The Nameless Island: A Story of Some Modern Robinson Crusoes

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XIV

  ROUTING THE SAVAGES

  There was not the slightest doubt about it. The expedition had faileddisastrously. Quexo was badly wounded, the white men all more or lessexhausted, while barely forty utterly demoralised natives were coweringin their canoes.

  "Well, we can't stay here," remarked Mr. McKay, after the mulatto'shurts 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 anddestroy the others? By that means we may be able to get the survivorsback to Ni Atong."

  Mr. McKay's opinion of the ex-pearler was undergoing a change. Nodoubt the man was a bit of a scoundrel, he thought, but he was olderand possibly more of a reformed character than in the old days inTorres Strait. He had certainly fought well and had impressed the ladsas a resolute and cautious combatant.

  "I'll tell 'em, boss," he replied. "But, by snakes, it's a badlook-out."

  "It is," assented Mr. McKay, as he prepared to go below and bind up aslight wound on his shoulder. "Your friends will have to be contentwith Ni Atong for a while, I'm thinking."

  Andy was also in the cabin, where he was attending to a surface woundon his forehead--the legacy of one of the savages' showers ofstones--so only Terence and Ellerton remained on deck with theex-pearler.

  "Couldn't the boss bring over the rest of your pals and settle ourscore with those niggers?"

  "What pals?"' asked Terence, taken aback by the suddenness of thequestion.

  "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 anadmission. He had revealed the comparative weakness of the defences ofMcKay's Island.

  "Oh! Is that so?" was the rejoinder.

  Blight said no more on the subject, for the yawl was now within hailingdistance of the forlorn flotilla.

  The natives accepted their white companion's orders without demur. Thetwo most serviceable canoes were brought up with their full complement,and the rest were scuttled till they floated awash--useless to friendor foe. Then with a light breeze the three craft--the yawl leading theforlorn procession--headed for the opening in the reef.

  Jimmy Blight was thinking. He was not of a thinking nature, butscheming and plotting were the only intellectual subjects in which heexcelled. In fact, he was a past master in the art of intrigue.

  He briefly summed up the situation and enlarged upon it. His house andstore at Ahii were in the hands of a hostile race of savages. Hiswealth of copra and other valuable native products had vanished.

  Had his black friends been able to regain possession of Ahii, he wouldnot have hesitated to incite them to fall treacherously upon the whitemen from McKay's Island, and the doubtless valuable stores of thatplace would be his. Now, with fewer than forty of his savage friendsat 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 anopportunity of surprising and slaying the handful of whites. If onlyhe dared! With a fully charged revolver he might make a suddenattack----

  This wicked scheming was suddenly interrupted by a shout from one ofthe canoes. The keen-eyed savages had detected an ominous movementashore. Their enemies were launching their canoes in pursuit of theirdiscomfited adversaries.

  "Say, boss!" exclaimed the ex-pearler, as Mr. McKay emerged from thelittle cabin. "What's to be done now? There ain't no wind, in amanner o' speaking, and those reptiles'll overhaul us hand over fist."

  Mr. McKay did not reply at first, but anxiously scanned the shore withhis glasses.

  "There are seven canoes," he announced. "Three for us to tackle andtwo 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?" askedBlight. "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'vehad 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'sboat. Their indifference had vanished, and weapons were brandished ina 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 toreturn. "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 paddlesto the accompaniment of a mournful chant, soon increased the distancebetween them and the almost becalmed yawl.

  "Now, Andy, start the motor."

  Great was Blight's astonishment as the engine began to purr, and thelittle craft shot through the water at a good eight knots. He hadnever seen an internal combustion engine before. Although motor-drivencraft are common amongst the pearling and trading fleets in thePacific, he had left the fishing-grounds some years before the firstmotor 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 theexhaust and producing a series of rapid explosions, was nothing more orless than a fiery-dragon.

  "We are going the pace too much," remarked Andy, for the yawl waseasily outdistancing the canoes, whose crews were showing signs ofphysical distress.

  "Yes, we must stand by them," replied his father. "See, our pursuersare gaining; you are quite sure the motor is thoroughly tuned up, Ihope?"

  "Running like clockwork," was Andy's enthusiastic reply.

  "Good! Now, lads, it's revolvers for this business. Get the canvasoff her, then. Keep well under cover; I'm going to ram the leadingcanoe."

  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 theraised 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 canoesquare amidships."

  The pursuers had trailed out in a long, straggling line, a couple ofhundred yards separating the foremost from the second.

  On they came, fearlessly. Ellerton could see the foam flying from thesharp prow, the muscular backs of the straining oarsmen, and hear thesteady yet rapid thud of the paddles. Now he could discern the whitesof the eyes of the fierce-looking warriors who were gathering in herlofty 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. Theyawl rolled outward as she turned, then recovering herself rushedstraight for her gigantic antagonist.

  With a yell of defiance the savages let fly a shower of arrows andstones. The masts and deck were literally bristling with darts, whilethe stones rolled like hail upon the planks.

  Under the protection of the cabin-top the white men escaped the deadlyvolley, but Ellerton, gripping the tiller with a vice-like grip, felt ahot, stinging pain in his left arm.

  Then, crash! Fair in the centre of the lightly-built fifty-feet hullstruck the sharp stem. There was a terrific splintering of wood andthe gurgling sound of inrushing water, while at the same time the forepart of the yawl was crowded with a score of black fiends.

  CRASH! 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 shatteredremains of the war-canoe.

  "Hurrah!" shouted the crew. "Now for the next!"

  But the second canoe, profiting by her consort's misfortunes, turnedand paddled rapidly back, to obtain the support of the th
ird.

  With a difference of barely one knot in speed the advantage of themotor-driven vessel was lost, so the crew had to be content to keep outof range of the arrows and pour in volleys from the rifles.

  It was a stern lesson, but one that was absolutely necessary, for theremaining canoes turned tail and paddled hurriedly for the shore.

  The sharp and short conflict was ended by the return of the twofriendly canoes, whose crews, with true savage instinct, completed thework of destruction by spearing every man whose head remained abovewater.

  "Capitally done, Ellerton!" exclaimed Mr. McKay. "You--Why, what's thematter with the lad?"

  The lad's face had turned a ghastly greyish hue, and only Andy's promptaction saved him from falling upon the grating of the cockpit.

  "Look! He's hit!" said Andy, pointing to Ellerton's left arm, whichhad hitherto been concealed.

  In a trice Mr. McKay cut away the wounded youth's shirt-sleeve. Thearrow had gone through the fleshy part of his forearm, the barbprojecting 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 intwo. In spite of his care and skill, the slight motion caused the ladto utter a groan; but the worst was still to come.

  Lubricating the broken shaft with some cocoanut oil, Mr. McKay toldAndy and Terence to hold Ellerton's arm tightly, so as to compress theveins and arteries, and consequently numb the limb. Then with a rapidand deliberate motion he laid hold of the barbed end and drew thefragment of the missile through the wound. With a low moan Ellertonfainted.

  "Couldn't be better," remarked Mr. McKay. "Now, lads, take him intothe cabin, and start the stove as fast as you can. I'm afraid thearrow is poisoned."

  Andy and Terence lifted their comrade upon one of the bunks opposite tothat on which Quexo was peacefully slumbering. Mr. McKay had given themulatto 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 thetiller up till the vessel lay on her proper course, and motioned to thetwo 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'sreach. In the cabin were two wounded persons and three totallyunsuspecting unarmed men. And close by were the two canoes containinghis coloured associates. What could be easier?