The youth at the helm put all his strength against the tiller. The yawl rolled outward as she turned, then recovering herself rushed straight for her gigantic antagonist.
With a yell of defiance the savages let fly a shower of arrows and stones. The masts and deck were literally bristling with darts, while the stones rolled like hail upon the planks.
Under the protection of the cabin-top the white men escaped the deadly volley, but Ellerton, gripping the tiller with a vice-like grip, felt a hot, stinging pain in his left arm.
Then, crash! Fair in the centre of the lightly-built fifty-feet hull struck the sharp stem. There was a terrific splintering of wood and the gurgling sound of inrushing water, while at the same time the fore part of the yawl was crowded with a score of black fiends.
CRASH! FAIR IN THE CENTRE OF THE LIGHTLY BUILT
FIFTY-FEET HULL STRUCK THE SHARP STEM
Then the revolvers barked, and the living mob of savages melted away, and the next instant the yawl was ploughing her way over the shattered remains of the war-canoe.
"Hurrah!" shouted the crew. "Now for the next!"
But the second canoe, profiting by her consort's misfortunes, turned and paddled rapidly back, to obtain the support of the third.