CHAPTER XXVII
THE LAST STAND
The explosion, though terrific, had not the desired effect. Ellerton had succeeded in lighting the fuse, and was on his way back, when the natives lowered a rope from the cliffs. No doubt they had observed him on his way to the cave as he rather thoughtlessly showed himself in crossing the base of the projecting spur.
Cunningly two of the savages lowered themselves on to a ledge within twenty feet of the ground, and on Ellerton's return they hurled a stone with unerring aim, bringing him senseless to the ground.
Eager to secure his body, the two assailants descended the remaining distance, and were stooping over the prostrate youth when Quexo appeared on the scene.
A couple of well-directed shots settled their accounts; but the mulatto, in rushing to Ellerton's assistance, failed to notice that the edge of the cliff above him swarmed with natives.
Even as he bent over the bodies of Ellerton and his assailants, a spear thrown with terrible force struck him in the back. Hardly knowing what hurt him, the mulatto sprang to his feet, and with his dying strength discharged his revolver at one of the blacks who was descending the rope, ere he fell across the bodies of the victims of his first two shots.
This episode had caused the crowd of savages, who had previously been congregating immediately above the mine, to rush to that part of the cliff nearest to the scene of the tragedy, and thus the actual explosion did not inflict very great damage upon the invaders. Nevertheless the moral result was a good service to the sore-pressed white men, for the savages refrained from renewing the attack, and withdrew to the shelter of the palm-groves.
The approach of night also prolonged the mutual cessation of hostilities, for the natives dreaded the great flashing beams of light more than anything else.
Terence, in spite of himself, fell asleep several times beside the searchlight, while Andy, weary-eyed and stricken with grief, was kept awake solely by his devotion to his wounded comrade.
Fortunately Ellerton's injuries were not so bad as Mr. McKay had at first supposed. The missile had struck him a glancing blow, and although reducing him to insensibility, was more of the nature of a cut than a contusion. There had been a copious flow of blood which relieved the pressure on the scalp that a bruise would have otherwise caused.
Before midnight Ellerton had recovered sufficiently to relate the circumstances of the affair so far as he knew, although he was ignorant of the actual ambush. Neither did Mr. McKay think fit to tell him at present of Quexo's death in his heroic and successful attempt to save his master from mutilation.
*****
With the return of daylight the savages renewed the attack. Large stones, brought to the brink of the cliff by their stupendous efforts, came crashing down upon the frail defences, till only a small section of the barricade midway between the walls of the defile remained intact.
Here Mr. McKay and Terence kept up a continuous but apparently ineffectual fire, while Ellerton, still weak and showing signs of light-headedness, did his best with a revolver.
Andy, nearly done up for want of rest, resumed his solitary vigil at the cliff path, occasionally adding to the fusillade whenever a group of natives appeared at the edge of the cliff to hurl another of the weighty missiles.
With parched lips and swollen eyes the weary little band continued the unequal combat, almost unable to raise their rifles to their aching shoulders, till, to add to their misfortunes, Andy perceived ten large canoes rounding the south-eastern promontory of the island.
The natives had at length grasped the importance of a simultaneous rear and frontal attack.
"We must retreat to Blight's cave," exclaimed Mr. McKay, when his son had shouted the disheartening intelligence. "Let us hope the explosion has not closed up the entrance. Pull yourself together, Hoppy! We've got to make a rush for it."
"I'm going to stay here—I'm quite comfortable where I am," replied Ellerton with astonishing determination.
"But you can't, man; you'll be cut to pieces in less than a minute."
But Ellerton refused to move. His comrades looked at each other anxiously. In ordinary circumstances it would have been no easy task to compel the lad to get up and walk, and with a few hundred savages hanging round, the difficulties were increased tenfold.
"I'll risk it," muttered Mr. McKay. "It's either kill or cure." And raising his voice he said: "Hoppy, old man, Quexo is missing. He went to look for you and has not returned."
"What?" exclaimed Ellerton wildly. "Quexo missing? I'll go and look for him."
"We are all going," replied Mr. McKay. "Take your rifle and keep with us."
The savages saw the white men deserting the shelter of the barricade, and with shouts of triumph they redoubled the hail of missiles, while numbers of them rushed to the head of the defile and thence straight for the abandoned defences.
Edging cautiously along the base of the cliff, the forlorn little band continued its retreat till Ellerton, who was leading, came across the body of the faithful mulatto.
For a moment he gazed at the ghastly scene with drawn face and staring eyes; then, his scattered wits returning, he burst into tears.
"Good!" exclaimed Mr. McKay to his son. "That's saved his reason. But here they come."
Already the leading pursuers were appearing on the edge of the cliff-path, while others, rushing down the gorge, had scrambled over the debris of the barricade, and with brandished clubs and spears were charging down upon their white foes.
"Pick him up, Hoppy; we must not leave him to those fiends," shouted Andy.
Assisted by Terence, Ellerton raised the body of the mulatto on his back, and, covered by Mr. McKay and Andy, continued the retreat.
As they reached the scene of the great explosion, they found that masses of dislodged boulders extended almost to the edge of the lower cliff. Slowly Ellerton and Terence bore their burden over the rough, rock-strewn ground, the savages meanwhile gaining upon them rapidly.
"Keep going at any cost," shouted Mr. McKay. "Gain the door of the fence, and look out for us. Andy, we must make a stand here."
"All right, pater," replied his son as he took cover behind a convenient mass of stones.
The two rifles opened a furious fire upon the advancing natives. Not a shot was thrown away, and although stones and spears whizzed over their heads or shattered themselves against the sheltering rock, father and son continued to blaze away coolly, and deliberately. The savages, now more or less contemptuously familiar with the white men's weapons, hesitated to close in upon the dauntless twain, and, shouting to their fellows to hasten to help them to wipe out the white men, they contented themselves with rushing to the right and left in the hope of surrounding their foes.
"Stop that chap!" yelled Andy, pointing to a crafty warrior, who was creeping on all fours up the rocks on Mr. McKay's left.
Barely two inches of the man's head were visible above the sheltering boulder, but those two inches were sufficient. Mr. McKay's rifle cracked, and the savage bounded a good three feet in the air to fall upon his face upon the ground.
"They're safe!" shouted Mr. McKay, giving a rapid glance in the direction of the iron fence. "Now, bolt for it!"
Springing over the remainder of the intervening boulders, father and son ran for shelter. For a brief instant the natives failed to understand that their foes were again in retreat; then, to the accompaniment of a flight of spears, they launched themselves over the latest line of defence and pressed home the pursuit.
Rifle in hand, Terence and Ellerton stood by the open door to aid their comrades' retreat; another five yards, then comparative safely.
Suddenly Andy stumbled and fell headlong on the ground, his rifle flying from his grasp; the next instant half-a-dozen natives were upon him. Without a moment's hesitation, Mr. McKay faced about, and, drawing his revolver, fired.
At the first report one of the pursuers fell; but the hammer of the weapon clicked harmlessly as Mr. McKay attempted to bring down a second. The weapon was empty.
Throwing the now useless weapon straight into the face of one of the savages, Mr. McKay stooped to pick up his rifle, a spear just grazing his shoulder as he did so.
With the strength and fury of a Berserker, he gripped the rifle by the barrel, and wielding it like a ponderous flail he smote right and left.
At one moment the brass-bound butt crashed with a terrific lunge full in the tattooed face of a native; at the next it descended with relentless force upon the skull of another.
Then Ellerton's rifle cracked and Terence's revolver added to the din. The blacks seemed to melt away; and ere the main body of the pursuers could join in the struggle, the white men were safe within the stockade.
"Don't trouble about the door," shouted Mr. McKay, as Terence was about to close and barricade the iron-lined aperture.
Breathlessly the harried fugitives entered the cave, and, holding their rifles ready for instant use, awaited the arrival of their triumphant foes.
The door of the fence standing tantalisingly open served a better purpose than if it had been closed and barred. Had it been secured, the savages would soon have battered it in by sheer weight of numbers; but even in the heat of the pursuit the natives paused and looked askance at the mute invitation to enter.
Fears of some other snare, more terrible than those they had already experienced, held them in a spell-bound grip.
The temporary check gave the defenders a chance of much-needed rest.
"Now, lads," exclaimed Mr. McKay, "we are safe enough for the present. A thousand of the wretches couldn't rush us in this place. But keep your eyes open, and let rip at the first chap who shows his head inside the door."
There was a touch of irony in Mr. McKay's advice. Want of sleep threatened to become a more dangerous foe than the savages themselves, and the lads were almost falling asleep as they awaited the next assault.
All at once Mr. McKay raised his rifle and fired.
A gaudily-decked warrior had so far overcome his fears and doubts as to peer cautiously into the inclosure. His curiosity led to his undoing, for, without knowing what struck him, he slid quietly to the ground with a bullet through his brain.
But the spell was broken, and with a hideous clamour the natives poured in through the doorway. Many fell dead or wounded, while others tripped over their prostrate bodies; but by sheer weight of numbers the fence was overthrown, and over the removed obstruction rushed the bloodthirsty mob.
Seeing that it was impossible to check the flowing tide of warriors as they sped over the broad expanse, the defenders hurriedly retired into the farthermost recesses of the cave. Here they were able to command the narrow entrance, and with a rapid magazine fire they simply mowed down every savage who showed himself at the mouth of the cave.
At last, disheartened by the obvious impossibility of rushing the desperate band of white men, the warriors retired, and silence reigned save for the moans of the wounded who littered the floor of the cavern.
Worn out as they were, the four defenders, as soon as possible, scooped out a shallow trench for the reception of the body of Quexo, who had been killed, and silently the earth was heaped over the still form of this their faithful servant and devoted comrade.
"Now turn in for a spell," said Mr. McKay, as the last offices were performed. "I'll take the first watch. I think I can keep awake for another couple of hours."
Vainly protesting, the lads obeyed and were soon asleep.
Shouldering his rifle, Mr. McKay walked as far as the overthrown fence, whence he could command a view of the house. Swarming in and out of the building were the natives bearing away everything of value, while others were demolishing the searchlight, which they evidently regarded as an evil spirit, whose powers were harmless by day. The work of plunder continued till nothing was left of the dwelling but the bare walls and roof, and presently the building burst into flames.
Hoping against hope, Mr. McKay watched with impotent rage the wanton destruction of the result of so many months of patient toil and energy.
Would the natives be content with their success, and re-embark with their booty? Already several of them, laden with spoil, were descending the cliff-path to their canoes; were the white men to be left unmolested?
Without thinking of the sore straits to which they would be reduced by the loss of their home with most of their stores, Mr. McKay waited and watched. The possibility of a fresh lease of life, even under such adverse conditions, was infinitely preferable to having to fight desperately to the last.
But his hopes were doomed to failure.
A strong body of savages began to ascend the slope leading to the cave, and, to his consternation, the watcher perceived that many of them were bearing bundles of sticks and grass.
It was to be a struggle not only against the spears and clubs of the natives, but against fire and smoke, and Mr. McKay realised that the choice of the defenders lay between a fight to the death in the open or being stifled in the recesses of the cave.