Reginald thought no more of love just then. His Scottish blood was on fire, and when he had seen Ilda safe in the palace he bade her an affectionate but hurried farewell, and hurried away to the front.
The Armada was coming in deadly earnest, and no one in the Isle of Flowers could even guess how matters might end.
Chapter Nineteen.
Gold and Pearls—Jack Carousing.
No confusion here in the fort. The men were all in, the other spear-armed corps of at least five hundred were hidden in the bush at the base of the mountain side. Inside everything was being conducted as quietly and regularly as—as—well, as a marriage in church.
But looking seaward, even without the aid of a glass, the great Armada could be seen approaching.
Huge black many-paddled war canoes, forty in all, and probably with fifty men in each, or nearly a thousand altogether.
Nearer and nearer they swept with many a wild or warlike shout that was meant to strike terror into the hearts of the Flower Islanders. They were soon so near that the rattling of their spears as they struck them against their big shields could be distinctly heard.