The women and children screaming had cleared out into the bush, while
at the shore end of the jetty the warriors capered and yelled, preparing
for a general attack. Lingard noticed with mortification that his
boat-keeper apparently had lost his head, for, instead of swimming off
to the ship to give the alarm, as he was perfectly able to do, the
man actually struck out for a small rock a hundred yards away and was
frantically trying to climb up its perpendicular side. The tide being
out, to jump into the horrible mud under the houses would have been
almost certain death. Nothing remained therefore--since the miserable
dwelling would not have withstood a vigorous kick, let alone a
siege--but to rush back on shore and regain possession of the boat. To
this Lingard made up his mind quickly and, arming himself with a crooked
stick he found under his hand, sallied forth at the head of his three
men. As he bounded along, far in advance, he had just time to perceive
clearly the desperate nature of the undertaking, when he heard two shots
fired to his right. The solid mass of black bodies and frizzly heads in
front of him wavered and broke up. They did not run away, however.
Lingard pursued his course, but now with that thrill of exultation which
even a faint prospect of success inspires in a sanguine man.
Pages:
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95