Those on the ramparts shout to him to come on. A shower of spears flies over the decks, and Kashie is seen leaping forward. He falls! He is killed!
No; up again, and bounding along through smoke and flames and flying spears. Over he leaps, on through the surf, and next moment he is on the barricade. A dozen arms are stretched towards him, and next moment he is safe and sound.
"Thank God!" says Fred right fervently.
From stem to stern the Island Queen is soon sheeted in flames, and through the smoke which rolls slowly seaward the canoes appear.
"Give it to them now," cries Fred, "to show them we're not dead!"
A single volley had a startling effect on those sable warriors. Instead of advancing with shouts of terror the foremost rowers threw themselves pell-mell into the sea, and the other canoes beat a hasty retreat.
With a rifle each, Fred, Frank, Quambo, and Mac now betake themselves to the cliff top. They want to prove to those savages that it will be best in future not to venture within a radius of half a mile at least. And this they do in the most satisfactory manner imaginable.
Baffled and defeated where he had expected an easy victory, the greatest king in all the world retires to his island home, and the coast is once more clear.
For five days the savages made no sign, and the beleaguered garrison occupied itself in strengthening the position.
The main anxiety would soon be want of water. Not a drop was to be found in the island except one little trickling rill, that hardly supplied them with a pint a day each. And even this might dry up.