Now wheel round and fire!" As they fronted the natives they found that not thirty yards divided them.
At that short range every bullet told.
Three men fell dead, and as many were wounded.
The captain gave them a couple of shots from his revolver before he once more turned and ran for his life.
"That accounts for about half them," exclaimed our hero.
As they gained the head of the beach Jack stopped short.
"Go on!" he gasped.

"My side! I am stuck!" Bob put his arm through that of his friend, who had dropped his gun, and dragged him onward.
The captain turned and fired the remaining chambers of his revolver among the crowd, now within a score of yards.
The small boat was in waiting, and into it they tumbled, amid a storm of spears.
Both the captain and Bok, who rowed, were stuck.
Our hero seized the oars from the hands of the latter and pulled with all his strength for the yacht.
The gunwale of the little boat was almost level with the water.
It was slow work.
Luckily, nearly all the enemies' spears were exhausted.
An arrow pierced Bob's cap, and the last spear which was thrown again wounded the captain, piercing his leg.
Fortunately the distance was so far that it only entered about an inch and fell out from its own weight.
Our hero and the captain clambered on board the schooner.
Jack was exhausted, but still clung to his bag of silver.
Scarcely had they gained the deck when a yell broke from the dark waters around them, and spears and arrows fell on all sides.
Every gun on board was now fired at the savages.
Yet they came on as if determined to kill every white person in sight..