feeble from two days’ fasting, while the pirates were strong, and thirsting for our
blood.
The captain kept glancing first at the enemy and then at a musket that lay near
him. He longed to use it, but not a man could be spared from the oars. Hand over
hand they gained on us. Turning his eyes on me as I sat in the bow, the captain
said, while he bent his sinewy back to the oar, “Jack, are you a good shot?”
I stammered, “I can try, sir.”
“Very well, get the musket there in the bow. It is loaded. Take good aim and
shoot that big fellow in the stern. If you hit him, I’ll make you master of a ship
some day.”
Tremblingly I raised the heavy musket as directed. The boat was unsteady, I
hardly expected to hit the chief, but aimed low, hoping to hit one of the rowers at
least. I aimed, closed my eyes, and fired. With the report of the musket the tall
leader sprang into the air and then fell head fore-most amid his rowers. I could
just detect the gleam of the moonlight on the jewelled handle of his kris as it
sank into the waters. I had hit my man. The sailors sent up a hearty American
cheer and a tiger, as they saw the prau come to a standstill.
Our boat sprang away into the darkness. We did not cease rowing until dawn,—
then we lay back on our oars and stretched our tired backs and arms. I had taken
my place at the oar during the night.
Away out on the northern horizon we saw a black speck; on the southern horizon
another. The captain’s glass revealed one to be the pirate prau with all sails set,
for a wind had come up with the dawn. The other we welcomed with a cheer, for
it was the Bangor. Enfeebled and nearly famishing, we headed toward it and
rowed for life. How we regretted having left our sails on the island. The prau
had sighted us and was bearing down in full pursuit; we soon could distinguish
its wide-spreading, rakish sails almost touching the water as it sped on. Then we
made out the naked forms of the Illanums hanging to the ropes, far out over the
water, and then we could hear their blood-curdling yell. It was too late; their yell
was one of baffled rage. It was answered by the deep bass tones of the swivel on
board the Bangor sending a ball skimming along over the waters, which,
although it went wide of its mark, caused the natives on the ropes to throw