"Thanks!"
Blight picked up the weapon and thrust it with assumed carelessness into his belt; then, bidding the crew of the yawl good night, he stepped into the dinghy.
Hardly had the sun set, than the wearied crew retired to the cabin for rest and refreshment.
Ellerton was awake, feverish, and at intervals in great pain. Quexo still slumbered. Andy and Terence were sleepily nodding their heads in an almost vain endeavour to keep awake.
Mr. McKay, though utterly done up, announced his intention of keeping watch on deck the moment he had finished supper.
Just as the moon rose, a blood-curdling roar came from the island. Instantly the two McKays and Terence rushed on deck. Fires gleamed in the centre of the wretched village, and around the flames danced a hundred natives, yelling, screaming, and invoking their idols.
"What are they up to, pater?" asked Andy, as his father scanned the shore with a pair of night-glasses. "Let me have a look when you've finished."
"You had better not," was the reply. "Take my word for it."
The lads understood. They were fairly well acquainted with the hideous orgies that are practised on these islands.
"And to think we helped those villains," remarked Andy.