It was, to a certain extent, unfortunate that the inhabitants of McKay's Island were unable to observe the means by which they were so opportunely rescued from what appeared to be a terrible and remorseless fate.
While the preparations for the smoking-out of the still-resisting white men were in progress, H.M.S. Blazer was steaming straight for the island.
Unnoticed by the natives, she gained the entrance to the lagoon, the leadsmen in the chains, and the decks cleared for action.
The alert commander had already observed the smouldering ruins of what was obviously at no remote time a civilised settlement, and the shouts of the desperate savages told him that resistance was still being made.
H.M.S. Blazer was but a third-class cruiser, mainly engaged in surveying duties in the Pacific. Her armament consisted of two 4.7-inch guns, one mounted fore and aft, six twelve-pounders, and ten Maxims, and these were amply sufficient for the work in hand.
Rounding to in seven fathoms, and less than three hundred yards from the scene of the desperate encounter, the Blazer opened fire. Her commander had noted the actual locality of the defenders' retreat, and carefully avoiding the spot for fear of harming friend as well as foe, he had a couple of shells planted in the fringe of the attacking natives.
Those two shells were sufficient. Madly the survivors fled along the terrace in the direction of the defile leading to the ulterior, and as they ran they were subjected to a raking fire by the quick-firers and Maxims, till only a small remnant gained the shelter of the palm-groves.
"Man and arm boats!" came the order.
But ere the landing-party gained the shore, not a living savage was to be seen. Panic-stricken they fled to the far side of the island, where they embarked in their canoes.
"We're too late, it seems," remarked the lieutenant in charge, as he gazed upon the devastated scene.