Captain Coffin might have heard my warning yells, but he gave no sign. It would have been death for him to look back. Drew was slowly making his way toward him, striking at the natives who got in his way. A big native disputed the way, and I got almost within reach. The islander gave before Drew’s ferocious assault. Drew let him go, and pressed on toward Captain Coffin. I leaped again, and got within reach as he was in the act of bringing his club down on Captain Coffin’s head. I struck with all my might, and the blow went true. Drew’s wrist was broken, his head was laid open in a long line, and he tottered. At that instant I heard the dull report of a Spencer. Drew’s body whirled about, and crumpled in a heap. Captain Nelson had done it, and the bullet had gone through Drew’s body, striking down one of the natives.
Relieved of the anxiety of the moment, I dropped my hands, and drew a long breath. That was no time for dropping my hands, and I was brought quickly back to the present by the prick of a spear. I squirmed away, and looked up to see a club descending. There was no time to use my club, or to raise my spade, which hung in my left hand. There was a rush beside me, and the Prince, apparently empty-handed, launched himself at my assailant. My head was saved, and both went down, just out of my reach. The Prince had broken his lance, but had saved the blade, which he plunged into the throat of the islander. At the same instant an ironwood war-club crashed down on his head.
At that sight my fury returned. I have no knowledge of what followed in the next half-hour. I knew that not one of the Battles’ crew was left on his feet, and I knew dimly that Kane was on one side of me, fighting with a wild joy, and that on the other Mr. Macy was fighting with equal fury. I have no doubt that he saved my life many times, for I knew no caution, and my only thought was to avenge the Prince. Mr. Macy’s fury was of the cold kind—a cool head and a hot heart—which does so much more damage than a mere blind rage like mine. At last I realized that the islanders were trying to get at our boats.
There were five or six times as many of them as of us, but Captain Nelson managed to keep his force between them and our boats. None of his men was killed except the Prince, but nearly all were wounded more or less seriously, and all were weary. I know that, at last, with returning sanity, I found myself hardly able to lift my club, and utterly unable to strike again with my reddened spade. We were being forced back to the boats. It looked like a day for the islanders, and if they would have let us we would have withdrawn. I heard nothing but a tumult of sound, and I could not see well.
Suddenly there was a great shout from behind the natives, and I saw a considerable body of men break through the sparse vegetation which crowned the beach. It happened before my eyes; a crowd of men—white men, twenty-five or thirty of them—armed with lances, spades, and knives, issuing from that tangle to seaward, and rushing down on the rear of the islanders. They, poor chaps, gave one glance, then broke and ran. Some of them ran to their canoes, others ran directly into the water, and swam away, full tilt. The canoes followed, and we let them go.
I knew we ought to put after them and see that they did no harm to the ship, but I could not have pulled a pound. Neither could most of the others. I could only stand there, my hands hanging limp at my sides, and gaze after the canoes. I watched them out of sight through the passage to the sea. I was dimly conscious of a young chap who walked around me, looking me over, but I paid him no attention. At last he stood still before me, grinning. He poked me in the ribs. I squirmed, for my ribs were sore.
“Hello, Tim,” he said.
I looked at him then; looked at him long and hard, while he stood and grinned. It was Jimmy Appleby.
CHAPTER XXXVI
Of that meeting with Jimmy Appleby the less said the better. I believe that, in my wearied and weakened state, I broke down and cried, but I have no clear recollection. The first thing that I remember clearly is being well down the lagoon, a passenger in my own boat. Our new shipmates were doing the pulling, although those of the regular crew who were able sat on the thwarts beside the fresh men, and bent their backs with them. Two of our men, severely wounded, lay on the bottom of the boat, half under the thwarts, and there, too, was the body of the Prince, covered with the sail. Captain Nelson stood at the steering oar, his face grave and set, looking out ahead. I crawled up to my place on the midship thwart beside a stranger, and got my hands on my oar; and the stranger turned his head and gave me a smile.