“No, my boy,” replied Merritt, “I’ll be the admiral for once.” And he lay back in the stern sheets with a grand assumption of luxury, of which there is none in a whaleboat, no seat of any kind being provided aft.
As soon as they swung alongside the little jetty, a Kanaka voice said out of the darkness—
“That Liza Adam’s boat?”
“Yes,” replied C. B. “what’s the matter?”
“All right, sir, cappen he say come up house, he want speak you ’bout some things.”
“All right,” responded C. B., “I’ll come,” and sprang ashore, saying as he did so—
“I’m glad you came now, Merritt.”
“So’m I,” muttered the fourth mate, unheard by C. B., as he watched the lithe form striding off into the dark after the Kanaka. He allowed him to get about fifty yards away, then, with a word of caution to the boat’s crew, sprang lightly after him and rapidly ran in his track. He was not an instant too soon, for C. B. had only just turned the corner of the first store when he was attacked by a group of men with clubs, who sprang at him as a pack of savage dogs might at a strange animal that had accidentally happened to come in their midst.
C. B., taken entirely by surprise and absolutely unarmed, did the only thing possible to him: warding off the blows with his arms he sprang at the nearest man, caught him round arms and body and used him as a shield. It was a good move, for in their blind fury his assailants showered their blows indiscriminately, and the helpless man in C. B.’s arms came in for the full benefit of them. Then with a yell wild as that of an Indian brave a dark form leapt into the straggling group, and before its savage onslaught three men went down groaning one after the other. “All right, Christmas, my boy,” shouted Merritt, for of course it was he, “drop that swine and get a club.” Crash, crash went his own as he spoke, each blow accompanied by ear-splitting yells in Kanaka, which brought dim forms rushing from every side into the fray.
The fracas was very brief, for every one of the assailants had been laid low within two or three minutes. But C. B. also settled down, much to Merritt’s dismay, who could not believe that he was badly hurt. Merritt tried to raise him, but found that he was a dead weight in his arms, and in great alarm he shouted for a light. Several Kanakas brought torches, and the inanimate form of C. B. was lifted with tender care and carried into the nearest store. It was there found that he had received two serious wounds, one in the fleshy part of the thigh, which had completely penetrated the great band of muscle and bled profusely, the other in the side laying open the cavity of the abdomen. A surgeon was immediately sent for, and in the meantime Merritt devoted all his skill to stopping the bleeding, at the same time issuing orders that every one of the villains who had committed this outrage should be secured and brought into the store.