AT BAY
Once clear of the reef, the canoes ceased paddling, and the brown
cocoa-fibre sails were hoisted.
The yawl, by reason of her superior spread of canvas, soon forged ahead
till, drawing in line with the largest canoe, in which were Blight and
the head man of the tribe, the speed was regulated so as to keep within
hailing distance of the ex-pearler.
Mr. McKay had already been given a rough chart of the island of Ahii.
Like their own island and Ni Atong, Ahii was surrounded by a reef, only
that on the eastern side the rocky barrier practically touched the
shore. There were four large passages through the reef, two on the
southern side--which they were approaching--one on the western, and the
fourth on the northern.
The summit of Ahii was clearly visible from Ni Atong, and as the
flotilla neared the island its peculiarities could be gradually
discerned. It was considerably larger than McKay's Island, and
composed chiefly of a dark brown rock, its flat portions covered with
verdure. The general outline resembled a saddle, the higher of the two
peaks being over two thousand feet above the sea.
But in place of the glistening sands of McKay's Island there was a
beach of black sand, apparently the ground-up deposit of lava, for from
the lower of the two peaks a thin cloud of smoke was emitted, showing
that Ahii was still an active volcano.
At the western termination of the beach was perceived the entrance to a
small creek, while beyond this opening low, dark-coloured cliffs rose
sheer from the sea.
The approach of the invaders was observed long before the flotilla
reached the entrance of the lagoon, and by the aid of their telescopes
and field-glasses the crew of the yawl saw that the beach was lined
with warriors, armed with formidable beak-headed clubs, long spears and
oblong shields, the natives being bedecked with barbaric finery and
plentifully bedaubed with paint and ochre.
"That's their boat harbour," shouted Blight, pointing to the creek.
"Their canoes are drawn up on the banks about half-a-mile up the river.
The village is on the port side. Shall I tell our men to push right in
and burn their blessed canoes?"
"No," replied Mr. McKay. "I don't want unnecessary violence; besides,
if their canoes are destroyed, how can they leave the island? Let our
boats remain about two hundred yards from shore. You will then stand
in the chief's canoe and tell the natives to clear out. Say that we
give them till midday. Otherwise we must open fire on them."
"Then you don't want these fellows to have a set-to?"
"No! No bloodshed unless it cannot possibly be avoided. Now carry on
and we'll be ready to open fire to cover your retreat if they give
trouble."
Blight could not but obey. The chief's canoe was paddled slowly
towards the shore, the natives regarding the late inhabitants of Ahii
with contemptuous gestures not unmingled with curiosity. They expected
a mad rush, a fierce conflict on the shore, and an easy victory; but
the apparently timorous approach of a solitary canoe mystified them.
[Illustration: THE CHIEF'S CANOE WAS PADDLED SLOWLY TOWARDS THE SHORE]
The ex-pearler stood up and shouted to the hostile chiefs. Whether he
gave Mr. McKay's message in a conciliatory manner the Australian was
not in a position to ascertain. More than likely, Blight, with a white
man's contempt for "niggers," put his own construction upon the
request, for before he had spoken half-a-dozen sentences there was a
blood-curdling yell, and a shower of stones was hurled at the canoe.
The crew paddled out of range, while their companions, with loud
counter-shouts of defiance, urged their boat to the attack, till by
dint of much hand-waving Mr. McKay kept them temporarily in check.
"They've asked us to come ashore and be made into 'big pig,'" shouted
Blight. "Shall we let our men loose?"
"Not here," replied Mr. McKay. "Paddle along the shore and we'll make
a landing as far from the village as possible. That will give the
enemy a chance to clear out if they get the worst of it."
Headed by the yawl, the little fleet kept parallel with the shore, a
crowd of about two thousand armed savages keeping pace with the
invaders, yelling, dancing, brandishing their weapons, and hurling the
direst insults of which the natives were capable at their apparently
inferior enemies.
"It must be a sharp lesson, lads," observed Mr. McKay. "What wouldn't
I give for a Maxim or an automatic Colt. Ellerton, you take the helm
and keep the boat just so, no nearer to shore."
The flotilla was now abreast of that part of the beach that was
terminated by the cliffs. Here the flat shore consisted of a
wedge-shaped piece of ground, so narrow that the enemy was unable to
take due advantage of its superiority in numbers. The rapid fire of
four magazine rifles would play havoc with the dense serried ranks of
bronzed and painted warriors, but still Mr. McKay refrained from making
the first advance.
"Let them fight it out between themselves," he shouted to Blight, who,
however eager he was to send the natives to the fight, did not show any
strong inclination to lead them. "We'll open fire if our fellows get
the worst of it."
It was plainly impossible to keep the invaders in hand. With a roar of
defiance that momentarily drowned the yells of their more numerous
adversaries, the natives urged their canoes towards the shore.
Then, as craft after craft grounded upon the beach, their crews dropped
paddles, grasped their clubs and spears, and plunged waist deep into
the water.
It was a veritable struggle between a host of bronzed paladins.
Clubs met with a loud and ponderous clang, spears met shields or else
found a softer billet, while those of the defenders of the island who
could not gain the van hurled enormous stones over the heads of their
foremost ranks at their vindictive foes.
Above the shouts of the combatants could be heard the shrieks of the
desperately wounded.
Several received serious wounds on both sides, yet save in extreme
cases, they bore their hurts bravely, returning to the fray with the
utmost determination, till failing strength caused them to drop, still
fighting so long as they could wield a club or thrust with a spear.
Twice the rightful inhabitants of Ahii gained a footing on the shore,
and twice were they swept back by the weight of numbers, for as fast as
one of the defenders fell, another filled his place, while on the other
hand the invaders had no reserves. True, there were the white men, but
it was impossible to wield a rifle without serious consequence to
friend as well as foe.
"How these fellows fight!" exclaimed Andy. "They simply won't give
way; they'll be exterminated."
"It's fighting for fighting's sake," replied his father. "We must chip
in or we'll find ourselves opposed to the whole island without a native
to help us. Luff her up, Ellerton. That's right; now keep her as she
is."
The yawl moved slowly in the opposite direction to her previous course,
though still parallel with the shore. By this means the scene of the
actual struggle was passed and only the serried rearguard of the
defenders was abeam.
"Now, lads, aim low!"
The four rifles opened a rapid fire. It seemed like butchery, yet, as
Mr. McKay had said, there was no alternative. Twenty human beings
cannot stop a modern rifle-bullet fired at one hundred yards' range.
The defence seemed to melt away, and with redoubled shouts of triumph
the friendly natives started in pursuit of the fugitives, knocking over
the head all who were overtaken.
"If those fellows won't keep in hand, they will be in danger of being
cut off," exclaimed Mr. McKay. "We must follow our friends up.
Ellerton, you stay on board, and keep our craft underway."
Hurriedly the two McKays, Terence, and Quexo jumped into the tender,
rowed ashore, and followed the ghastly trail of the victorious natives.
It was a hazardous undertaking, for some of the fugitives had fled
inland instead of following their main body in their retreat upon the
village. At any moment these might rally and fall upon the little band
of white men, the dense scrub being favourable for such tactics.
There was no sign of Jimmy Blight. He had not accompanied the natives
in their first attack, although he was known to have been in the
chief's canoe, nor had he made his appearance when the white party
landed.
"Keep a bright look-out, lads," cautioned Mr. McKay. "Have your
revolvers ready. They are more serviceable than rifles here."
At almost every yard of the way lay natives either dead or grievously
wounded. Many of the latter were bold enough to attempt to rise and
threaten the white men. So far as possible, the wounded were ignored,
greatly to their surprise, for a savage rarely gives and never expects
quarter.
Once or twice, however, a warrior would spring to his feet after the
white men had passed, and with his remaining energy throw his club or
spear at his enemies. In that case it became necessary to silence the
desperate native for ever.
Suddenly from the shelter of a dense belt of scrub three powerful
blacks dashed upon Quexo, who had strayed a few yards behind the rest
of the party.
The mulatto raised his revolver and fired, and a huge native sprang a
good three feet in the air and tumbled on his face. But ere Quexo
could repeat his shot a triple-barbed spear pierced his shoulder. He
fell, the weapon still embedded in his flesh.
The man who had thrown the lance drew a stone knife, and threw himself
upon the prostrate mulatto, while the third native raised his club to
complete the business.
With admirable presence of mind Quexo shot the man with the club, who
in his fall completely covered the hapless mulatto.
Alarmed by the first shot, Mr. McKay and the two lads ran to the aid of
their companion, but ere they emerged from the bush a third shot rang
out, and the savage who had hurled the spear at the mulatto fell shot
through the head.
Then as Andy rushed to the spot where Quexo lay, Jimmy Blight stepped
from the cover of a group of palm trees.
"Not a bad shot, eh, boss?" he exclaimed, as he thrust fresh cartridges
into his revolver. "You'd best get your young fellow on board as quick
as you can, I reckon."
Quexo was groaning dismally, now the actual struggle was over. The
triple spear-head had made a ghastly wound in his shoulder, for in his
fall the haft had broken off short. Mr. McKay managed to extract it
skilfully.
In the midst of their misfortunes the roar of the combatants came
nearer and nearer. The enemy had rallied; the savages were driving
back their attackers. Already men were streaming by, flying for their
lives.
"Guess we'd best hook it," exclaimed Blight.
"Bear a hand, Andy," said his father, as he pointed to his helpless
servant.
"Don't be a fool, boss!" shouted the ex-pearler, who was already
beginning to retire. "He's about done for, and we'll be the same if we
stop. Come along!"
"Not I," replied Mr. McKay sturdily. "You go if you want to. Come on,
Andy, move him across to yonder thicket. We'll make a last stand here
if it comes to the worst."
Something in Mr. McKay's reply must have appealed to the better nature
of this low-down specimen of the white race, for, turning swiftly on
his heel, he returned. Kneeling beside the unconscious man he helped
himself to his bandolier, revolver, and rifle.
Without another word the four men lifted Quexo to the shelter of the
trees, and quietly and resolutely made ready to receive the horde of
triumphant savages.