A moment of awful silence followed the destructive work of the boulder. Even the wind seemed to pause in its flight and the sea in its surging to behold what man would do in the face of this disaster.
Rowgowskii and the two coolies lay in a heap on a mass of loosened earth on which they had been swept down the hill in the wake of the rock. Emily had risen to her feet where Lavelle had left her seated. Her gaze was fixed on him. He stood with his back to her and facing the boat. Chang stood to the eastward of her, motionless. His gaze, too, was fixed on the master.
Lavelle was the first to move. A stride carried him to the boat. A glance revealed to him a hole in the starboard bilge through which he might have crawled without difficulty, big man though he was. Four of the ribs were smashed. The keel was shattered for half its length. Any but the stoutest heart must have admitted the craft to be an irreparable, hopeless wreck.
With a weird cry of insensate rage Chang, who had run to Lavelle's side, turned away toward Rowgowskii and the coolies. No one who saw him and the manner in which he carried his long knife could have doubted but that the serang meant to visit instant death upon the mutineers. His gigantic form trembled with the passionate intention of the slayer. Rowgowskii and the coolies stood in a paralysis of fear.
A word from Lavelle stopped the serang.
"More better kill! Now!" cried the giant to his master and with a characterization of the mutineers that was blood-chilling in its anathema.
"Give me that knife," ordered Lavelle quietly. Meeting his gaze and holding it for a moment Chang thrust the blade into Lavelle's hand. He was conquered, but the glow of an heroic splendor was upon him.
"Kill me—kill Chang, your servant, master."
There was a bare note of defiance in the Chinaman's voice. He dropped his hands at his sides in token of submission and bent his head for the blow he invited.
"I will kill when I choose to kill. Go. Clear out this boat," said Lavelle.