That was the temper of Karolin and it voiced itself as the boat drew closer to the beach in a cry that rang across the water, harsh and sudden, making the kanaka rowers pause and turn their heads.
“They mean fighting,” said Carlin, bending towards one of the rifles lying on the bottom boards.
“Leave that gun alone,” said Rantan. He ordered the rowers to pull a bit closer, rising up and standing in the stern sheets and waving his hand to the beach crowd as though intimating that he wished to speak to them.
The only answer was a spear flung by Taiepa that came like a flash of light and fell into the water true of aim but short by a few yards. The rowers stopped again and backed water. Whilst Carlin picked up the floating spear as a trophy and put it with the rifles, Rantan sat down. Then he ordered them to pull ahead altering the helm so that the bow turned away from the shore and to the west.
As they moved along the beach the distant crowd followed, but the mate did not heed it; he was busy taking notes of the lie of the land, and the position of the trees. The trees, though deep enough to hide the village from the break, were nowhere dense enough to give efficient cover; the reef just here was very broad but very low. A man would be a target—the head and shoulders of him at least—even if he were on the outer coral.
Rantan having obtained all the information he required on these matters altered the course of the boat and made back for the ship.
“Aren’t you going to have one single shot at them?” asked the disgusted Carlin.
“You wait a while,” replied the other.
When they reached the Kermadec he ordered the men to remain in the boat, and going on board dropped down below with his companion. He went to the locker where the ammunition was stored and counted the boxes. There were two thousand rounds.
“I reckon that will do,” said Rantan. “You said you were a good shot. Well, you’ve got a chance to prove your words. I’m going to shoot up this lagoon.”