“But they’ve got nothing but some kind of sporting rifles, burning black powder,” said Hawke. “Good rifles, but they haven’t near the range of our Mausers. We could lie off and pepper them, if we could get to sea.”
“Yes, we must get out of this lagoon. It’s a regular trap,” said Henninger.
“And they’ve got no water on the island,” Bennett remarked.
At this remark Elliott realized that his throat was parching. He brought a bucket of water aft, and they all drank enormously. It was very hot, though the sun was veiled in gray clouds and the sea was rising under the rising southeast wind, the prevailing wind on the east coast at that season.
“There was a rainwater pool on the island when I was there,” Bennett went on. “I found it very useful. But it may be dry now, and anyhow it’s at the other end of the island, and they can’t get to it.”
“Hang it all, why can’t we put to sea and let the rest of the treasure go?” ejaculated Elliott, sickening at the thought of what the gold had already cost.
“Because with that steamer they’d follow us, wear us out, and maybe run us down,” said Henninger. “But we must get out of the lagoon and have sea-room as soon as possible.”
Thud! Something cut through the upper portion of the mizzen-sail and plunged into the deck. Whiz-z-ip! Another missile hit the barrel of Bennett’s rifle and glanced away, screaming harshly. Bennett dropped the gun from his tingling fingers. A third bullet lodged in the mast, and another ploughed a deep furrow in the rail, and glanced again.
“Where did that come from?” yelled Hawke; and “Look!” shouted Elliott at the same moment, pointing shoreward.
The top of the hill upon the island was crowned with white smoke, and as they looked three or four fresh puffs of vapour bloomed out and blew down the wind, with a distant popping report. Zip! Thud! the bullets sang down and plunged into the planking.