"No," replied Mr. McKay. "We'll fight it out as we are, though we've had quite enough for one day."
The crews of the two friendly canoes were still lying on their paddles, realising that their only hope was in remaining by the white man's boat. Their indifference had vanished, and weapons were brandished in a way that showed a grim determination to fight to the death.
"Tell them to paddle for all they are worth," exclaimed Mr. McKay.
"What for?" demanded Blight, his old aggressive manner beginning to return. "What's the use? Let's keep together, I vote."
"I mean to," replied Mr. McKay coolly. "Now do as I tell you."
Sullenly the ex-pearler obeyed, and the natives, plying their paddles to the accompaniment of a mournful chant, soon increased the distance between them and the almost becalmed yawl.
"Now, Andy, start the motor."
Great was Blight's astonishment as the engine began to purr, and the little craft shot through the water at a good eight knots. He had never seen an internal combustion engine before. Although motor-driven craft are common amongst the pearling and trading fleets in the Pacific, he had left the fishing-grounds some years before the first motor had made its appearance.
Nor was the wonder of the crews of the friendly canoes any the less. To them the white man's boat, vomiting clouds of vapour from the exhaust and producing a series of rapid explosions, was nothing more or less than a fiery-dragon.
"We are going the pace too much," remarked Andy, for the yawl was easily outdistancing the canoes, whose crews were showing signs of physical distress.