never man pulled before.

A bullet lodged in the stern of the boat, another splintered the end of
an oar, and then the rifleman's nerves must have got the better of him.
The succeeding shots fell wide, and I whooped like a madman as I drove
the boat on to the green tongue of land. Springing out hastily I made a
dash across the white strip of sand, and dived into the moist creeper
growth.

I lay there panting, watching the yacht to see what Newmarch would do.
It was impossible for him to leave the yacht to follow me, but I guessed
that he would make an attempt to communicate with Leith. And I guessed
rightly.

I had not been five minutes in the bushes when a boat put off for the
shore. It contained three of the crew, two Tannese and the Fijian that I
had found mourning the death of Toni, his "all same brother who had
worked with him at Suva." They pulled for the spot where I had left the
dory, and here the Fijian sprang out, while the others proceeded to tow
the dory back to _The Waif_. I surmised that Toni's "all same brother"
had been sent to carry a message to Leith, and I lay in the bushes
waiting as he raced toward me.

Cautiously he clawed his way through the undergrowth, and when he was
certain that the creepers had completely veiled him from the eyes of
watchers on the yacht he picked up a small flat stone from the ground,
drew a yachting knife from his belt and crouching on his heels started
to sharpen the blade. As he rubbed industriously he sang a weird tune in
his native tongue, rounding off each verse with five words in English
that explained his industry. The words were: "Now I'll kill you, Soma,"