"That's about the range," assented his father, and four rifles opened fire upon the daring natives, Ellerton contriving to rest the barrel of his weapon upon the ridge of the earthwork, so as to avoid using his damaged arm.
The bullets all fell close to the yawl, several of the natives being hit; but possibly in their hour of triumph the savages scorned the white men's weapons. Casting off the moorings, they leisurely towed the yawl out towards the reef and plundered her.
Great was the defenders' rage to see the blacks hacking at the rigging, sails, and cordage, throwing the contents of the cabin-lockers into the bottom of their canoe, and wrenching the metal cleats, hinges, and shroud-plates from her hull. This done, a powerful savage stove a hole in the craft, and slowly sinking by the stern, she at length plunged to the bottom of the lagoon.
"It's hard lines, Andy," exclaimed his father as he paused to recharge his magazine. "But I'm afraid we shall have to make greater sacrifices before this affair is over."
"We seem to have horrible bad luck," replied Andy savagely. "First at Ahii, and now here."
"Remember we were saved by the merciful intervention of One above," added Mr. McKay. "And if it please Him, we'll come out of this in safety. We've had a lot to be thankful for."
"I know, but all the same it's hard lines. Take that, you brute!" Andy added, pressing the trigger.
It was a splendid shot. A group of natives had begun to batter the yawl's tender to splinters. They were a good four hundred yards away, but Andy's shot struck a tall savage, clad in a gorgeous cloak of white and red feathers, fairly between the shoulder-blades.
Andy had laid aside his rifle immediately after discharging it, and had snatched up a pair of field-glasses. The effect of the chief's death—for a chief he evidently was—caused the wreckers to abandon their task, and they fled to join their fellows under the shelter of the lowermost cliff.
"They are preparing for another rush," observed Terence.