AMID THE CHEERS OF THE BAND OF BRITISHERS
THE ENSIGN WAS BROKEN AT THE MASTHEAD. [See page 68]

THE NAMELESS ISLAND

A Story of some Modern
Robinson Crusoes

BY

PERCY F. WESTERMAN

Author of "The Young Cavalier," etc.

London
C. Arthur Pearson Ltd.
Henrietta Street
1920

Second Impression

STORIES OF ADVENTURE.

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

Each Volume contains Eight Full-Page Illustrations by a well-known Artist

The Boys of the Otter Patrol.

A Tale of the Boy Scouts. By E. Le Breton-Martin.

Kiddie of the Camp.

A Scouting Story of the Western Prairies. By Robert Leighton.

Otters to the Rescue.

A Sequel to "The Boys of the Otter Patrol." By E. Le Breton-Martin.

The Clue of the Ivory Claw.

By F. Haydn Dimmock.

'Midst Arctic Perils.

By P. F. Westerman.

The Phantom Battleship.

By Rupert Chesterton.

Kiddie the Scout.

A Sequel to "Kiddie of the Camp." By Robert Leighton.

The Lost Trooper.

A Tale of the Great North-West. By F. Haydn Dimmock.

The Brigand of the Air.

By Christopher Beck.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

[ Amid the cheers of the band of Britishers the ensign was broken at the masthead . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece ]

[ Ellerton was only just in time. Another dazzling flash enabled him to see the helpless form of the crippled seaman ]

[ Andy, finding the bull close to his heels, gripped a rope and swung himself into a position of comparative safety ]

[ The chief's canoe was paddled slowly towards the shore ]

[ Crash! fair in the centre of the lightly built fifty-feet hull struck the sharp stem ]

[ "A sail! a sail!" he exclaimed breathlessly ]

[ A huge turtle had crawled across the beach and ... had set the alarm bell ringing ]

[ With fierce shouts the savages tore down the path straight for the barricade ]

THE NAMELESS ISLAND

CHAPTER I

THE HURRICANE

The San Martin, a single-screw cargo steamer of 3050 tons, was on her way from Realejo to Tahiti. Built on the Clyde twenty years back, this Peruvian-owned tramp was no longer in her prime. Since passing out of the hands of her British owners, neglect had lessened her speed, while the addition of various deck-houses, to suit the requirements of the South American firm under whose house-flag she sailed, had not increased her steadiness.

Captain Antonio Perez, who was in command, was a short, thick-set man of almost pure Spanish descent, swarthy, greasy, and vain—combining all the characteristics, good, bad, and indifferent, of the South American skipper. As part owner of the San Martin he was glad of the opportunity of adding to the vessel's earnings, so he had willingly agreed to take five passengers as far as Tahiti.

The five passengers were Mr. McKay, his son Andrew, Terence Donaghue, Fanshaw Ellerton, and Quexo; but before relating the circumstances in which they found themselves on board the San Martin, it will be necessary to introduce them to our readers.

Mr. McKay, a tall, erect Queenslander, of Scottish descent, had, through the death of a near relative, migrated from Australia to one of the Central American republics in order to test the possibilities of an estate which had been left him, before putting it into the market.

Andrew McKay, or Andy, as he was called, was a well-set-up young fellow of nineteen, broad-shouldered and straight-limbed, with a fine head surmounted by a crop of auburn hair.

Terence Donaghue, the son of an Irish Canadian, was about Andy's age, and was on a visit to the McKays. He was impulsive both in manner and speech, high-spirited, and good-natured.

Fanshaw Ellerton, a lad of sixteen, was supposed to be serving his apprenticeship on board the Tophet, a barque of 2200 tons, of the port of Liverpool. He was in reality a deserter—but in circumstances beyond his control.

Taking advantage of general leave being granted to the crew of the Tophet, Ellerton had gone "up-country," and, before he actually realised it, he found himself besieged in Mr. McKay's ranch of San Eugenio.

One of those revolutions that occur in many of the South Central American states had broken out, and the rebels, thinking that Mr. McKay's house and estate would prove an easy and profitable prize, promptly attempted to take and plunder San Eugenio.

In spite of a vigorous defence, it seemed as if numbers would gain the day, till Quexo, a mulatto lad on the ranch, contrived to steal through the rebels' lines and bring timely aid, but not before Mr. McKay had been severely wounded.

But, so far as his Central American affairs were concerned, Mr. McKay was practically ruined, and he took steps to return to Queensland with the least possible delay.

Andy, of course, was to accompany him, while Terence arranged to go as far as Tahiti, whence he could take steamer to Honolulu and on to Victoria, British Columbia.

"Never mind, old chap," exclaimed Andy, when Ellerton made the startling yet not altogether unexpected discovery that the Tophet had sailed without him. "We've stuck together through thick and thin these last few days, and it seems as if we have been chums for years. I know the governor will be only too glad to have you with us, and no doubt you can pick up your ship at Sydney."

Nor did Mr. McKay forget Quexo's devotion; and, to the mulatto's great delight, he was engaged as servant at the—to him—princely salary of five dollars a month.

A fever-stricken coast was no place for a wounded man, hence Mr. McKay's anxiety to sail as soon as possible; and since ten days or more would elapse before one of the regular line of steamers left for Honolulu, passages were booked on the Peruvian tramp steamer San Martin.

*****

"What a scratch crew!" remarked Terence, pointing at the swarm of olive-featured Peruvians who were scrubbing down decks with the aid of the ship's hose.

"But even they have one advantage over most of the crews of the mercantile marine," replied Ellerton. "They are all of one nationality. Take the Tophet's crew—there are only eight British seamen before the mast; the rest are Germans, Finns, and Swedes."

"That is a crying scandal," interrupted Mr. McKay, who was resting in a deck-chair a few feet from the head of the poop-ladder. "England, the principal carrier of the world, has to rely upon foreigners to man her merchant ships. And the reason is not far to seek," he added.

The San Martin was in the Doldrums. Not a ripple disturbed the surface of the ocean, save the white wake of the steamer as she pounded along at a steady nine knots. Overhead the sun shone fiercely in a cloudless sky.

"How deep is it here?" asked Terence, leaning over the rail.

"Do you know, Ellerton?" asked Mr. McKay.

"No, sir; I had no opportunity of examining a chart."

"It's approximately three thousand fathoms. Between the Galapagos and the Marquesas is a vast sunken plateau. Sunlight never penetrates these great depths; probably all is dark beyond two hundred fathoms."

"And are there fish or marine animals in the bed of the ocean?"

"No one knows. Possibly there are some marine animals capable of withstanding the enormous pressure, for it may be taken for granted that at three thousand fathoms the pressure per square inch is about three tons."

"Is it always calm in the Doldrums?" continued Terence, for he had never before "crossed the line."

"Often for weeks at a stretch. What's your experience of these, Ellerton?"

"Three weeks with the canvas hanging straight down from the yards. If you threw anything overboard it would be alongside for days. I can assure you, Terence, that I am jolly glad we're on board a steamer."

"How did you get out of it?" continued the young Canadian, eager for further information.

"By one of the frequent and sudden hurricanes that spring up in the belt of the calms; but even that was looked upon as a slice of luck."

Thus the days passed. Conversation was the chief means of passing the time, although the lads derived considerable amusement from their efforts to teach Quexo English.

Reading was out of the question, for the ship's library consisted of only a few Spanish books of little interest to Mr. McKay and Andy, while to Terence and Ellerton they were unfathomable.

On the evening of the fourth day there was an ominous change in the weather.

The sun, setting between high-banked, ill-defined clouds, gave out bright copper-coloured rays that betokened much wind at no distant date; while from the south-east a long, heavy swell, although far from land, gave further indications of change.

"How is the glass, Captain?" asked Mr. McKay, as Captain Perez emerged from the companion and began to make his way for'ard to the bridge.

The captain shrugged his shoulders.

"Low, señor. I like it not."

"What an admission," exclaimed Mr. McKay, as the officer mounted the ladder. "Fancy a British skipper replying like that! Here, Andy, you are not shaky on the pins like I am; just present my compliments to Captain Perez and ask him to tell you how the barometer stands. I'm rather curious on that point."

"You appear to have a good knowledge of seamanship, sir," remarked Ellerton, as young McKay made his way to the bridge.

"Well, I must confess I have," admitted Mr. McKay. "Years ago I spent some months on a pearl-fisher in Torres Strait; but that's a long story. Some day, perhaps, I'll tell you more about it."

"Seven hundred and forty millimetres—a fall of twenty-two millimetres in eight hours," announced Andy, reading the figures from a slip of paper, on which he had noted the captain's reply.

"By Jove!" exclaimed Mr. McKay. "That's equivalent to a trifle over 29.1 inches. We're in for something, especially with that deck cargo," as he pointed to the towering baulks of mahogany which were stowed amidships.

"Are they doing anything for'ard?" he continued.

"The men are placing additional lashings over the hatchways."

"Pity they didn't man the derrick and heave some of that stuff overboard," replied Mr. McKay, eyeing the timber with concern. "However, it will be dark in another quarter of an hour, so we had better turn in and get some sleep while we are able."

It was shortly after midnight when Ellerton awoke, conscious that something was amiss. He had slept through severe gales in the old Tophet when she was scudding under close-reefed canvas before the wind or lying hove-to in a hurricane in Magellan Straits; but there was something in the peculiar motion of the San Martin that roused his seaman's instincts.

It was blowing. He could hear the nerve-racking clank of the engines as the propeller raced in the air, and the corresponding jar as the ship's stern was engulfed in the following seas. That was a mere nothing; it was the excessive heel and slow recovery of the vessel which told him that things were not as they should be.

Hastily dressing, he was about to leave the cabin when a hollow groan caught his ear. It was pitch dark, for the electric lights had failed, and the after part of the ship was in a state of absolute blackness.

"What's up, Terence?"

Terence was like the sufferer on the Channel mail boat. He was past the stage when he was afraid he might die, and was entering into the stage when he was afraid he might not. Ellerton had suffered the agonies of sea-sickness before, so, knowing that the unhappy victim would prefer to suffer in solitude, he went outside.

In the alley-way he collided with the second mate, who, clad in dripping oilskins, was returning from his watch on deck.

Ere the two could disengage, a heavy list sent them both rolling against one of the starboard cabins, and, at the same time, Andy, who, unable to sleep, was on the point of making his way over to Ellerton's berth, stepped upon the writhing forms and promptly joined them on the floor of the alley-way.

A number of choice expressions in English and Spanish, drowned by the thunder of the "combers" on deck, arose from the struggling trio, till at length Ellerton disentangled himself and succeeded in pulling his chum from under the form of the second mate.

"Isn't it awful, this gale?" gasped Andy, whose right eye was rapidly closing from the effects of an accidental knock from the Peruvian's sea-boot.

"Yes, it's a bit thick," replied Ellerton, whose knuckles were bleeding through coming into contact with the brass tread of the cabin door. "But let's follow this chap up and get him to let us have a candle; then we can see what we are doing."

As he spoke, a vivid flash of lightning revealed the Peruvian, still in his wet oilskins, stretched at full length on his bunk, his head buried in the blankets. He was in a state of absolute funk!

A swinging candlestick was affixed to the bulkhead, and Ellerton was soon able to procure a light. Andy glanced at the barometer. The mercury stood at 715 millimetres (28.15 in.)—a fall of nearly an inch since six o'clock on the previous evening.

"Can't we go on deck?" asked Andy, as the San Martin slowly recovered from a dangerous list. "It's rotten being cooped up here."

"You would stand a jolly good chance of being swept overboard," replied Ellerton. "Everything is battened down, and we can only get out by the sliding hatch communicating with the——"

His words were interrupted by a succession of heavy thuds, plainly audible above the roar of the wind and waves, while the shouts of the frantic seamen showed that something had broken adrift.

Taking advantage of the lift of the vessel as she threw her stern clear of a mountainous sea, Ellerton opened the steel sliding doorway sufficiently wide for the two chums to gain the poop. Staggering along the slippery, heaving deck, they reached the lee side of the deck-house, where, gripping the stout iron stanchion-rail, they awaited the next flash of lightning.

They had not long to wait. A brilliant, prolonged succession of flashes dazzled their eyes, the electric fluid playing on the wet planks and foam-swept waist of the plunging vessel.

The reason for the commotion was now apparent. One of the mainmast derricks had broken adrift, and, charging from side to side like a gigantic flail, had smashed the rail, crushed two steel ventilator-cowls, and utterly demolished two boats in the davits.

The crew, trying to secure the plunging mass of metal, were working with mad desperation, frequently up to their waists in water.

Two of the unfortunate men, crushed by the sweep of the derrick, had been hurled over the side, while another, his leg bent under him, lay helpless in the lee-scuppers, with only a few inches of broken bulwarks to prevent him from sharing the fate of his comrades.

"Stand by, Andy!" shouted Ellerton. "Take a couple of turns round this bollard," and throwing the end of a coil of signal-halliards to his friend, he made the other end fast round his waist and jumped down the poop-ladder.

He was only just in time. Another dazzling flash enabled him to see the helpless form of the crippled seaman, and as he wound his arms round the man's waist in an iron grip, a seething cataract of foam swept the deck.

ELLERTON WAS ONLY JUST IN TIME. ANOTHER DAZZLING FLASH
ENABLED HIM TO SEE THE HELPLESS FORM OF THE CRIPPLED SEAMAN

The ship, stunned by the force of the gigantic billow, listed till her deck took an angle of 45 degrees, or more. To the young apprentice, held only by a single turn of the thin signal-halliard, it seemed as if the ship were already taking her downward plunge, for all round him surged the torrent of solid water, his position rendered doubly horrible by the intense blackness of the night.

Still he held on like grim death to the disabled seaman, the thin rope cutting into his breastbone like a steel wire. His feet were unable to find a hold; the last fragment of the bulwarks had vanished, and only the rope held him and his burden from a prolonged death in the surging ocean.

Quivering like an aspen leaf, the stricken vessel slowly resumed an even keel, and then began the correspondingly sickening list to windward.

Another flash revealed the charging derrick whirling over his head; then, as he felt the rope slacken and himself slipping across the deck, his hand managed to grasp the foot of the poop-ladder.

Almost breathless by his exertions, and half suffocated through being so long under water, Ellerton retained sufficient presence of mind to clamber up the ladder, Andy assisting his burden by steadily and strongly hauling on the rope; then, as the San Martin once more began her sickening roll to leeward, he sank exhausted to the deck, safe under the lee of the deck-house, with the Peruvian still in his grip.

That last tremendous breaker had been the means of saving the ship, though at the time it had threatened to end her career. The dangerous deck-load of mahogany baulks had been wrenched from its securing lashings, and had been swept overboard; while the disabled derrick, coming into contact with the donkey-engine, had snapped off short.

At the same time the waves had swept four more of the crew to their last account, and the remainder, exhausted and disheartened by their misfortunes, had gained the shelter of the fo'c'sle.

Securing themselves by the rope, Andy and Ellerton—the latter having passed a bight round the now conscious and groaning seaman—hung on with desperation.

From their comparatively sheltered position they could gain occasional glimpses of the bridge, where Captain Perez, the first mate, and a couple of seamen stood braving the elements, their sou'-westers just visible above the top of the canvas storm-dodgers.

At one moment, silhouetted against the glare of the lightning, their heads could be seen against a background of wind-torn clouds; at another the vessel would be so deep in the trough of the waves that the crests ahead appeared to rise high above the rigid figures on their lofty, swaying perch.

"Will it hold?" shouted Andy above the hiss of the foam and the howling of the wind, as a few tons of water struck the weather side of the deck-house.

"I think so," replied Ellerton. "It would have gone before this if not."

"Then let's put the man inside. We can then go below and get the steward or some of the crew to look after him."

Accordingly they dragged the groaning seaman into the deck-house, and, wedging him up with cushions to prevent him from playing the part of Neptune's shuttlecock, they left him.

Seizing their opportunity, the two friends contrived to gain the saloon, where they found Mr. McKay, who had succeeded in procuring and lighting a pair of cabin-lamps.

"Thick, isn't it?" remarked Andy's father. Then: "What have you fellows been up to?" for both were wet to the skin, while Andy's eye was black and green, and Ellerton's forehead was bleeding from a superficial cut.

"Oh, nothing much," replied Ellerton modestly. "We were caught in the tail end of a comber. The deck cargo's gone, though."

"That's good news," replied Mr. McKay. "Though I fancy the worst is yet to come. I suppose Captain Perez is steering to the south'ard to try and avoid the main path of the hurricane?"

"I haven't had the chance of looking at the compass," replied Ellerton. "But I must go for'ard and get help for the poor fellow in the deck-house."

"What fellow is that?" asked Mr. McKay of his son as the apprentice disappeared along the darkened alley-way.

While Andy was relating with whole-hearted praise the story of his companion's bravery, Ellerton was feeling his way along the narrow, heaving passage that communicated with the fore part of the ship.

At length he came to the engine-room hatchway. Down below he could see the mass of complicated machinery throbbing in the yellow glimmer of the oil lamps, while the hot atmosphere was filled with a horrible odour of steam and burning oil.

Here, at any rate, the men were doing their duty right manfully, for he could see the engineers, gripping the shiny rails as they leant over the swaying, vibrating engines, calmly oiling the bearings of the plunging rods and cranks. The "chief," his eyes fixed upon the indicators, was alertly awaiting the frequently recurring clank which denoted that the propeller was racing. For a few moments Ellerton stood there fascinated, the spectacle of an engine-room in a vessel in a storm was new to the lad, whose experience of the sea was confined to a sailing barque.

Suddenly above the monotonous clank of the piston-rods came a hideous grinding sound. The cylinders began to give out vast columns of steam, as the engines ran at terrifying speed.

Through the vapour Ellerton could discern the "chief," galvanised into extraordinary alertness, make a rush for a valve, while his assistants, shouting and gesticulating, dashed hither and thither amid the confined spaces between the quivering machinery.

The main shaft had broken, and the San Martin was helpless in the teeth of the hurricane.

CHAPTER II

AGROUND

For a brief instant Ellerton hesitated; ought he to return to his friends or make his way for'ard? The San Martin, losing steerage way, was rolling horribly in the trough of the sea; any instant she might turn turtle.

There was a rush of terrified firemen from the grim inferno of the stokeholds; the engineers, having taken necessary precautions against an explosion of the boilers, hastened to follow their example, scrambling in a struggling mass between the narrow opening of the partially closed hatchway.

Clearly Ellerton had no means of gaining the deck in the rear of that human press; so lurching and staggering along the alley-way he made his way aft, where he met Mr. McKay, who, assisted by Andy, was about to go on deck. Terence, looking a picture of utter misery in the yellow light of the saloon, and Quexo, his olive skin ashy grey with fear, had already joined the others.

"Come on, Hoppy," shouted Andy cheerfully. "Give me a hand with the governor. Terence, you had better stay here."

Carefully watching their chance, the two lads managed to help Mr. McKay to the shelter of the poop deck-house, and they were about to return for Donaghue and the mulatto when they encountered Captain Perez and the first mate. Both were in a state bordering on frenzy, the captain rolling his eyes and calling for the protection of a thousand saints, while the mate was mumbling mechanically the last compass course, "Sur oeste, cuarto oeste" (S.W. by W.).

The cowardly officers had deserted their posts!

In an instant Fanshaw Ellerton saw his chance—and took it.

"Stop him, Andy!" he shouted, setting the example by throwing himself upon the Peruvian skipper.

The man did not resist; he seemed incapable of doing anything.

"Don't bother about the other," hissed the apprentice. "Make this chap come with us to the bridge. I'll be the skipper and he'll be the figurehead."

The two chums dragged the captain across the heaving deck, up the swaying monkey-ladder, and gained the lofty bridge.

Ellerton glanced to windward. His seamanship, poor though it was, began to assert itself. The wind was going down slightly, but, veering to the nor'ard, was causing a horrible jumble of cross-seas—not so lofty as the mountainous waves a few hours ago, but infinitely more trying.

The San Martin, swept on bow, quarter, and broadside, rolled and pitched, the white cascades pouring from her storm-washed decks; yet Ellerton realised that she possessed a considerable amount of buoyancy by the way she shook herself clear of the tons of water that poured across her.

The wheel was deserted. The steersman, finding that his officers had fled and that the vessel carried no way, had followed his superior's example.

Cowering under the lee of the funnel casing were about twelve of the crew, including the bo'sun and quartermaster.

"Tell the captain," yelled Ellerton to his chum, "to order those men to set the storm staysail, if they value their hides."

Andy interpreted the order, which the captain, gaining a faint suspicion of confidence, communicated to the bo'sun.

The bare chance of saving their lives urged the men into action. Unharmed, they succeeded in gaining the fo'c'sle, and in less than ten minutes the stiff canvas was straining on the forestay.

Gathering way, the San Martin, no longer rolling, pounded sluggishly through the foam-flecked sea.

Ellerton would not risk setting any canvas aft; he was content to let the vessel drive.

"Ask him whether we have plenty of sea room—whether there is any danger of running ashore during the next hour or so?"

Andy put the question.

"No, señor; there is plenty of sea room."

That was enough. The apprentice cared not what course he steered, so long as he kept the waves well on the quarter. When the hurricane was over they could carry on till they fell in with some passing vessel and got a tow into port.

"That's right. Tell him to take his watch below," continued the apprentice. "And you might get hold of some oilskins, Andy."

Obediently the skipper left the bridge, and, steeling himself for a long trick at the helm, Ellerton grasped the spokes of the wheel with firm hands.

At length the day broke, and with it a regular deluge of rain, pouring from an unbroken mass of scudding, deep blue clouds. The rain beat down the vicious crests, but the sea still ran "mountains high."

About noon Mr. McKay expressed his intention of joining Ellerton on the bridge, and assisted by his son he left the shelter of the poop.

From the foot of the poop-ladder to that of the bridge a life-line had been rigged to give the protection that the shattered bulwarks no longer afforded.

When midway between the two ladders, a roll of the vessel caused Mr. McKay to lurch heavily towards the rope. His wounded limb proved unequal to the strain, and falling heavily upon the main rope his weight broke the lashings that held it to the ring-bolt. Before Andy could save him, Mr. McKay had crashed against the main hatchway.

"Hurt?" asked Andy anxiously.

"I'm afraid so," replied his father, manfully suppressing a groan. "My leg is broken."

By dint of considerable exertion the sufferer was taken back to the saloon, and the ship's surgeon, who had been routed out of his cabin, pronounced the injury to be a double fracture.

Ellerton, his whole attention fixed upon keeping the vessel on her course, had neither observed nor heard the noise of the accident, and great was his concern when Andy mounted the bridge and informed him of the catastrophe.

"I think I can leave the command," he remarked. "No doubt that yellow-skinned johnny has recovered his nerve by now."

Five minutes later Captain Antonio Perez gained the bridge. He had lost his suave, self-confident manner, and his general appearance showed a change for the better in his moral and physical condition. Yet, without a word of thanks to the English lad who had saved the situation, he called up two of the seamen, and placed them at the wheel.

"He might have been a bit civil over the business," remarked Andy.

"Poor brute! I dare say he feels his position pretty acutely. I only hope he won't break down in a hurry," replied Ellerton.

For the next two days the San Martin fled before the storm, the trysail keeping her steady and checking any tendency to broach-to. The wind had increased to almost its former violence on the evening of the first day, but the vessel was then close on the outer edge of the storm-path.

Mr. McKay, who was suffering considerably, bore his injuries gamely, while Terence, who had recovered from his bout of sea-sickness, began to take a new interest in life. Quexo, however, still lay on the floor of the stateroom, refusing to eat or drink, and groaning dismally at intervals.

"I reckon he's sorry he followed the Americanos across the wide river that tastes of salt," said Terence, quoting the Nicaraguan way of speaking of the sea. "Even I can feel sorry for him."

"That's a good sign," remarked Andy. "Yesterday you hadn't the pluck to feel sorry for yourself."

On the morning of the fourth day of the storm the wind piped down considerably, and the Peruvian captain ordered the fore and aft canvas to be set. The engine-room staff also began to take steps to attempt the temporary repairing of the shafting, and had already removed a considerable portion of the plating of the tunnel.

As yet the sky was completely overcast. At noon the officers, sextant in hand, waited in vain for an opportunity of "shooting the sun." Where the ship was, no one on board knew, though it was agreed that she was driven several miles to the south'ard of her proper course.

The weather began to improve as night drew on. The setting sun was just visible in a patch of purple sky, showing that fine weather might be expected from that quarter. The glass, too, was rising; not rapidly, but gradually and surely.

"Now for a good night's rest," exclaimed Andy, for throughout the gale the lads had turned in "all standing."

But Andy was doomed to be disappointed, for at four bells in the middle watch (2 a.m.) a sudden crash roused the sleepers from their berths. The San Martin was hard and fast aground.

CHAPTER III

ABANDONED

Hastily assuring the helpless Mr. McKay that they would soon return and tell him how things really stood, the three lads rushed on deck.

It needed no seaman's instinct to tell that the San Martin was doomed. Scudding before the lessening gale, she had been lifted on the crest of a huge roller and dropped fairly on the rocks. Her forward part, trembling under the tremendous blows of the waves, was hard and fast aground, while her after part, lifting to the heave of the ocean, assisted, like a gigantic lever, in the destruction of her bows.

Above the roar of the waves, the howling of the wind, and the shattering of iron plates, arose the frantic shouts of the crew.

Already demoralised by their trying experiences in the gale, the last vestiges of discipline had vanished. In the darkness, for now no favouring lightning flash came to throw a light upon the scene, the Peruvian crew rushed madly for the boats, fighting, cursing, entreating, and imploring the saints.

For'ard a succession of rapid cracks, as the trysail, having burst its sheets, was flogging itself to ribbons, added to the din, till the foremast, buckling close to the deck, crashed over the side.

"Come on," shouted Andy, and even then his voice sounded faint in the midst of the terrifying uproar, "let's get the pater on deck."

Ellerton shook his head.

"Better stop where he is. What chance do you think these fellows will have?" and he pointed to the struggling mass of frenzied seamen as they clambered into the boats.

Already the cutter, still in the davits, was crowded, the men striving to swing her clear with oars and stretchers, while others were scrambling up the boat ladders.

Round swung the foremost davit. The men who had already climbed into her began to lower away the boat-falls. A sudden lurch sent the cutter, already at a dangerous angle, crashing into the ship's side. The lower block of the foremost fall became disentangled, and, amidst a chorus of shrieks, the boat swung stern in the air, shooting its human freight into the surging waters.

The next instant a huge wave dashed the swaying cutter into matchwood, the wind drowning the death shouts of a score of hapless victims.

Heedless of the fate of their comrades, the remainder of the crew made a headlong rush for one of the quarter boats. Being more to lee'ard, for the San Martin had struck with the wind on her starboard quarter, this boat seemed to stand little chance.

Ellerton could hear the captain's voice, urging the men to swing the boat clear. The apprentice sprang towards the falls.

"You are not going to throw away your life, are you?" shouted Andy, grasping him by the shoulder.

"No; but I'm going to give those fellows a chance. Stand by that rope, take a turn round that cleat, and lower when I give the word."

The last of the Peruvian seamen had scrambled into the boat. Not one of these cared who was left; all that they knew was that a few remained to man the falls, but in the darkness they were unaware that it was the British lads who stayed to help them.

"Lower!" yelled Ellerton.

Swiftly the ropes ran through the blocks. The crest of a wave received the frail boat, and, more by luck than by good management, the seamen contrived to disengage the falls. Then the oars splashed, and the next instant the boat was lost to sight in the darkness.

For a brief instant the chums stood in silence, grasping one of the now burdenless davits. They were alone—a crippled man, three lads, and a native boy—upon an abandoned vessel that threatened every moment to part amidships.

Where they were they had no possible knowledge. The ship was aground, but whether on an isolated rock, or, what was more than likely, upon the edge of an encircling reef, they knew not. They must wait till daylight—if they were fated to see the dawn of another day—but they were determined that the anxious period of waiting should not be passed in idleness.

Returning to the cabin where Mr. McKay was lying in suspense, awaiting news of their hazardous position, the lads briefly explained what had happened during their absence on deck.

"We must hope for the best," observed the invalid. "And, after that, we stand a better chance than those in the boat. Even if those poor fellows escape being dashed to death upon a rock-bound shore, or being engulfed in the waves, they'll have a terrible time. No water or provisions, no compass—a thousand tortures before they reach land or are picked up by a passing craft."

"I think the seas are getting less heavy," said Andy. "Is it because the tide is falling?"

"The tide may have something to do with it," replied Mr. McKay; "though the rise and fall is barely four feet."

"Our stern seems to be settling," said Ellerton. "The ship doesn't appear quite so lively."

"That may be because the water is pouring into the after-hold," remarked Andy.

"In that case the vessel is settling on the bottom; otherwise she would sink. That's another point in our favour, and it often happens that there is deep water close to the reef," said the apprentice. "But let's to work. Terence, you know where the steward's pantry is. Take a lamp and fetch up as much stuff as you can carry. Andy, will you please take Quexo with you and bring up a couple of barricoes of water?"

While they were thus engaged, Ellerton collected five lifebelts, one of which he proceeded to fasten round Mr. McKay's body.

"We may want them, sir; but, on the other hand, we may not. In any case, if there is an island under our lee we had better wear these, especially if we have to land through the surf."

"I fancy I shall have some difficulty in getting through the surf," replied Mr. McKay with a grim smile.

"Never fear, sir; we'll pull you through," was the determined assurance.

Presently Andy and the mulatto returned, having found and secured a supply of the precious fluid.

"The fore-hold and the engine-room are flooded," reported the former, "and I think there's a hole on the starboard quarter. But I believe there's some of the crew up for'ard—I heard them groaning."

"Let's go and see," replied Ellerton, buckling on a lifebelt and picking up a lantern.

"Be careful, lads," cautioned Mr. McKay.

"Trust us," answered Andy, likewise putting on a belt. "We need not wait for Terence."

"Why, it's not half so rough," he continued as they gained the deck, which had settled to a list of less than ten degrees, and no longer lifted as the rollers swept past. "See, very few of the waves break over the ship."

"It's a bad job those cowardly beggars pushed off," replied Ellerton. "They would have done better to have waited. But listen!"

Above the moaning of the wind came the unmistakable sound of a groan.

"It's down there," exclaimed Andy, pointing to a battened-down hatchway.

"There's no harm in opening it now," replied his companion, casting off the lashings and unbolting the heavy iron slide. "Now, then, down you go."

Andy, holding the lantern well behind his head, slowly descended, but at two steps from the bottom of the ladder his feet encountered water. At the same time a deafening bellow echoed in the confined space.

"Great snakes!" he exclaimed, "it's an ox!"

"Poor brute, it's nearly drowned, and half starved into the bargain. And here is a pen full of sheep. I wonder where they keep the fodder?"

"Here's some pressed hay," announced Andy after a short examination. "And I don't think the salt water has touched it."

"Throw some down in that corner," continued his companion, pointing to a part of the flat that the sea, by reason of the ship's list, had not reached. "We'll let the brutes loose; they can't do much damage."

"Now set to, lads," exclaimed Mr. McKay, when they returned to the saloon, and found Terence with a regular store of provisions—the loot of the steward's pantry. "Make a good meal, for our future movements are uncertain."

"It will be light in another hour," remarked Andy.

"And the sea's going down," chimed in the apprentice.

"And our spirits are rising," added Terence.

"You speak for yourself, Terry, my boy," replied Andy, laughing. "Your spirits were low enough a few days ago."

All hands set to with a will, for even Quexo had recovered his former appetite.

"This storm has lasted longer than usual," remarked Mr. McKay. "It was of more than ordinary severity. Still, I've known similar instances, and within three hours of the height of the hurricane the wind has died away to a flat calm."

"Then we shall be able to take to the boat almost immediately after daylight."

"Is there one left?"

"Two. I think one is stove in, but the other seems sound."

"A long voyage in an open boat on the ocean is no light matter," replied Mr. McKay. "If we were in the latitude of the Trades the task would be easier; but here we are, I imagine, in a zone of calms alternating with violent hurricanes. The best thing we can do is to land on the island—if we are near one, as I firmly believe is the case—and bring ashore as many of the ship's stores as we can. Then, if not sighted by any passing craft, we can set to work and deck in one of the boats, provision her, and shape a course for the nearest trading station. By the time the boat is ready I trust I shall be firmer on my feet."

"Do you hear that, Quexo?" asked Andy. "You may be ashore in a few hours."

Quexo grinned approvingly. He had had enough of the sea.

"Don't build up his hopes too high," continued Mr. McKay. "Even if the weather continues fine, it may be days before we can effect a landing."

"Why?"

"Because after these hurricanes, although the open sea is comparatively calm, a heavy ground swell sets in on shore. A boat would certainly be capsized, unless there happens to be a shelter formed by a barrier reef of coral. But now, up on deck. It will be daylight in less than ten minutes."

Eagerly the lads ran up the companion, and what a sight met their gaze as the tropical day quickly mastered the long hours of darkness!

The San Martin lay on the outer edge of a long, level reef of coral, against which the surf still hammered, throwing up clouds of white spray.

Less than fifty yards from the port quarter was a gap in the barrier, giving entrance to the lagoon. The doomed ship had missed the opening by half her own length.

She lay with her bows pointed diagonally towards the reef. Her funnel and foremast had gone by the board, while she showed unmistakable signs of breaking in two, for her bow and stern had "sagged" till amidships her port side was flush with the water, while, correspondingly, her starboard side, owing to the ship's list, was but five feet higher.

But it was neither the ship nor the reef that attracted the castaways' attention. Barely a quarter of a mile away was an island, rugged and precipitous, the highest point towering a thousand feet above the level of the ocean.

In several places the ground sloped towards the sea, the valley being thickly covered with luxuriant foliage, while for a distance of nearly a mile was a strand of dazzling whiteness, upon which the sheltered waters of the lagoon lapped as gently as the ripples of a mill pond in a summer's breeze. Elsewhere, so far as could be seen, the rocks rose sheer from the sea.

"Any sign of the boat?" asked Andy.

"No; but I'll get a glass," replied Ellerton, and swarming up the stanchion of the bridge—for the ladder had been swept away—he gained the chart-house.

From his elevated position he swept the shore with the telescope, but no trace of the boat was to be seen. Neither, so far as he could judge, was the island inhabited.

On rejoining his comrades, the young apprentice next directed his attention to the two remaining boats. One, a gig, was, as he had surmised, stove in, three of the planks being shattered. For the time being she was useless, though, he reflected, she might be patched up at some future date.

The other, a 23-ft. cutter, was still secured to the boat-booms, and was practically uninjured. Her size and weight would, he knew, be a severe drawback when the time came to hoist her outboard.

"I vote we bring your pater up on deck, Andy," said he. "We must have him out of the saloon sooner or later. The sooner the better, I think, because he can, if we place him on a pile of cushions close to the break of the poop, direct operations."

It was a long and tedious task. Mr. McKay was no featherweight, and his injured limb had to be carefully handled. Moreover, the companion ladder was steep and narrow.

At length Ellerton solved the difficulty by procuring one of the men's mess tables, nailing a strut to one end, against which the victim steadied himself by his sound leg while he was stretched at full length on the board. On this improvised sleigh four pairs of strong arms dragged the patient up the steep stairway and on to the poop deck.

"What do you think of that, sir?" asked Ellerton, pointing to the island of refuge. "Isn't it superb?"

"It is," assented Mr. McKay. "I hope we'll find it so, for we will have to throw ourselves upon its hospitality for a few weeks."

"Do you know its name, sir?" continued the apprentice.

"No; has it one?" was the astonished reply.

"The Nameless Island," announced Ellerton. "Now, lads, three cheers for the Nameless Island!"

CHAPTER IV

THE LANDING

This burst of high spirits showed how light-hearted the castaways were in the face of difficulties, for what lay before them and how they were to reach the island required all their powers of thought and action.

"How do you propose to get the cutter over the side?" asked Mr. McKay.

"By means of one of the derricks," replied Ellerton promptly.

"Quite so; but where is the power required to turn the winches to come from? We've no steam at our command, you know, and these winches are not adapted to manual power."

The apprentice's face clouded; he thought for a few minutes, then—

"We can top one of the derricks and rig up a tackle, sir."

"Good!" replied Mr. McKay. "But what is the weight of the boat?"

"Ours on the Tophet weighed twelve hundredweight; this one is about the same size."

"Then rig a gun tackle, and the four of you will manage the job, I think."

Accordingly two large double blocks were obtained and the rope rove ready for use. One of the blocks was secured to the cud of the derrick, which was then hoisted to an angle of about forty-five degrees. This took time, but at length everything was ready for the crucial test.

"Now, all together!"

The three lads and the mulatto tailed on to the rope. The blocks squeaked as the strain began to tell; the cutter began to lift, then—crash!

Flat on their backs fell the four lads; high in the air jerked the disengaged lower block. The slings to which it had been fastened had snapped.

Slowly the victims regained their feet, Andy rubbing a tender portion of his anatomy, Terence gasping for breath, for Andy's head had well-nigh winded him. Ellerton was clapping his hands to a rapidly rising bump on the back of his head, while Quexo, whose skull was as hard as iron, was hopping all over the deck, rubbing his shins, that had saved the apprentice's head at the mulatto's expense.

"Try again, boys!" shouted Andy. "Everything on board this blessed craft seems rotten!"

A new span was placed in position, and the tackle again manned, and this time their efforts were crowned with success. The cutter rose slowly in the air, till it hung fire five feet above the shattered bulwarks.

"Belay, there! Man the guy-rope!"

The derrick swung outboard, till the cutter was poised above the water and well clear of the sloping sides of the hull.

"Lower away handsomely."

Slowly the boat dipped, till at length she rode, sheltered under the lee of her stranded parent, upon the bosom of the ocean.

"Capital!" exclaimed Mr. McKay, as his son swarmed down the rope, disengaged the tackle, and allowed the cutter a generous length of painter.

Then the work of loading her was begun. It was decided that for the first trip nothing more than was absolutely necessary for immediate use was to be taken, until it was settled where their camp was to be fixed, and whether the island had any inhabitants.

"A small barrico of water will be sufficient, though I am certain there are springs amongst those trees," said Ellerton. His sense of responsibility was hourly increasing. "A barrel of flour, some tinned goods, canvas and rope for a tent."

"Not forgetting hatchets, knives, and firearms," added Mr. McKay.

"Firearms?"

"Aye; one never knows how the natives—if there be natives on the island—will greet us. Most of the Pacific Islanders are fairly peaceable, thanks to missionary enterprise and the fear of a visit from a warship; yet cannibalism still exists. I have known instances of the crews of small 'pearlers' being treacherously surprised, killed, and eaten. So get hold of the arms; you'll probably find the key of the captain's cabin in the chart-house; if not, burst open the door."

Ellerton departed upon his errand, and presently returned with the news that there was no trace of the key. "Here is a sextant and a bundle of charts, however," he added. "They are bound to be useful, although I cannot understand the meaning of the depths on the chart."

"They are in 'brazas,' equal to about five and a half English feet. But, as you say, the charts will be of extreme importance to us."

"Come on, Terence, let's burgle the captain's cabin," exclaimed Ellerton, laying hold of a hatchet.

Soon the sound of blows was heard, followed by the splintering of wood, and the two lads returned literally armed to the teeth.

Each had a couple of rifles slung across his back; Terence carried half a dozen revolvers in his arms and a sheath-knife between his teeth, while Ellerton staggered beneath the weight of several belts of ball cartridges and a box of revolver ammunition.

"There's more to come; the place is like a regular armoury," explained Terence.

"That's somewhat unusual," replied Mr. McKay. "Most captains keep firearms of a kind in their cabins. I strongly suspect that those arms were to be sold to some South American insurgents. They are much too good for bartering with the South Sea Islanders. Nevertheless, I'm right glad we have been able to arm ourselves thoroughly, as I expected we should have to be content with a couple of pistols between the lot of us."

The work of loading the boat proceeded briskly, till the strictly limited quantity of gear was carefully stowed under the thwarts. Then came the question, how were they going to transport the crippled Mr. McKay to the shore?

"Hoist me over by the derrick, of course," replied he. "A couple of rope spans round the plank and their bights slipped over the hook of the lower block, and the trick's done."

Ellerton and Terence thereupon slipped down a rope into the boat and carefully guided the swaying mess table and its helpless burden on to a couple of the after thwarts. This done, they were joined by Andy and Quexo, and, shipping the heavy ash oars, they pulled clear of the ship.

The first fifty yards meant hard and careful rowing, for directly they were beyond the shelter of the stranded vessel they felt the full force of the rollers as they dashed against the coral reef, barely a boat's length to lee'ard.

Once, indeed, it seemed as if the cutter were bound to be swept upon the rocks; but by dint of the utmost exertions of her crew, the boat surely and slowly drew away from the influence of the rollers.

"My word, that was a narrow squeak!" exclaimed Andy, wiping his face, from which the perspiration ran freely. "I thought we were going to be capsized that time."

"It doesn't say much for the chances of those poor fellows last night," replied Ellerton. "They must have dropped smack on top of the reef."

"We'll soon find out," said Mr. McKay. "You see, they were immediately to lee'ard of the ship, and it was high water at the time. If they survived, we'll find them ashore right enough."

"But I saw no sign of the boat when I looked through the glass."

"That may be because there is a creek or cove that is invisible from the ship. Being directly to wind'ard, we are bound to find either the men or the remains of the boat."

"The ship is sitting up well," remarked Andy, for, the tide having dropped nearly six feet—it had been abnormally high by reason of the terrific wind—they could see the top of one of her propeller blades. "Do you think she'll stay there?"

"It certainly doesn't seem as if she is likely to slip off into deep water, but we cannot say for certain. The first fine day there's little or no swell we'll sound all round her. Now, give way, lads."

The rowers resumed their oars, and the boat, passing through the narrow gap in the reef, gained the shelter of the lagoon.

"Fine, isn't it?" exclaimed Terence enthusiastically, as he rested on his oar and gazed into the clear depths of the tranquil water. "Won't we be able to have some bathes?"

"You'll have to be careful if you do," remarked Mr. McKay. "There are bound to be sharks about."

He did not think it advisable to call the lads' attention to a commotion in the water a few hundred yards in front of the boat. From his inclined position he could see ahead, while the rowers had their backs turned in that direction. His keen eyes had detected the sinister dorsal fin of not one, but many sharks, all cutting towards one spot. There could be but little doubt of the fate of the Peruvian seamen.

The noise of the approaching oars disturbed the huge monsters, and they darted off to the shelter of the rock-strewn floor of the lagoon.

Unaware of the tragedy, the lads urged the boat almost over the fatal spot, and five minutes later the cutter's forefoot grounded on the sandy beach.

"Terence, I want you and Quexo to stay in the boat," said Ellerton, after the survivors had, by a common impulse, knelt down and returned thanks to Divine Providence for their escape. "Keep her stern from slewing round, so that we can push off in a hurry. Andy and I are going to explore."

And, buckling on a revolver and an ammunition belt, and grasping a rifle in his hand, Ellerton took a flying leap over the bows and alighted on the sand.

The lads found themselves on the shore of a small bay, its extremities bounded by two towering cliffs, that rose sheer from the lagoon. That to the left was not less than five hundred feet in height, while the other was but slightly lower. Midway between these impassable boundaries the land sloped abruptly to the beach, and was thickly covered with cocoanut palms.

"Keep your weather eye lifting, Andy," cautioned Ellerton, who had taken the precaution of charging both the magazine of his rifle and the chambers of his revolver.

It was an unnecessary warning, for Andy was an infinitely better scout than his companion; still, it showed that Ellerton was fast adopting the manner of life required in a wild and unsettled country.

Skirting the edge of the wood, the lads kept a vigilant look-out for any traces of human agency, but nothing was visible.

Presently they came to a small stream, which, trickling down the steep hillside, was lost in the sand.

"There'll be no lack of fresh water," exclaimed Andy thankfully, for he knew the value of that precious fluid. "But, I say, isn't everything quiet?" For, save the babbling of the brook and the distant roar of the breakers on the reef, there was an unaccustomed silence. Not a bird sang in the groves, not an animal rustled the thick undergrowth.

"I think we may take it for granted that the island is uninhabited—at least, this part," said Andy, as they completed their walk along the shores of the bay. "Otherwise, there's almost sure to be a beaten track to the shore."

"It doesn't promise much for the boat's crew," answered Ellerton. Then, with an exclamation of surprise, he shouted: "Look! What's that?"

Lying on the sand a few feet from the water's edge was a mournful relic of the unfortunate boat, her back-board bearing the words San Martin. A little farther they found an oar.

"There were two boats, remember," said Ellerton. "And one we know was capsized."

"I vote we explore the next bay," exclaimed Andy. "There's no suitable clearing here for a camp, and felling trees takes time; so let's get back to the boat."

"Well?" asked Mr. McKay on their return.

"We must push off and land on the other side of the cliff," said his son. "There may be a better site for our tent. It's too steep and densely wooded here."

"Any signs of the crew?"

"Only part of their boat."

"I feared as much," replied Mr. McKay.

*****

"This looks more promising," exclaimed Andy enthusiastically, as the boat slowly rounded the northernmost of the two cliffs.

Here the land sloped less abruptly towards the lagoon, while in places there were terraces almost bare of trees. In the background towered a range of mountains whose rugged sides gave the appearance of being unclimbable, while on either hand of the bay rose lofty cliffs.

The beach, too, was better adapted for landing purposes than where they had first touched, consisting of sand interspersed by ledges of rocks jutting seawards, thus forming convenient natural jetties.

"This will do admirably," said Ellerton, pointing to a narrow cove betwixt the ledges. "There's sand at its head, so there's no fear of the boat being damaged."

CHAPTER V

THE CAMP

Slowly the cutter was backed in till its sternpost stuck on the smooth, even bottom.

The castaways could not have chosen a better harbour. On either hand the rocks, smooth and flat-topped, allowed a boat to be moored alongside without danger of being left high and dry at low water, while the ledge shelved so gradually that it was possible to bring the boat's gunwale level with the natural pier at any state of the tide.

"I think we had better make a tour of exploration as we did before," said Andy. "Not that I think this part of the island is inhabited any more than yonder bay."

"Say, Andy," exclaimed Terence, "isn't it about time I had a spell ashore?"

"All right, Terence," replied Ellerton. "You go with Andy and take Quexo; I'll stay with Mr. McKay."

"Thanks, Hoppy," replied Terence, and without further ado he jumped ashore.

"Here, take this rope and make her stern fast before you go," said Ellerton. "And you, Andy, stand by with the painter."

"Where shall I make fast to?" asked Terence. "This rock is as smooth as a table."

"See if there's a lump of rock on the other side."

Terence crossed the landing-place, holding the rope's-end in his hand. Suddenly he shouted:

"Come here, you fellows! Here's a boat!"

There was a rush to where Terence stood, while even Mr. McKay raised himself on his elbow, eager to hear the news.

Lying bottom upwards on the sandy shore was the ill-fated boat in which the last of the crew attempted to reach the shore. Her bows were considerably damaged, while amidships a portion of her keel and both garboards had been stove in, leaving a jagged hole nearly two feet in diameter.

Four or five oars lay on the shore within a few feet of the boat, but there were no signs of the hapless crew; the sand above high-water mark was innocent of footprints.

"They are drowned, sure enough," said Andy sadly.

Alas! though they did not know it, the fate of the crew was far more terrible. Holed on the outer reef, the boat, rapidly filling, had been swept into the lagoon, where the waves, though high, were not so terrific as outside the coral barrier.

Well it was that the watchers on the wreck heard not the awful shrieks as the sharks fought for and seized their helpless prey.

Ellerton returned to the cutter to inform Mr. McKay of their discovery, while the others set off to explore.

In less than an hour they were back, and reported that there were no signs of human habitation, although the shore was strewn with the remains of the first boat that left the wreck, including most of the oars, gratings, also a quantity of timber, presumably from the shattered decks of the San Martin.

"But we've found a fine place to pitch the tent," continued Andy. "You see the second terrace? Well, at the extreme right is a steep ravine. The other two sides are enclosed by a wall of rock, while on this side there is a natural path, although you can't distinguish it from where we are."

"That sounds all right," said his father. "But how are we to get the gear up there—including the useless lump of animated clay in the shape of myself?"

"I hadn't thought of that," replied Andy.

"We must find a more convenient spot at first," continued Mr. McKay. "Then, when we have landed all the gear from the ship that we can possibly manage to move, we can devise some means of setting up a more substantial dwelling on the terrace you mention. Now, if you will please carry me ashore, you can proceed to unload the boat."

In spite of the adaptable jetty, the work of getting Mr. McKay—crippled as he was—on shore was no easy task. The patient bore the discomfort gamely, uttering a heartfelt sigh of relief as the lads set the improvised stretcher down in the shade of a thin grove of cocoanut palms.

"How far away is the stream—I think you mentioned there was a stream in the bay?" asked Ellerton.

"Less than a hundred yards away. It's very clean, but not so full as the one we found," replied Andy.

"Then let's set up the tent. This place will do for a day or two at least."

The chosen site consisted of soft springy turf, sloping very gradually towards the lagoon. In the background was a wall of rock, about forty feet in height, forming the limit of the next terrace, while on either hand the trees served as an efficient screen from all winds save those blowing from the sea.

By the aid of their axes the lads felled five young palms, and soon stripped them of their heads. Four of the trunks were then lashed in pairs, and set up with guy-ropes at a distance of about fifteen feet apart, and one end of the fifth pole was placed over the crutch formed by one of the pairs.

This done, Ellerton swarmed up the other pair of poles and fastened a small pulley to the extremity of one of them. A rope was passed through the block, one end being lashed to the lower part of the fifth pole that rested on the ground.

"Haul away, lads!" he shouted.

And the pole, lifted into a horizontal position, was quickly placed between, thus forming the ridge of the tent.

One of the fore and aft sails was then thrown over the ridge pole and its end pegged down; while to make doubly sure, the lads piled stones and sand upon the ends of the canvas. Filling in the back and front of the tent with portions of another sail took an hour's steady work, and the dwelling was then pronounced ready for occupation.

The box of ammunition, the rifles, bread cask, and water-beakers were neatly stowed against the afterpart of their dwelling, till, on Mr. McKay's suggestion, a low barricade was erected close to the flap of the tent. Then pieces of canvas were cut and laid down to serve as beds, the cripple having the use of the cushions that had been brought ashore.

"I don't see why we should sleep on the hard ground," remarked Terence. "Of course, we have been used to it, but, after sleeping in a comfortable bunk, we are bound to feel the difference. So let us cut a number of small trees and fasten the strips of canvas to them like a stretcher."

This was accordingly done, the beds being raised from the ground by means of two stout planks lashed to short uprights driven firmly into the earth.

"There we are, all in a row," exclaimed Terence, as they surveyed the result of their labour with evident satisfaction.

"Now, Quexo," said Andy, "go down to the beach and gather as much driftwood as you can carry. And, Hoppy, you start opening that tin of beef there, and I'll slice up the bread. But——"

"What?" exclaimed Terence and Ellerton.

"We are a set of donkeys! We haven't brought a pot or a kettle ashore with us."

"Boil the water in the beef-tin," said Ellerton.

"Spoil the coffee," objected Andy.

"Either that or nothing. But how about a light? Has anyone any matches?"

More disappointment. Terence suggested using the object glass of the telescope as a burning glass, but the sun was low in the heavens; Andy was for sprinkling some powder on a heap of dry leaves and firing it by means of a blank cartridge; while Ellerton vaguely remembered that fire might be obtained by rubbing two pieces of dry wood together.

"Have you ever tried to make a blaze that way?" asked Mr. McKay. "I don't think you would succeed. Savages can do the trick, I know, but I've never seen a white man obtain fire by that means. I would have suggested flint and steel. We have plenty of steel, only, unfortunately, flints are as scarce as diamonds on this island, I fancy. However, now you have exhausted your brains over the problem, allow me to assist you. Andy, put your hand in the inside pocket of my coat and you'll find my metal match-box.

"Now you are satisfied," he continued, as his son produced the required article. "The fact of the matter is, you were all in such a hurry to get ashore that you never gave a thought to the things most urgently required. Lucky for you, my lad, you've a father to think for you. Now will you please empty that case of biscuits? I am afraid some spray splashed over it, and in time the salt will make the biscuits soft."

Andy did as he was requested, but a moment later he uttered an exclamation of surprise, for on opening the lid he discovered a kettle, saucepan, and coffee-pot, knives, forks, and spoons, while wedged in between the metal articles were bottles containing salt, pepper, vinegar, and several useful drugs in tabloid form.

"I say, pater, you are——"

"Merely one who has learnt by experience the value of forethought. While you were busy on deck I sent Quexo to gather these things and stow them in a box."

Suddenly the conversation was interrupted by a series of shrieks. The lads seized their rifles and rushed to meet the mulatto, whose face was livid with fear.

"A caiman is after me, señor," he shouted in his native tongue.

"Nonsense," replied Andy; then turning to his companions he explained that the mulatto had declared that an alligator had run after him.

"It's impossible," he added. "However, we'll see what's frightened him."

On emerging from the edge of the wood that had obstructed their view of that part of the bay where Quexo had been to gather dry sticks, the lads burst into a roar of laughter. Sedately waddling over the sand was a huge turtle.

"Follow me, Hoppy," exclaimed Andy. "Get between him and the sea; we can't afford to lose this chance."

Finding its retreat cut off, the turtle began to throw up showers of sand with its flippers, but Andy rushed it, and, seizing one of the creature's horny limbs, strove to capsize the reptile.

The task was beyond him; even with the aid of his two chums he could not raise the shell-clad creature from the sand.

"Get hold of an oar and one of the empty tubs," he exclaimed breathlessly. "You go, Terence. Hoppy and I will prevent the turtle getting away."

Presently Terence returned with the desired article, and using the oar as a lever the three lads succeeded in turning the turtle on its back, when Andy, with a dexterous sweep of his knife, cut the animal's throat.

"Hurrah! Turtle steak to-morrow, pater!" he shouted on their return to the camp.

Quexo gathered up the firewood that he had dropped in his flight, and as darkness set in, a roaring fire was kindled, and a gorgeous supper eaten.

Then, ere the last dying embers had ceased to glow, Terence, who had volunteered to keep the first two hours' watch, shouldered his rifle and took up his position in the shelter of the neighbouring palm-trees.

CHAPTER VI

THE ANIMAL THAT WOULDN'T BE RESCUED

No unusual incident marked the castaways' first night on the island. Guard was relieved with the utmost regularity, while the weary watches were spent in gazing at the exterior of the tent and listening to the regular breathing of its four inmates.

At length the day broke, and the camp became the scene of activity.

Breakfast over, there was a rush to the boat; Quexo, however, remaining with the injured Mr. McKay.

The weather showed every indication of remaining fine, a light south-easterly breeze—a part of the regular trade-wind—blowing off shore, while not a cloud was visible in the dark blue sky.

"We must make two trips to-day," observed Andy, as they pushed off from the little natural dock. "Yesterday the clouds kept the sun's rays from us, but to-day we will not be able to work during midday."

"Honestly, I don't feel like work," remarked Terence, stifling a yawn.

"I suppose there is some excuse for you, seeing you did two turns of sentry-go last night," replied his friend. "Still, this is an exceptional time, and we must set to work with a will. Can we get over the reef, do you think, Hoppy?"

"We had better stick to the channel," replied Ellerton. "You see, we don't know the actual depth, and there is a slight swell on. We'll board on the port quarter, so as to get between the ship and the reef."

The lads plied their oars steadily yet without undue exertion, and in less than half an hour from the time of leaving the shore they ran alongside the stranded San Martin.

Ellerton's first care on boarding the wreck was to supply fresh water and food to the animals. To get them safely ashore was a difficult problem, for the ox was an unwieldy brute to ship aboard the cutter, while it was equally risky to let it swim ashore on account of the presence of numerous sharks. The sheep could be trussed up and laid upon the bottom boards.

Andy and Terence at once made for the provision-room, and returned laden with flour, salt beef, tinned goods, and some small chests of pressed tea. These articles they placed on deck close to the entry port and proceeded to procure more.

Ellerton, having attended to the live stock, made a thorough exploration of the after cabins and staggered on deck looking like a second-hand wardrobe dealer, for he realised the necessity of having a good supply of clothing. Then a huge pile of bedding, including waterproof sheets, blankets, and pillows, was added to the already large collection of plunder.

"I think this lot will be sufficient for one trip," remarked Andy.

"We may as well take the rest of the navigating instruments," replied Ellerton, "and, what is also necessary, the carpenter's chest."

"Capital," replied his chum. "That will, of course, come in handy; but won't we require it on board?"

"There are enough tools for work both ashore and on board," said Ellerton. "I've seen to that. But I should like to get the animals off."

"The ox?"

"If possible. Otherwise we must kill it and bring the carcase ashore piecemeal."

Andy thought for some moments. He, too, realised the danger of the animal being devoured by sharks. Dead or alive, the ox would be far more useful to the castaways.

"How are we going to get the brute on deck?" asked Terence.

This was a poser, for with the fall of the foremast the derricks for working the fore-hold had also been carried away.

"We must rig up a pair of sheer-legs," observed Ellerton.

"Well? How are we to pass a sling round the brute's body?"

"That's as easy as pie; the beast is quiet enough."

"Then you take the job on, Hoppy; I'd rather not. So let's look sharp with the sheer-legs; there's plenty of tackle to hoist the creature with."

The work of making the early preparations proceeded without a hitch, then Ellerton commenced his particular part of the operations.

By the aid of a lantern which he hung from the deck-beams, the apprentice descended once more to the partially submerged hold. Holding a stout canvas sling, with a rope ready to haul tight the moment the lifting gear was in position, Ellerton climbed over the partition of the stall.

The animal, now refreshed by its food and drink, had lost its docile manner, and eyed the intruder with no friendly spirit. Possibly it thought the youth was one of the brutal Peruvian cattle-drivers. If so, there was some excuse for its action, for lowering its head the brute tossed the apprentice right over the wooden partition, landing him squarely in the midst of the startled sheep in the adjacent pen.

"Aren't you nearly ready?" asked a voice from above.

Ellerton sat up. He was beginning to feel pain in more than one part of his anatomy. The task of tackling an apparently inoffensive ox was not going to be quite so easy as he imagined.

"Come and bear a hand," he replied. "The brute is getting vicious."

Andy thereupon descended into the semi-gloom of the hold.

"Be careful," continued the apprentice. "He nearly bumped my head against the deck-beams; as it was, I had a flight through space."

"Then I'm not going to pass a sling round him," said Andy. "We'll lasso him just behind the horns."

This was done, but then came the difficulty: how were they to release the animal from the stall and drag it to the hatchway?

"Look here," explained Andy, "I'll take this end of the line on deck, wind it on to the tackle, and heave taut. Then we'll unship this ladder and you can unfasten the front of the stall."

"Then what happens to me?" objected Ellerton.

"Oh, you can make a bolt to the fore end of the hold and stay there till Terence and I haul the brute on deck. Then we'll re-ship the ladder and you can get out."

Ellerton had his doubts, but he followed his companion's counsel. Directly there was a strain on the lasso, he threw open the door of the stall and rushed for the shelter of the sheep-pen.

Bellowing lustily, and contesting every inch of the way, the animal was slowly dragged towards the hatch, to the accompaniment of a lusty "Heave-ho!" from the two youths on deck.

Terence watched the operation with considerable misgiving, expecting every moment to see the rope part and to find himself confronted by the infuriated brute.

Slowly the animal was forced across the floor of the hold, then its ponderous carcase rose, kicking and plunging, in the air.

As the animal appeared above the coaming, the light of day revealed—not a mild ox, but an unusually sturdy specimen of an Andalusian bull!

"Belay there, and lower away the after guy!" shouted Andy, "or he'll drop down the hatch again when we let go."

Terence hastened to obey; but, allowing the sheers to incline too far forward, the infuriated animal's legs touched the deck.

Instantly the brute made a wild rush, the lassoo parted like pack thread, and the next moment Terence and Andy were flying for their lives, while Ellerton, a prisoner in the hold, heard the thunder of the animal's hoofs and its triumphant bellowing as it revelled in its new-found freedom.

Andy made a desperate rush aft, but finding the bull close to his heels, gripped a rope hanging from the boat booms, and swung himself into a position of comparative safety upon one of the narrow timbers, his upward flight being assisted a little too well by the obliging animal.

ANDY, FINDING THE BULL CLOSE TO HIS HEELS, GRIPPED A ROPE
AND SWUNG HIMSELF INTO A POSITION OF COMPARATIVE SAFETY

Never did matador execute a more rapid leap over the barrier than did Andy on this occasion. Terence, finding that he was not pursued, took a more leisurely step, and hoisted himself into the main shrouds, where he would be quite safe from any further onslaught of the animal.

For a while the bull eyed the fugitives with undisguised disappointment, then spying the heap of bedding and clothing on the deck, it lowered its head and rushed headlong to the attack.

Both lads watched the proceedings, powerless to prevent the catastrophe, and indulging in vain regrets that their firearms were not available, as beds, blankets, and suits of useful clothing were tossed overboard.

At length a heavy blanket became impaled upon the brute's horns, the folds falling over its eyes.

In vain the bull strove to toss aside the fabric; then, rushing along the deck, it collided with ventilators, hatchways, and other obstacles, each obstruction increasing its anger. Wheeling suddenly, the bull darted through the entry port and vanished over the ship's side.

"Oh, the boat! The boat will be smashed to firewood," shouted Andy, sliding down from his perch.

Terence had joined him, and, heedless of Ellerton's voice shouting to be released from his prison, the two lads rushed to the side of the vessel.

The animal had fallen upon one of the thwarts of the boat, breaking it completely in half, and was lying on the bottom-boards plunging wildly. One kick in a vital place and the boat would be holed.

"There's enough damage done already," muttered Andy. "It's the only way," and running aft he returned in a moment with a loaded rifle.

"How are you going to manage it?" asked Terence. "You'll do almost as much damage to the boat with the bullet——"

"Shut up!" growled Andy, and, snapping the safety catch of the weapon, he swung himself without further delay into the stern sheets of the cutter.

The bull tried to rise, but in vain. Its head reared itself slightly above the gunwale; the rifle cracked.

"There's fresh beef at least, Terence. Throw Hoppy the tail end of a rope and get him out of that hole."

Then, as Ellerton appeared, blinking in the strong sunshine, Andy continued:

"Throw those things into the boat, and look sharp. We've wasted enough time and precious cargo this morning—all for the sake of that brute."

During the time the boat was being rowed shoreward, Andy—usually so genial and even-tempered—preserved an almost sullen silence; while Ellerton, annoyed at having failed to bring the bull ashore alive, was also ill at ease. Nor did the latter guess the cause of his friend's glumness till some days later, when he observed Andy repairing a rent in one of his garments. Even a graze from an infuriated bull is likely to cause discomfort, he thought, though there is no reason why others should suffer for it.

CHAPTER VII

THE EMBLEM OF EMPIRE

"You've been a long time," remarked Mr. McKay, as the three youths made their appearance.

"Yes," admitted Terence, "I'm afraid we have; but we must blame Hoppy's bull."

"Hoppy's bull?" asked Mr. McKay.

"Yes, the ox turned out to be a bull—and a tough customer he was," replied Terence, who then proceeded to give Mr. McKay a graphic description of how they had tried to unload the bull from the wreck.

"And how do you feel to-day?" asked Ellerton.

"Considerably better," replied the injured man.

"You've been moved," declared Andy, pointing to some marks in the grass.

"I plead guilty," replied his father with a smile. "Quexo dragged my couch out in the sunshine. I wanted to take an observation at midday. Just hand me that chart. I've pricked our position. Here it is. Reduced to English degrees the latitude is 21° 4' 15" S. and the longitude 134° 17' 14" W. of Greenwich. As I suspected, we are on the fringe of the Low Archipelago, well away from the Great Circle route between Panama and New Zealand, and equally remote from the regular tracks between the Sandwich Islands and Cape Horn. That means that unless a whaler or stray trading vessel puts in here, or that we make the cutter seaworthy enough for a thousand-mile voyage, our stay here is likely to be indefinitely prolonged."

"I'm sure I don't mind," observed Andy.

"Nor I, if only my people knew we were safe," added Terence, and Ellerton expressed himself in a similar manner.

"Isn't the heat oppressive?" said Andy. "It's like an oven here."

"Yes," assented his father. "I can see we've made a mistake in choosing this spot. It's splendidly sheltered—too much so—for what with the rocks behind us and the palm groves on either side, the air cannot circulate. We must find a more open spot on the next terrace."

"There's no reason why we shouldn't have two camps—one for stormy weather and the other for the dry season," replied Andy. "Once we've finished with the wreck we can set to and build a more substantial home. But what do you say? Hadn't we better unload the boat?"

"I'm game," replied Ellerton.

"What did you bring ashore?" asked Mr. McKay.

"Mostly provisions, bedding, and clothing, though that beastly bull tossed a lot of stuff overboard. We've also brought the rest of the navigation instruments."

"Are you making another trip to-day?"

"I hope so," replied Ellerton. "I shall not be satisfied till those poor sheep are safely ashore. By the by, Andy, you might tell Quexo to build a fence between the rock and the edge of this terrace. It won't take long, and it will inclose enough pasture land to feed the sheep for some time to come."

"I'll tell him directly we've had lunch; but come on, unloading the boat will take all our spare time before lunch, and we mustn't work too hard in this broiling sun."

By the time the cutter's cargo was brought up to the camp Quexo had prepared the meal. This over, the inhabitants of the Nameless Island indulged in a siesta till the sun was sufficiently low in the heavens to enable them to resume work.

"Don't forget to bring some lamps ashore," said Mr. McKay, as the three lads prepared to set off to the wreck. "And a bundle of signal flags, while you are about it."

This time the salvage operations were uninterrupted. The sheep, securely trussed up, were placed in the boat, while the bunting, lamps, a portable galley, and a set of blacksmith's tools, including a bellows and anvil, were also lowered into the cutter without mishap.

"Let's get the hatch off and see what is in the forehold," suggested Ellerton.

The hold was full of water, as the lads had expected, but a hasty examination showed that the part of the cargo nearest the opening was composed of several sheets of galvanised corrugated iron.

"This is fortunate," exclaimed Andy. "We'll be able to knock up a decent house. But what's that I can see for'ard?"

"Looks like farming implements," suggested Terence.

"You are wrong," replied Andy. "I know; it's what the Americans term a runabout."

"A what?" asked Ellerton.

"A runabout—otherwise a motor-car."

"Fancy a motor-car on the Nameless Island!" exclaimed Terence, and the lads burst into a fit of hearty laughter at the incongruous idea.

"We'll have it ashore in time," observed Andy. "It will come in useful."

"How?"

"Never mind how. I have an idea, and, all being well, I'll fix it up to a good purpose."

"Suppose we try and find the bill of lading and the charter-party; they will give us some idea of the nature of the cargo."

A search revealed the required documents, but, being in Spanish, the apprentice could make no meaning to the text.

"Snakes!" ejaculated Andy. "There's enough to set us up as universal providers! Woollen and cotton goods, boots and leggings, hardware of American manufacture, nine cases of rifles—for some blooming insurgents more than likely—30,000 rounds of ammunition, and—hullo, this looks dangerous!—two tons of dynamite; building and railroad materials, agricultural implements, and one petrol-driven runabout, consigned to Monsieur Georges Lacroix, Grand Bassin, Tahiti. Well, I'm afraid Monsieur Georges Lacroix will have to wait for his motor-car!"

"By Jove, we are lucky!" ejaculated Ellerton. "That is, provided we get the stuff ashore."

"We'll do it," replied his chum resolutely. "Only give us time and good weather, and we'll leave precious little on the San Martin, I can assure you."

"Time to be off," exclaimed Terence. "It will be dark in an hour."

So, thrusting the documents into his belt, Andy dropped over the side, and received the rest of the articles that the lads had collected. Then, well laden, the boat returned to the shore.

"We've much to be thankful for," exclaimed Mr. McKay, after he had perused the ship's papers. "There is, I think, no need for anxiety as to our future. You brought the signal flags, I hope?"

"Yes," replied Ellerton, "and a couple of Peruvian ensigns."

"Good! I'm going to make up a Union Jack. There are two reasons for doing so. The first is that it can be used as a means of attracting passing vessels; the second, and more important to my mind, is that it signifies that the island becomes part of the British Empire. I've been going into the question pretty deeply. You may be aware that the Low Archipelago belongs to France. These islands consists of a number of flat coral islands, hence their name. Now, as this island is lofty and of volcanic origin, I cannot see that it can be classed as belonging to the Low Archipelago, even though it is not far distant from that group. Neither does it appear to have been inhabited, so we may be pretty safe in claiming it. Terence, there's a pencil and paper close to your elbow; will you please sketch a plan of a Union Jack?"

Terence did so, but the result was not to Mr. McKay's satisfaction.

"You try, Andy."

Nor was Andy's attempt any more satisfactory, so Ellerton was put to the test.

"Shame on you, lads!" exclaimed Mr. McKay reproachfully. "Three members of the good old British Empire, and unable to draw its national ensign correctly. Here, hand me that pencil."

"Now do you see," he continued, after he had explained the various minute particulars of the flag. "There's a broad white diagonal above the two portions of St. Patrick's cross next to the pole, and a broad white diagonal below the two portions farthest from the pole. If the flag is hoisted in any manner but the correct the ensign becomes a signal of distress. Often in bygone days hostile ships have attempted to sail under British colours, and in nine cases out of ten their ignorance of its peculiarities has led to their undoing. However, we'll postpone the cutting out till the rest of the boat's cargo is brought up."

"How is Quexo getting on?" asked Ellerton.

"He's been away the whole afternoon. I guess your fence is nearly completed by now."

"Then I'll go and see how he is progressing," remarked the apprentice.

The mulatto had indeed made rapid strides, for only a few feet more remained to be done, so Ellerton returned to the boat to liberate the sheep. Ere nightfall the pen was tenanted by a score of animals, frisking with enjoyment at finding themselves once more in pasture.

That evening three large lamps contributed to the comfort of the tent. The lads, tired out with their exertions, were "taking things easy," lamenting the fact that there was no literature to beguile the time.

Mr. McKay, having been raised to a sitting position, called for the bunting. Laboriously he threaded a needle and commenced his lengthy task.

"One moment, sir," exclaimed Ellerton. "Wouldn't a sewing machine be better?"

"A what? Bless the lad! Where's a machine to be had?"

"On board, sir. I noticed a couple in the fo'c'sle. You see, a seaman has to make his own duds."

"Very well, I'll put off the job till to-morrow, if you'll remember to bring one of the things ashore."

"Any need to keep watch to-night, pater?" asked Andy.

"I think it would be advisable till we've explored the island. Not that I anticipate any interference, but forewarned is forearmed."

Mr. McKay's words proved to be correct. Nothing occurred to disturb the camp during the second night ashore.

"Do you think that Terence and you can manage by yourselves?" asked Mr. McKay during breakfast.

"I think so," replied Ellerton.

"Then Andy can take Quexo and make an exploration of the interior. I particularly want him to reach the summit of the hill, so as to find out if there are other islands in the vicinity."

"You understand, Andy?" continued his father. "Keep a sharp look-out for signs of past or present inhabitants, any animals you may come across—there may be a few pigs—and, above all, note the general extent of the island and the position of its neighbours, if visible. Don't overburden yourselves; a revolver and twenty rounds apiece, a water-bottle, and some provisions will be quite enough to carry. Rest on the summit of the hill during the heat of the day, and get back here well before sunset."

Having seen the explorers on their way, Ellerton and Donaghue pushed off the cutter and rowed to the wreck.

It was again an ideal morning, and without the faintest hitch the boat was made fast alongside the battered hull of the San Martin.

"I've a mind to try and patch up that gig," remarked Ellerton, gazing at the battered boat.

"Take too much time," was Terence's reply.

"No, I mean to fasten some painted canvas over the hole and nail some copper sheathing outside the canvas to protect it. It won't be a long job, so meanwhile you might clear all the light gear out of the cabins and saloon."

Two hours sufficed to effect the temporary repairs, and the gig on being launched let in very little water. Ellerton was overjoyed with his success.

"We'll take a double load ashore, Terence," he exclaimed. "We may as well make a start by clearing the for'ard hold."

So saying, Ellerton began to strip off his clothing. He was an expert swimmer and diver, and these qualifications stood him in good stead.

Taking a strong hook attached to a rope in his hand, he dived from the coaming of the hatchway. The top of the stacks of galvanised iron was but a few feet below the surface, and in a few seconds the hook was affixed to the wire rope that held the plates together.

Then, regaining the deck, the apprentice assisted his companion in hauling their booty out of the hold.

Six times the operation was repeated, till the deck resembled a "tin" city in the western plains of Arizona.

"It takes it out of you," remarked Ellerton. "I wish we could get rid of the water in the hold; though I'm afraid the vessel's too badly strained to be able to patch up her sides."

"Even then we would have a bother to get rid of the water," replied Terence. "Still, we've done very well up to now."

"There's all that railway line material underneath the iron sheeting; that will want some shifting."

"We'll do it some time, but now we'll get off home."

It seemed natural for the lads to talk of the camp as "home," for already they were becoming attached to the free, yet none the less comfortable, manner of living.

"Wait while I get the sewing machine from the fo'c'sle. But you may as well come, too, and we'll take both of them."

With this, Ellerton, accompanied by Terence, made his way for'ard. In the gloom of the stuffy fo'c'sle, the sight of which forcibly reminded him of his quarters on the Tophet, Ellerton found the required articles.

"Hullo, here's a find!" he exclaimed, holding up a concertina.

"Sling the blessed thing overboard," replied Terence laughing. "If you take it ashore it's bound to make trouble in the camp."

"It may come in handy."

Ellerton looked upon everything as being likely "to come in handy." He would have overstocked the island with useless things in the hope that they might be of use at some distant date. In this case, did he but know it, the concertina was fated to play a most useful part.

"All right, then," assented Terence good-humouredly. "To look at us now one would think we were going to run old women's sewing meetings and popular Saturday night concerts."

With the gig in tow, the lads returned to the shore, putting off the unloading of their boat till the evening, though they brought the sewing machines with them to the tent.

"Now I can get on," exclaimed Mr. McKay. "It's slow work lying here and unable to do a decent bit of hard work."

Lunch, followed by the customary siesta, occupied the rest of the afternoon. By the aid of a telescope Andy and Quexo had been seen on the summit of the hill, and their descent followed till an intervening spur hid them from sight. Mr. McKay calculated that they would be home within a couple of hours.

"You might cut down a suitable palm tree—one about forty feet in height—Terence," he added. "I should like to have the flag flying on their return."

The tree was easily felled, and a small block, with signal halliards rove, was fastened to its smaller end. This done, a hole was dug to receive the pole, and by the aid of a pair of guys the flagstaff was erected and set up in quite a professional style.

About five in the afternoon Andy and the mulatto returned. They reported that from the summit of the hill the island appeared to be nearly circular, without any noticeable bays that might serve as boat harbours.

The reef extended completely around the island, approaching it closely on the southern side, while there were three well-defined entrances besides the one they already knew about.

Andy reckoned that the extreme length of the island was about seven miles, its breadth barely a mile less. There were no other islands visible, but as the sea was hazy away on the north-west it was possible that land might lie in that direction.

"Then, assuming the altitude to be one thousand feet, your horizon would be approximately forty-two miles off," remarked Mr. McKay. "Well, in that case we are not likely to be troubled by our neighbours, for the nearest island cannot be less than fifty miles away. Did you find any signs of the island having been inhabited?"

"Yes," replied Andy, "we found this," and opening a leather sling case he produced a pistol. It was a quaint specimen of a flint-lock weapon, its large-bore barrel eaten with rust and its silver-mounted walnut stock pitted and rotted by exposure.

"I don't think the gentleman who dropped this article is in a fit state to call upon us," observed Mr. McKay. "Nevertheless, it shows that we are not the first civilised people to set foot on the island. What is the interior like?"

"There are distinct signs of a volcano about. The top of the hill is most certainly an extinct volcano, while the base is honeycombed with fissures like the volcano of Monotombo. Otherwise the island is well wooded."

"You've done well," commented Mr. McKay. "Now it's nearly sunset, so there will be just time to hoist the Union Jack."

"Finished it, then, pater?"

"Rather! Now, Andy, you hoist the emblem of empire!"

Amid the cheers of the band of Britishers the ensign was broken at the masthead. For a few minutes it fluttered idly in the breeze, then, as the sun sank beneath the horizon, the Jack was slowly lowered.

They had asserted the King's authority over the island to which they had now given the name of McKay's Island.

CHAPTER VIII

"A SAIL!"

For the next five months things went smoothly at McKay's Island.

Taking every advantage of the remaining period of the dry season, the lads worked hard. Almost everything of value was removed from the wreck.

The heavy lengths of railway lines were safely transported to the shore; the motor-car, its mechanism not altogether useless, was stored under a canvas canopy on the lower terrace.

The ship's dynamos were removed, as well as the lighter portion of the main propelling machinery, while the remaining derricks, practically the whole of the wire rigging, and all the woodwork that could be taken away, had found a safe storage-place on McKay's Island.

Most of the dynamite had been cautiously conveyed ashore and placed in some of the numerous caves at a safe distance from the camp. The remainder of the explosive had been judiciously used—under Andy's direction, for his experiences at San Eugenio had not been thrown away—in demolishing those portions of the wreck that prevented easy access to the precious cargo.

Only the bare hull of the San Martin now remained. No doubt the first on-shore hurricane would sweep away every vestige of the ill-fated vessel, but the castaways were satisfied with the knowledge that nothing of value remained on board.

Nor had the work ashore been delayed. Already a substantial three-roomed building of galvanised iron reared itself proudly upon the second terrace. Its furniture—the best that the state-rooms and cabins of the San Martin could provide—would have made many a stay-at-home Englishman green with envy.

The lads had contrived to lay a double set of rails from the shore up the steep path to the lower terrace. Then, by means of a steel hawser attached to two sets of trucks, they were able to draw the bulk of their goods to the higher level with little difficulty.

The mode of locomotion, thanks to Andy's ready skill, was comparatively simple.

At first Terence wished to utilise the motor of the "runabout"; but to this proposal Andy objected, having another purpose in view for the undelivered consignment for Monsieur Georges Lacroix.

Included in the rolling stock were several iron tip waggons, of the kind generally in use in mining districts. Two of these Andy attached to each of his "trains." Those on the upper level he filled with earth, till the weight, being greater than the other set of waggons, caused the former to descend the incline, and at the same time raise the trucks filled with cargo from the beach.

This plan acted very well, but the labour in filling the trucks with soil was tedious; so Andy conceived the brilliant idea of trapping some of the water from the little stream, and conveying it by means of a length of iron pipe supported on trestles into the empty tip waggons.

From that moment the "McKay's Island Express" was in full working order, and the task of hauling the salved cargo up the terrace became a matter of comparative ease.

Those five months had worked wonders in Mr. McKay. Though weak on his feet, he was able to walk, and showed promise of soon throwing off all ill-effects of his double misfortune.

As a natural result of his prolonged convalescence he had grown stout. This was a source of worry to him, and he longed to be able to get about again as usual.

Amongst their many undertakings, the lads found time to make use of the remains of the disabled gig.

Realising that the work of replacing the garboards and keel would not repay the amount of labour expended on the work, they cut the boat in two, and built transoms to each of the sound ends. Thus they possessed two light craft, each about ten feet in length, and easy to haul up and down the beach.

When occasion served, they could also bolt the two transoms together, and thus form one boat, resembling the original gig with a slice of her 'midship section missing.

The craft proved of great service while the cutter was under reconstruction. This was a big task, for not only had the lads given her a fairly deep keel, to make her more seaworthy, but a cabin, water-tight well, and decked fo'c'sle were added. The rig was altered to that of a yawl, while Andy hoped at an early date to instal the motor in her.

Hitherto his difficulties lay in the fact that the motor was not water cooled, nor was it adapted to consume kerosene. They had a plentiful supply of that fuel, but of petrol they had none. Nevertheless, Andy had firm faith in his capabilities, and trusted to overcome these difficulties all right.

In this craft the hopes of the inhabitants of McKay's Island were centred. Although happy in their little domain, for plenty of work had proved the greatest factor to their well-being, they yearned at times for the society of their fellow-men and civilisation.

Directly the rainy season was over the little party meant to try their fate upon the broad Pacific. It was to be a risky voyage, but others had done similar passages under worse conditions. Blythe, of H.M.S. Bounty, for instance, did he not successfully accomplish a voyage of 4000 miles in an open boat in forty-one days?

The advent of the rainy season was heralded by a hurricane of terrific force.

Giving but little warning, the storm swept over the island, uprooting trees and turning the tiny rivulets into foaming torrents. The usually placid surface of the lagoon became a seething cauldron, huge breakers sweeping completely over the reef and lashing themselves upon the rock-strewn beach.

Well it was that the lads had hauled their craft above the reach of those breakers, for on the morning following the commencement of the storm not a vestige of the hull of the San Martin was to be seen.

Fortunately the house was solidly constructed. The hail pelted on the iron roof, the windows rattled and the doors shook to such an extent that it became necessary to barricade them, while almost incessantly the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled in deafening peals.

While the rains lasted there was very little outside work done. Welcome as were the showers at first, they soon became monotonous. It was too hot to wear oilskins, the ground was too soft to walk on without sinking ankle deep in mire, so that the castaways were thrown upon their own resources to pass the time as well as they were able within doors.

Lack of books had been their greatest discomfort, even the study of the Spanish charts and treatises on navigation became a pleasure; paper and writing materials they possessed, and Mr. McKay systematically wrote up his diary.

But the task that gave the lads the greatest pleasure and amusement was their efforts to teach Quexo English.

The mulatto was a willing though difficult pupil, and was doubly handicapped by being unable to write even his own language. Nevertheless, before the rainy season was over, Quexo could understand most of what was said to him, and was able to reply in weird sentences and phrases that often set the lads laughing.

At length the "off season"—as Terence termed it—passed, its departure being marked by almost as severe a hurricane as the one that preceded it.

Then for three days and nights a thick mist overspread the island. The air resembled that of a hothouse, without the least suspicion of a breeze.

On the morning of the fourth day the sun shone in an unclouded sky, the mud disappeared as if by the touch of a magic wand, and the inhabitants of McKay's Island awoke to their life of outdoor activity.

"I think we will do well to postpone the time of our departure for another month," remarked Mr. McKay. "We shall then have more chance of a wind, and the zone of the Trades will extend farther north by then. We shall have plenty to see, too, in a month."

"I want to get the motor fixed up," observed Andy. "I think my plan for making a water-jacket will succeed, and installing the engine and tuning it up will take quite a week."

"If you succeed the motor will prove invaluable, especially if we lose the benefit of the Trades," replied his father.

Andy was hard at work making a propeller. This he did by means of two sheets of steel plating riveted to an iron boss; for, in order to prevent the boat from being unduly kept back while under sail alone, he had decided to have but two blades, which when at rest were up and down, in line with the boat's stern-post.

Terence, who was also of an engineering turn of mind, had embarked upon a somewhat ambitious programme. He meant to use the dynamo for lighting purposes.

"But," objected Ellerton, "what's the use? We are leaving the island shortly."

"Possibly; but I am looking beyond then, Hoppy. Provided I could be sure of a passage to 'Frisco occasionally I would not mind settling down here. No doubt I am indulging in wild day-dreams, but still, my plans may mature, and there's a living to be made out of the island. But to deal with present events; the dynamo will be of great service to us, as we can recharge those accumulators we brought ashore. Then Andy will be able to use electrical ignition for his motor instead of the slower and more uncertain lamp ignition."

"Quite so, Terence," assented Andy. "So carry on, my boy."

Thus encouraged, Terence, assisted by Ellerton and Quexo, dug a deep trench close to the brink of the lower terrace, the side of which he lined with thick planks from the wreck.

Next a water-wheel, twelve feet in diameter, was constructed, the paddle floats being cut from the iron plates obtained from the same source. A portion of the ship's piston rods formed the axle of the wheel, a grooved drum being attached to take the driving belt of the dynamo.

At length came the critical test of Terence's work. The stream, once more diverted, was conducted into the trench, and as the last barrier to its progress was removed the water rushed through its new channel. Then, with a cascade of silver splashing from its floats, the wheel began to gather way, and was soon spinning merrily.

"That's all very fine," exclaimed Andy, who had left his work to view the opening ceremony of the McKay Island Power Company. "But how are you going to stop the wheel? It will soon wear its axle out at that rate; and, besides, we can't have that noise day and night."

"Never thought of that!" replied Terence. "We must make a hatch to trap the water when we don't require the power."

Two days later the dynamo was in full working order. The lads were highly delighted, and suggested several schemes for making use of the electric current.

Then came Andy's triumph. After many difficulties and failures he succeeded in duly installing the motor in the yawl, and on a trial trip inside the lagoon the boat behaved magnificently under power.

"We'll have a trip round the island to-morrow," he exclaimed, as the craft was moored for the night. "Let's turn in early so as to make a start immediately after sunrise."

The morning dawned bright and calm, with no wind.

"It will mean running under power," observed Andy, as the lads, laden with provisions and tins of kerosene, wended their way to the shore. "I mean to——"

He stopped, his eyes fixed seaward.

His companions followed his gaze, and simultaneously there was a shout of:

"A sail!"

CHAPTER IX

UNWELCOME VISITORS

"Great Scott! It's a native canoe," declared Mr. McKay. "And she's heading straight for the island!"

The craft was some little distance from the entrance to the reef, her huge brown sail hanging idly from its yard, while the crew vigorously plied their paddles as they made the water fly from her sharp prow.

"Trouble in store?" queried Andy.

"It's well to be prepared," replied his father. "I know these natives of old. Sometimes they are quiet and inoffensive, at another time they are bold and war-like, or, what is worse, extremely treacherous."

"Then we must arm ourselves?"

"Assuredly. Quexo, bring my glass."

The mulatto darted off, and presently reappeared, bringing a glass of lime-juice.

"Not that, you ass!" exclaimed Mr. McKay, laughing. "Glass—telescope—see?" and he raised his hands to imitate the operation of using a telescope. "I'll have the drink, anyhow."

Once more Quexo ran to the house, this time bringing back the required instrument.

"There are at least forty natives," said Mr. McKay, after a lengthy examination of the oncoming craft. "They may be armed. If so, their weapons are lying on the bottom of the canoe. But unless I am very much mistaken, there's a white man aboard."

"A prisoner? Let me have a look, pater!"

In his eagerness Andy almost snatched the telescope from his parent's hand.

"A queer set of customers," he exclaimed; "but I don't think the white man is a captive, for he's talking to a fellow with his hair frizzed up a foot above his head."

"We've seen enough for the time being," rejoined Mr. McKay quietly, "so we'll return to the house and serve out the arms. At the rate they are travelling, the canoe will be here in ten minutes."

"They won't injure the boat?" asked Andy anxiously, for the yawl was almost like a child to him.

"Not when they see us with rifles in our hands. Whatever you do, don't let them have reason to think we want to fight, and, above all, don't show any signs of fear."

The party quickly strapped on their ammunition belts and revolver holsters, then, grasping their rifles, they hastened down to the beach.

The canoe had by this time entered the lagoon, and its occupants had perceived the house and the other buildings, for they had ceased paddling, and were gazing in wonder towards the shore. Nor did the appearance of five armed men serve to set their minds at rest.

"Hullo, there!" shouted Mr. McKay.

"Hullo, there!" was the reply. "What's your game?"

"What's yours?" replied Mr. McKay.

"All square, governor. Can we land?"

"Provided you keep your people in order," replied Mr. McKay, then turning to his companions he exclaimed: "By Jove! I know that fellow; he's no good, I'm afraid."

"You know him?"

"Yes, I met him on a pearl-fisher in Torres Strait twenty odd years ago. He hasn't changed much in appearance, and I'm afraid his manners haven't. Still, I'll not claim acquaintanceship with him at present."

The paddles were resumed, and the canoe glided quietly to the shore. The natives, for the most part stark naked, began to tumble over the side, some grasping enormous clubs studded with sharks' teeth, and others long triple-barbed spears.

"Tell those fellows to throw those weapons back into the canoe," shouted Mr. McKay sternly. "Otherwise we'll not permit them to land."

The white man spoke a few words to the turban-haired native, who in turn uttered an order to his men. Instantly the weapons were thrown into the canoe with a loud clatter, and the natives, wading ashore, secured their boat and proceeded to squat in a semicircle.

"My name's Blight—Jimmy Blight," exclaimed the stranger.

Mr. McKay merely nodded his head in reply. He could not bring himself to say the words "Pleased to see you," for the simple reason that he was not.

Jimmy Blight had had a chequered career. He was a man of about fifty years of age, some five feet eight inches in height, and of medium build. Years of exposure to a tropical sun had not left any trace upon his face, for his complexion was a chalky white. He had a bristling, dark moustache; cut high over the lips, a scanty crop of dark hair, a thin, straight nose, rather deep-set eyes that were continually shifting in expression, while his hands, the broad nails of which were bitten to the quick, showed little trace of hard work.

When Mr. McKay first met him he was mate of a pearling vessel, and already he bore a bad reputation as a hard drinker and a card-sharper, while it was well known that his tyranny had more than once caused bloodshed amongst the Kanaka crew of the vessel. By his white associates he was commonly known as "Chinese Pork"—in other words, something very unpleasant.

"Well, what can I do for you?" asked Mr. McKay bluntly.

"The island's free, I guess?" replied Blight, with a leer that ill-concealed his natural aggressiveness.

"So long as you behave yourself; but should one of those men touch so much as a copper nail, we'll send you to the right about in double quick time. Understand?"

"Yes, boss. But how about a drink? You seem fixed up pretty comfortable here."

"You can have as much water as you want at the stream. Beyond that, I'm afraid we cannot provide you."

"Humph! Must take pot-luck, I suppose. Say, are you traders?"

Mr. McKay did not think it advisable to answer.

"What's your business, might I ask?" he inquired.

"It's a long story, boss. You see my mates here"—indicating the group of squatting natives—"belong to the island of Ahii, which lies seventy miles nor'west of here. In fact, I was very comfortable along of 'em, but might is right in these parts, I'll allow."

"Chinese Pork" paused to allow the weight of this sentence to take effect, but Mr. McKay betrayed no sign.

"So a few days ago a tribe of natives from Teku came and drove us out. There was a fight, you bet, but our fellows got the worst of it. So we hooked it, and took canoe to Ni Atong, which is less than twenty miles S.E. of Ahii. Ni Atong's all very well, only it ain't big enough, so we're trying to find a larger island to settle upon. There's close on a couple of hundred natives, and ten large canoes at Ni Atong. Strikes me this place 'ud suit, 'specially with white gents like yourselves for company like."

"I'm afraid you must give up all idea of bringing your friends here, Mr. Blight, or yourself either."

"Say, why?"

"Because we cannot permit it."

"Look here, boss," replied Blight with an impudent swagger. "How do you think you'll stop two hundred natives if they set their minds on landing here? Even I couldn't stop 'em."

"Let them try," replied Mr. McKay. "Now, Mr. Blight, I cannot refuse you hospitality. Food will be sent down to you; then, when your men have rested sufficiently, I must ask you to leave this island."

And turning on his heel, Mr. McKay began to make his way back to the house, the lads following him closely.

Before he had taken a dozen steps the ex-pearler ran after him.

"See here, boss; I don't mean to give offence—no offence meant—but you'll allow it's hard on a chap to be done out of his own crib by a pack o' niggers. And then you can't deny you've treated me off-handish, specially as you're the first white man I've seen these two years. So let's come to terms. I see you're well armed. Why not come back to Ahii with us, and make those chaps from Teku clear off back to their own island? Then the Ahii people won't want to trouble you. See?"

"I'll consider the matter," replied Mr. McKay. "By the by, do you ever go to Tahiti?"

"Not often, boss. I was there two years ago. When I've got a cargo of copra ready I send it by a native boat. Why do you ask?"

"I merely wanted to know, Mr. Blight. But now I must be off. I'll send the provisions along shortly, and will give you a definite reply to your proposal in a few hours. It seems to me that the easiest way out of the mess is to accept the fellow's advice," remarked Mr. McKay as they entered their house. "We certainly don't want to try conclusions with a horde of savages on this island. No doubt we could beat them off, but in any case there is a considerable amount of risk. If I can get Blight to give me a guarantee—though I don't place much reliance on his word—backed by the chief's assurance that his men will not trespass upon the island, I think we can very well help them."

"Do you think there will be much of a struggle?" asked Ellerton.

"Between whom?"

"The natives of Ahii and the natives who took possession of their island."

"No; our presence will soon turn the scale, though we may not even have to use our firearms. You can rely upon it that I'll do my best to prevent bloodshed. Are you willing to go, lads? If you have objections don't hesitate to say so."

"I haven't," said Ellerton.

"Nor I," added the others.

"Very well, then. Quexo, take this keg of flour down to the beach, and tell that white man that his people can gather as much taro and cocoanuts as they want, so long as they don't cross to this side of the stream. You understand? Do you think we might spare Blight a lamb, Andy?"

"I think so, pater. We've twenty at least."

"Then tell Quexo to take one down when he comes back. Now, boys, if we are going on this trip, we had better make preparations. We ought to start by sunrise at least, if we want to reach Ahii before dark."

"But are we going straight to Ahii?"

"No, by Jove! I forgot that for the moment. Of course, it will be much better to spend the night off Ni Atong—I suppose there's a lagoon—and proceed to Ahii on the following morning."

"Well, Quexo," said Andy, on the mulatto's return, "what did the white man say?"

"He say: 'Come here you number one size blackamoor. What your massa name is?' An' I say: 'I no number one size blackamoor; I no niggah, sah; an' my massa name me no give, massa he tell you his name if you ask.'"

"That's a smart reply, Quexo," replied Mr. McKay, laughing. "There's nothing like keeping your master's counsel and your own. Now take that carcase down to the beach. Ellerton, you might take a stroll along the edge of the cliff and, without attracting undue attention, keep an eye on the rascals. I don't want them straggling across the stream."

Thus bidden, Ellerton walked cautiously to the edge of the first terrace, then laying his rifle on the ground, stretched himself into a comfortable position so that he could see without being seen, and hear without being heard.

Most of the natives had dispersed, and were busily engaged in seeking taro and cocoanuts, although they kept strictly within the bounds laid down by Mr. McKay.

Blight, the chief, and a couple of natives had killed the lamb and were roasting it by the aboriginal method of caking it with clay and placing it in the red-hot embers of a fire. Although the white man cast several curious glances at the cliff, above which the roof of the house was just visible, he refrained from setting foot upon the path that led to Mr. McKay's settlement.

Late in the afternoon Mr. McKay went down to the beach and informed Blight that he had decided to lend his aid, at the same time stipulating that the natives must promise not to molest the inhabitants of McKay's Island.

The remainder of the yawl's stores were then carried aboard, Andy and Ellerton volunteering to keep watch on the boat while Mr. McKay, Terence, and Quexo took turns in patrolling the edge of the terrace.

A tent, some blankets, and a few luxuries in the way of provisions were then sent down to the ex-pearler, while the natives prepared to sleep under the shelter of the palm trees and bushes.

"If you see or hear anything of a suspicious nature, Andy," cautioned Mr. McKay, "here is a signal rocket. Don't use it except in circumstances that warrant our interference. You have plenty of ammunition?"

"Seventy rounds of rifle ammunition and fifty revolver cartridges each. You'll see that another box of ammunition comes off in the morning."

"Aye, aye," replied his father. "Now I think everything is ready to make an early start, so you had better be off."

Then, having bade the rest of the party good night, Andy and his trusty companion descended to the beach, passed between knots of curious natives, and embarked in the yawl's tender.

Five minutes later they were on board, and the ammunition stowed away within easy reach.

The lads had made an excellent job in converting the ship's cutter. From the awning-covered well a short ladder led to the cabin. Here four roomy folding bunks, a swing table, plenty of lockers and racks had been fitted, while the linoleum-covered floor, the red baize curtains, and the polished brass lamp imparted an air of comfort. Overhead a skylight served to admit both fresh air and light.

In the fo'c'sle, to which access could be obtained either by sliding doors between it and the cabin, or through a hatch on deck, were the sails, spare ropes, anchor cable, and a small stove constructed from one of the galleys of the San Martin.

The motor had been installed under the floor of the well, while on the afterside of the cabin bulkhead was fixed a boat's compass, illuminated by means of the cabin lamp, so that the steersman could keep a course with comfort, whether by day or night.

"Now, Hoppy, I'll take the first watch," remarked Andy, as the sun sank beneath the lofty peak of McKay's Island. "I'll turn you out at two in the morning, and then you can carry on till daybreak, if that will suit you."

"Righto!" replied Ellerton.

And turning in upon his bunk he was soon fast asleep, lulled by the slight motion of the little craft as she rose and fell to the gentle heave of the lagoon.

CHAPTER X

STRANGE ALLIES

"Turn out, Hoppy!"

Ellerton was awake in an instant, but forgetting that the cabin of a small craft does not possess unlimited headroom, he sat up and brought his head violently in contact with the deck beams.

"What's up?" he exclaimed, grasping his revolver. "Anything wrong?"

"No," replied Andy. "Only it's two o'clock, and your watch."

"Goodness! I feel as if I've only been asleep five minutes."

"Sorry for you, then, old chap, for you've got to keep awake five hours."

So saying, Andy slid into his bunk, and within a minute his regular breathing showed that he was asleep.

Ellerton took up his position under the shelter of the dew-sodden awning. Everything was quiet, save for the occasional splash of a fish as it played upon the surface of the placid water, and the ever-present rumble of the breakers upon the distant reef.

Shorewards the outline of the island was dimly visible against the loom of the starlit sky, while a light from the seaward window of the house and the dull red gleam of the dying embers of the fire the natives had kindled were the only sign of human occupation.

Yet, Ellerton reflected, the bush might be alive with savages, awaiting the opportunity to fall upon the settlement, murder his friends, and possess themselves of the valuable stores.

Perhaps the story of the seizure of Ahii and the flight of the inhabitants to Ni Atong was a myth, invented by that rogue Blight for the purpose of luring the castaways into a false position.

There could be no doubt about it, Ellerton's nerves were "jumpy." Perhaps it was that the suddenness of coming into contact with human beings other than his comrades had acted upon his nerves.

Ellerton realised that he was entering into a new phase of his existence. He regretted it, for, beyond his natural anxiety concerning his parents, he had grown to love the isolated life on McKay's Island.

Then, should Blight's story prove to be correct, Ellerton felt sure that Mr. McKay's action was the only course permissible. The little colony was to fight for its existence, and the more remote the scene of hostilities the better chance they had of securing the sole proprietorship of the island.

Hist! A succession of faint sounds like those of a man stealthily swimming caused Ellerton to sit bolt upright, grasp his rifle, and peer intently through the darkness.

There was no mistake about it. It was some object heading directly for the yawl, its track being marked by a faint blur of phosphorescence.

Visions of bloodthirsty savages, swimming, knife in mouth, to surprise the crew of the little craft, filled Ellerton with alarm. He raised his rifle, released the safety catch, and took aim at the mysterious intruder.

"Andy," he whispered, but his friend was too deep in slumber to be awakened by a whisper.

"I'll wait till he's close alongside," muttered Ellerton, fingering the trigger.

At that moment there was a perceptible jar alongside the boat, followed by a prolonged grating sound, as if a piece of sandpaper were slowly drawn over a rough surface. Then, with a swirl and a succession of phosphorescent splashes, the object vanished.

The sound had roused Andy.

"What's up?" he exclaimed, springing into the cockpit.

Both lads looked over the side. Deep beneath the surface they saw a huge luminous shape slowly gliding away.

"My word!" whispered Andy. "Can't you see what it is? It's a shark."

"I thought it was some natives swimming off to us."

"Never fear. They'll never attempt such a thing with a sentry like that brute," replied Andy as he re-entered the cabin.

Slowly the weary hours passed, till the sun rose in a sky of misty grey, and the inhabitants of McKay's Island, both black and white, bestirred themselves into activity.

"Not much wind, boss," was Chinese Pork's salutation as Mr. McKay and his companions arrived at the beach, whither Andy had rowed in the tender.

"There'll be some before long," replied Mr. McKay. "It usually springs up about an hour after sunrise."

"It'll mean a long pull if it doesn't," rejoined Blight. "Shall I lend you four or five hands to work the sweeps?"

"I'll not trouble you, thanks. It's your men who will find it hard work, I fancy."

"Say, why? You just see them use those paddles. They'll keep it up for hours at a stretch. Your craft'll be the tail end of this 'ere procession, I guess."

"We shall see," replied Mr. McKay quietly, for he had no desire to enlighten the ex-pearler upon the subject of the motor.

"Say, boss?"

"Well?"

"That's a rum packet," said Blight, indicating with a jerk of his thumb the boat the lads had made from the wreck of the gig. "I bet you never bought her at Hilo?"

Mr. McKay did not reply. He quite realised that the ex-pearler was trying to pump him, while, on the other hand, he was equally determined to conceal the fact that he and his companions were on the island through shipwreck.

Although Mr. McKay hated deception, he wished to convey the impression that they settled here by choice, yet Blight's question showed that he kept his eyes open.

"Are you ready to start?" demanded Mr. McKay. "There's a wind springing up from the south-east'ard."

"As soon as you like. But can you lend me a revolver, cap'n? I've got a bloomin' Martini, but I've run out o' cartridges months and months ago."

"Here you are, and here are fifty cartridges. I'll make you a present of the pistol," replied Mr. McKay, though he realised that he was playing into the man's hands.

Then, without waiting to receive the ex-pearler's thanks, he stepped into the boat and was rowed off to the yawl.

"Good morning, Ellerton," he exclaimed. "All quiet, I suppose? Well, let's get the canvas on her."

Already the natives were hauling their canoe down the beach, and by the time the yawl had set her sails the splash of a score of paddles showed that they had lost no time in embarking.

"Up with your helm, Andy; check the jib sheets."

Then, as the little craft drew clear of the land, the freshening breeze caused her to heel and glide through the ruffled water of the lagoon.

By the time they had gained the passage through the reef the yawl was ahead of the canoe.

"Glorious!" ejaculated Andy. "See, they're setting their sail. It will be a good race, after all."

Half a dozen bronzed natives were setting the raking mast and bending the yard with its enormous sail of cocoa fibre. Then, as the sail rose swiftly in the air, the breeze filled the mat-like canvas. The crew took in their paddles and watched the yawl with curious eyes.

"We are gaining on her, I think," remarked Andy.

"Yes; we must shorten sail," replied Mr. McKay. "But I want particularly to note the respective speeds of the two craft. I should think that, under sail and aided by her paddles, that canoe could overhaul us under sail alone. Yes," he continued, after a few moments' careful observation. "I think I've seen enough in case of future developments, so we'll strike the topsail."

Under reduced canvas the yawl kept the canoe at a regular distance from her, neither gaining nor allowing the latter to overhaul her. Quexo, fearing an attack of sea-sickness, had retired to the seclusion of a berth in the fo'c'sle, while Ellerton and Terence, who had kept the last portion of the previous night's watch, followed his example, though from other motives.

Andy was steering. His father, who had given him the course, was below preparing a meal.

The wind held steadily all the forenoon, and by eleven o'clock the summit of McKay's Island had dipped beneath the horizon. It was not without feelings of regret that Andy saw it disappear. He, too, realised that they were embarked upon a hazardous mission, and that possibly great sacrifice would have to be made ere they returned to their island home.

At midday the wind died away to a flat calm, the yawl rolling sluggishly in the oily swell, with her boom swaying violently from side to side, and threatening dire disaster to the heads of any of the crew that incautiously came within its reach.

The canoe, similarly situated, did not hesitate to lower the sail, and paddle close alongside.

"This is a bit rotten, cap'n," shouted Blight. "Shall I give you a tow?"

"No thanks, don't trouble about us," replied Mr. McKay. "You can paddle on ahead, and we'll follow when the breeze springs up. If we can't fetch Ni Atong before dark you might get those fellows to light a fire on the beach, so that we can come up to the anchorage."

"Righto, boss! Ta-ta!"

There was a peculiar glint in the man's eye. He fancied that the superior speed of the canoe under paddles was an asset in his favour for the events he had already planned.

The chief gave the word, the blades dipped, and, gathering way, the canoe soon gained a rapid pace. The long-drawn song of the paddlers gradually died away as the distance increased, and an hour later the canoe was lost to sight.

"Now, Andy, we'll start the motor, and creep up within a couple of miles of Ni Atong. They will think we have picked up a breeze."

"Why don't you want to let that chap Blight know we've a motor?"

"Frankly, Andy, I don't trust him. If he plays a straight game, well and good; but, should he act treacherously—and I have every reason to believe he will, judging by his past career—we must keep a trump card up our sleeves. That's why I wanted to make sure of the respective speeds of the two craft, for you may be certain that, since the chief is in her, yonder canoe is the largest and swiftest they possess. Under power we can easily outstrip her, I have no doubt."

No sooner had the motor started than Terence and Ellerton appeared.

"Hullo! Where's the wind?" asked the latter.

"And where's the canoe? added Donaghue.

"Hull down," replied Andy. "They've gone on ahead to give us a house-warming. Now, you fellows, get yourselves something to eat, and then give us a spell. I'll let you have the course. Keep your weather eye lifting, and look out for a breeze. It may come down suddenly."

"You bet I will," assented Ellerton. "How far are we from Ni Atong?"

"About twenty miles. Directly the island hoves in sight call us."

At about four in the afternoon Terence, who had climbed the main-mast and had taken up a perch upon the diminutive cross-trees, reported land ahead.

Mr. McKay and Andy were instantly warned, and, a breeze springing up, the motor was shut off.

Half an hour later the heads of a patch of palm trees were visible from the deck.

"That's Ni Atong, right enough," commented Mr. McKay, as bit by bit the land appeared to rise above the horizon. "Blight told me that the entrance to the lagoon is easily picked out."

Ni Atong resolved itself into a low, regularly outlined island barely two miles in length. Its surface was covered with dense scrub and a few cocoanut palms, the soil being apparently loose and sandy. So far as could be seen, a coral reef extended round the island at a distance of half a mile from the shore, the rocks in places protruding above water to a height of nearly three feet.

"There's another island showing up on our port bow, sir," announced Ellerton.

"Then that's Ahii. It's a lofty island something like ours, judging by the appearance of that mountain. However, we'll hear and see more of it later on. Now, Andy, we are approaching the reef. Do you climb aloft and con the boat in through the channel."

This is the only practical method of entering an unbeaconed lagoon, for owing to the sudden increase in depth, a lead line is of little use. On the other hand, the extreme clearness of the water makes it possible for a man aloft to detect instantly any rocks or shoals that lurk beneath the surface.

For the space of five minutes it was an anxious time. On either hand the breakers thrashed themselves in masses of milk-white foam upon the glistening coral reef, while ahead a narrow patch of undulating, yet unbroken water showed the presence of the only available channel into the shelter of the lagoon.

"Starboard—bear away—starboard again—port, steady!"

Under the light breeze the yawl was in danger of dropping to leeward upon the merciless rocks. One moment her stern was lifted high in the air, the rudder consequently being useless. The next she threw her streaming bows above the following wave, then, shaving the edge of the reef by a bare five yards, the little vessel glided into the quiet waters of the anchorage.

The crew now had time to look about them. Drawn up on the sandy beach were seven large canoes, similar to that which had paid an unwelcome visit to McKay's Island, while others, only slightly smaller in size, were hauled up beneath the shelter of the bushes, their lofty carved prows alone being visible.

The beach was lined with natives, numbering at least 180 men, besides a host of women and children.

The men were of medium stature, muscular, and well built. In colour they resembled that of Quexo, being considerably lighter than the natives of New Guinea. Many of them bore scars, possibly self-inflicted or the result of inter-tribal wars.

"Stand by to let go!" shouted Andy to Terence and Ellerton. Then, as the yawl shot up into the wind, he followed up with: "Let go!"

With a roar and rattle of chain the anchor plunged to the bottom of the lagoon, and as the crew prepared to lower and stow the sails, Mr. McKay waved his arm towards the crowded shore.

"Well, lads," he exclaimed, "what do you think of our allies?"

CHAPTER XI

THE FRUSTRATED SACRIFICE

"A rum-looking crowd," observed Terence. "They look as if they could do a lot of damage, though."

"Yes," replied Mr. McKay, "I am sure of it. These fellows often fight for fighting's sake, and a pretty spectacle they make of it at times. I've seen them at it before."

"What, these natives?"

"No, the inhabitants of New Guinea. They are strongly associated, however, not only in manners and customs, but in language. I must polish up my Polynesian lingo, though after acquiring a smattering of Spanish I'm afraid I've become very rusty. Come, now, hurry up and snug down, and we'll go ashore."

"Armed, of course?"

"Yes, certainly. Take your revolvers only. I don't think we need fear anything at present. If there's to be trouble it will be after the natives have made the best use of us."

Accordingly the little crew worked with a will; then, directly the canvas was stowed and a second anchor laid out, the whole party went ashore.

They were received with great show of goodwill, the natives crowding round them with shouts of welcome, while the ceremony of rubbing noses was duly performed.

Several of the women advanced bearing long garlands, and, to the undisguised bashfulness of the three lads, placed the flowing chains round the necks of their visitors. Quexo, however, was denied that honour. He was a coloured man, and therefore, in the eyes of the natives, of no consequence.

"You made a quick passage, boss, after all," observed Blight.

"Aye, we picked up with a breeze," replied Mr. McKay, though he did not offer to explain when the breeze was encountered.

"They've prepared a feast for you," continued the ex-pearler. "So let's put our best foot foremost."

At a short distance from the shore was a large clearing, temporary huts made of branches and leaves of palm trees being erected in a vast double circle. Here a number of natives were busy baking pigs and fowls, while there was an abundance of yams and cocoanuts.

"They are very improvident with their supplies," remarked Andy. "They evidently seem as if they are certain of returning to the land of plenty."

"Yes," replied his father, who had taken an early opportunity of examining the roasted pigs to make sure they were pigs. "We may as well set-to and enjoy their hospitality; now, keep close together and see that your pistols are easy to draw."

The chiefs, each distinguishable by his huge mop of greased and frizzed hair, had squatted in a semicircle, and no sooner had the guests seated themselves than there was a terrific scramble on the part of the native chiefs to help themselves.

"We must forget for the moment that we are civilised and follow their example," remarked Mr. McKay, seizing a bit of pork in his fingers.

His companions did likewise, and notwithstanding the absence of knives and forks they managed to eat and enjoy their share of the feast.

This done, there was a war-dance performed by the young men of the tribe, the warriors brandishing their clubs with such energy that it seemed wonderful that no one was hurt.

The natives did not appear to use their heavy clubs for the purpose of knocking their imaginary adversaries over the head; instead, they utilised the upward swing of their arms, lunging with the weapon on its upward stroke.

Andy particularly noticed this, and remarked it to his father.

"Yes," was the reply. "It's a favourite 'knock-out' blow with these fellows. I've seen them at it in actual combat. The idea is to get underneath their antagonist's guard, and strike him on the chin with the upward sweep of the club, and knock him senseless. Afterwards the winning side secure those who are only stunned and——"

"And what?"

"Eat them!"

At length the display came to an end, and the guests prepared to return on board. Mr. McKay had attempted to converse with some of the chiefs, but the result was a failure. He therefore told Blight to inform the chief that an early start was to be made on the morrow.

The news was received with redoubled shouts of delight, and the entire population escorted the white men to the beach. Nor did they stop there, for men, women, and children rushed headlong into the sea, and formed a huge bodyguard of swimmers till the yawl was reached.

All round the boat the water was black with the heads and arms of the swimmers, for these natives of the Pacific Islands take to the water often before they can walk.

Splashing and shouting loud enough to scare every shark within a mile, they swam round and round the yawl, none offering to climb aboard, till at a shout from one of the chiefs they turned and swam rapidly to the shore.

"We must set watches to-night, I suppose?" asked Andy.

"Certainly! Although these people are supposed to be our friends, we must imagine ourselves in hostile waters. I remember once that a small schooner put into Niihau. The natives came off to barter, and appeared to be extremely friendly. During the night about a couple of hundred swam off to the schooner and took her crew entirely by surprise. We found the charred remains of her timbers about a month afterwards, but not a trace of her unfortunate crew. They had been made into 'big pig.'"

"What's that?" asked Ellerton.

"Otherwise killed, roasted, and eaten."

"Then what happened?"

"The usual. Gunboat, landing party, etc. The village was shelled and burnt, and the island afterwards annexed to the Empire. So, you see, we must exercise due caution, although I don't want to upset your nerves."

It must have been shortly after midnight when the crew was awakened by a warning shout from Terence. Turning out of their comfortable bunks, the others rushed from the cabin, armed in anticipation of a sudden and treacherous attack.

A low rumbling greeted their ears, the sound apparently coming from the shore. For more than a minute the mysterious sound continued, then it suddenly ceased.

"What is it?" asked Donald.

"I'm afraid I cannot tell you," replied his father. "It's rather like the sound of a submarine explosion; probably a volcanic eruption."

Again the noise was repeated, yet no agitation of the placid water took place. The natives did not appear to be disturbed, for no commotion due to human agency could be heard from the island. This time the rumbling continued for quite five minutes, dying away in a succession of long-drawn tremors. Then all was quiet.

"I can't make it out," remarked Mr. McKay. "Whatever it is it seems to be accepted by the natives without a protest. To-morrow I'll inquire."

The party remained on deck for nearly an hour, but as the mysterious noise was not repeated, they at length retired to the cabin, leaving Terence to continue the remainder of his watch.

Just after sunrise Ellerton called Mr. McKay's attention to something on the beach. Seizing his glasses, the elder man brought them to bear upon the spot, and the next moment he exclaimed:

"Come on, lads, get your arms and row ashore as hard as you can."

Without waiting for an explanation, the three lads jumped into the boat, Mr. McKay taking his place in the stern sheets.

"Don't look ahead; keep your eyes on the boat and pull," said Mr. McKay quietly, yet there was a grim, determined expression on his face that betokened trouble ahead.

The moment the little craft touched the beach the lads jumped out, and led by Mr. McKay, they made their way at top speed along the sandy shore.

Fifty yards from where they landed was the chief's canoe, which had been hauled up on shore since the previous night. At regular intervals betwixt its lofty prow and the water were six dark objects lying on the sand.

The lads gave a gasp of horror, for lashed firmly to bamboo poles were six natives. Their fellows were preparing to launch the canoe over their bodies.

"Stop that!" shouted Mr. McKay sternly, holding up his hand to arrest the progress of the heavy craft, which was quivering under the grasp of fifty stalwart blacks.

The natives hesitated, glaring at the interrupters of their ceremony, while some of the chiefs made signs for the interfering strangers to stand aside.

"Where's Blight?" shouted Mr. McKay, as he opened the cut-off of the magazine of his rifle.

"Here I am, boss," replied that individual, coolly sauntering forward.

"Tell them to knock off this horrible business."

"Let 'em carry on, boss," was the reply, almost apologetic. "You see, they ain't got no prisoners, and the chief's canoe must be launched in this 'ere way, else it's bad luck. So they picked on some of their least wanted pals. Bless me, you'll soon get used to it. I did years ago."

"You can tell them from me that the moment that canoe moves we'll open fire. You might also explain that if our wishes are not carried out, we'll go back to our own island, and those rascals can stay here to starve. Now be quick, and let them know we mean business. Cover these tow-headed rogues," he continued to his companions. "If I give the word, let fly continuous volleys till the rest of the rascals bolt."

Evidently the chiefs knew the power of the white men's rifles, for they stepped back a few paces. Some of their followers grasped their clubs and spears, and courageously awaited their leaders' orders.

Jimmy Blight spoke rapidly. At first his words seemed to enrage the chiefs, but finally they expostulated.

"What do they say?"

"They are willing to let the brutes free if you promise that your power'll keep off the—the—you know what I mean, boss, the——"

"Evil eye?"' suggested Mr. McKay.

"Aye, that's it."

"You can tell them that there's nothing to fear on that score. Let them know that six men alive are worth something, and that six squashed to a pulp will do them no earthly good."

Once again Blight turned to the half-pacified chiefs, a rapid exchange of words followed, and in the end the latter signed to their people to free the captives from their terrible position.

"That's over, thank God!" ejaculated Mr. McKay with intense fervour. "Tell the chiefs I'm going to make them a present," and putting his rifle to his shoulder he fired six shots in the air in rapid succession.

Astonishment held the natives spell-bound; they had never before seen a magazine rifle discharged. The sharp "crack" of the weapon, its smokelessness, and the peculiar screech of the nickel bullets filled them with awe, and with great hesitation they accepted the six empty cartridge-cases as an exchange for the release of the intended victims.

"They've given you a tally, boss," observed Blight. "They call you 'The Wonder that Breathes Fire.'"

"I hope they will bear it in mind then," replied Mr. McKay. "Now let them proceed with the launching operations. When all is ready we will set sail. By the by, what was that noise we heard last night?" he inquired, turning to the ex-pearler.

"Noise! What noise, boss?"

"A kind of prolonged roar of distant thunder. Twice it occurred."

"Oh! I know what you mean. We don't take no notice of it in these parts. It's the 'Barking Sands.' See yon hills?"—pointing to a ridge of sand dunes about sixty feet in height. "The stuff's slippery like, and often it rolls down, and makes a row. There's a sight of other islands about here like it."

Half-an-hour later a flotilla of nine canoes, crowded with armed natives, paddled slowly towards the entrance of the lagoon. As they passed the white men's craft, their paddles rose in the air to the accompaniment of a sonorous salute.

Then, as the dripping anchor rose clear of the water, the breeze filled the sails of the yawl, and she, too, started to play her part in the hazardous enterprise.

Another five hours would decide whether Ahii would fall into the hands of its former possessors, and, what was still more important, the fate of the little band from McKay's Island.

CHAPTER XII

AT BAY

Once clear of the reef, the canoes ceased paddling, and the brown cocoa-fibre sails were hoisted.

The yawl, by reason of her superior spread of canvas, soon forged ahead till, drawing in line with the largest canoe, in which were Blight and the head man of the tribe, the speed was regulated so as to keep within hailing distance of the ex-pearler.

Mr. McKay had already been given a rough chart of the island of Ahii. Like their own island and Ni Atong, Ahii was surrounded by a reef, only that on the eastern side the rocky barrier practically touched the shore. There were four large passages through the reef, two on the southern side—which they were approaching—one on the western, and the fourth on the northern.

The summit of Ahii was clearly visible from Ni Atong, and as the flotilla neared the island its peculiarities could be gradually discerned. It was considerably larger than McKay's Island, and composed chiefly of a dark brown rock, its flat portions covered with verdure. The general outline resembled a saddle, the higher of the two peaks being over two thousand feet above the sea.

But in place of the glistening sands of McKay's Island there was a beach of black sand, apparently the ground-up deposit of lava, for from the lower of the two peaks a thin cloud of smoke was emitted, showing that Ahii was still an active volcano.

At the western termination of the beach was perceived the entrance to a small creek, while beyond this opening low, dark-coloured cliffs rose sheer from the sea.

The approach of the invaders was observed long before the flotilla reached the entrance of the lagoon, and by the aid of their telescopes and field-glasses the crew of the yawl saw that the beach was lined with warriors, armed with formidable beak-headed clubs, long spears and oblong shields, the natives being bedecked with barbaric finery and plentifully bedaubed with paint and ochre.

"That's their boat harbour," shouted Blight, pointing to the creek. "Their canoes are drawn up on the banks about half-a-mile up the river. The village is on the port side. Shall I tell our men to push right in and burn their blessed canoes?"

"No," replied Mr. McKay. "I don't want unnecessary violence; besides, if their canoes are destroyed, how can they leave the island? Let our boats remain about two hundred yards from shore. You will then stand in the chief's canoe and tell the natives to clear out. Say that we give them till midday. Otherwise we must open fire on them."

"Then you don't want these fellows to have a set-to?"

"No! No bloodshed unless it cannot possibly be avoided. Now carry on and we'll be ready to open fire to cover your retreat if they give trouble."

Blight could not but obey. The chief's canoe was paddled slowly towards the shore, the natives regarding the late inhabitants of Ahii with contemptuous gestures not unmingled with curiosity. They expected a mad rush, a fierce conflict on the shore, and an easy victory; but the apparently timorous approach of a solitary canoe mystified them.

THE CHIEF'S CANOE WAS PADDLED SLOWLY TOWARDS THE SHORE

The ex-pearler stood up and shouted to the hostile chiefs. Whether he gave Mr. McKay's message in a conciliatory manner the Australian was not in a position to ascertain. More than likely, Blight, with a white man's contempt for "niggers," put his own construction upon the request, for before he had spoken half-a-dozen sentences there was a blood-curdling yell, and a shower of stones was hurled at the canoe.

The crew paddled out of range, while their companions, with loud counter-shouts of defiance, urged their boat to the attack, till by dint of much hand-waving Mr. McKay kept them temporarily in check.

"They've asked us to come ashore and be made into 'big pig,'" shouted Blight. "Shall we let our men loose?"

"Not here," replied Mr. McKay. "Paddle along the shore and we'll make a landing as far from the village as possible. That will give the enemy a chance to clear out if they get the worst of it."

Headed by the yawl, the little fleet kept parallel with the shore, a crowd of about two thousand armed savages keeping pace with the invaders, yelling, dancing, brandishing their weapons, and hurling the direst insults of which the natives were capable at their apparently inferior enemies.

"It must be a sharp lesson, lads," observed Mr. McKay. "What wouldn't I give for a Maxim or an automatic Colt. Ellerton, you take the helm and keep the boat just so, no nearer to shore."

The flotilla was now abreast of that part of the beach that was terminated by the cliffs. Here the flat shore consisted of a wedge-shaped piece of ground, so narrow that the enemy was unable to take due advantage of its superiority in numbers. The rapid fire of four magazine rifles would play havoc with the dense serried ranks of bronzed and painted warriors, but still Mr. McKay refrained from making the first advance.

"Let them fight it out between themselves," he shouted to Blight, who, however eager he was to send the natives to the fight, did not show any strong inclination to lead them. "We'll open fire if our fellows get the worst of it."

It was plainly impossible to keep the invaders in hand. With a roar of defiance that momentarily drowned the yells of their more numerous adversaries, the natives urged their canoes towards the shore.

Then, as craft after craft grounded upon the beach, their crews dropped paddles, grasped their clubs and spears, and plunged waist deep into the water.

It was a veritable struggle between a host of bronzed paladins.

Clubs met with a loud and ponderous clang, spears met shields or else found a softer billet, while those of the defenders of the island who could not gain the van hurled enormous stones over the heads of their foremost ranks at their vindictive foes.

Above the shouts of the combatants could be heard the shrieks of the desperately wounded.

Several received serious wounds on both sides, yet save in extreme cases, they bore their hurts bravely, returning to the fray with the utmost determination, till failing strength caused them to drop, still fighting so long as they could wield a club or thrust with a spear.

Twice the rightful inhabitants of Ahii gained a footing on the shore, and twice were they swept back by the weight of numbers, for as fast as one of the defenders fell, another filled his place, while on the other hand the invaders had no reserves. True, there were the white men, but it was impossible to wield a rifle without serious consequence to friend as well as foe.

"How these fellows fight!" exclaimed Andy. "They simply won't give way; they'll be exterminated."

"It's fighting for fighting's sake," replied his father. "We must chip in or we'll find ourselves opposed to the whole island without a native to help us. Luff her up, Ellerton. That's right; now keep her as she is."

The yawl moved slowly in the opposite direction to her previous course, though still parallel with the shore. By this means the scene of the actual struggle was passed and only the serried rearguard of the defenders was abeam.

"Now, lads, aim low!"

The four rifles opened a rapid fire. It seemed like butchery, yet, as Mr. McKay had said, there was no alternative. Twenty human beings cannot stop a modern rifle-bullet fired at one hundred yards' range.

The defence seemed to melt away, and with redoubled shouts of triumph the friendly natives started in pursuit of the fugitives, knocking over the head all who were overtaken.

"If those fellows won't keep in hand, they will be in danger of being cut off," exclaimed Mr. McKay. "We must follow our friends up. Ellerton, you stay on board, and keep our craft underway."

Hurriedly the two McKays, Terence, and Quexo jumped into the tender, rowed ashore, and followed the ghastly trail of the victorious natives.

It was a hazardous undertaking, for some of the fugitives had fled inland instead of following their main body in their retreat upon the village. At any moment these might rally and fall upon the little band of white men, the dense scrub being favourable for such tactics.

There was no sign of Jimmy Blight. He had not accompanied the natives in their first attack, although he was known to have been in the chief's canoe, nor had he made his appearance when the white party landed.

"Keep a bright look-out, lads," cautioned Mr. McKay. "Have your revolvers ready. They are more serviceable than rifles here."

At almost every yard of the way lay natives either dead or grievously wounded. Many of the latter were bold enough to attempt to rise and threaten the white men. So far as possible, the wounded were ignored, greatly to their surprise, for a savage rarely gives and never expects quarter.

Once or twice, however, a warrior would spring to his feet after the white men had passed, and with his remaining energy throw his club or spear at his enemies. In that case it became necessary to silence the desperate native for ever.

Suddenly from the shelter of a dense belt of scrub three powerful blacks dashed upon Quexo, who had strayed a few yards behind the rest of the party.

The mulatto raised his revolver and fired, and a huge native sprang a good three feet in the air and tumbled on his face. But ere Quexo could repeat his shot a triple-barbed spear pierced his shoulder. He fell, the weapon still embedded in his flesh.

The man who had thrown the lance drew a stone knife, and threw himself upon the prostrate mulatto, while the third native raised his club to complete the business.

With admirable presence of mind Quexo shot the man with the club, who in his fall completely covered the hapless mulatto.

Alarmed by the first shot, Mr. McKay and the two lads ran to the aid of their companion, but ere they emerged from the bush a third shot rang out, and the savage who had hurled the spear at the mulatto fell shot through the head.

Then as Andy rushed to the spot where Quexo lay, Jimmy Blight stepped from the cover of a group of palm trees.

"Not a bad shot, eh, boss?" he exclaimed, as he thrust fresh cartridges into his revolver. "You'd best get your young fellow on board as quick as you can, I reckon."

Quexo was groaning dismally, now the actual struggle was over. The triple spear-head had made a ghastly wound in his shoulder, for in his fall the haft had broken off short. Mr. McKay managed to extract it skilfully.

In the midst of their misfortunes the roar of the combatants came nearer and nearer. The enemy had rallied; the savages were driving back their attackers. Already men were streaming by, flying for their lives.

"Guess we'd best hook it," exclaimed Blight.

"Bear a hand, Andy," said his father, as he pointed to his helpless servant.

"Don't be a fool, boss!" shouted the ex-pearler, who was already beginning to retire. "He's about done for, and we'll be the same if we stop. Come along!"

"Not I," replied Mr. McKay sturdily. "You go if you want to. Come on, Andy, move him across to yonder thicket. We'll make a last stand here if it comes to the worst."

Something in Mr. McKay's reply must have appealed to the better nature of this low-down specimen of the white race, for, turning swiftly on his heel, he returned. Kneeling beside the unconscious man he helped himself to his bandolier, revolver, and rifle.

Without another word the four men lifted Quexo to the shelter of the trees, and quietly and resolutely made ready to receive the horde of triumphant savages.

CHAPTER XIII

ELLERTON TO THE RESCUE

Already the last of the fugitives had passed, rushing blindly for the shelter of their canoes, and the foremost of their pursuers were emerging from the clearing.

Mr. McKay, cool in the time of extreme peril, calculated that only about a hundred of their allies remained alive, while, making due allowance for the tremendous execution, there were at least a thousand bloodthirsty foes. Four against a thousand!

"Don't fire yet!" he whispered.

The main body of the savages crossed the clearing at breakneck rate, and disappeared in the direction of the beach, but others came at a more leisurely pace, examining those of the fugitives who had fallen. Those who showed signs of life were bound hand and foot, for what purpose the white men had no doubt whatever.

Presently the keen eye of one of the savages caught a glimpse of one of the rifle barrels. The man was evidently a chief, for, in addition to his coat of paint, he wore a short cloak of feathers.

Without a moment's hesitation the savage uttered a loud shout and ran straight in the direction of the white men, followed, at a distance of about twenty paces, by some fifty yelling natives.

"You take that fellow, Blight!" exclaimed Mr. McKay quietly.

Blight raised his rifle to his shoulder, took a sight in the centre of the chief's broad chest, and pressed the trigger.

"Missed, by smoke!" he cried, for the man came on steadily.

It was the work of a few seconds to open and close the bolt of the rifle, and in that time the chief still ran on; but before Blight could discharge his weapon a second time, the native's knees appeared to give way, and he pitched headlong on his face.

All four men were firing fast into the hostile press. The rush was stopped, although some of the savages came near enough to hurl their spears, several of which stuck in the trunks of the palm trees behind which the little band took shelter.

Many of the attackers fled for safety, others did not deign to run, but retired slowly, brandishing their weapons at their enemies as they did so. Some paid for their rashness, for it was a case of fighting for existence, and every native put out of action told.

"The beggars are going to corral us," exclaimed Blight. "See, they are running round to our left."

A couple of volleys drove the natives back still farther, yet without attempting to take cover they continued their tactics of trying to cut off their enemies' retreat.

The South Sea Islanders rarely resort to strategy in actual fighting. They may, indeed, take steps to surround their enemies, and then charge fearlessly to close quarters.

The white men were even now surrounded, for the advanced body, having failed to prevent the embarkation of the discomfited invaders, had been attracted by the sound of the firing and had completed the hostile cordon.

In the lull that ensued, Mr. McKay contrived to place a temporary bandage over Quexo's shoulder. The mulatto was still unconscious, but showed no symptoms of having been poisoned by the spear thrust.

"I wonder what Hoppy is doing?" remarked Terence, after moistening his parched lips with a draught from his water-bottle. "I guess he's in a terrible stew."

"He may manage to make our friends attempt another attack. If so, we can bolt for the shore; though I'm not going to put much faith in that," replied Mr. McKay. "They've had too much of a licking, I fancy."

"Pity you didn't let us burn those blessed canoes, boss; these black rascals will be able to follow our craft now."

"Yes, I admit I erred on the side of mercy, Mr. Blight," was the reply. "It's my fault, and I must take the blame."

"That comes o' being so mighty particular," retorted the ex-pearler bluntly. "If we come out o' this I guess your opinion of a nigger will have an almighty change. Now, stand by, for here they come."

"Don't be taken alive, lads," continued Mr. McKay, and the next instant the rifle-fire reopened.

Upon the dense masses of natives every shot told, yet having only one rifle for each front the fire was not sufficiently extended to keep the advancing enemy at bay.

The air was filled with shouts and shrieks, while stones and spears flew in deadly showers. Once the magazines were empty there was no time to recharge. The heated rifles were flung aside and the revolvers were brought into use.