was Bill's voice! In
another moment we were on board--the boat made fast, the line of the
anchor cut, and the sweeps run out. At the first stroke of Bill's giant
arm the schooner was nearly pulled ashore, for in his haste he forgot
that I could scarcely move the unwieldy oar. Springing to the stern, he
lashed the rudder in such a position as that, while it aided me, it
acted against him, and so rendered the force of our strokes nearly
equal. The schooner now began to glide quickly down the creek; but
before we reached its mouth, a yell from a thousand voices on the bank
told that we were discovered. Instantly a number of the savages plunged
into the water and swam towards us; but we were making so much way that
they could not overtake us. One, however, an immensely powerful man,
succeeded in laying hold of the cut rope that hung from the stern, and
clambered quickly upon deck. Bill caught sight of him the instant his
head appeared above the taffrail. But he did not cease to row, and did
not appear even to notice the savage until he was within a yard of him;
then dropping the sweep, he struck him a blow on the forehead with his
clenched fist that felled him to the deck. Lifting him up, he hurled
him overboard, and resumed the oar. But now a greater danger awaited
us; for the savages had outrun us on the bank, and were about to plunge
into the water ahead of the schooner. If they succeeded in doing so,
our fate was sealed. For one moment Bill stood irresolute. Then
drawing a pistol from his belt, he sprang to the brass gun, held the pan
of his pistol over the touch-hole, and fired. The shot was succeeded by
the hiss of the cannon's priming; then the blaze and the crashing
thunder of the monstrous gun burst upon the savages with such deafening
roar that it seemed as if their very mountains had been rent asunder.

This was enough. The moment of surprise and hesitation caused by the
unwonted sound gave us time to pass the point; a gentle breeze, which
the dense foliage had hitherto prevented us from feeling, bulged out our
sails; the schooner bent before it, and the shouts of the disappointed
savages grew fainter and fainter in the distance as we were slowly
wafted out to sea.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

REFLECTIONS--THE WOUNDED MAN--THE SQUALL--TRUE CONSOLATION--DEATH.

There is a power of endurance in human beings, both in their bodies and
in their minds, which, I have often thought, seems to be wonderfu