“We’ve got to be mighty keen about it,” he exclaimed to some of his officers. “A cable is on the way to New Zealand by the mail ship that left to-day. The Powers will soon put a stop to this show when they learn the results of our first battle.”
But before Gant could take the field to retrieve the defeat, Kataafa became suddenly bold and advanced his lines within a couple of hundred yards of the allies. They moved during the night, and strange as it may seem women did not bring the news beforehand.
Matautu was the point of attack, and the foreign resident section was swept by bullets.
The natives taunted each other from their earth intrenchments, firing wildly, but neither side made an attempt to leave the protection of their forts and attack.
Across the Fuisa River on the east of Matautu the Kataafa and Panu warriors faced each other, and here Lieutenant Gant had despatched several native companies of reënforcements to hold the road leading into Ukula.
The sailors, by order of the admiral, had been held in reserve. They were only to be used in case Kataafa undertook to rush the earthwork defenses. They held the second line of defense.
“It’s a perfect shame,” O’Neil exclaimed disgustedly, “to see these fellows throw away their ammunition. Why, a squad of sailors could have picked off twenty of those blackened faced natives across there in the last ten minutes.” He picked up the rifle that had been idly lying beside him in the trench and adjusted the sight to two hundred yards. “Watch me lay out the next fellow who gets funny and jumps on top of his fort and shakes his fist at us.”
HE DID NOT FIRE
The midshipmen watched him interestedly, for O’Neil was a dead shot.