ize their arms, and with the oars ready to
shove off, if necessary, we wait prepared. The figures approach
silently in great numbers, but cautiously stealing along, as if not
aware that we are awake. We make no sound. On they come over the
rocks, with more ease than we could advance in daylight. In less than a
minute they will be upon us. I wish to save bloodshed. There is a
faint light in the sky: it is the looked-for moon about to rise.
Suddenly the silence is broken by loud unearthly yells, and hundreds of
naked forms spring up as it were from the ground upon us.

CHAPTER SIX.

SAVED BY A STORM.

Never have I heard yells more terrific than those with which the Penrhyn
Islanders set on us. We are assailed also with showers of darts and
stones, which wound many of our people sorely. Golding, brave as he is
on most occasions, utters a cry of terror, and nearly leaps overboard on
the opposite side of the boat I give unwillingly the word to fire. Many
of the foremost savages fall--the rest hang back. We shove off. The
oars are quickly got out. The moon rises. I distinguish the channel.
It is almost slack water. We pull for our lives. Golding and Taro
stand up and fire. The savages either do not see their comrades fall or
do not dread the bullets, for they rush along the rocks still within a
few yards of us hurling their stones and darts. I feel assured that if
we strike a rock our lives will pay the penalty. The rising moon gives
me more light to steer, and allows Golding and Taro to take better aim.
It shows us, however, more clearly to the savages. There is still the
narrowest channel to pass. The savages are making for the point when,
Golding and Taro firing together, two of their chief men fall. It is as
I thought, they had not before noticed who had been struck. Now they
stop, and with loud howls lift up the bodies of their chiefs. Our men
bend to their oars--we dart through the narrow opening, and though many
of the savages spring after us, they fail to reach the point in time.
Golding and Taro continue firing without necessity. The poor wretches
have received punishment enough, and why thus slaughter them when our
own safety does not sternly require us to kill? The lights on board our
ship greet our sight, and we pull gladly towards her--Golding still
uttering his regrets at the loss of his pearl necklace. We reach the
ship, and stand off for the night, Golding insisting that he will