It was on the third day after having escaped from the Malay pirates and while proceeding along over the Pacific that the machine which Tom was guiding swerved sharply to the left. It almost turned turtle, but he righted it quickly and then shut down the power.
“What’s the matter?” shouted Ned.
“We’re wrecked, I’m afraid,” was the answer. “One of our propellers is broken. We’ve got to descend! I’ll head for that island!”
“No! Not there! Not there!” cried Peltok, who had been studying the charts just before the accident. “Don’t go down there.”
“There’s no help for it,” said Tom. “But what’s the objection?”
“That island is inhabited by head-hunters!” was the answer. “They are even worse than the Malay pirates!”
“It can’t be avoided!” said Tom Swift. “We’re disabled. We’ll have to take our chance!” and a few minutes later he guided his craft down into a little natural harbor of the island, the shores of which swarmed with savage-looking men.
CHAPTER XXII
THE RAFT
Scarcely had the aircraft come to a stop, gliding over the water, than scores of canoes, smaller than those used by the pirates, but containing fully as many savages, put out from the sheltered shore of the little bay and began approaching the machine housing Tom Swift and his party. Their horrid cries rent the air and they brandished their spears, axes, clubs and bows and arrows.
“What are we going to do, Tom?” asked Ned. “Are you going to fight them or scare them?”