“I think,” said I, “you owe your escape to the fact that the natives had no canoes on this end of the island. They must have discovered you while you were climbing the point, but got to the cove just a little too late to meet you.”
“Perhaps,” said Captain Steele, “it would have been a more even fight if you could have faced them on land.”
“I’m satisfied as it was,” returned Ned, shaking his head doubtfully. “They were thick as fleas, Cap’n, an’ if we hadn’t got away in the boats when we did we could have shot ’em down till our cartridges give out, an’ then there’d have been enough left to have murdered us neat an’ quiet. We must get ready for them folks, sir; they’re sure to be on us in the mornin’, if they don’t arrive sooner. But I count myself lucky to have got back with the boats with no worse calamities than we really had.”
“So do I,” said my father. “I’m much obliged, Ned.”
I went to the forecastle to inquire about the wounded. Bry looked grave over Yellow Tom’s case, but said the others would quickly recover. Our islander knew all about arrow wounds, such as these, and could treat them more successfully than a regular surgeon might have done.
“Do you suppose the arrows were poisoned?” I asked.
“No,” he replied; “South Sea natives do not poison arrows. We leave that to the Negritos of the Philippines and inland tribes of Australia. We islanders fight like men, not like cowards.”
“I fear we shall find plenty of fighting ahead of us,” I remarked, rather gloomily.
The black nodded.
“If we stay here we must fight,” said he. “I think it better to take the women away in the boats, and trust the sea. From here I am sure I can find the way to my own island, where I am a chief.”