But nature took a hand in the game just then. The sky had been overcast since daybreak, and just as the two lines were advancing into the open, pushing Joe and me before them, the clouds opened and immense drops of rain came pattering down. It grew dark, too, so that we could scarcely see the ship, and the Faytans hesitated and looked inquiringly at their chieftain.
The Crooked One eyed the sky, listened to the low growl of thunder, and ordered his men back to the forest. Next moment the rain came down in floods, and a bolt of lightning crashed overhead and sent a tall tree toppling down upon us. No one was hurt, but it was now so dark we could not see one another, and the great battle of the elements seemed to render our puny human war insignificant.
I realized this would be a good time to make a break for liberty, but our hands were tied and the cords held by stalwart Faytans, so that we were unable to take advantage of the opportunity.
Crash after crash succeeded, and the thunder was deafening, while around us the lightning darted like angry serpents. They have terrible storms in these tropics, at times, and it is no unusual thing for an island to suddenly disappear and never be heard of again. The tempest we now experienced was so extraordinary that I believe it awed even the natives.
I could hear the sea pounding against the rocks and wondered if the boats patrolling the reefs could survive. An hour, perhaps, the storm lasted; but it broke almost as suddenly as it began, and while the trees still dripped rivulets upon us, who were drenched to the skin already, the sun came out brilliantly, shining for the first time that day. The clouds tumbled away hurriedly, as if they had business elsewhere; the wind hushed and was still and only the fierce boom of the breakers remained to remind us of our late fearful experience.
The Faytans also recovered quickly. A few moments sufficed to turn the hundreds of dusky dripping statues into eager, alert warriors, and again the Crooked One ordered the advance—in the same manner previously attempted.
Neither Joe nor I was big enough to fully cover the lines of gigantic warriors crowding behind us; but the idea was that our friends would not dare fire for fear of hitting us. If the natives could in this manner advance close enough to stampede up the rocks to the ship, they hoped to get enough men aboard to conquer our small party very quickly. For at close range the savages had no doubt of their own superiority.
For a time it seemed their plot would be successful. Joe and I held back as much as we could, with that pushing crowd behind us, but steadily we approached the ship and no sign came from those on board. I began to be worried. Surely Uncle Naboth and Ned Britton were too clever to allow a lot of half naked islanders to outwit them; yet not a head appeared above the bulwarks, not a puff of smoke or rifle ball proved that our tried and trusty seamen were prepared to sell their lives dearly and defend the women to the last.
We had reached the first of the rocks that clustered above the shore and had began to stumble over them when, with an abruptness that fairly made me jump, a near by crack of firearms saluted us and a straggling volley was poured upon the devoted natives. Not from the ship, however; the shots came from a ridge of rocks directly to the left of us, and the Faytans began falling by the dozens.
“Drop, Joe!” I cried, and at the same time fell flat upon my face between two protecting rocks and lay there while the slaughter continued.