"Very well, get the musket there in the bow. It is loaded. Take good
aim and shoot that big fellow in the stern. If you hit him, I'll make
you master of a ship some day."
Tremblingly I raised the heavy musket as directed. The boat was
unsteady, I hardly expected to hit the chief, but aimed low, hoping
to hit one of the rowers at least. I aimed, closed my eyes, and
fired. With the report of the musket the tall leader sprang into the
air and then fell head fore-most amid his rowers. I could just detect
the gleam of the moonlight on the jewelled handle of his kris as it
sank into the waters. I had hit my man. The sailors sent up a hearty
American cheer and a tiger, as they saw the prau come to a standstill.
Our boat sprang away into the darkness. We did not cease rowing until
dawn,--then we lay back on our oars and stretched our tired backs
and arms. I had taken my place at the oar during the night.
Away out on the northern horizon we saw a black speck; on the southern
horizon another. The captain's glass revealed one to be the pirate
prau with all sails set, for a wind had come up with the dawn. The
other we welcomed with a cheer, for it was the Bangor. Enfeebled
and nearly famishing, we headed toward it and rowed for life. How we
regretted having left our sails on the island. The prau had sighted
us and was bearing down in full pursuit; we soon could distinguish
its wide-spreading, rakish sails almost touching the water as it
sped on. Then we made out the naked forms of the Illanums hanging
to the ropes, far out over the water, and then we could hear their
blood-curdling yell. It was too late; their yell was one of baffled
rage. It was answered by the deep bass tones of the swivel on board the
Bangor sending a ball skimming along over the waters, which, although
it went wide of its mark, caused the natives on the ropes to throw
themselves bodily across the prau, taking the great sail with them.
In another instant the red sail, the long, keen, black shell, the
naked forms of the fierce Illanums, were mixed in one undefinable
blot on the distant horizon.
And that was the skipper's yarn.