'The tramp has only to keep out of range; the Raider 's crippled.'

'You don't say! Did she run aground?'

Trentham related the morning's events.

'Bully!' cried Hoole. 'Say, what's to prevent our making a good bag of Germans? You think the Raider will sink?'

'There can't be much question of that. They had carried most of their arms on board, and probably those went down with the vessel; the men would waste their time trying to save her. But there were some armed men still on sh.o.r.e, and they might rescue a certain number of rifles before the ship went down. As I came along I tried to decide what I 'd do myself in the Germans' place. They are marooned; they must guess that you flew off for help, and expect to have to deal with some sort of force. The question is, will they surrender or fight?'

'Well, I don't know the inside of a German's mind, so I can't say; but I know what I 'd do. I wouldn't surrender without a fight; and if I saw the odds against me, I 'd make tracks inland, live on the country, and hold out. The Germans are so c.o.c.ksure of winning the war that I guess they 'll do that.'

'I came to the same conclusion. It's not as if they were traders; they 're naval men, and I can't imagine their giving in tamely. Well, then, we shall have to prepare for a fight.'

'How do you mean?

'They 've lost the greater part of their provisions, and will have to replace them. What better chance than to quarter themselves by main force on the nearest village, which is our friend Flanso's, and compel the people to provide for them? Incidentally also take vengeance for the smashing of their vessel. We can't leave Flanso in the lurch.'

'I guess you 're right. Some of those young fellows at Wilhelmshafen were spoiling for a fight, and were real disgruntled when the skipper showed 'em they 'd have no chance against a well-armed raider. They 'll be ready enough to take a hand in beating off the Germans if they attack the village.'

'If they arrive in time. We may have to face the music before they get here, and I don't much like the prospect. Thanks to Grinson, we did very well against Hahn's handful this morning, but it will be quite another thing to deal with fifty or sixty, perhaps more, a good proportion armed with rifles. Your revolver ammunition is all spent; we 've got the revolvers of the two prisoners, that's all.'

'I brought three revolvers along and a few rounds of cartridges; very little good they 'll be against two or three score rifles. We 'll be back of the wall, of course, which is something to the good.'

'By the way, we heard your seaplane. Where is it?'

'Away yonder. I came down on that pond the Germans failed to strike. I guess they heard her too, and may waste time trying to find her, which will give us a chance to set our defences in order. Say, shall we get along?'

They hurried on. The natives of their party had preceded them, and were surrounded by groups of excited villagers to whom they were expounding the method by which the white men had destroyed the enemy's vessel. A noisy throng followed Trentham and his friends to the gate of the inner enclosure, and when they had disappeared, started a victory dance up and down the broad path.

Lafoa's aid was once more enlisted by Trentham in explaining the situation to the chief. More intelligent than his subjects outside, Flanso was under no illusion about the danger that threatened his village. His own experiences while in the hands of the Germans left him in no doubt as to the fate in store for his people if the enemy got the better of them, and he was ready to accept Trentham's suggestion that all but the fighting men should be at once sent away southward into the forest, where they would be at least out of harm's way until the issue was determined. But when he consulted some of his counsellors he at once encountered the strenuous opposition of the medicine-man, who had not forgiven Hoole for having made him cut so sorry a figure at the duk-duk dance. He protested that the new danger threatening the village was due to the stupidity of the white men. Why had they destroyed the blue vessel, and prevented the enemy from going away? They were already responsible for the destruction of the wreck that had been preserved and cherished by the chief's forefathers from the beginning of the world.

They had prevented the human sacrifice customary at the inauguration of a new chief. They were meddlers, and all the misfortunes that had befallen the village were due to them.

Such was the gist of the medicine-man's harangue, though these few sentences by no means represent the torrent of words which poured from his lips. Nor could any one but a cinematograph operator properly depict the extraordinary grimaces of his features and the violent gestures with which he emphasised his denunciations. His right hand wielded a heavy nail-studded mace, and as his excitement grew he stepped, or rather danced, nearer to the group of white men, twirling the mace, tossing it in the air, striking the ground with it. Ignorant though they were of his language, the white men could not mistake the purport of his speech, and two of them noticed with some anxiety that he was making an impression on some members of his native audience.

Grinson, however, felt nothing but amus.e.m.e.nt. A broad grin spread over his face as he listened and watched, and the more excited the medicine-man became the more pleasure the seaman took in the performance, giving utterance now and then to his sentiments with sundry e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns and cat-calls.

At last a sudden change came over his expression. The medicine-man in his frenzy had drawn very near to Hoole, and to give point to one of his statements he thrust his mace forward at the full length of his arm, so that Hoole only escaped a blow by stepping quickly back. It was uncertain whether the man had intended to attack him, but the suspicion was too much for Grinson. His lips snapped together; with a great roar he hurled himself at the orator, struck the mace from his hand, and caught him round the waist and hoisted him above his head. The sinews of the seaman's arms cracked; for some seconds he held the native aloft, as if hesitating whether to cast him to the ground. Terrified into silence, the man wriggled; the spectators looked on open-mouthed.

Grinson grew purple with exertion; then he laughed. Gradually he lowered his arms, stretched to full length, and gently laid the man at Hoole's feet.

'Windbag!' he muttered, pa.s.sing his hand across his sweating brow, then setting his arms akimbo and looking down at the still figure.

Gasps of amazement broke from the natives. The medicine-man lay for half a minute; when Grinson stooped and picked up the fallen mace he closed his eyes as if expecting a blow.

'A very neat little bobby's bludgeon, sir,' said Grinson, sticking the mace under his arm. 'Move on, there!'

The medicine-man opened his eyes, and seeing that Grinson had turned aside he crawled slowly away, rose to his feet, and sidled into his hut.

The colloquy he had interrupted was resumed. So great was the impression made by Grinson's display of strength that the natives were ready to agree to anything the white men proposed. It was arranged that the non-combatants should be sent away; a number of huts and trees near the wall on the outside should be razed, provisions brought into the inner enclosure. A few weak spots in the wall were strengthened, and by nightfall everything that was possible had been done to prepare for attack. Scouts meanwhile had been sent out in the direction from which attack might be expected. These were withdrawn as soon as it became dark, and the whole able-bodied population was brought within the wall.

Trentham recognised the futility of attempting any definite tactical measures with a rabble of undisciplined natives.

'They must fight in their own way, if there is to be a fight,' he said to Hoole. 'Let alone the impossibility of giving orders with only one interpreter, we should only worry them by trying to lick them into shape. We must rely on their common sense.'

'Just so. It's up to them to keep the enemy out, and that's all that matters. A word as to not exposing themselves--that's all we can do, except set 'em a good example.'

'As to that, you 'd be useful here, old man; but I fancy you 'd be even more useful if you went off in the seaplane and guided the steamer into the cove. With the Raider sunk, she could quite well run in and land her crew on the Germans' beach; they 'd get here quicker then than if they landed at a spot we don't know the way from.'

'Well, I guess we 'll wait and see,' said Hoole. 'We 'll take turns to do sentry-go through the night. If nothing happens, I 'll very likely take a run out in the morning. The tramp won't be far away then, anyhow.'

CHAPTER XX

THE LAST RAID

'Ephraim, have you made your will, me lad?' asked Grinson, sitting in the hut with Meek in the early hours of the morning.

'Never did I think of such a thing, Mr. Grinson,' replied Meek. ''Tis only lords and skippers as make wills.'

'That 's where you 're wrong, me lad. Specially now. For why? 'Cos 'tis the dooty of every man to make his will afore going into action.'

'S'pose he ain't got nothing to leave, and no widders nor orphans to purvide for?'

'It don't make no difference. Besides, every man's got something. Lord Admiral Nelson, as you 've heard of, had a gla.s.s eye, and 'tis said he left it to his footman, as he once caught nicking, to remind him that there 's always an Eye beholding of the evil and the good, besides his heart to the country.'

'Well, I never!'

'Not but what there 's a mighty big risk in making your will. There was once a chap I knowed as made his will and died next day--fell off a ladder, he did, and his mates said he might 'a been alive to this day only for the will. Likewise a skipper I once sailed with left his craft to be sold and divided among the crew; uncommon skipper he was; and she went down next voyage, and not insured. Ah! 'tis a solemn thought, making your will.'

'What put making wills and such into your head just now, Mr. Grinson?'

'Well, it's like this. The gentlemen expects what you may call a battle royal afore the day 's out, and you 've got to look at it sensible. We come all right out o' that sc.r.a.p yesterday, but 'twas only Trousers and a few more, and we took 'em by surprise, d' ye see? Things will be different if all them Germans come up together; the odds ain't even, Ephraim.'

'True. I can bear ye out in that, Mr. Grinson. I don't hold with fighting--not with guns.'

'No more do I, 'cos I never shot a gun in my life. But this 'ere truncheon of old ugly mug's is as good as a gun, if it gets a chance; which I mean to say firing off guns ain't fighting at all, to my way of thinking. Darbies or sticks--that 's all right; the best man wins; but with guns--why, any little mean feller as would give you best if you looked at him may do you in from a distance, hiding behind a haystack, p'r'aps, or up a tree. No, Ephraim, that ain't fighting, not by a long chalk.'

'And have you made your own will, Mr. Grinson?'

'No, I ain't, and I 'm sorry for you, me lad, for I meant to leave you my old parrot as sits on his perch in Mother Perkins's parlour. You remember Mother Perkins, what said she 'd be glad to mind the bird, 'cos his language was so beautiful and reminded her of me?'

'Ah! I wish I could speak like you, Mr. Grinson, but there--I never could do it, not if I tried ever so. But you don't think you 're going to be killed?'

'Well, you see, I 'm twice as broad as you, and so the chances is against me, with guns. It's only fair, after all, 'cos in a real fight I could take on two, p'r'aps more; I should say more, with this 'ere truncheon. I ain't got no presentiments, Ephraim; but what is to be is, and in case they knock a hole in me I do hereby declare and p.r.o.nounce as my old parrot is to belong to you and no one else, and so you 'll tell Mother Perkins.'

'I don't like to think of it, Mr. Grinson, but if so be as you 're killed and I ain't, I 'll look after that bird as if 'twas you, and think of you whenever it speaks.'