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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CRASH! FAIR IN THE CENTRE OF THE LIGHTLY BUILT FIFTY-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 sh.o.r.e.

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 c.o.c.kpit.

"Look! He's. .h.i.t!" 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 compa.s.s, 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 a.s.sociates. What could be easier?

CHAPTER XV

A KNIFE-THRUST IN THE DARK

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 the _San Martin_ was 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' appet.i.tes, it was their aged and infirm fellow-tribesmen who were doomed to die to keep the angry G.o.ds good-tempered.

"Coming ash.o.r.e, 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 ash.o.r.e. One more day won't make no difference like."

"Possibly not," a.s.sented 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 ash.o.r.e."

"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.