My situation was now plain in all its truth. They had enticed Agnew
away; they had attacked him. He had fought, and had been overpowered.
He had tried to give me warning. His last words had been for me to
fly--to fly: yes, for he well knew that it was better far for me to go
to death through the raging torrent than to meet the fate which had
fallen upon himself. For him there was now no more hope. That he was
lost was plain. If he were still alive he would call to me; but his
voice had been silenced for some time. All was over, and that noble
heart that had withstood so bravely and cheerily the rigors of the
storm, and the horrors of our desperate voyage, had been stilled in
death by the vilest of miscreants.

I paused for a moment. Even though Agnew was dead, I could not bear to
leave him, but felt as though I ought to share his fate. The savages
came nearer. At their approach I hesitated no longer. That fate was
too terrible: I must fly.

But before I fled I turned in fury to wreak vengeance upon them for
their crimes. Full of rage and despair, I discharged my remaining
rifle-barrel into the midst of the crowd. Then I fled toward the boat.
On the way I had a frightful thought that she might have been sent
adrift; but, on approaching the place, I found her there just as I had
left her. The savages, with their usual fearlessness, still pursued.
For a moment I stood on the shore, with the grapple in my hand and the
boat close by, and as they came near I discharged my pistol into the
midst of them. Then I sprang into the boat; the swift current bore me
away, and in a few minutes the crowd of pursuing demons disappeared
from view.