"And now I hope you'll lend a hand to them poor fellows I left behind, sir," said Chips, in conclusion. "It can be easy done now, but to-morrow it'll be too late. There ain't more'n a hundred fighting men on the island, but to-night they'll send off canoes after help, and in the morning, if you're here, you will have an army of 'em howling about you."
"How far is it to the village?" asked Mr. Gale.
"O, you'll not have to go back to the principal town, sir," answered Chips. "There's a little fishing village right here on the beach, and the natives will all be there to-night, holding a grand pow-wow and waiting for the help that's coming to-morrow. If we can get close to them and give them a volley before they know it, they'll run like deer!"
"Why I thought you said they had fire-arms," exclaimed the mate.
"So they have, sir, but it would make you laugh to see them use them," said Chips. "They take the butt of a gun under their arms, shut their eyes and turn away their heads before they pull the trigger. They seem to think it is the noise that does the damage. All we want, you understand, sir, is to drive 'em at the start. They won't run far before they'll turn on us, and then they'll fight; but by the time they do that, the prisoners will have had a chance to take care of themselves, and we can be back to our boats. I know just where the village is, and can lead you to it in ten minutes after we touch the beach."
"I suppose you don't know anything about those boats' crews that went ashore?" said the mate.
"No, sir. Those who were not killed are prisoners, and we'll find them at the village."
The man's proposition was well worth thinking over, the mate told himself. He felt that he had a duty to perform toward the prisoners in the hands of the savages, and he was not the one to shrink from it. True, he had a small force to work with, but if he acted with promptness and decision when the time for action arrived, much might be done. "Boys, turn to and straighten up here," said he, after a moment's reflection. "Let's make the old Tycoon look a little more like herself. Nelson, come with me."
The men went to work with a will—all except Lucas, Barton and Chips, who disappeared in the forecastle for a few minutes. When they came on deck again Chips could hardly have been told from the rest of the crew, his tattooed body being clothed in a full sailor's rig, and his matted hair covered with a new tarpaulin. He lent a hand with the rest, and soon proved that he had not forgotten how to do a seaman's duty.