“An attack!” cried Hallock. “The sorcerers have attacked the ship!”
Then, abruptly, the firing, too, died out.
A few moments later we emerged from the ravine onto the bank of the fiord and into full view of the destroyer. The passing of the moon into the west had brought the vessel within its rays—and the sight that greeted us almost froze our blood!
Swarming about the deck were dozens of Chinamen—some with rifles, some with knives. They appeared to be completely in control of the ship. Numerous pairs of them were coming up from below decks, carrying the bodies of the vessel’s crew, which they carelessly tossed overboard. Evidently they had taken our companions by surprise and wiped them out!
At this sight Ensign Hallock and his men became frenzied with rage.
“Ready, men!” the officer announced to his followers. “We’re going down there and give those murderers something to remember!”
Eagerly the seamen prepared to charge the ship. But Dr. Gresham stopped them.
“It’s no use,” he said. “There are hundreds of the sorcerers down there—and only a handful of us. You would only be throwing away your lives and defeating the whole purpose of this expedition. We must find a better way.”
The astronomer’s counsel prevailed. Whereupon we debated what should be done. The situation was desperate. Here we were, completely isolated in a grim wilderness, hundreds of miles from help, and surrounded by hordes of savage fanatics. Soon, no doubt, the sorcerers’ spies would find us. And, meanwhile, we were helpless to put an end to the terrors that were engulfing the planet and its inhabitants.
So despair gradually took possession of us. Not even the customary resourcefulness of Dr. Gresham rose to the emergency.