The Nameless Island Part 20

Here are two revolvers you can take; there's a good chance now, so go, and good luck to you! I must stay here--what do you say, lads?"

Terence and Andy grimly signified their intention of remaining with their stricken comrade.

Blight saw there was a chance, but, in his opinion, far from a good one.

Although the spot the little band had chosen for their stand was within a hundred yards of the sea, to return to where the canoes had landed their armed contents was at least a quarter of a mile distant.

Then, again, directly he left cover and began to run, a hundred natives would join in the pursuit. Even could he manage to fight his way through the ring and outstrip his pursuers, there was a long swim in front of him.

Good swimmer though he was, Blight recognised that he was decidedly inferior in speed to the amphibious natives.

"I see it's no go, boss," he exclaimed. "So let's stick at it to the end. Come on, you black fiends!" he added, shaking his fist at the dark ma.s.ses of warriors, as they prepared to renew the attack.

"Don't waste a single shot," cautioned Mr. McKay. "Here's the main attack, so direct a combined fire in that direction, till they get within fifty yards. Then each man must look to his front and do his best."

The words were scarcely spoken ere the fierce yells of the savages redoubled, and the rush began.

Scorning to take advantage of the slightest bit of cover, they raced furiously, leaping over the low scrub that would have stopped a civilised race.

Then the rattle of the rifle-fire rose above the shouts of the natives.

Scores were hit, some falling on the spot, others running several yards ere their strength failed, while many of the wounded, in their mad thirst for vengeance, staggered after their comrades in an endeavour to launch themselves upon the white men.

No longer was there need to raise rifle to shoulder. Firing from the hip, the little knot of desperate men emptied their magazines into the throng of natives, then, casting aside their rifles, as before, they grasped their revolvers, hardly daring to hope to check the headlong rush.

Suddenly to an accompaniment of a peculiar screech, a trail of thin smoke flashed earthwards from the sky. Then, with a terrific report, an explosion took place right in the middle of the surging pack of savages, and ere the cloud of dense, suffocating smoke cleared away, the natives fled in all directions. Some, indeed, were so terrified that they fell flat on their faces, clapping their hands to their ears to shut out the echoes of the thunderous report.

Those who were on the remote side of the encircling body of natives, though far from the scene of the explosion, were also seized with panic, and the whole crowd, save those who had been hit or were too dazed to move, fled helter-skelter for the village.

For a full minute none of the white men spoke. Terence and Andy looked with utter amazement at the retreating foes; Mr. McKay and Blight, more hardened in peril, seized the opportunity to thrust fresh clips of cartridges into their magazines.

"Guess a gunboat's been dropping a sh.e.l.l," observed Blight, who was the first to break the long-drawn silence.

"You are wrong," replied Mr. McKay quietly. "A sh.e.l.l would never throw out a cloud of smoke like that; it's not the colour of lyddite either."

"Then what is it? Who fired it?"

"Young Ellerton," was the astonis.h.i.+ng reply.

Mr. McKay was correct in his surmise. Ellerton, on seeing his companions start in support of their coloured allies, was not altogether at his ease. He kept tacking the yawl, so as to be within easy distance of the landing-place in case of a hasty retreat on the part of the invaders.

Gradually the sounds of the running fight died away; but no report of firearms served to show that the white men had got in touch with their foes.

Seen from seaward the scrub seemed almost so thick as to be impa.s.sable.

Mr. McKay and his companions were literally swallowed up in the trackless waste that lay beyond the low range of cliffs.

Ellerton looked around at the canoes. Beyond a man left in each as a boat-keeper they were deserted. Blight had vanished; when and where the young Englishman knew not.

Suddenly the distant report of a revolver burst upon his ears. He knew it to be a pistol shot, for it had not the short, sharp crack of a rifle. That meant foes at close quarters. Then came two other reports in quick succession, followed by a prolonged silence.

The firing rea.s.sured him. He realised that his friends were not with their savage allies, and that they were, in consequence, between the village and the beach. Rightly enough he guessed that they were dealing with a party of stragglers, the noise of only three shots and the absence of rifle-fire showed that the conflict was brief and decisive.

The youth tacked once more, and steered eastward along the beach.

Again the long silence filled him with a nameless anxiety. He regretted the evil day when Blight and the natives came to McKay's Island; but in the circ.u.mstances nothing else could be done. They had put their hand to the plough; there was no turning back.

Then, gradually but surely, came the sound of the natives still engaged in conflict, unaccompanied by the report of firearms. There was no mistaking it. Their allies were being driven back; but where were the white men?

Nearer and nearer came the sounds of the retreating natives and their pursuers, till the foremost of the fugitives gained the sh.o.r.e. Jumping into their canoes they pushed off, panic-stricken and utterly fatigued.

Then came the main body, a sorry remnant at most, grimly fighting their foes at almost every step.

Waist deep in water they fought, till the survivors contrived to escape in their boats. Two canoes were left unmanned, their solitary occupants paddling laboriously out of the reach of their foes.

Nor did the pursuit cease at the water's edge, for several of the enemy dashed boldly into the waves and swam after the retreating craft.

One of the latter was, indeed, overtaken, and a desperate struggle ensued between the rival natives, till the crew of another canoe, seeing their companions' plight, returned and saved them from being wiped out.

Then the flotilla moved well out into the lagoon, and took up a position beyond the yawl, the natives, many of them badly wounded, being too exhausted to paddle another stroke.

Ellerton was now confronted with a real peril. His friends, if alive, were cut off; he was unable to gather any tidings from the natives, who replied to his gestures by grunts and meaningless exclamations.

Just then came the rattle of musketry. At all events, Mr. McKay and his party were still in a position to offer resistance, but against what odds?

Just then the wind, hitherto light, died utterly away. Ellerton knew nothing about the motor, and he himself was now in a position of peril.

Unable to move, save by using a sweep, which was hard work, he was at the mercy of the savages, who, lining the sh.o.r.e, had realised his predicament, and were preparing to swim off and carry the yawl by storm.

Ellerton had plenty of rifles and revolvers, but even then he could not hope to keep the mob of foes at bay.

Seizing a rifle, he sprang upon the cabin-top and opened fire. It was a fairly long range--some six hundred yards--but Ellerton gauged the distance to a nicety; with the correct elevation, missing a man in that throng was about an impossibility. A commotion showed that the shot had taken effect. Another with equally good result! Ellerton again felt the l.u.s.t of battle.

Suddenly, in the midst of his cool and deliberate firing, a blow from the boom nearly knocked the youth overboard. The breeze had again sprung up.

Recovering himself by grasping the main shrouds, Ellerton laid his rifle on the deck and jumped into the c.o.c.kpit. He meant to steer along the coast towards the village, and, if possible, aid his friends by a long, dropping fire.

His progress was slow, the wind being still light, and ere the yawl had travelled a hundred yards the firing on sh.o.r.e died away.

What did it mean? He thought. Were his companions at length overwhelmed by dint of numbers? If so he would take revenge; he would cruise up and down the sh.o.r.e and blaze away so long as a savage remained on the beach, or a cartridge remained on board.

And after? He gave but a brief thought to that--a solitary existence on a boat far from the little island he regarded as his home--but the thought filled him with the rage of despair.

Steering by means of the tiller between his knees, Ellerton headed diagonally towards the sh.o.r.e, at the same time charging the magazines of half-a-dozen rifles.

While thus engaged, to his astonishment and delight the sound of firing was resumed, the scene of action being nearly abreast of where the yawl was steering. He immediately hove-to, and again ascending the cabin-top, looked ash.o.r.e. The scrub and several small groves of cocoanut palms prevented him from seeing the combatants, and on this account he refrained from opening a dropping fire, for fear of harming his friends.

He was in a helpless state of perplexity till all at once a thought struck him which gave him new-born hope.

The night he and Andy kept watch on board, in the lagoon of McKay's Island, they had taken some rockets to use should they require a.s.sistance. These rockets were of the ordinary sea-pattern, making a loud explosion by means of a small charge of gun-cotton.

Hurriedly Ellerton fixed one of the rockets so that it would a.s.sume a curved flight instead of soaring upwards, then turning the vessel's course till the direction of the projectile would be as near as possible towards the scene of action, he discharged the novel weapon.