"Here, you, Mr Burnett, you are a non-combatant," said the skipper,
suddenly coming upon Fitz, after going round the walls of the hacienda
with Don Ramon, and seeing that they were manned to the best advantage.
"Oh, yes, sir, I don't want to fight," replied the boy carelessly, and
wincing rather with annoyance as he saw the Spaniard give him a peculiar
look.
"But you look as if you do, fingering that double-barrelled gun."
"Do you wish me to give it up, sir?"
"No, certainly not. Keep it for your defence. You don't know how you
will be situated, and it may keep one of the enemy from attacking you.
The sight of it will be enough. You, Poole, keep well in shelter. I
don't want you to be running risks."
"I shan't run risks, father, unless you do," replied Poole. "I shall
keep close beside you all the time."
"No," said the skipper sharply, "you will stop with Mr Burnett. I
leave him in your charge, and--Here! Who's that? Winks, you stop with
my son and Mr Burnett there. Be ready to help them if they are in
trouble."
"Ay, ay, sir," cried the carpenter, and he drew himself up with his
rifle-butt resting on his bare toes.
"There, Fitz," said Poole, grinning with delight; "you can't go back to
your old tea-kettle of a gunboat and say that we didn't take care of
you."
"Such nonsense!" cried Fitz, flushing. "Any one would think that I was
a child. I don't see anything to laugh at," and as he spoke the boy
turned sharply from Poole's mirthful face to look searchingly at the
carpenter, who was in the act of wiping a smile from his lips.
"Oh, no, sir, I warn't a-laughing," the man said, with his eyes
twinkling. "What you see's a hecho like, or what you call a reflection
from Mr Poole's physiomahogany. This 'ere's a nice game, aren't it!
I'm sorry for those pore chaps aboard, and our two mates in the boat.
They'll be missing all the fun."
"Why, Poole," cried Fitz suddenly, "I forgot all about them. I suppose
they'll have gone back to the schooner."
"Not they!"
"Then you think the enemy's captured them?"
"That I don't," replied Poole. "They'll have run the boat in, according
to orders, in amongst the shade, and be lying there as snug as can be,
waiting till they're wanted."
"Well, I don't know so much about that, Mr Poole, sir," put in the
carpenter. "Strikes me that as sure as nails don't hold as tight as
screws unless they are well clinched, when we have driven off these here
varmin, and go to look for them in that 'ere boat we shall find them
gone."
"What do you mean?" cried Poole.
"Muskeeters will have eaten them up. They are just awful under the
bushes and among the trees."
"Look there," said Fitz, interrupting the conversation. "Seem to be
more coming on."
"That's just what I was thinking, Mr Burnett, sir. Reinforcement,
don't you call it? My! How wild our lads will be, 'specially old
Butters, when I come to tell 'em all about it. Makes me feel like being
on board a man-o'-war again, all the more so for having a young officer
at my elber."
"Don't you be insolent," said Fitz.
"Well!" cried the carpenter. "I say, Mr Poole, sir, I call that 'ard.
I didn't mean cheek, sir, really."
"All right, Chips, I believe you," said Fitz excitedly. "Look, Poole;
they're getting well round us. Look how they are swarming over yonder."
"Yes, it means the attack," replied Poole coolly.
"Yes," cried Fitz. "Oughtn't we to begin, and not let them get all the
best places? There's nothing like getting first blow."
"Ha, ha!" laughed Poole, who did not seem in the slightest degree
impressed by the serious nature of their position. "You're not a
player, you know. This is our game."
Fitz reddened, and turned away with an impatient gesture, so that he did
not see the carpenter give Poole a peculiar wink and his leg a silent
slap, indicative of his enjoyment.
Every one's attention was fully taken up the next moment, for it was
evident from the movements on the enemy's part that they were being
divided into three bodies, each under a couple of leaders, who were
getting their ragged, half Indian-looking followers into something like
military form, prior to bringing them on to the attack in a rush.
Fitz watched all this from behind one of the breastworks he had seen put
up by the carpenter, who was going about testing the nailing of the
boards, and as he did so giving Don Ramon's followers a friendly nod
from time to time, as much as to say, Only seeing as it had got a good
hold, mate,--and then, once more forgetting Poole's reminder, the boy
said excitedly--
"Well, I don't think much of Don Villarayo's tactics. He's exposing his
men so that we might shoot half of them down before he got them up to
the astack."
"Oh, they're no soldiers, nor sailors neither," replied Poole. "It's a
sort of bounce. He thinks he's going to frighten us out of the place;
and we are not going to be frightened, eh, Chips?"
"_We_ are not, Mr Poole, sir; I'll answer for that. But I don't know
how Mr Ramon's chaps will handle their tools."
"I should say well," cried Fitz, still warming up with the excitement,
and speaking frankly and honestly. "They'll take the example of you old
men-of-war's men, and fight like fun."
"Thankye, sir," said the carpenter, brightening up. "Hear him, Mr
Poole? I call that handsome. That's your sort, sir! There's nothing
like having one of your officers to give you a good word of
encouragement before you start, and make the sawdust and shavings fly."
Just at that minute Don Ramon, who had been hurrying from side to side
encouraging his followers, uttered a warning shout which was echoed by
an order from the skipper to his men not to waste a single cartridge,
and to aim low.
"Bring 'em down, my lads," he said. "Cripple 'em. We don't want to
kill."
He had hardly spoken when the nearest body of the enemy uttered a wild
yell, which was taken up by the others, and all advanced clear of the
bushes at a run, firing wildly and without stopping to re-load, dashing
on, long knife in hand.
But before they had accomplished half the distance, each party was met
by a ragged volley from Don Ramon's men, whose instructions had been
carefully carried out.
This staggered the enemy for the moment, but they came on, leaping over
or avoiding their wounded comrades, and gaining confidence at the
silence within the hacienda, they yelled again. So far not one of the
Englishmen had fired a shot, but now at a word from the skipper, a slow,
steady rifle fire began, with every shot carefully aimed, and seeming to
tell, so that ere they got close up to the walls of the hacienda, nearly
a score had dropped, the skipper having used his rifle and then stood
with the barrel of his revolver resting on the edge of a plank and
picking off man after man.
In the brief space of time occupied by the advance the enemy had had
little time to think, but suddenly the fighting madness died out of one
of the rough-looking bravos as he saw a companion at his side throw up
his arms just in front of one of the windows and fall backwards. That
started the panic, for the man turned with starting eyes, uttered a yell
of dismay, and dashed back.
"Look at that," growled the carpenter. "Just like sheep. One goes for
the gap in the hedge, and all the rest will follow. Ah, you may shout,
old chap--Don whatever your name is. You'll have to holloa louder than
that to stop 'em now."
For the whole of the attacking body was in retreat, racing for the
shelter of the trees in a disorderly crowd whose paces were hastened by
Don Ramon's men, now re-loaded, sending another ragged volley in their
rear.
Their action was very different from that of the schooner's men, who
contented themselves with re-loading and breaking out under the
leadership of Winks into a hearty British cheer, in which Don Ramon's
men now joined.
"Well," said Poole, taking out his pocket-handkerchief and carefully
wiping the lock of his rifle, "what do you think of that?"
"Oh," cried Fitz excitedly, "I wouldn't have missed it for--eh? I don't
know, though," he added, after breaking off short, his eyes having lit
upon the fallen men who were crawling back into shelter. "It is very
horrid, though, all the same."
"Yes," said Poole; "but we didn't ask them to come, and it would have
been twenty times as horrid if we hadn't stood fast and they had got in
here with those long knives."
Fitz looked at him fixedly.
"Think they'd have used them if they had got the day?"
"Think they'd have used them!" cried Poole scornfully. "Why, if they
had been pure Spaniards I believe they would in the excitement; but
fellows like those, nearly all of Indian blood, if they had got the
upper hand, wounded or sound I don't believe they'd have left a man
alive."
"I suppose not," said Fitz; "but it is very horrid, all the same.
Where's your father? Oughtn't we to go and see to the wounded men?"
"We shall have to leave that to the enemy," replied Poole. "If we went
out they'd begin firing from under cover. But here, I say--Here, you
Chips, go and ask my governor whether we ought to do anything about
those wounded men?"
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the carpenter; "but I know what he'll say."
"What?" said Fitz sharply.
"Same as Mr Poole did, sir, for sartin," and the man trotted away.
"You sent him off because you wanted to speak to me. What is it? Is
there fresh danger?"
"Oh no; they'll think twice before they come again. But, I say, what
have you been about?"
"Been--about? What do you mean?"
"Look at that gun! Why, Fitz Burnett, you've been firing too!"
The boy's jaw dropped, and he stared at the speaker, then at the lock of
the double fowling-piece, and then back, before raising the cocks,
opening the blackened breech, and withdrawing a couple of empty
cartridges.
"I didn't know," he said softly. "Had it been fired before?"
"It's kept warm a long time if it had," said Poole, with his face
wrinkling up with mirth. "Do you call this being a non-combatant?"
"Oh, but surely--" began Fitz. "I couldn't have fired without knowing,
and--" He paused.
"It seems that you could," cried Poole mirthfully. "You've popped off
two cartridges, for certain. Have you used any more?"
"Oh no! I am certain, quite certain; but I am afraid--in the
excitement--hardly knowing what I was about--I must have done as the
others did."
"Yes, and you said you didn't mean to fight. I say, nice behaviour this
for an officer in your position. How many anti-revolutionists do you
think you've killed?"
"Oh, Poole Reed, for goodness' sake don't say you think I've killed
either of these poor wretches?"
"Any of these poor wretches," corrected Poole gravely, and looking as
solemn as he could. Then reading his companion's horror in his face, he
continued cheerily, "Nonsense, old chap! You couldn't have killed
anybody with those cartridges of swan-shot unless they were close at
hand."
"Ah!" gasped Fitz. "And I don't really think--"
"Oh, but you did. It was in the excitement. Every one about you was
firing, and you did the same. It would have been rather curious if you
had not. Oh, here's my governor coming along with Chips."
"I say," began Fitz excitedly.
"All right; I wasn't going to; but slip in two more cartridges and close
the breech."
This was quickly done, and the skipper came up, talking to the carpenter
the while.
"Yes, my lad," he was saying, "I'd give something if you had a hammer
and a bag of spikes to strengthen all the wood-work here.--Well, Poole,"
he continued, "Don Ramon is in ecstasies. He says this is his first
success, and I believe that if I were not here he'd go round and embrace
all the lads.--But about those poor wretches lying out there. I'm not
an unfeeling brute, my lads," he continued, taking in Fitz with a glance
the while, "but all I can do I have done."
"But there are those two men moving out there, sir, that you can't have
seen," cried Fitz imploringly, "and it seems so horrid--"
"Yes, my lad; war is horrid," said the skipper. "I saw them when they
first went down, and"--he added to himself--"I am afraid I was
answerable for one. But, as I was saying, I have done all I could, and
that is, insisted upon Don Ramon ordering his men to leave them alone
and not fire at every poor wretch who shows a sign of life."
"But," began Fitz, "Poole and I wouldn't mind going out and carrying
them under shelter, one at a time."
"No, my lad," said the skipper, smiling sadly, "I know you would not;
but I should, and very much indeed. You have both got mothers, and what
would they say to me for letting two brave lads go to certain death?"
"Oh, but surely, sir," cried Fitz, "the enemy would not--"
"Those worthy of the name of enemy, my boy, certainly would not; but
those fighting against us are most of them the bloodthirsty scum of a
half-savage tropical city, let loose for a riot of murder, plunder, and
destruction. Why, my dear boy, the moment you and Poole got outside the
shelter of these walls, a hundred rifles would be aimed at you, with
their owners burning to take revenge for the little defeat they have
just now suffered."
"Are you sure you are right, Captain Reed?"
"Quite, my lad; as sure as I am that it is not all ill that we have done
this morning, for San Cristobal and Velova will both be the better for
the absence of some of those who are lying dead out there."
He stood gazing out between two boards for some few minutes, before
turning back, and glancing round the room he said a few words to the
English defenders.
"Splendid, my lads," he said. "Nothing could have been cooler and
better. We want no hurry at a time like this."
"Think they'll come again, father?" asked Poole.
"Sure to, my lad, and we shall drive them back again. After that, this
Don Villarayo will have his work cut out to get them to come up again,
and I don't believe he will succeed."
"Will they retreat then, sir?" asked Fitz.
The skipper smiled.
"I should like to give you a more encouraging reply," he said, "but--Oh,
here's Don Ramon. Let's hear what he says."
"Ah, my friend," cried the Don, coming up to grasp the speaker's hands
effusively. "And you too, my brave lads, as you English people say. It
has been magnificent," and as he shook the boys' hands in turn, Fitz
flushed vividly, feeling guilty in the extreme. "Oh, it has been
magnificent--grand! Captain Reed, if I can only persuade you to join
hands with me here with your men, and make me succeed, I would make you
Admiral of my Fleet. Ah, yes, you smile. I know that it would only be
a fleet of one, and not that till the gunboat was taken and become my
own, but I would not be long before I made it two, and I would work
until I made our republic one of which you would be proud."
"Don't let's talk about this, sir," said the skipper quietly, "until we
have gained the day. Do you think that the enemy will come on again?"
"The wretches, yes! But Villarayo--the coward!--will keep watching from
the rear. He seems to lead a charmed life."
"There, my lads; you hear. But we shall drive them back again,
President?"
Don Ramon's eyes flashed at the compliment, and then he shrugged his
shoulders and said sadly--
"President! Not yet, my brave captain. There is much yet to do, and
fate has been bearing very hard upon me lately."
"It has, sir. But about the enemy; you think they will come on again?"
"Yes, for certain--and go back again like beaten curs. You and your men
have done wonders here in strengthening this place."
Poole drove his elbow into the ribs of Chips, and winked at Fitz, who
could hardly contain his countenance at the carpenter's peculiar looks,
for the big rough sailor seemed as bashful as a girl, and nodded and
gesticulated at the lads in turn, while the next moment he looked as if
about to bolt, for the skipper suddenly clapped him on the shoulder and
exclaimed as he turned him round--
"You must thank this man, President, not me, for he was my
engineer-in-chief. Weren't you, Chips?"
"Ah, my friend," cried the Spaniard, "some day, when I get my own,
believe me that I will pay you for all that you have done."
"Oh, it's all right, sir. Don't you worry about that. 'Course you see
it warn't much of a job."
He took off his straw hat and wiped the great drops from his sun-browned
brow with the back of his hand.
"You see, sir, it was like this 'ere. The skipper he puts me on the
job, and `Chips,' he says, `make the best of it you can by way of
offence.' `Niver another word, sir,' and off he goes, and here was I
when the young gents come up, all of a wax; warn't I, Mr Poole, sir? I
put it to you, sir. `Look here, sir,' I says, `the skipper's put me on
this 'ere job with my kit of tools left aboard the schooner, and not a
bit of stuff.' Didn't I, sir? Speak out straight, sir. I only asks
for the truth."
"You did, Chips," said Poole solemnly, and setting his teeth as he
spoke; "didn't he, Burnett?"
"Oh yes," replied the middy, "he did say something like that," and then
as he caught Poole's eye he had to turn his back, looking out through
the slit in the window and biting his tongue hard the while, while he
heard the carpenter maunder on to the President something more about not
having a bit of stuff, and every nail to straighten before he could
drive it in again.
"Yes, that's right. Winks," said the skipper, bringing the speech to an
end, and not before it was time, for the carpenter was beginning to
repeat himself again and again. "You did splendidly, and if we had a
few hundred feet of battens and boards, we could hold this place for a
month.--Well, President," he continued, turning his back on his man, who
sighed with relief and whispered to Fitz that that was a good job done,
"and after we've driven them back again?"
"Ah! After! Treachery, fire, powder to blow us up! The fighting of
cowards. But with your help, my brave, as soon as they are cowering
among the trees we must attack in turn."
"No, President," said the skipper, laying his hand upon the other's
shoulders; "you are too brave and rash. This is your last stronghold,
is it not?"
"Alas, yes!"
"Then you must hold it, sir, and tire the enemy out."
"Yes, yes; you are right. But food--water? What of them?"
"Ah! There we must see what strategy will do. There is the river not
far away, and as soon as they grow thirsty, my lads will contrive that
we have enough to drink."
"To drink--ah, yes. But the food?"
"Well, perhaps they will contrive that too. Sailors are splendid
fellows to forage, sir."
"Yes. If I could only be a President of sailors!" cried the President
warmly. "There seems to be nothing that the English sailor cannot do.
But can they make powder-cartridges when their own is fired away?"
"Well, I don't say that," said the skipper; "but they know how to save
them, and not fire good ammunition to waste; and that's what you must
try to teach your men. But look out yonder; while we are talking there
is something going on."
Don Ramon looked out keenly, ran into the next room to look out in
another direction, and then came back.
"They are coming on again, captain," he said. "It may be an hour yet.
But they mean attack, to leave more of their force behind."
"Now is your time, then, sir, to speak to your men. Tell them to use
the cartridges as if each was the last he had and his life depended upon
sending it home."
"Yes, yes," said the President. "I see; I see. But when my men are
fighting and the blood is up they will not think; but we shall see."
Within half-an-hour another and a fiercer attack was made--one more ably
sustained and better met too by the defence; for the President's words
to his followers went home, the men grasping their position, and though
the attack was more prolonged it ended by another panic and a roar of
cheers.
"Now, President," said the skipper, "what of the next attack?"
"I don't know," was the reply. "If one is made it will be some
treachery with fire; but you see they have retired farther back, and it
is all their leaders can do to keep them from breaking up into retreat.
Villarayo must be mad, and will be thinking how to scheme my downfall to
the end. Captain, my heart is sick. What of the coming night? What of
the darkness which will shroud them like a cloak?"
"It will not be dark for a couple of hours yet," replied the skipper.
"We can rest now, and refresh our men. After that we must plant our
outposts with those whom we can trust the most. They will warn us of
any attack, and if one is made--well, we shall be stronger than we were
this morning."
"Stronger! What do you mean? Do you see coming help?" replied Don
Ramon.
"No, sir. We must help ourselves. But our men are more confident in
their strength, while the enemy is weakened by defeat."
The hours went on and the darkness fell, with the men rested and
refreshed; every avenue by which danger could advance was carefully
commanded, and before half-an-hour of full darkness had passed one of
the vedettes formed by Winks and Poole, with Fitz to keep him company,
was alarmed by the approach of a stealthy figure, upon whom Winks
pounced like a cat upon a mouse, and dragged him towards the hacienda,
to be met directly after by the skipper, the prisoner protesting almost
in a whisper that he was a friend, but covered by the barrel of a
revolver the while.