CHAPTER NINETEEN.

GOLD AND PEARLS--JACK CAROUSING.

No confusion here in the fort. The men were all in, the other spear-armed corps of at least five hundred were hidden in the bush at the base of the mountain side. Inside everything was being conducted as quietly and regularly as--as--well, as a marriage in church.

But looking seaward, even without the aid of a glass, the great Armada could be seen approaching.

Huge black many-paddled war canoes, forty in all, and probably with fifty men in each, or nearly a thousand altogether.

Nearer and nearer they swept with many a wild or warlike shout that was meant to strike terror into the hearts of the Flower Islanders. They were soon so near that the rattling of their spears as they struck them against their big shields could be distinctly heard.

So near now that with a small opera-glass which the doctor carried, he could see their painted skins and faces, and the red and horrible streaks.

And now it was time to fire the first gun. A shot or shell would have carried much further, but grape would be ever so much more demoralising. Dickson himself trained that gun on the foremost or leading boat.

The surprise of the enemy was indeed great. Never had they seen a gun fired before, nor heard the roar of one. But yonder on shore and in front of the barricaded fort they could see a balloon of white smoke, with a stream of red fire in the centre. Then the roar of that piece of ordnance was appalling. Next moment the crowded boat or war canoe was filled with corpses and the shrieking, bleeding wounded. But she was in splinters, and quickly filled and sank. The other boats lay on their paddles for a minute, uncertain what to do.

Meanwhile, and just as Reginald was quickly sponging out the gun previous to reloading, and all was silent for a time, a curious thing occurred.

In at the tiny back door of the fort, which had not yet been closed, rushed a tiny, laughing figure, all in white and barefooted. It was Matty, and in jumped honest Oscar next. She was laughing merrily.

"Oh!" she cried, clapping her hands with glee. "They put me to bed, but I dot up again and runned away twickly, and I'se come to 'ssist!"

"Oh, my darling!" cried Reginald, in great concern, "why did you come?"

"I can tally (carry) tartridges and powder."

"No, no, no, dear. You must obey me. Here, there is my coat, and in that corner you must sit till all the fight is over."

Matty said: "Tiss me, then."

He kissed her, and down she sat with the dog beside her, and looked very demure indeed, with that one wee forefinger in her mouth.

Strange to say, she soon fell fast asleep, with her head pillowed on the dog's back, one hand clutching his mane.

The battle now became general all along the line. For the riflemen in the back, as well as those within the fort, began to fire.

And now slowly down the hill came Bertha, the Island Queen, sceptre-pole in hand, and dressed in skins of dazzling white. A very imposing figure she looked. But her presence gave extra courage to her people.

The officers in almost every boat were picked off easily, so short was now the range.

It must be admitted that the enemy showed no lack of courage, though boat after boat was sunk to the number of six, and rifles rang out from the bush and fort in a series of independent but incessant firing, and well did the foe understand that their main safety now consisted in landing as soon as they possibly could. They knew that in a hand-to-hand fight the "fire-sticks," as savages call our rifles, would be of little avail.

The guns were worked with splendid results, however, and by the time the war canoes were beached only about four hundred men were left to fight. But these cannibals knew no fear.

One more telling volley from the bush, one more shot from a six-pounder, then from behind a bush rushed the white Queen waving aloft her sceptre, and instantly from their cover, spear-armed, now rushed the Flower Islanders, one thousand strong at least The fight was a fearful one. Dickson, Hall, with Reginald and the men in the fort, joined with revolver and cutlass. The Queen was in the front. No, she fought not, but her presence there was like that of Joan of Arc.

Many of the invaded fell dead and wounded; but even the fierce foe was forced to yield at last, and the miserable remnant of them tried once more to reach their boats.

They never did. It was a war of extermination, and the invaders were utterly and completely wiped out Never a boat, never a man returned home to their distant island to tell the fearful tale.

The Flower Islanders expected now a grand feast. Here was flesh--human flesh.

The Queen forbade it, and Dickson himself gave orders that every body-- the wounded had been stabbed--should be rowed out to sea and thrown overboard to feed the sharks. They demurred. Dickson was determined and stern. If not obeyed instantly, he should turn the guns on the would-be cannibals.

Reginald suggested as a kind of compromise that each man who had been fighting should receive a large biscuit and a glass of rum. It was a happy thought, and after this the work was set about merrily. The sea-burial occupied all the afternoon till within an hour of sunset. Then the canoes returned. All was over. The Armada was no more.

But around him now Dickson gathered the Flower Island Army, and offered up a prayer of thanks to the God of Battle, who had fought on their side, and the islanders seemed much impressed. The enemy would probably never attempt invasion again--in our heroes' time, at all events.

The Queen gave a banquet that night, she herself presiding. Of course, nothing was talked about except the incidents of the recent terrible battle.

Matty came in for a share of praise, but was told she really must not run away again. And she promised, only adding that she thought she could "'ssist the poor dear doc."

The banquet lasted till late. The Queen had not forgotten how to play and sing. Dickson and Reginald were both good musicians, and one or two blacks gave inimitable performances, partly gesture, partly song; which would assuredly have brought down the house if given in a London music-hall.

Being freed now for a time from any fear of further invasion, attention was turned to the gold mines and to the pearl-fishing. At a meeting on the hillside it was resolved that the men--they were all honest fellows--should be admitted to the secret. To have shut them out would hardly have been fair, so thought all.

Well, naturally enough, Reginald chose what he considered the best two claims; then came Dickson's choice; then Mr Hall's, and after these the six white sailors, and they were willing to dig like heroes.

They divided the work of the day into two parts. One was spent at the gold mines, the other in fishing for pearls. They were remarkably successful with the latter, but for nine months at least the gold came but slowly in, and this was disheartening. Nevertheless, they continued to dig and dig, assisted by native labour. The savages often found nuggets among the _debris_ that had been overlooked by the white men, and these they dutifully presented to the owners of the claims.

It must be admitted that the men were most energetic, for while their officers were always at the Queen's palace by five o'clock, and ready for dinner, the men often worked by moonlight, or even by the glimmer of lanterns. They were slowly accumulating wealth.

Success crowned Reginald's efforts at last, though. For, to his extreme wonderment and delight, he struck a splendid pocket.

It was deep down at the far end of the cave, and the mould was of a sandy nature, much of it apparently powdered quartz, broken, perhaps, by the awful pressure of the mountain above. But the very first nugget he pulled from here was as large as a pineapple, and many more followed, though none so large.

No wonder his heart palpitated with joy and excitement, or that his comrades crowded round to shake his hand and congratulate him. But that cave had already made Reginald a fairly wealthy man. His success, moreover, encouraged the others to dig all the harder, and not without excellent results. It seemed, indeed, that not only was this island a flowery land, but an isle of gold. And the further they dug into the hill the more gold did they find. The men were very happy.

"Oh, Bill," said one to his pal one night at supper, "if ever we does get a ship home from this blessed isle, won't my Polly be glad to see me just!"

"Ay, Jack, she will; but I ain't in any particular hurry to go yet, you know."

"Well, it's two years come Monday since we sailed away from the beautiful Clyde. Heigho! I shouldn't wonder if Polly has given me up for good and all, and married some counter-jumping land-lubber of a draper or grocer."

"Never mind, Jack; there's as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it yet. Pass the rum. This is Saturday night, and it was just real good of Captain Dickson to send us an extra drop of the rosy. Fill your glasses, gentlemen, for a toast and a song. That digging has made me a mighty deal too tired to think of dancing to the sweetest jig e'er a fiddler could scrape out."

"Well, give us your toast, Bill. We're all primed and waiting."

"My toast ain't a very short one, but here it goes: `May the next year be our very last in this 'ere blessed island; may we all go home with bags of gold, and find our sweethearts true and faithful.'"

"Hear, hear!" And every glass was drained to the bottom. "Now for the song."

"Oh, only an old ditty o' Dibdin's, and I'd rather be on the heavin' ocean when I sings it. There is no accompaniment to a song so fetching as that which the boom and the wash of the waves make. Them's my sentiments, boys.

"Wives and Sweethearts.

"'Tis said we ve't'rous diehards, when we leave the shore, Our friends should mourn, Lest we return To bless their sight no more; But this is all a notion Bold Jack can't understand, Some die upon the ocean, And some die on the land. Then since 'tis clear, Howe'er we steer, No man's life's under his command; Let tempests howl And billows roll, And dangers press; In spite of these there are some joys Us jolly tars to bless, For Saturday night still comes, my boys, To drink to Poll and Bess.

"Hurrah!" But just at this moment a strange and ominous sound, like distant thunder, put a sudden stop to the sailors' Saturday night. All started to their feet to listen.