At once there arose a terrific shout.
“Down with the white man! Death to the intruder!”
These words were shouted in Spanish, but Johnny knew their meaning well enough. He thrilled and shuddered. Pike poles were tossed in air above the dock, great knives flashed in the sun, a pistol exploded. What was to be the end of it all?
Again came comparative silence. Again the aged man spoke. Patiently, as if speaking to children, he began.
Again he was interrupted by cries of;
“Death! Destruction! Down with the white man!”
Four times, with steady patience, the great man attempted to make himself heard.
At last, realizing the futility of it all, he turned and shouted three words in the Carib tongue.
Instantly there came from the black men forward a shout to answer that of the half-castes on the dock. At the same time, pike-poles and machetes flashed and four streams of humanity, black and menacing, began pouring up the hatchways.
Johnny Thompson thrilled and grew deathly cold at sight of them. They swarmed up the masts, they filled the deck, they straddled the rail and crowded the roofs of the cabins. Everywhere weapons gleamed. From every corner rang the defiant shout of Caribs ready to defend with their lives the rights of Kennedy, whom they had come to think of as a loyal friend.