Captain Coffin either did not hear me or did not dare to turn his head. Drew had grabbed up a war-club lying beside a dead savage, and was trying to get at him, but his way was not clear. I leaped for him and yelled again. Other islanders were coming to the help of those engaged with Captain Coffin, and he was becoming the centre of the fighting. He was much the biggest white man there. Macy was nearly as tall, but did not give the impression of bigness and power that Captain Coffin did. I caught a glimpse of Mr. Macy coming up on the other side of Captain Coffin, and remember wondering what had become of the Prince. It was the kind of a fight that I had imagined he would love. At the risk of my life I glanced about, and saw him just behind me, as if he was following to see that no harm came to me. There was the gleam of battle in his eye, his face was set, his lips drawn back in a tiger-snarl, showing his white teeth. They shone in his ebony face like a light at sea on a dark night. Captain Coffin might have heard my warning yells, but he gave no sign. It would have been death for him to look back. Drew was slowly making his way toward him, striking at the natives who got in his way. A big native disputed the way, and I got almost within reach. The islander gave before Drew’s ferocious assault. Drew let {351} him go, and pressed on toward Captain Coffin. I leaped again, and got within reach as he was in the act of bringing his club down on Captain Coffin’s head. I struck with all my might, and the blow went true. Drew’s wrist was broken, his head was laid open in a long line, and he tottered. At that instant I heard the dull report of a Spencer. Drew’s body whirled about, and crumpled in a heap. Captain Nelson had done it, and the bullet had gone through Drew’s body, striking down one of the natives. Relieved of the anxiety of the moment, I dropped my hands, and drew a long breath. That was no time for dropping my hands, and I was brought quickly back to the present by the prick of a spear. I squirmed away, and looked up to see a club descending. There was no time to use my club, or to raise my spade, which hung in my left hand. There was a rush beside me, and the Prince, apparently empty-handed, launched himself at my assailant. My head was saved, and both went down, just out of my reach. The Prince had broken his lance, but had saved the blade, which he plunged into the throat of the islander. At the same instant an ironwood war-club crashed down on his head.