“It means fighting,” said the captain.
“Why not leave the boat, father, and get aboard the cutter at once?”
“How?” said the captain coldly. “Wade through water five hundred feet deep?”
Mark felt as if he could have bitten off his tongue, and then his heart seemed to stand still, for there suddenly arose a shriek from the lagoon—a shriek that was terrible in its agonising intensity; there was the sound of splashing, and the water became ablaze with a beautiful lambent phosphorescent light, while there was an outburst of yelling and shouting on board the praus, accompanied by tremendous splashing, as if the water was being beaten with the oars.
“Quick! All together!” said the captain hoarsely. “Now, forward!”
The men were so paralysed with horror as they each for himself pictured the fearful scene of two Malay sailors swimming ashore, and being attacked by the sharks, that for a few moments no one stirred. Then with the hubbub and splashing increasing, and the water being, as it were, churned up into liquid fire, the sides of the boat were seized, and it was borne over and among the rocks to the very ridge, and then, with a feeling of relief that it is impossible to describe, down lower and lower, with the sounds dying out; while Mark, who was last, felt that if the horror had been continued much longer, it would have been greater than he could have borne, and he must have stopped his ears and run.
“I don’t think they can hear us now,” said the captain. “Hah!”
There was a tremendous flash, accompanied by a deafening roar from the mountain, and the whole of the bay, with its overhanging blackened rocks, were for a few moments illumined by the quivering light, so that everything was as distinct as if it were noon.
Then all was pitchy blackness again, and the thunderous roar died slowly away, as the thunder mutters into silence in a storm.
“That was a narrow escape from being seen,” said the captain, cheerily. “Two minutes sooner, and we should have been in full view. All together, the ground is getting clearer now.”