But neither Mrs Hall nor Ilda could be persuaded to retire. If a battle was to be fought they would sit with fear and trembling till all was over.
Out from under the dark shadows of the terrible snow-peaked mountain, that fell far over the water, just before eight bells in the first watch—the midnight hour—crept a fleet of canoes, silently—oh, so silently! But presently they got into that track of moonlit sea, so that they could be counted. Thirteen! Ominous number—but ominous for whom?
In twenty minutes the plash of the paddles could be distinctly heard, and the warriors could be seen, armed with spear and bow and deadly crease.
“Standoff! Standoff!”
It was a shout from Dickson.
But it was answered by a wilder shout of defiance and rage, and a cloud of arrows flew inboards.
“Now then, lads!” cried the captain, “give them fits! Quick is the word!”
The six-pounder Armstrong was trained on the foremost boat, with terrible effect. “Bang!” went the gun. Heavens! what a sight! No less than three canoes went down, with the dead and the shrieking wounded. The others but sped onwards the faster, however. A rifle volley now. Then the other gun was fired almost straight down among them, with awful results so far as the savages were concerned.
Hall was coolly emptying his revolvers as soon as his fingers could fill them. Had it been daylight his practice would have been better; as it was, there was nothing to be ashamed of.