king no more
than the truth when he asserted that the party would be certainly no
worse off in the hands of the mutineers than they would be in those of a
horde of Malay pirates, whose calling only fosters their natural
propensity for rapine and bloodshed. He had heard one or two perfectly
hideous stories of atrocities committed by those wretches when
unfortunate ships' crews had fallen into their hands. And he shuddered,
and his blood ran cold as his vivid imagination pictured the women and
children of the party in the hands and at the mercy of such a band. In
this, as in every other case of difficulty or danger, the safety and
welfare of the women and children would naturally be the first
consideration; and Gaunt's first mental question was how would they be
affected by these tidings. It was true, he reflected, that the proas
might _not_ visit the island; but, as it was evident that they were
cruising in the neighbourhood, it would be the height of folly to rely
only upon chance in such a matter. And he forthwith began to turn over
in his mind what would be the best steps to take in the emergency. It
would be possible for the weaker members of the party to find
concealment somewhere among the spurs of the mountain; but any such
arrangement as this, whilst highly inconvenient, would be open to many
other disadvantages. And he could not help thinking of what their fate
would be, supposing that whilst lying thus concealed the men of the
party should be attacked and made captive or slain. Were such a
catastrophe as this to befall them, the fate of those poor women and
children would be little better than a living death; left as they would
be to shift for themselves unaided, unprotected, and their hearts wrung
with anguish for the loss of those to whom they were naturally in the
habit of looking for help and protection, and with little or no chance
of ultimate escape from their island prison. And, to add to the
difficulties of the situation, the little party were so weak-handed that
to construct such a fortified habitation as Blyth had suggested would
be, if not an absolute impossibility, a work of such time and labour
that for all practical purposes it might as well be unattempted. This
was no case of ordinary difficulty; it was not a difficulty which could
be overcome by the skilful and judicious application of a practically
unlimited supply of manual labour. And almost for the first time in his
life the engine