The barque's crew became excited respecting the fate of the Germans, since only the bearer of the signal could be seen. Suddenly the report of sharp musketry firing from behind some thick scrub was heard.
Almost immediately several men were seen slowly retreating towards the boats. They were followed by many naked savages, hurling long spears and short pieces of bent wood.
'The whites are fighting for their lives!' Captain Thorne sang out. 'We must save them.'
The islanders were striving to surround their victims, and the firing almost ceased, as if the ammunition were failing.
The crisp, short orders of the captain rang fore and aft. 'Port watch for'a'd, starboard watch aft,' he cried. 'In with the stu'n's'ls, sir. Clear away the anchor and chain. Bear a hand, now. Lead-line into the main chains. Let fly all royal and topgallant halyards. Have both quarter-boats ready for lowering. Fore crosstrees, there! Lay down from aloft! Stand by the braces, men.'
Mr. Sennit hastened forward, and soon had the anchor and cable ready to let go, the studding-sails came down smartly, the royal and topgallant halyards were let fly, and under easy canvas the 'Alert' drew nearer shore.
All that while the Germans near the beach—for they proved to be the missing crew—were making desperate exertions to reach the boats, and having exhausted nearly all their cartridges, took to hurling stones, or anything they could find, at the yelling savages, who still maintained a stubborn front, and caused several casualties by spear and club.
'What water have you now?' the captain cried.
'A quarter less five!' the leadsman sang out.
'Let go the anchor for'a'd!'