“We hunger now, Brother,” Grief said, “but it is better than to hunger
for many days to come. The Big Devil, after feasting and drinking good
water with us in plenty, will not stay long in Fuatino. Even to-morrow
may he try to leave. To-night you and I sleep over the top of the Rock,
and Tehaa, who shoots well, will sleep with us if he can dare the Rock.”
Tehaa, alone among the Raiateans, was cragsman enough to venture the
perilous way, and dawn found him in a rock-barricaded nook, a hundred
yards to the right of Grief and Mauriri.
The first warning was the firing of rifles from the peninsula, where
Brown and his two Raiateans signalled the retreat and followed the
besiegers through the jungle to the beach. From the eyrie on the face
of the rock Grief could see nothing for another hour, when the _Rattler_
appeared, making for the passage. As before, the captive Fuatino men
towed in the whaleboat. Mauriri, under direction of Grief, called down
instructions to them as they passed slowly beneath. By Grief's side
lay several bundles of dynamite sticks, well-lashed together and with
extremely short fuses.
The deck of the _Rattler_ was populous. For'ard, rifle in hand, among
the Raiatean sailors, stood a desperado whom Mauriri announced was
Raoul's brother. Aft, by the helmsman, stood another. Attached to him,
tied waist to waist, with slack, was Mataara, the old Queen. On the
other side of the helmsman, his arm in a sling, was Captain Glass.
Amidships, as before, was Raoul, and with him, lashed waist to waist,
was Naumoo.
“Good morning, Mister David Grief,” Raoul called up.
“And yet I warned you that only in double irons would you leave the
island,” Grief murmured down with a sad inflection.
“You can't kill all your people I have on board,” was the answer.
The schooner, moving slowly, jerk by jerk, as the men pulled in the
whaleboat, was almost directly beneath. The rowers, without ceasing,
slacked on their oars, and were immediately threatened with the rifle of
the man who stood for'ard.
“Throw, Big Brother!” Naumoo called up in the Fuatino tongue. “I am
filled with sorrow and am willed to die. His knife is ready with which
to cut the rope, but I shall hold him tight. Be not afraid, Big Brother.
Throw, and throw straight, and good-bye.”
Grief hesitated, then lowered the fire-stick which he had been blowing
bright.
“Throw!” the Goat Man urged.
Still Grief hesitated.
“If they get to sea, Big Brother, Naumoo dies just the same. And there
are all the others. What is her life against the many?”
“If you drop any dynamite, or fire a single shot, we'll kill all on
board,” Raoul cried up to them. “I've got you, David Grief. You can't
kill these people, and I can. Shut up, you!”
This last was addressed to Naumoo, who was calling up in her native
tongue and whom Raoul seized by the neck with one hand to choke
to silence. In turn, she locked both arms about him and looked up
beseechingly to Grief.
“Throw it, Mr. Grief, and be damned to them,” Captain Glass rumbled
in his deep voice. “They're bloody murderers, and the cabin's full of
them.”
The desperado who was fastened to the old Queen swung half about to
menace Captain Glass with his rifle, when Tehaa, from his position
farther along the Rock, pulled trigger on him. The rifle dropped from
the man's hand, and on his face was an expression of intense surprise as
his legs crumpled under him and he sank down on deck, dragging the Queen
with him.
“Port! Hard a port!” Grief cried.
Captain Glass and the Kanaka whirled the wheel over, and the bow of the
_Rattler_ headed in for the Rock. Amidships Raoul still struggled with
Naumoo. His brother ran from for'ard to his aid, being missed by the
fusillade of quick shots from Tehaa and the Goat Man. As Raoul's brother
placed the muzzle of his rifle to Naumoo's side Grief touched the
fire-stick to the match-head in the split end of the fuse. Even as with
both hands he tossed the big bundle of dynamite, the rifle went off,
and Naumoo's fall to the deck was simultaneous with the fall of the
dynamite. This time the fuse was short enough. The explosion occurred
at the instant the deck was reached, and that portion of the _Rattler_,
along with Raoul, his brother, and Naumoo, forever disappeared.
The schooner's side was shattered, and she began immediately to settle.
For'ard, every Raiatean sailor dived overboard. Captain Glass met the
first man springing up the com-panionway from the cabin, with a kick
full in the face, but was overborne and trampled on by the rush.
Following the desperadoes came the Huahine women, and as they went
overboard, the _Rattler_ sank on an even keel close to the base of the
Rock. Her cross-trees still stuck out when she reached bottom.
Looking down, Grief could see all that occurred beneath the surface. He
saw Mataara, a fathom deep, unfasten herself from the dead pirate and
swim upward. As her head emerged she saw Captain Glass, who could not
swim, sinking several yards away. The Queen, old woman that she was,
but an islander, turned over, swam down to him, and held him up as she
struck out for the unsubmerged cross-trees.
Five heads, blond and brown, were mingled with the dark heads of
Polynesia that dotted the surface. Grief, rifle in hand, watched for a
chance to shoot. The Goat Man, after a minute, was successful, and they
saw the body of one man sink sluggishly. But to the Raiatean sailors,
big and brawny, half fish, was the vengeance given. Swimming swiftly,
they singled out the blond heads and the brown. Those from above watched
the four surviving desperadoes, clutched and locked, dragged far down
beneath and drowned like curs.
In ten minutes everything was over. The Huahine women, laughing and
giggling, were holding on to the sides of the whaleboat which had done
the towing. The Raiatean sailors, waiting for orders, were about the
cross-tree to which Captain Glass and Mataara clung.
“The poor old _Rattler_,” Captain Glass lamented.
“Nothing of the sort,” Grief answered. “In a week we'll have her raised,
new timbers amidships, and we'll be on our way.” And to the Queen, “How
is it with you, Sister?”
“Naumoo is gone, and Motauri, Brother, but Fuatino is ours again. The
day is young. Word shall be sent to all my people in the high places
with the goats. And to-night, once again, and as never before, we shall
feast and rejoice in the Big House.”
“She's been needing new timbers abaft the beam there for years,” quoth
Captain Glass. “But the chronometers will be out of commission for the
rest of the cruise.”