Now that the screw-driving was actually in operation,
it very unpleasantly reminded Courtenay of the fastening of a coffin
lid. Neither Walker nor the man inside could guess the gruesome notion
which held the captain in its chilly grip for an instant; indeed, the
engineer looked up with a grin.
"I suppose it's twue, sir, the-aw's goin' to be a fight?" he asked.
"There's a fair chance of one, Walker."
Walker winked suggestively.
"That chap inside thinks he's out of it," he said, "so that's all
wight." An energetic turn of the screwdriver signified that the man
from Newcastle held the opposite view. Much as he loved his engines,
he preferred to be on deck when the trouble came.
It happened that during this slight delay Courtenay glanced at the
northern headland, which Elsie had christened Cape Templar, owing to
the somewhat remarkable profile of a knight in armor offered by its
seaward crags. Possibly, had he gone straight to the chart-house, he
might not have noticed a signal fire which was in full blast on the
summit of the cliff. It had not been many minutes in existence, and it
struck him at once that it was a vehicle of communication between the
savages in the approaching canoes and others, yet invisible, who were
expected to share in the attack.
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