They tumbled backwards into the sea, or down with fearful thuds on top of their frail canoes. Mercy, I fear, this swarthy mate knew not. Nay, he even commanded lights to be held overboard, that he might play on the laden canoes; but these were speedily deserted, as, leaving their arms, the cannibals leapt wildly and shrieking into the sea, and commenced swimming shorewards through the blackness and the darkness of this fearful night.
The whole battle had not occupied over half-an-hour, and though the savages must have suffered terribly, it was found that the Boo-boo-boo had only two men killed and three wounded.
Just an hour afterwards, greatly to the joy of all on board, a light breeze began to blow off the shore; the sails no longer flapped, but filled, and the brave barque was soon standing steadily out to sea, and away from that blood-stained cannibal isle.
. . . . . .
It was nearly a whole week after the above adventure before the Boo-boo-boo got quite clear of the straits, and turned her jibboom to the nor’ard and west.
Hopes began to rise high now in every breast. Surely the worst of their dangers were past and gone.
The wounded were doing well.
The two poor fellows who had been slain were buried at daylight next morning, the captain himself conducting the burial service.
The bodies were placed side by side on a grating. Each was sewn in a hammock, which was weighted with iron.
The service was most impressive, and as the captain prayed and gave out a hymn to sing, it is no departure from the truth to say, that tears chased each other adown many a brave and weather-beaten face, tears the men strove in vain to hide.