To this Fred made reply, that if the greatest king in all the world wanted a pig for his own dinner, and would bring one to the beach, the white man would kill it.
On this the king seemed suddenly to be struck by a happy thought. He held communication with his dusky warriors; a few of them retired to the bush, and after a while re-appeared dragging along a poor woman. She was stationed on the fore-shore, and stood there with drooping head patiently waiting for the death she expected. The king and his warriors stood aside at a safe distance. Then pointing to the woman Ota hailed the boat. "That is the pig that the greatest king in all the world wants to eat for dinner, make fire, quick, quick."
Fred felt strangely tempted to give the king himself a shot. So inhuman a monster he had never before held communication with.
At this moment a huge black-brown kite came wheeling round his dusky majesty's head; slowly it sailed tack and half tack.
Now Mac had been the best shot in the San Salvador. Fred gave him the rifle.
"Bring down that bird," he cried. "Pray don't miss."
Steady was the aim Magilvray now took. Bang went the rifle. The king's eyes were turned towards the poor woman, his face beaming with fiendish delight in the expectation of seeing her fall. Instead of that there alighted on his royal head a huge mass of blood and feathers. He uttered a yell that could have been heard a good mile off, and threw himself struggling on the ground.
It was a rash thing for Fred to do; but there was no help for it now, and almost before Quambo and Magilvray could get way on the boat spears were hurled after them, and a wild rush made towards the canoes.
That was indeed a race for life; but Quambo and Mac made the gig fly and skip across the water, and not only were they aboard, but the boat was hauled up, before the savages in their clumsy canoes could get alongside.
"Shake out the mainsail. Get the anchor up." These were the orders now.