Adam Gray's finger was on the trigger of his piece, but he did not fire,
though he carefully covered the figure before him, and watched
attentively to make sure that it was no hallucination.
He had marked that figure before; one that lay face downwards,
apparently just as the man had fallen from a shot. And now the dimly
seen arms had changed positions--there was no doubt of that--and the
figure was crawling forward.
What did it mean? Either it was a poor wounded wretch, striving hard to
get relief and help, or else it was a trick on the part of a treacherous
Malay, who was trying to put in force a North American Indian's tactics,
and creeping forward to stab a sentry.
"And so gain an entrance into the fort," thought Adam Gray. "Well, my
poor wretch, you will not do it, unless both my rifle ball and bayonet
should miss."
Just then the figure stopped, and lay quite motionless; and again Gray
hesitated, feeling sure that he must have been deceived, as he gazed now
at the figure where it lay, some twenty yards away.
There it was, perfectly motionless, and in that darkness Gray felt that
he really could not be sure about it. After all, the figure might be
lying where it had first lain. It was impossible to say.
His doubts were dispelled the next moment, for the figure was once more
in motion, and stopped short as the lock of the sentry's rifle clicked.
"Don't shoot!" said a voice in English; "I am a friend."
"If you move again, I fire!" said Gray in a low, stern voice. "Who are
you?"
"Is that Private Gray?" said the voice.
"Mr Ali, is that you?" cried Gray, leaning towards him.
"Yes, it is I," said the figure, crawling rapidly towards him.
"What are you doing with the enemy?"
"Trying to make my way to you. They will not see now. Give me your
hand, and I will climb up."
Gray leaned out over the breast-work, gave his hand to the young man,
and, with a little exercise of his muscular strength, half-drew,
half-aided him to climb into the stronghold--just as Captain Smithers
and Tom Long leaped upon them, seizing each his man, and holding his
sword to his throat.
"You doubly-dyed scoundrel!" cried Captain Smithers. "Caught him in the
act! Call the guard there!"
"Don't you know me, Long?" said a voice that made Tom lower his sword
point.
"Ali!" cried Captain Smithers; "you here?"
"Yes, I am back," said the young man sadly.
"Gray, my good fellow," cried Captain Smithers, "fate seems to have
ordained that I should doubt you."
"Fate is sometimes very cruel to us all, sir," said Gray, coldly, as the
captain set him free, and turned to Ali.
"You found them, then?"
"No," said Ali, sadly.
"But the stockade?"
"What stockade?"
"Where you found them. The steamer went off early in the night."
"The steamer went off? Where?"
"Don't waste time, man, in puzzles," cried the captain, excitedly, as he
felt that something was wrong. "You sent a messenger?"
"I sent no messenger," said Ali, excitedly.
"Yes, yes; the man with the writing in a bamboo?"
"I sent no man," said Ali, sadly. "You have been cheated--over-reached
by your enemies."
"But did you not find them?"
"No, I was hemmed-in at every turn; and at last, in despair I have
crawled back here, hardly saving my life, your sentries are so keen."
"This is dreadful," said Captain Smithers. "How we have been deluded!"
He took a few steps to and fro, and then paused before Ali, gazing at
him searchingly.
"Sir," he said, "we are each of different nations, and your people are
at war with mine. Why should I trust you? why should I believe in your
words? How do I know that I am not talking to one who believes it to be
a virtue to slay people of my creed?"
Ali looked at him wonderingly for a few moments before he spoke,
slowly,--
"Because you know that I am honest," he said; "and if I am not, you have
your resource there. Kill me."
Captain Smithers resumed his agitated walk to and fro.
"This is dreadful!" he said, excitedly. "Those poor fellows have been
inveigled away like the hunting-party, and perhaps by this time there is
a second massacre."
"I think you exaggerate," said Ali, quietly. "The hunting-party have
been led away by a ruse, and the steamer sent upon an errand by a clever
trick. But Captain Horton and Major Sandars are not men to give up the
lives of their following without a bitter struggle. And as for
Lieutenant Johnson--"
"And Mr Roberts," interposed Tom Long.
"Yes, with Mr Roberts," said Ali, "he is too strong in guns and men to
be easily overcome, unless by--"
"Treachery? Yes," said the captain. "And that is what I dread."
"To such an extent," said Ali, with a quiet smile, "that you doubt your
friends."
"For the moment only," said Captain Smithers, holding out his hand,
which the other frankly grasped. "You must remember--my position, sir."
"I do," said Ali. "Now give me a rifle and revolver; we may be attacked
at any moment."
"We?" said Tom Long holding out his hand.
"Yes," said Ali, smiling; "and if we get safely through this trouble you
will have to try and make me more of an Englishman than I am."
Even while he was speaking the Malays renewed their attack with the
greatest pertinacity, it being evident that their object was to capture
the fort before the steamer could render help. They seemed to be roused
to a pitch of mad fury by the resistance they encountered and their
losses, attacking with such determination that it needed no words on
Captain Smithers' part to warn his little garrison that they must fight
to the death.
With a civilised enemy it would have been quite reasonable to have
surrendered long ago, but with such a foe as Rajah Gantang, a pirate of
the worst Malay type, such an act as surrender would have meant giving
all up to a horrible death.
Never was daylight more welcome than when it appeared to the defenders
of that little stronghold, who, gaunt, haggard, and faint with exertion,
saw the sky suddenly turn to orange and gold; and then the sun rose over
the widespread jungle, sending the wreathing night-mists floating amidst
the feathery palms, and seeming to dissolve into thin air.
The first order given by Captain Smithers was to have a signal of
distress run up to the top of the flagstaff; the next to try and
strengthen the defences, which were sorely dilapidated. Some of the
barricading planks and forms were torn down, others riddled with
bullets.
Through the rough straw mattresses spears were sticking in a dozen
directions, and what had looked hopeless again and again during the
night seemed doubly so by day.
But Captain Smithers was not made of the stuff to give up. He had those
under his charge whom he was ready to render his life to save; and the
spirit that animated his breast seemed to infuse itself in the spirits
of the others. He was half mad with jealousy; and angered almost beyond
bearing at the thought that Rachel Linton should favour, as he was sure
now that she did, a private soldier in preference to him. But he cast
away all narrow selfishness, for he was obliged to confess that Gray was
no common man, but evidently a gentleman by education if not by birth.
Casting aside, then, all unworthy thoughts, he roused Tom Long from a
short sleep that he had made him take. He said a few encouraging words
to the men, and then went to join the ladies, who had anticipated his
wishes, and were ready with plenty of refreshments for the jaded
defenders of the fort.
It is wonderful what efficacy there is in a cup of hot coffee and a big
biscuit. Men who, ten minutes before, had stood rifle in hand, dejected
and utterly worn-out, lost their haggard looks and seemed to pull
themselves together after partaking of the cup of comfort that the
ladies brought round.
Rifles were wiped out, belts tightened; and with brightening eyes the
men seemed ready to give a good account of the enemy when they closed in
for their next attack.
"I have bad news for you, Captain Smithers," said Rachel Linton to him,
quietly, as she took the cup she had given him from his hands.
"I don't think you can give me worse news than I already know," he said,
sadly.
"Yes, but I can," she said, with her brows knitting with pain for his
suffering. "The heat of the day will soon be upon us, and we have no
more water."
These words roused the captain to a less selfish view of things, and he
stood for a moment or two thinking. It was indeed a tantalising
position, for, glittering and sparkling in the sun, there before them
flowed the bright river, no drop of whose waters could be reached on
account of the thronging enemy.
"I will see to it at once," he said, quietly; and as Miss Linton left
him, Tom Long came up.
"We must have a well dug at once," he said. "Take charge here, Long,
while I pick out a place."
Ensign Long assumed the command, but now without any of his old
consequential airs. Adversity was taming him down, and to his surprise
he found himself talking in a very different tone to his men, who
yielded a readier obedience than of old.
Captain Smithers was not long in selecting a place for the well, and in
a very few minutes a squad of men were at work, some digging, others
bearing off the earth in baskets to pile up in front of weak places and
add to their strength.
It was a hard call upon the men, that digging; but even while they
worked the demand for water arose, and they slaved at their task,
knowing the tortures that waited them should they not succeed.
Every man worked in turn, except those badly wounded, though even some
of those carried away the baskets of earth.
Among others, Private Gray was ready to aid in this way, after vainly
trying to handle a spade, a task rendered impossible by his wound. He
was hard at work over his work, carrying basketful after basketful with
one hand, when Captain Smithers came up, saw how he was striving, and
stood looking on for a few moments.
"We shall have to put off your court-martial yet, Gray," he said grimly.
"Give me that basket. Sit down awhile."
Gray was ready to resist, but his officer's words were law, and sitting
down to rest, and wipe the streaming perspiration from his face, he
watched his captain slave away at the toil with the others, for in those
perilous times show and uniforms were forgotten.
It proved to be a harder task than had been anticipated. Captain
Smithers had expected to find the subsoil of the island all soft
alluvial earth, in which, from the neighbourhood of the river, there
would be an abundance of water. It had never occurred to him that if
the island had been of soft earth it would long before have been washed
away. It was found to be rock at a short distance down, composed of a
soft limestone, through which they had to chip their well.
A dozen times over alarms of attack--some real, some false--were given,
when spade, pick, and basket had to be laid on one side, and rifles
seized. The attack repelled, the fight for water was renewed; and to
the intense delight of all, about ten feet down the pure life-giving
element came gushing in a clear current from the rock.
Meanwhile Ali's eyes, which were more experienced in the ways of the
enemy than those of his companions, read plainly enough that far from
being damped by their ill-success they were preparing for a more general
assault, and he confided his opinions to Tom Long.
"I can't see any difference," said Tom Long, after a careful inspection
through his glass. "They looked just like that every time they came on,
and--ah! there are some more of them, though."
"More," echoed Ali. "They are doubled in number. Look, too, at the way
in which they are making bundles of reeds and canes."
"Well, let them," said Tom Long; "our rifle bullets will go through
those fast enough. If I were Smithers, I'd give them a good searching
fire now, and let them know that our rifles make fine practice at a
thousand yards' distance. Those fellows are not six hundred."
"Better wait till every shot is more likely to tell," replied Ali. "The
bullets would of course go through those bundles of cane; but do you not
see what they mean?"
"No," said Tom Long, quietly, "unless they mean to burn us out."
"That is what they do mean," replied Ali. "And look! Quick! give the
alarm! They are coming on at once!"
"Let them," said Tom Long, phlegmatically. "They won't alarm us. Nice
people your fellow-countrymen, Ali!"
"Fellow-countrymen!" said the young Malay, scornfully. "My
fellow-countrymen are gentlemen! These are the scourings of the
country, with half the scoundrels from Borneo, Java, and Sumatra--men
who have lived all their lives upon piracy and murder."
"Well, whatever they are," said Tom Long, coolly, "they are coming on,
so I may as well let the lads know. All right, though; every one is on
the alert, and I daresay we can give a good account of them before they
get back. Are you sure that these are all a bad lot?"
"Sure?" cried Ali. "They are the scum of the east."
"Then we'll skim them a little more," said Tom Long. "Hi! sergeant, let
me have a rifle and some cartridges; I think I should like to pot a few
cut-throat pirates myself."
Sergeant Lund handed him the required rifle, Captain Smithers coming up
at the moment, and as he swept the surroundings of the little fort with
his glass his countenance changed a little, for grave as had been their
position before, he felt now that unless help quickly came it was
absolutely hopeless.