The boat was evidently coming to secure the gig, and to save this, and to prevent their being left alone and helpless upon this island without the means of communicating with the ship, Mr Morgan was straining every nerve. As Mark came out through the bushes, it was to see the second-mate reach the edge of the water, the sea having gone down some distance, and then he had a hundred yards to wade.
How it all happened Mark only knew afterwards from what he was told, but as he grasped the position he stood, as has been said, paralysed, and then in his agony of mind his power of action returned. Running down over the hard sand as quickly as he could, he watched the progress of events, and saw that the second-mate was still some distance from the gig, while the Malays were nearing fast. He was evidently so exhausted that he would not be able to reach the gig first, and as he realised this he paused for a moment, raised his gun and fired at the men.
This drew from them a savage yell, which seemed to be echoed from the praus; when as if to intimidate enemies and encourage the men a small gun was fired on board one of the vessels, and a little ball came skipping over the sea, to go crashing into the jungle.
Morgan went on a few steps farther and fired again; but though his shots evidently told, the men wincing and one falling, but only to spring up again, the fire did not check their progress, and they were fast nearing the gig.
Morgan made another desperate effort to reach it, when first one and then another of the Malays hurled his spear, which went through the air in a low curve.
Mark was now at the edge of the shallow water, with a blind feeling of despairing rage urging him on, boy as he was. What he was about to do he did not know himself. All he realised was that he must try and help Mr Morgan, who, as the spears were hurled, fell headlong into the deeper water, which splashed up around him glistening in the sun.
At this Mark uttered a groan and once more stopped short, as if paralysed, while, with a yell of triumph at the apparent success of their aim, the Malay boat came on and had nearly reached the gig.
But at that moment, as if moved by some other power, Mark raised the revolver and fired point-blank at the advancing boat.
Again and then again he fired—three shots—each, as the little weapon uttered its sharp ringing crack, sending a rifled bullet whizzing at the Malays. One ball struck the water before them, and went over their heads; the second passed before them, and the third struck one of the rowers, who leaped up with a yell and fell overboard.
This checked the progress of the on-coming boat. But as they dragged their wounded companion back into the boat they uttered another defiant yell, and, in spite of the two remaining shots sent pinging at them without effect, they reached the gig, and one man sprang in to cut the grapnel line.