Part 20 (1/2)

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.