
For answer Blight laughed, and, bending low as he ran, he doubled away to the right, where the ground sloped downwards towards a line of irregularly-shaped cliffs. He was crippled. He had twisted his ankle, and everything was in Mr. McKay's favour.
Unwilling to close with the desperate fugitive, Mr. McKay prepared to maim him with a bullet through his leg; but even as he levelled the weapon, Blight disappeared from sight with a shriek of terror.
Instinctively Mr. McKay threw himself flat on his back, digging his heels into the soft yielding dust; but surely and gradually he found himself slipping towards the mouth of a gaping abyss. The very ground on which he was sprawling was moving. He could hear the rustle of the sand and small stones as they dropped over the ledge into the apparently fathomless chasm.
Desperately Mr. McKay plunged his arms into the sliding sand; but his efforts were unavailing. He was being launched towards the yawning gulf, the horrors of which seemed worse in the moonlight.
Just as he was on the point of slipping over the edge—his heels were already over the abyss—his hand, buried arm's length in the pumice, came in contact with a piece of hard rock.
Would it hold? he wondered.
Slowly his outstretched arm began to change from a vertical to an almost horizontal position as his body still continued its downward motion. The rock afforded but a slender hold: either the fabric might become loosened, or his hand might be unable to keep up the strain, and then——?
Mr. McKay ceased to struggle. He could feel the sand slipping from under him, streaming past like a solid cataract. So long as he kept quiet he was comparatively safe, but directly he commenced to find a foothold, his peril increased threefold. Yet he knew that every moment his grip upon the small pinnacle that stood between him and instant death was gradually becoming weaker.
In those awful moments of peril he could hear the laboured breathing of his enemy, coming apparently from a great depth beneath his feet. Blight, then, was still alive, but his gasping breaths sounded ominous.
At length, regaining his self-possession, Mr. McKay put forth a final effort in an endeavour to draw his feet clear of the awful chasm.
Inch by inch he worked himself upwards, against the increasing torrent of sand, when suddenly the rocky ledge was wrenched from its base, and the next instant he was swept into the gulf.
Amidst a shower of dust and stones he felt himself hurtling through the pitch dark air, then everything became a blank.
*****
The first rays of the rising sun filtering through the narrow neck of the inverted funnel-shaped chasm strove to disperse the darkness.
Stretched upon the thick carpet of powdered pumice were two motionless figures, partially covered with the flow of dust that trickled from the open air like the sand of a gigantic hour-glass.
The head and shoulders of one of the victims were pillowed upon the body of the other, who lay, with arms outstretched, gazing upwards with sightless eyes at the narrow slit of sky that was visible between the lips of the abyss.
Blight had gone to his last account.
Slowly opening his eyes, Mr. McKay blinked stupidly at nothingness for a few seconds, then stretched out his arms. It was the action of a man awakening from slumber. He felt no pain; he had no idea of where he was, or of what had occurred.
With the intention of going to sleep again he turned his head on its ghastly pillow, but on drawing up his arms to compose himself, his head came in contact with the cold face of his companion in misfortune.
The touch acted like an electric shock. In an instant the details of the tragedy flashed across his mind. He stumbled to his feet, but overcome by weakness, he sank once more upon the dust-covered floor.
How long had he been in this hideous deathtrap? he wondered. Was it a night, or many days and nights? Had his comrades searched in vain and had they abandoned their quest and left him to his fate?
For quite half-an-hour Mr. McKay sat and thought, striving to collect his mental and physical powers. He went over the events leading up to the final tragedy—the ambush, the pursuit, Blight's disappearance, and his own terrible ordeal on the sliding sand. Then he reflected that his trail would be fairly well-defined, and that help must be forthcoming. His watch was still going, so that he knew that it was only the morning following his night's vigil.
Overhead a dazzling ray of sunlight shone obliquely through the opening, illuminating the shaft-like sides of his prison, but so dead black was the colour of the rock that hardly any light was reflected to the bottom of the pit. He could, in fact, just see his own hands and the grey features of his ill-fated companion.
Mr. McKay groped about the floor. At first his fingers encountered nothing but dust. He plunged his arm up to the elbow in the soft yielding deposit; but nothing solid met his touch.
Fearing that he might be lying on a ledge overhanging a pit of fathomless depth, Mr. McKay extended his field of exploration, making wide sweeps with his arms. Presently his fingers encountered a metal object. It was his revolver.
"At least," he thought, "I can signal for aid."
But on second thoughts he hesitated. Then he remembered his box of matches. Fumbling in his pocket he found the little case, and eagerly, like a miser counting his gold, he passed the little sticks one by one through his fingers. Ten—ten priceless matches.
He struck one. For the moment his eyes were dazzled by the yellow fire, but ere it burnt out he made sure of two things. He was not lying on the edge of another precipice; that was reassuring. His second discovery was disconcerting. His trusty revolver was choked with fine dust, and had he discharged it he would have assuredly been injured by the bursting of the barrel.
The match flickered out, and to the imprisoned man the darkness seemed denser than ever. It pressed upon him like a real substance, till he felt tempted to shout in his distress.
By degrees he grew calmer, and staggering to his feet he moved his limbs with extreme caution. To his satisfaction they were still sound, though he was beginning to feel stiff and bruised from head to foot.
The light of a second match showed that Blight was indeed beyond all human aid, so, placing his handkerchief over the face of the corpse, Mr. McKay retired a few steps till a third match became necessary.
He found himself within a few feet of one of the walls of his prison. The stone, divided by volcanic agency, was almost vertical at the point, though at others it receded so that the base of the abyss was several yards beyond the perpendicular height of the shaft. Close to him was a deep crack in the wall, known by mountaineers as a "chimney."
It might be possible to scale the rock, he thought, but the knowledge that the edge of the shaft was "rotten" compelled Mr. McKay to abandon that attempt. He must wait; yet, unwilling to remain idle, he resolved to sacrifice four more of his precious matches in exploring the immediate vicinity of the chasm.
Keeping close to the wall, Mr. McKay proceeded with the utmost caution, till he reached a yawning cavern that descended abruptly.
For a moment he hesitated, fearing the presence of carbonic acid gas, but on holding the lighted match close to the ground the flame burnt clear and bright.
To his surprise Mr. McKay found his hand resting on the butt of a musket. The weapon was lying on the hard, rocky floor of the cave, for here no dust had penetrated. Another match revealed the fact that the firearm was of an ancient pattern, the combined flint and matchlock being of not later date than the end of the seventeenth century.
"By George! This is a find!" exclaimed Mr. McKay.
For the time being he forgot his surroundings, interest being centred in this relic of bygone days.
Then, unwilling to risk using his remaining stock of matches, yet mentally resolving to explore this part of the cavern at the earliest favourable opportunity, he retraced his steps to that part of the chasm that lay beneath the narrow shaft. Here he sat down and waited, hoping for the speedy arrival of Andy and Ellerton.
It could not have been more than a couple of hours after Mr. McKay returned to consciousness that the two lads emerged from the forest and gazed wonderingly upon the rock-strewn plain. Not knowing the course of events, they had left Terence and Quexo to guard the dwelling-house against a possible attack.
"Steady, Hoppy!" cautioned Andy, as Ellerton was about to rush towards the spot where they had left Mr. McKay on the previous evening. "I don't like the look of things. Suppose that rogue has got the upper hand? You would be potted to a cert if you rushed into the open in that reckless style. You work round to the right and I'll go by the left."
Accordingly the lads, taking advantage of every bit of cover, advanced with the utmost caution towards the little rift in the dark rock where Mr. McKay had made his ambush.
There was his rifle, lying on the ground, with no sign of an empty cartridge to show that the weapon had been discharged. Andy removed the magazine and found that the cartridges were still intact.
"I can't understand it," he exclaimed. "The pater was evidently in a hurry, for, you see, the rifle was not placed against a rock, but was thrown down on the ground. He's too careful, in ordinary circumstances, to do a thing like that."
"Well, where is he? If Blight had managed to get the better of him he would have taken away the rifle."
"He may have chased him right across this island. Come on, it's no use wasting time here; let's try and pick up the trail."
Andy leapt upon the flat top of the rock and assisted his chum to follow his example. Both took it for granted that there was no further need for concealment.
From where they stood the ground had the appearance of a broad belt of flat rock, divided in all directions by narrow crevices, most of which could be jumped across with the greatest ease, while ahead was the first of a series of cliffs, which incircled the base of the peak of the island.
"Look!" exclaimed Ellerton, pointing to a little heap of brown canvas which was lying on the rock about thirty feet away. "There's your father's haversack."
The lad was right, for Mr. McKay had discarded the article as he commenced the pursuit of the fugitive. From this spot the mingled tracks of the hunter and the hunted were easily traced, by reason of the deposit of lava dust, which grew thicker as the lads advanced.
Suddenly they came to an abrupt halt. Almost at their feet began the treacherous slope, ending in the horrible fissure which had been the cause of Blight's death and Mr. McKay's disaster.
Although the still sliding dust and sand had almost hidden the traces of Mr. McKay's desperate struggle to save himself from the yawning pit, there remained sufficient evidences of the disappearance of the fugitive and his pursuer.
The faces of both lads grew pale. Andy was about to rush towards the brink of the abyss when Ellerton's detaining hand was laid upon his shoulder.
"It's nothing more or less than a trap," said he. "You'll——"
The sentence remained unfinished, for from the depths of the chasm a hollow voice that the lads hardly recognised as Mr. McKay's repeated the warning:
"Stand back, lads!"
"Are you all right, sir?" shouted Ellerton.
"Yes, but you cannot get to my aid without a rope. Hurry back to the house, and bring all hands with you. A lantern will also be useful. Be as quick as you can, for it's pretty doleful down here."
"All right, sir, we'll make haste; but stand by!"
And as a parting gift Ellerton dexterously threw Mr. McKay's haversack, still containing an ample supply of food, into the pit.
Andy, however, hesitated.
"Are you sure you are all right, dad?"
"Ay, my boy. Why do you ask?"
"Because your voice sounds so strange. I suppose it's the rocks that affect it. How far did you fall?"
"I hardly know; about thirty feet, I expect; luckily the ground's soft."
"Seen anything of Blight?"
"Dead!" replied Mr. McKay.
With the utmost despatch Ellerton and Andy returned to the house, where, having told the others all they knew about the accident, they collected a couple of coils of rope, some lanterns, two strong crowbars, a hammer, and, at Ellerton's suggestion, two six-inch pulleys.
The four lads—for even Quexo insisted on coming, though he was still in a weak state of health—set off for the scene of the disaster, Andy and Terence carrying the bulk of the appliances, while Ellerton and the mulatto took only what they could place in their belts.
Cheering up the prisoner with a lusty shout of encouragement, the rescuers proceeded to drive the crowbars into a convenient crevice in the rocks, so that one was about ten feet nearer to the chasm than the other.
From the base of the outside bar to the top of the inner one, Ellerton lashed a piece of rope, then making sure that the "crows" would bear any strain that was likely to be put upon them, he attached a pulley to the base of the innermost.
Through the block was rove one of the coils of rope, one end of which he tied round his waist. Then, taking the lighted lantern in his hand, he walked cautiously towards the brink of the pit, the others paying out the rope as he went.
Before he had gone a distance of five yards the pumice dust began to slide away from under his feet, causing him to sit down on the slope, while the avalanche nearly blinded Mr. McKay as he was looking upwards for the expected relief.
"Come back, Hoppy!" shouted Andy. "Remember your arm."
"I do," replied Ellerton with a laugh. "It's giving me good cause to remember it, but I mean to make the best of it. You fellows can do more good by hauling on that rope than I can, so slack away."
Terence and Andy accordingly "slacked away," and Ellerton slid another yard or so towards the brink. He was then able to lower the lantern to Mr. McKay, and at the same time he made the discovery that the shaft was too rugged to allow a man to be hauled up by a rope without serious danger of the rope being chafed through by the sharp projections.
He explained the situation to Mr. McKay, who fully realised the force of his remarks.
"Never mind, we'll manage it right enough," concluded Ellerton cheerily, and giving the word he was hauled back to where his companions stood.
"We must have one of those trees down," he said, pointing to the distant palms.
Accordingly the lads set off for the forest, where without much difficulty a stout trunk, thirty feet in length, was felled. The work of transporting it to the brink of the pit was a more tedious business, and an hour elapsed ere they succeeded in slinging the timber across the yawning gulf, where it rested with about ten feet imbedded in the soft lava on either side of the hole.
"Now you can do this part of the work better than I," said Ellerton to Andy. "Lash this block to the centre of the trunk, and reeve a rope through it."
This Andy managed to do. He also lashed a smaller piece of timber at a distance of about four feet below the tree-trunk, so as to form a platform to enable Mr. McKay to obtain a clear spring when hauled up as far as the pulley would permit.
"All ready, pater?" asked the son.
"Wait a moment, Andy. Could you manage to come down here, do you think?"
"I'll try. I say, you fellows, I'm going down, so pay out the rope."
Andy swung himself from the main beam upon the lower piece of timber, and, summoning up his courage, launched himself off from the swaying perch.
Slowly he descended, spinning round on the straining rope like a joint on a meat-jack, while at almost every second his shoulders or hips came into contact with the jagged walls of the shaft. To avoid the dust he kept his head bent downwards, and as he did so he saw the glimmer of the lantern from beneath.
"Thirty feet, do you call it?" he asked, as his feet touched the floor of the pit, and his father grasped his hand. "It's sixty at the very least."
"I don't think so," was the reply. "You see, looking down from a height the distance always appears greater. Had the floor been hard rock, I should have been killed or at least seriously injured. But to change the subject, look here."
Mr. McKay had, during the long interval of waiting since Ellerton had lowered the lantern, made another tour of exploration, and now he led the way towards the tunnel where he had found an old musket.
He had made a strange discovery. At no very distant date a long cavern of varying height and breadth existed here. Where its entrance was Mr. McKay had not found out; but a volcanic disturbance had caused a mighty fissure to divide the original cave in two, as an examination of the strata proved conclusively.
Casting off the rope from around his waist, Andy followed his father into the tunnel-like cavern, stooping as he did so, for its mouth was barely five feet in height.
At ten paces from its mouth the passage turned almost at right angles to its former direction, and expanded into a broad and lofty chamber. Almost covering the width of the four sides was a range of arm-racks filled with old-time weapons. The candle-light flashed upon the bright barrels of musket and pistol, and glittered on the steel of bayonet, cutlass, sword, and pike, for so dry was the atmosphere that a couple of centuries had not left any appreciable trace on the metal.
"Great Scott! How did these get here?" asked Andy, after he had recovered from his astonishment.
"It's the armoury of some long-forgotten buccaneer," replied his father. "I've had plenty of time to look round since you first sent me the lantern, and none of these weapons are later than the earlier part of the eighteenth century, or the last part of the seventeenth. See, these muskets have Vauban locks, a combination of flint and matchlock. These kinds of muskets were used at the battles of Steenkirke and Landen. You can also see that all these bayonets are the plug variety, that is to say they were plugged into the barrel of the musket, thus temporarily converting it from a firearm to a pike. These are evidently the original bayonets used in the reign of James II., so that we can fix the period at which they were stored here to within a few years, since the socket type were introduced early in the reign of William III."
In this strain Mr. McKay continued, forgetful of time and place, till Ellerton's voice was heard shouting to know of anything was amiss.
"We had better retrace our footsteps," observed Mr. McKay, "or the others will be getting alarmed. When we've found an easier way of descending into this pit—for I do not want another fall like that, I can assure you—we'll make a thorough exploration of the place."
Accordingly father and son made their way back towards the shaft, but as they turned the bend of the passage they found themselves confronted by Terence and Ellerton, each of whom carried a lantern.
"Hullo! How did you descend?" asked Andy, who was very astonished at seeing his friends down there.
"I lowered Terence, and then let myself down," replied Ellerton.
"Then, how in the name of goodness, do you expect to get back?" demanded Andy. "Quexo cannot haul us up."
"By the same means as I came down," replied the young sailor calmly. "It's easy enough with a bos'un's chair."
"Then all I can say is that I hope you lashed the pulley on securely," rejoined Andy with evident concern. "If that goes wrong, we're trapped."
"Don't worry," replied Ellerton, somewhat ruffled at the slur cast upon his work.
"Come, come," observed Mr. McKay good-humouredly. "Don't quarrel. Now we are here we might as well continue our exploration."
Once more the armoury was inspected, the lads showing the greatest interest in the weapons, snapping the flints in order to see the sparks fly from the steel.
"Be careful, some of these muskets may be loaded," cautioned Mr. McKay. "Always make it a practice to point a weapon away from anybody when fooling about like that."
Hardly had he spoken, when a tremendous explosion shook the cave, the noise being intensified by the confined space, and Terence sat on the floor rubbing his shoulder, while a smoking musket lay by his side.
"You're a young ass," observed Andy. "Are you hurt?"
"Didn't know it was loaded," replied the youth, still clapping his hand to his shoulder.
"That's what they all say after an accident has occurred," said Mr. McKay. "By some means or the other the musket was stored without the charge being drawn. However, thank goodness it's no worse, though the concussion might have brought the roof down on our heads."
Presently Ellerton, who had wandered behind one of the arms-racks that stood about three feet from the wall, exclaimed:
"Here's another passage."
"Hold on, then," cautioned Mr. McKay. "Wait till I come. There might be a pitfall."
Carefully examining the floor of the tunnel, the explorers advanced about ten yards, when further progress was prevented by a door covered with flat iron bars.
"H'm!" ejaculated Mr. McKay. "What have we here?"
Terence was dispatched to bring a dagger and a pike from the armoury, but on further thoughts Mr. McKay forbade the lads to tamper with the door.
"Then we are done for the time being," remarked Andy. "Shall we go back for our axes?"
"A crowbar would be the thing," replied Ellerton. "But we want the two we brought."
"Probably it's as well we haven't got them," added Mr. McKay. "To tell the truth, I have my suspicions of that door, so we'll defer the opening of it till a more convenient time."
Reluctantly the lads retraced their steps to the open chasm, where Blight's body lay.
"We must bury him as soon as possible," said Mr. McKay. "There's no place here, so we must haul the body to the surface, and dig a grave in the soft earth."
"There's no soil nearer than the edge of the palm-forest," observed Andy.
"I know, but it cannot be helped."
"Isn't there a rift or a hole in the floor where we could bury him?" asked Ellerton. "After all, where does it matter, so long as he receives Christian burial?"
"We may as well look," assented Mr. McKay, and taking one of the lanterns he commenced to explore that side of the chasm which lay opposite to the tunnel leading to the buccaneers' armoury.
The first ten or twelve paces were knee deep in the pumice dust, but on approaching the wall of the abyss the floor was fairly hard, being protected from falling dirt and sand by the overhang of the shaft.
On reaching the stone face of the rift the explorers followed its general direction without discovering any crack or crevice likely to suit their purpose, till they stumbled upon another tunnel-like shaft, similar and almost opposite to the one they had already traversed.
This tunnel was about six feet in height and four in width, and ran in a slightly upward direction. Evidently it was at one time a continuation of the other passage.
"Let's see where this leads to," exclaimed Ellerton, full of curiosity and enthusiasm. "I believe it leads to the open air."
"I think not," replied Mr. McKay, pointing to the smooth, even steps in the floor of the tunnel. "See, the floor is as dry as a bone, and covered with a thick deposit of dust. If this tunnel is open, the tropical rains would have washed the dust away."
"Then where does it lead to?" continued Ellerton. "Those arms must have been brought in by some means."
"We'll carry on and see who's right."
It was a long walk. Up and up ran the tunnel, turning slightly to the right, yet maintaining a uniform height and breadth throughout its entire length.
"This passage has been hewn out," announced Mr. McKay.
"Hasn't the other?" asked Andy.
"Only in parts. The armoury is a natural cave. Perhaps there was a smaller tunnel here before, and the people who discovered it enlarged it. It's about time we came to the end."
"Now who's right, sir?" exclaimed Ellerton triumphantly, as the pale gleam of daylight was visible from a curve of the tunnel.
"Not this child," replied Mr. McKay, without the faintest trace of chagrin. In fact, he was glad to know he was in the wrong, for he did not relish the task of tackling the shaft and the treacherous, dust-covered slope at its edge.
A few sparse bushes masked the mouth of the tunnel, and upon these being thrust aside, the adventurers found themselves at the foot of the lowermost range of cliffs and within a hundred yards of the abyss which had been the cause of their presence in the tunnel.
Standing close to where the crowbars were driven into the rock was Quexo, looking the picture of misery, for he was perfectly convinced in his own mind that all his companions had met with disaster.
"Quexo!" shouted Andy. "Quexo! Here we are!"
The mulatto's joy was curious to behold. He danced, swung his sound arm over his head, and cut fantastic capers, the tears running down his cheeks the while as he blurted out unintelligible sentences in mingled English and Spanish.
"Well, we're safe once more, thanks to Providence," exclaimed Mr. McKay.
All the explorers looked rather disreputable, but Mr. McKay in particular was little better than a walking scarecrow. His clothes were in rags, his face clotted with dried blood and dust, while, now the excitement was over, he once more began to feel stiff and bruised from head to foot.
"By Jove, we've forgotten what we went to look for!" exclaimed Andy.
"Yes," replied Mr. McKay. "We must bring the poor fellow's body up after all."
"By the tunnel?"
"No, by the shaft."
"Then here goes," said Ellerton quietly, and drawing up one of the ropes he fastened it round his waist. Lantern in hand he slid down the sand, and getting astride the tree-trunk, edged his way along till he reached the swaying piece of timber. The next minute he was lowering himself into the abyss.
"He's a plucky chap," commented Mr. McKay as they awaited Ellerton's signal.
"And with an arm like that," added Terence admiringly. "He really seems to make light of it."
The watchers had not long to wait.
"Haul away!" shouted Ellerton, and heaving slowly on the rope they brought the body of the unfortunate Blight to the surface, where the young seaman soon rejoined the others.
Between them they bore the corpse across the rocky plain to the edge of the palm-forest, where they dug a shallow grave with their axes.
Here the body of the ex-pearler was laid to rest, Mr. McKay recited a few prayers, and the earth was heaped over the corpse, a pile of heavy stones being placed over the grave to mark the spot.
This depressing task completed, they hastened homewards to enjoy a welcome meal and a still more desired rest.
For the next two or three weeks all hands were too busy to think of making a further exploration of the buccaneers' cave.
The damage wrought by the savages required a considerable amount of patience and hard work to set to rights. A new storehouse had to be constructed, and the various stores that had not been totally destroyed were collected and placed once more under cover.
Terence had, with considerable ingenuity, contrived to erect an electric alarm, so that the moment a foot was placed upon the lowermost path leading up to the house, a bell would ring in the sleeping quarters.
He also succeeded in rigging up the searchlight salved from the wreck, and after many failures the apparatus worked to perfection.
Thereafter every night its great beam was directed skywards, the International Signal, "N.G." (want immediate assistance), being flashed in the hope of attracting the attention of any vessel within seventy miles of the island.
The little party was now completely isolated from the rest of the world.
Before the destruction of the yawl they had the means of making even a fairly long passage, but now this was denied them, for it would be utter madness to attempt to go to sea in one of the captured canoes.
So, realising that the sooner they were in possession of a seaworthy craft the better it would be for them, the inhabitants of McKay's Island debated whether it would be advisable to construct a new decked craft, convert one of the canoes into a cabin boat, or to salvage the wreck of the yawl and patch her up sufficiently to enable them to reach Tahiti.
Even with the appliances at their command, Mr. McKay reckoned that it would take a twelvemonth to make a boat large enough for their requirements. As regards reconstructing one of the canoes, he came to the conclusion that the work might be done, but the canoe being without a keel would be a bad craft in a sea-way; while her light construction would not allow a keel to be fixed without a grave risk of straining the vessel in the first breeze she encountered.
Finally, it was decided that the captured canoes should be utilised to attempt the salvage of the yawl, and on the first fine day the actual work was put in hand.
By means of rollers and a powerful jack, three of the canoes were launched and taken to the scene of the savages' wanton act.
The wrecked boat could be clearly discerned lying on the sandy bed of the lagoon in six fathoms of water, with a slight list to starboard.
Anchoring two of the native craft close to the sunken yawl, Ellerton and Andy contrived to pass the bight of a chain under her bows, the ends of the chain being made fast to two stout cables. A similar device was employed to engage the stern of the wreck, although the fact that her keel was imbedded in the sand added to the difficulty of the task.
Two massive trunks of palm-trees were then placed across the gunwales of both canoes, converting them into a kind of pontoon.
These preparations being completed, all that was at present necessary was to wait till dead low water.
All hands knew that it would be a tedious job, for the rise of the tide was but five feet at springs and only two feet at neaps, so what work had to be done must be performed during the spring tides.
At dead low water all the slack of the four hawsers was taken in, and once more came a tedious wait for the rising tide.
Gradually the strain on the ropes increased, till the timbers groaned under the weight of the sunken boat and the canoes sank lower in the water.
"Hurrah! She's lifting!" shouted Ellerton, and allowing sufficient time for the yawl to be lifted clear of the bottom, Mr. McKay and his assistants began to haul on an anchor cable which had been previously laid towards the shore.
Slowly the ungainly pontoon with its heavy burden began to move shorewards, when suddenly the bows of the canoes rose high in the air, throwing their occupants on their backs. One of the hawsers had slipped, and the work of six long hours was wasted.
"Hard lines!" exclaimed Terence dolefully.
"It is, I admit," replied Ellerton cheerfully. "Still, we must not expect to have everything our own way. Try, try, try again, as the old saw says."
"We can do no more to-day," said Mr. McKay. "We'll leave the canoes moored to the yawl, however. That will save time to-morrow."
"I think, if you don't mind, sir, we'll try and slip the sling under her again," said Ellerton. "You see, if we do that there won't be so much chance of the canoes drifting and consequently slipping the other sling."
"Quite so," replied Mr. McKay. "It may save us some hours of hard work."
So directly the water cleared, for the settling of the wrecked boat had churned up the sand till she was practically invisible, the chain sling was again placed in position.
This time this part of the business was done more satisfactorily, as the yawl was resting on a hummock of shell and sand amidships, so that above five feet of the after part of her keel was clear of the bed of the lagoon.
"I hope it doesn't come on to blow to-night," remarked Ellerton, as the party rowed ashore. "If it does, then good-bye to the yawl."
"The glass is steady," replied Mr. McKay. "If it should pipe up, we must slip the slings and let the canoes take their chance."
That afternoon Ellerton and Andy were busy preparing additional slings, for the former was resolved not to have a repetition of the morning's failure if it could be avoided.
Just before low water on the following morning, the salvage party set out for the wreck. As Mr. McKay had predicted, the weather was fine, there being no swell to speak of within the lagoon, though as usual the breakers were lashing themselves into milk-white foam upon the outer fringe of the reef.
Once more the slings were hove tight, and as the tide rose, the wrecked craft was again lifted from her ocean bed. Directly the yawl was "lively," as Ellerton expressed it, two more slings were passed underneath her keel so as to make doubly sure of her being swung properly.