In truth, the bravest man might have been pardoned for despairing in such a situation. Even including the officers, the ship's company (already thinned by storm and sickness) could muster only sixteen men, while the savages numbered nearly sixty, all big and powerful fellows, whose huge muscles stood out like coils of rope on their bare black limbs. In weapons, again, the advantage, if there was any, was on the side of the assailants; for although the latter appeared at first sight to be unarmed, the Captain's spy-glass soon showed him clubs and spears and bows, with one or two muskets as well.
On came the human tigers over the smooth bright water, with the cloudless blue of the tropical sky overhead, and the dark green mass of clustering leaves, surmounted here and there by the tall slender column of a palm-tree in the background. They had evidently chosen the heat of noon for their hour of attack in the expectation of finding the white men asleep; and there was a visible start among them as the Captain's tall figure appeared from behind the main-mast, gun in hand.
"Keep off!" roared he, as they made signs of wishing to trade. "Keep off! you ain't wanted here."
But seeing that they swept on unheeding, he let fly both barrels into them, the double report being followed by a sharp howl from the foremost boat as the buckshot rattled among its crew. Four out of the twelve oarsmen were struck down, overthrowing several others in their fall, and the clumsy craft, turning half round, lay completely helpless for several minutes. But on came the other four boats, and ran alongside, two to port and two to starboard. The carpenter launched his grindstone, but the ponderous missile splashed harmlessly into the water within a foot of the nearest boat, and in another moment the whole deck was flooded with yelling savages, thirsting for blood.
All that followed was like the confusion of a hideous dream—blows raining, blood flowing, men falling, and death coming blindly, no one knew whence or how. Despite the fearful odds against them, the American sailors, fighting like men who fight for their lives, were still holding their ground, when an exulting yell from behind made them turn just in time to see the eight surviving rowers of the fifth boat (which had crept up unperceived in the heat of the fray) clambering over the stern.
Another moment and all would have been over, but just then a tremendous roar shook the air, and a huge gaunt, yellow body shot up through the after-hatchway, right among the startled assailants. Little Jack had crept aft and let loose the tiger, which fell like a thunder-bolt upon the blacks, four or five of whom lay mangled on the deck almost before they could look round.
This unexpected re-enforcement ended the battle at one blow. The superstitious savages, taking the beast for an evil spirit raised against them by the white men's magic, leaped panic-stricken into their boats (some even tumbling into the sea in their hurry), and made off with all possible speed. A light breeze, springing up from the eastward, soon bore the vessel far beyond their reach.
"Well done, Jack, my hearty!" cried the Captain, grasping the little hero's slim brown hand with a force that made every joint crackle. "That was a mighty cute trick of yours, and no mistake. I guess you'll make a smarter sailor than any of us before you've done; and it sha'n't be my fault if you don't git something good for this when we see New York again."
And the Captain kept his word.