By way of excuse for alarming them, I pointed to the snake, still writhing in the agonies of death.
“But,” exclaimed Prabu, “the sahib is frightened at nothing—he has wasted powder and ball upon a mere worm. Look,” he added, “this is how to kill them,” and he stuck a boar-spear through the head of the still writhing reptile; then, winding the body round the handle, he tossed it to one of the men, telling him to roast it for the morning’s meal. Nevertheless, and notwithstanding Prabu’s contemptuous manner and remark—and which, as he afterwards confessed, he only assumed, to hide his chagrin that the whole party had been alarmed at the mere killing of a snake—the reptile was of a species whose bite is mortal; and that, too, my brother knew full well, for as we kept watch that night, while the rest of the party slept, he said—
“Claud, dear old boy, Prabu’s out of temper—never mind what he says; for to your wise old head, that kept you from alarming the snake, I owe my life.”
CHAPTER XXIII.
A FIGHT: A GREAT PERIL AND A TIMELY RESCUE.
As day broke we examined our position. The island—which had, in all probability, at some distant period, formed a promontory of the mainland, until cut off by the channel which now divided it from the shore—appeared to be about three miles in length by two in breadth. To the right, to the left, to the back of us, the shores were belted with groves of the cocoa-nut and gomuti palms; but the shore opposite the mainland was sandy and bare, excepting that nearly to the water’s edge were scattered the trunks of huge palms—which, by the way, our commander in the night had ingeniously converted into buttresses for the sandbanks—or, in military parlance, “earthworks”—they had thrown up, and which were about breast-high.
As the sun rose in the horizon, we saw the Balinese, at least a hundred of them, bustling to and fro, shaking their spears and creeses in defiance, and could hear their yells of anticipatory triumph.
“They are preparing to attack us, Martin; see, they have a couple of boats. Let us arouse Prabu,” said I.
“Aye, Claud, but look—they have observed us; down with your head,” and scarcely had he uttered the words when a shower of arrows came flying through the air—the greater number of which, however, found their billets in the earthworks.
“Come, Martin, let us call Prabu.”
“No, not yet; every minute of rest is an object, with such work as we have before us for the rest of the day. Let us tackle them between us. But look—the two boats have put off. Bring your rifle to your shoulder and take a steady aim at one, while I take the other; for it would be uncivil not to acknowledge the receipt of the feathered messengers they have just sent.”