A second ball whistled over their heads, and demolished the nearest of the three canoes.
A MYSTERIOUS PRESERVATION.
Just then a shot came from the native boat, that had approached nearer. The bullet struck Wilson's oar; but his companions still propelled the canoe towards the Duncan. The yacht was advancing at full speed, and was only half a mile distant. Captain Mangles, beset on all sides, no longer knew how to act, or in what direction to escape. The two poor ladies were on their knees, praying in their despair.
The savages were now firing a continued volley, and the bullets rained around the canoe. Just then a sharp report sounded, and a ball from the yacht's cannon passed over the heads of the fugitives, who remained motionless between the fire of the Duncan and the natives.
Captain Mangles, frantic with despair, seized his hatchet. He was on the point of sinking their own canoe, with his unfortunate companions, when a cry from Robert stopped him.
"Tom Austin! Tom Austin!" said the child. "He is on board! I see him! He has recognized us! He is waving his hat!"
The hatchet was suspended in mid-air. A second ball whistled over their heads, and demolished the nearest of the three canoes, while a loud hurrah was heard on board the Duncan. The savages fled in terror towards the coast.
"Help, help, Tom!" cried Captain Mangles, in a piercing voice. And a few moments afterwards the ten fugitives, without knowing how, or scarcely comprehending this unexpected good fortune, were all in safety on board the Duncan.