The Nameless Island Part 39

"Without wis.h.i.+ng to discourage you, Andy," began Mr. McKay, after the meal was over, "I think we had better give up all idea of building another craft. I've been going carefully into this matter, and I'll tell you why I form this conclusion. You see there's no timber growing on this island that can be used, and our own stock is insufficient even if we make use of the planks of the wrecked yawl. So I think the best thing we can do is to convert one of the canoes----"

"But I thought we had already decided that they are unsuitable and unseaworthy?"

"Quite so. As they are at present I should hesitate to make a long voyage in one of them, although the natives frequently travel great distances in this type of craft. So I think if we give the smallest canoe--for that one seems the handiest--a good keelson, bolt a false keel into it, and provide her with some stout timbers and stringers, she'll answer our purpose. We can use most of the deck planks of the yawl to deck-in the canoe. Her sails and most of her gear will come in handy."

"It would certainly save a lot of work," replied Andy, for in calmer moments the size of his proposed task had begun to a.s.sert itself.

"Then let's make a start," added Ellerton. "There's no time like the present, so I vote we begin to dismantle the remains of the yawl, examine and overhaul her canvas, and remove the ballast."

"I haven't measured the smallest canoe," remarked Andy. "What's her length, do you think?"

"About twenty-eight feet in length, nine in breadth, and two feet draught, though with the addition of a false keel and ballast she will draw at least four feet."

Accordingly all hands set to work with a will, and ere nightfall the shattered hull of the yawl was a mere sh.e.l.l, the gear being stowed away in the lower storehouse.

"To-morrow we'll make a start with the canoe," said Ellerton, as they prepared to retire for the night. "There are plenty of pieces of timber to sh.o.r.e her up, and wedges can easily be made. Before the end of the week we ought to have her keel and keelson bolted on."

"Then sleep well on it," added Mr. McKay, "for there's much to be done."

The inhabitants of McKay's Island had already made their customary signal with the searchlight, the power had been switched off, and the canvas hood placed over the instrument for the purpose of protecting it from the night dews. This routine was always the last ere the day's work ended.

Mr. McKay was about to close the door of the dwelling-house when a rapid and prolonged ringing of the electric alarm bell broke upon the stillness of the night.

Instantly there was a rush for the arms-rack where the rifles were kept ready for immediate use, and, securing their weapons, the whole party made for the open, Terence, according to a prearranged plan, running to the powerhouse to switch on the current, while the others took up their position at the palisade commanding the cliff-path.

The night was pitch dark; a light breeze ruffled the palm trees, but beyond that all was still. Peering into the darkness the defenders waited, finger on trigger, to open fire on the first appearance of the foe.

Then the alarm bell began to ring again.

"There's someone climbing the path," whispered Ellerton, when the din had died away.

"I wish Terence would hurry up with the searchlight; we could then see who the intruders are. There it is again," as the clanging of the bell commenced for the third time.

In his natural anxiety and haste, Terence fumbled over his task, but at length the carbons fused and the giant beam of the searchlight threw its dazzling rays seaward. Then, trained by Donaghue's guiding hand, it swept the lower terraces and the beach, but neither hostile canvas nor lurking bloodthirsty warriors came within its blinding glare.

"There's someone moving down there," exclaimed Andy, pointing towards the foot of the steep path. "See! To the right of that great boulder."

"Hanged if I can," muttered Ellerton. Nevertheless he took aim with his rifle at the spot indicated by his chum.

"It's only the shadows thrown by the moving beam," said Mr. McKay.

"Terence, keep the light steady for a moment, will you?"

The now stationary ray revealed the fact that some moving object was creeping cautiously over the rock-strewn beach immediately at the end of the path.

"There's someone down there," whispered Ellerton, and almost as he spoke the alarm bell resumed its shrill warning.

"I'm going down to see who or what it is," announced Mr. McKay, leaning his rifle against the stockade and drawing a revolver.

Accompanied by Andy, Ellerton and Quexo, he descended the steep and rugged path.

All at once Mr. McKay burst into a hearty laugh, his companions joining in as soon as they perceived the cause of his mirth. A huge turtle had crawled across the beach and was digging a hole in the sand with its flippers. This had set the alarm bell ringing.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A HUGE TURTLE HAD CRAWLED ACROSS THE BEACH AND HAD SET THE ALARM BELL RINGING]

As the larder needed filling, the turtle was dispatched and dragged up to the house.

It was late in the forenoon of the next day ere the inmates turned out of their beds, for the previous night's diversion had deprived them of a fair share of their accustomed sleep.

"Buck up and fill the kettle, Quexo," shouted Andy "I'm right hungry."

The mulatto, taking a can in his hand, set out for the stream, but hardly had he stepped outside the door when he returned with consternation written all over his face.

"Ma.s.sa! Ma.s.sa!" he gasped. "Canoes! Heap, plenty, much, great canoes!"

CHAPTER XXV

THE GREAT INVASION

Quexo's warning was only too true. Less than a mile from the reef the sea was dotted with the brown mat sails of a large fleet of native craft all heading for the island.

"Forty canoes at least, by Jove!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. McKay. "And taking twenty men to each--a low average--that means there are eight hundred of the wretches making straight for us."

"It's long odds," replied Ellerton grimly, "but we'll do our best, and perhaps we may find a means of driving them off."

"I should have thought the last little surprise would have settled them. We must give them credit for their persistence. There's one thing to our advantage, though; it's a day attack, and we are more or less prepared for it. But what are they up to now?"

The advancing canoes had now reached the entrance to the lagoon, and, with marvellous precision, their sails were lowered, and the crews took to their paddles. Then, instead of heading straight for the beach, the whole flotilla turned its course parallel with the sh.o.r.e.

"That's bad," remarked Mr. McKay, pausing in the act of dragging a box of ammunition from the house to the stockade. "They have learnt a lesson, and now they mean to take us on the flank or in the rear. Come on, lads, there's no time to be lost. We must follow them and see if we can prevent them landing."

Fortunately the savages' idea of strategy was not very advanced.

Instead of keeping one section of their fleet for the purpose of making a feint or a frontal attack while the other canoes skirted the island, the whole of the boats kept together.

Loaded with ammunition-belts and carrying their rifles, the little band of defenders toiled up the path leading to the interior till they reached the summit of the cliffs overlooking the house. Then, bearing away to the left, they hastened to keep pace with their savage invaders.

Through the palm-groves, fighting their way between patches of thick, p.r.i.c.kly scrub, Mr. McKay and his companions continued their wearisome march, till, from the summit of the ridge that separated their bay from the one where they had first landed, they saw that the hostile canoes had gained considerably.

The usually calm waters of the lagoon were broken into thousands of ripples by the swift-moving craft, while the cliffs re-echoed to the regular beats of their paddles. Yet, without attempting to land on that part of the sh.o.r.e, the savages continued their roundabout voyage.

"It's no use going any farther," gasped Mr. McKay breathlessly. "We are only tiring ourselves out to no purpose. A hundred well-armed men would be powerless to prevent them landing."

"Then what's to be done?"

"We must return to the house and make every possible use of the few hours that as yet remain to us. I quite admit I have been guilty of a serious error of omission. While paying great attention to our seaward defences, we have entirely neglected the landward approach."