Already three boats had been hoisted out, one a "twenty-foot" motor-launch, which was to take the two whalers in tow. Into the launch went Mendoza, taking Kenneth with him. Lopez was in command of the first whaler, the second being in charge of the bos'n. With the exception of Kenneth everyone was armed to the teeth.
Mendoza's intention was not to seek for the pearl bed at present, but to recapture Asger Holbaek. He realized that with the Dane at large, there would be an important witness against him should his plans go awry. It was also essential that the Kanakas should be brought on board again, not only because they might inform a warship of the Paloma's piratical acts but they were necessary in their capacity as divers. None of the Spanish crew, although for the most part expert swimmers, could vie with the South Sea Islanders in keeping long enough under water to bring the oysters to the surface. More than once Mendoza regretted that he had not the foresight to purchase diving dresses before leaving Panama. Had he done so he would have been independent of Kanaka labour, and the reasons that prompted him to seize and scuttle the Svend would not have existed.
Slowly the motor-launch and her tow approached the sandy beach, the men ready at the first alarm to open fire upon any of the natives who might resist their landing.
Not a man was visible, which was an ominous sign. Usually the natives, either through irresistible curiosity, or with a desire to barter with the crew of any visiting ship, would crowd down to the beach and even swim off to welcome the arrivals.
Mendoza argued that there must be a village somewhere on the island. This he meant to seize and, under threat of burning it to the ground, compel the natives of Talai to give up the Kanakas and their white leader. Overhearing scraps of conversation between Mr. Heatherington and Captain Gregory before the mutiny had occurred, he had learnt that the inhabitants of the island were inoffensive and good-tempered natives, and not likely to give any trouble unless they were allowed on board—in which case they would pilfer any article of value or otherwise which took their fancy.
The motor-launch grounded on the sand about her own length from the beach. The whalers, being of less draught, overran their tow and brought up within leaping distance of the dry sand, with their sterns close to the bows of the launch, thus forming a convenient double gangway for the crew of the latter to jump ashore dry-shod.
Quite in ignorance of the nature of the operations—for he was under the impression that Mendoza was going to undertake preliminary soundings in an attempt to locate the pearl-beds—Kenneth was about to land with the others, when the mutineer captain ordered him to remain in the launch with the two boat-keepers. One man was also left in each whaler to keep her stern-on to the slight swell.
Confident that he had an easy task, Mendoza led his landing-party along the beach to a gap in the undergrowth, the seaward termination of a foot-path leading to the village.
Suddenly a drum boomed out a threatening note. Almost simultaneously the scrub seemed to be alive with brown figures. Stones and arrows hurtling through the air.
Had the natives followed the advice of their white guest, Asger Holbaek, they would have waited in ambush until Mendoza and his men were helplessly entangled in the scrub and coco-groves; but discipline was not the islanders' strong point. Having got the "black-birders" within range of their missiles, they could not refrain from opening a premature offensive.
Nevertheless Mendoza and his followers were in a tight corner. Three or four dropped badly wounded. Almost all the others were hit by stones. In the confusion that resulted the Spaniards let fly an erratic and ineffectual volley of small-arms, which did little more than check an impetuous charge by their assailants.
Mendoza, dazed by a stone that had inflicted a glancing blow on his temple, turned and staggered back to the boats. Lopez promptly followed his example. Those of the landing-party who possessed any degree of pluck stood their ground, blazing away with their revolvers, while their wounded comrades made good their escape. Then, their courage deserting them, the remaining Spaniards took to their heels.
A swarm of natives rushed in pursuit, brandishing spears and clubs, the latter being formidable weapons of hard green wood. It looked as if the fleet-footed islanders would overtake and brain their assailants before the latter could cover the distance between them and the boats.
Kenneth found himself wondering what would happen to him. It certainly seemed rough luck to be brained by a native under the impression that he was a foe. He could see no signs of Holbaek and the Kanakas in the irregular ranks of the defenders of Talai. Had they been present they might have recognized him, and saved him from the vengeance of the natives, who, after all, could not be blamed for treating every occupant of the boats as an enemy.
"Push off!" shouted Mendoza frantically, as he tumbled over the bows of the whaler. The boat-keepers tried to carry out the order, but already so many fugitives were crowding over the bows that both whalers remained immovable. The mechanic in charge of the launch fumbled feverishly with the starting handle, but the engine obstinately refused to fire. Europeans and natives, the former discharging their fire-arms at point-blank range, the latter clubbing and thrusting with their spears, surged and jostled in a confused mêlée.
So far the motor-launch, being wedged between the whalers and farther from the shore, had come off lightly. The mechanic, green with terror, was feebly fumbling with starting handle and controls, his efforts being still further impeded by Mendoza's frantic entreaties to get the motor running.
A burly Spaniard leapt from the stern of one of the whalers into the launch. As he did so a spear transfixed his back. He fell forward, hurling Kenneth upon the stern-gratings. Winded by the blow the lad remained pinned down by the Spaniard's ponderous and inert bulk, fully expecting to find himself the victim of the club and spears of the now thoroughly infuriated natives.
Suddenly above the turmoil of the hand-to-hand struggle came the crash of a shell. Another and another, splinters of shrapnel flying perilously close to the cluster of boats.
Miguel Fe, watching the rout of his comrades, had opened fire with the Paloma's gun.
The rapid shell-fire turned the scale. Although the missiles burst at a considerable distance in the rear of the defenders of Talai, the natives were terrified by the deafening crashes. To them shell-fire had been hitherto unknown. It savoured of the super-natural.
They broke off the fight and ran helter-skelter for the undergrowth, where the devastating shells took a heavy toll.
Lopez was amongst the first to grasp the new phase of the situation. Mendoza, for the moment, was incapable of doing anything except to urge the mechanic to start the motor. Most of the survivors of the landing-party, all wounded more or less seriously, sat breathlessly in the boats. The Paloma still continued to shell the undergrowth, increasing the range in order to keep the fugitives within the danger zone of the flying shrapnel.
"Trim the boats!" ordered Lopez. "Get aft, you men. She'll float off easily if you do. Juan and Leon," he added, addressing two of the hands who had come through the conflict almost unscathed, "jump ashore and bring off a wounded savage—one not too badly wounded. Do you hear what I say? Then hasten."
CHAPTER XII. LOPEZ'S PLAN FOR REPRISALS
Mendoza was too bewildered to question his subordinate's orders to bring off one of the wounded natives. For the present he was trying to realize that he had escaped from the ambush, and that he had come off considerably more lightly than had the rest of the landing-party. He had received only a few contusions, but the moral shock had given him a nasty jar. Not only had he failed signally to achieve his purpose of recapturing Captain Holbaek and the Kanaka crew of the Svend; he had a fair proportion of his crew temporarily incapacitated through wounds received in a fight that was nothing less than a gross error of judgment on his part.