The attack had been early in the day. We cut down as many cocoa-nut trees as we could, and finally departed for the ship, towing out with us a small fleet of canoes, to be broken up when we got to the brig. The sick men were sent below, and such remedies as we knew of were applied. They were—all but one—silent and downhearted. They knew by experience the sure and deadly effect of the poison manufactured among the Line Islands. Subtle and penetrating! But little hope of recovery remains.
About four o'clock next morning we began to heave at the windlass, and got under weigh at eight. The wind was light and variable, and our progress slow. As we got abreast of the hostile village we gave them a broadside. But the sullen devils of Santa Cruz were not cowed yet. A second fleet of canoes swarmed around the ship. They made signals of submission and a desire to trade, but when they got near enough sent a cloud of arrows at the ship, many of which stuck quivering in the masts, though luckily no one was hit. Their yells and screams of wrath were like the tumult of a hive of demons. We were luckily well prepared, and we let them have the carronades over and over again, sinking a dozen of their canoes, and doing good execution among the crews when their black heads popped up like corks as they swam for the nearest canoes. While this took place we unbent the starboard chain, stowed it and the anchor, and clearing the heads, bade adieu to the inhospitable isle.
On the next day all hands were engaged in cleaning our armoury, which it certainly appeared necessary to keep in good order. Hope Island Nellie polished her Winchester rifle till it shone again, besides showing an acquaintance with the machinery of the lock and repeating gear was nothing new to her.
"You ought to make a notch in the stock for every man you kill, Nellie," said Hayston, as we were lying on the deck in the afternoon, while the Leonora was gliding on her course like the fair ocean bird that she was.
Nellie frowned. "No like that talk," she answered. "Might have to put 'nother notch yet for Nellie—who knows?"
"Who knows, indeed, Nellie?" answered the Captain. "None of us can foresee our fate," he added with a tinge of sadness, which so often mingled with his apparently most careless moments. "We don't even know who's going to die from those arrow scratches yet."
Here the girl looked over at me. "How you feel, Hil'ree?" she said, as her voice softened and lost its jesting tone.
"Feel good," I said, "think getting better."
"You no know," she answered gravely. "You wait." And she began to count. She went over the fingers of her small, delicately-formed left hand,—wonderful in shape are the hands and feet of some of these Island girls,—and after counting from little finger to thumb twice, touched the two first fingers, and looked up. "How many?" she asked.
"Twelve," I said; I had followed the counts with care, you may be sure.