'Now, Grinson, I must cut,' said Hoole. 'I 'll start towards them; that will diddle them, I hope; and before they make up their minds I 'm an enemy, I guess I 'll be out of range. Ready?'
Grinson whirled the propeller; Hoole made contact and switched on, the engine started with a roar, and the seaplane glided forward in the direction of the approaching boat. Cries of wonder broke from the throng of natives as the strange bird rose into the air. When clear of the water it turned suddenly eastwards, and flew rapidly at a low altitude along the coast. The boat stopped. A signal was fired from the vessel in the offing. The seaplane continued on its eastward course. There was a loud report which sent the natives scurrying to the foot of the cliff, and a shell burst a few yards behind the seaplane. A few moments later a shell dropped on the beach, sending up a great shower of sand and rocks. The natives scattered, some making for the chimney, others taking cover among the rocks and undergrowth. Grinson stood for a while with arms akimbo at the edge of the beach, as though defying the gunners; then a crackle of rifle fire from the boat sent him too rushing for the chimney. He had only just reached it when a shell fell plump into the wreck, scattering its timbers far and wide. A howl of wrath and dismay burst from the natives, and they began to swarm up the chimney, full in view of the occupants of the boat, but concealed from the Raider by a bulge in the cliff. Bullets rained on the rocks, but the rolling of the boat rendered marksmanship difficult, and only one or two of the men suffered slight wounds as they climbed up. Grinson was the last to leave the beach. When he reached the summit he stood for a moment or two on the platform, gazing with a grim smile at the Raider.
'Blue you are, and well you may look it!' he cried. 'Row back, you lubbers; such darned bad shooting I never did see, and I 'll take my davy as your goose 'll soon be cooked. Mr. Hoole has gone to fetch the sauce. Ahoy, ugly mugs! Wait for me! I don't want to be marooned in this 'ere forest.'
And he set off at a trot to overtake the natives, who were already disappearing among the trees.
CHAPTER XVII
THE ATTACK ON THE VILLAGE
In the haste of their flight from the dangerous beach the natives had left drums, cooking-pots, and other impedimenta behind, and had now nothing but their weapons to carry. Marching light, they showed a most ungentlemanly want of consideration for Grinson. 'They 're no gentlemen, Ephraim, me lad, that's flat,' he said later (they had gone several miles before he overtook them), 'and me panting and sweating like any think! I must 'a lost five pounds, if an ounce.'
As soon as he had recovered breath, he took place by Flanso's side at the head of the procession, and quite unaware that he was transgressing etiquette, kept pace with the chief, conversing by the way.
'What I can't make out, Flanso, old man,' he said, 'is what this Mr. Hoole is--what he was brought up to, like. He 's only a nipper, so to speak it, 's far as years go, and by his own account he was just larking round these 'ere seas, with more money than wits, I 'd say. Well, then, what I want to know is, how does he know about these 'ere airyplanes or seaplanes, or whatever you call 'em, handles 'em as easy as I might handle a ship's boat, and no gammon? I know you don't understand a word of what I'm saying, matey, not being born such; but I 'm just letting off steam, d' ye see? In course I wouldn't say all this to the young gent's face, my manners being good as a general rule; but it ain't good to keep your thoughts bottled up, like, 'cos they might bust out sudden like the cork out of a bottle o' beer that's stood too near the fire, and then where 'd we be, Flanso, me boy?'
Flanso appeared to be gratified by the seaman's speech, and smiled amiably.