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Ballantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael), 1825-1894

"The Coral Island A Tale of the Pacific Ocean"


"There's no need of leaving two in the boat," whispered the mate, as
the men stepped out; "we shall want all our hands. Let Ralph stay."
The captain assented, and ordered me to stand in readiness with the
boat-hook, to shove ashore at a moment's notice if they should return,
or to shove off if any of the savages should happen to approach. He
then threw his carbine into the hollow of his arm and glided through
the bushes, followed by his men. With a throbbing heart I awaited the
result of our plan. I knew the exact locality where the musket was
placed, for Bill had described it to me, and I kept my straining eyes
fixed upon the spot. But no sound came, and I began to fear that either
they had gone in another direction or that Bill had not fixed the
string properly. Suddenly I heard a faint click, and observed one or
two bright sparks among the bushes. My heart immediately sank within
me, for I knew at once that the trigger had indeed been pulled, but
that the priming had not caught. The plan, therefore, had utterly
failed. A feeling of dread now began to creep over me as I stood in the
boat, in that dark, silent spot, awaiting the issue of this murderous
expedition. I shuddered as I glanced at the water that glided past like
a dark reptile. I looked back at the schooner, but her hull was just
barely visible, while her tapering masts were lost among the trees
which overshadowed her. Her lower sails were set, but so thick was the
gloom that they were quite invisible.


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