"Caesar don't know, sah. Berry much frighten."
"What, about the slavers and their schooners?"
"No, massa. Caesar 'fraid Massa Huggin take um and kill um."
"What for? Why should he kill one who is his master?"
"Bad man, massa. 'Fraid Massa Allen talk to Bri'sh cap'en and set all a
black free. 'Fraid Massa Huggin kill um."
"Not so bad as that, I hope," said the lieutenant.
"Caesar berry much 'fraid Massa Allen no let Caesar kill Massa Huggin."
"I should think not!" said the lieutenant; and Caesar looked at him
curiously.
"Massa Huggin bad man, sah. Caesar kill, sua. Him take away and kill
um. Caesar t'ink so first time. T'ink so now."
"Where would he take them?"
"Caesar know, sah. Show Bri'sh officer where. Oder side island where
slabe barracks and slabe ship come."
"You could take us there, my man?" said the lieutenant.
"Yes, massa. Caesar show way when Bri'sh cap'en come wif plenty men.
Not 'nough now. All get kill. Show Bri'sh officer all um slabes. All
Massa Huggin strong men, berry strong men."
"Good. You shall, my man," said the lieutenant; "and as you say this
Huggins's men are so strong we will wait for reinforcements, so as to
make sure of taking them."
"Massa try," said the black. "Try sabe Massa Allen. Try quick."
"But what are you fidgeting about?" said Murray sharply.
"Caesar t'ink Massa Huggin man come and fight soon."
"What makes you think that?" asked Murray.
"Caesar don't know, massa. Caesar feel Massa Huggin man come soon.
Look, massa. Big Tom May come 'long."
The black turned excitedly to point in the direction of the head of the
open staircase, where the big sailor had suddenly appeared.
"Rocks ahead, sir," he said, in a low gruff whisper.
"Something wrong to report, my lad?"
"Ay, ay, sir. They arn't come out yet, but three lookouts report seeing
the enemy just inside the edge of the plantation, sir."
"Off with you then, Mr Murray," cried the lieutenant, "and take your
old station. Use your ammunition carefully," he added, with a meaning
intonation and a peculiar look which made the lad nod his head quickly.
"Keep the sharpest lookout for fire. They must not get hold of us
there."
Murray hurried off with Tom May, followed by the black, and before many
minutes had elapsed the expected attack had developed so rapidly, and
was delivered with such energy, that but for the brave resistance, the
enemy must have carried all before them. As it was the little party of
defenders met them with so fierce a fire that the savage-looking mongrel
crew were sent staggering back, followed by the triumphant cheers of the
_Seafowls_, who were still cheering when Mr Anderson made a gesture and
called for silence.
"Up on to the head of the staircase, my lads," he cried. "We must make
our stand there."
"Beg pardon, sir," growled Tom May, with the look of an angry lion, "but
will you have some cartridges sarved out, for me and my messmates have
fired our last."
"Yes, my lads," said the lieutenant, "that is a bitter fact. We have
fired our last shots, and we must fall back now upon our cutlasses."
"Ay, ay, sir," said the big fellow coolly. "D'yer hear, my lads?
Cutlashes it is."
And at that crucial moment, as Murray ran his eyes along the faces of
the men, there was no sign of dismay--just the cheery, contented look of
Seaman Jack Tar ready for the worst, and the deep threatening tones of
the beaten-back enemy were pretty well deadened by a hearty cheer.
But an hour later, the enemy were back in stronger force, to be driven
off once more, but at a terrible expenditure of force, for as Murray and
Tom May came back from the sheltered room where they had laid their
gallant leader, badly wounded, by the side of Roberts, it was to find
the members of their sadly diminished force sitting wearily together
discussing another loss which Harry Lang unwillingly communicated to the
young officer.
"But have you looked round well? Perhaps he's lying somewhere among the
trees."
"Oh yes, sir, we've looked, and he arn't there. We've been talking it
over, sir, and we all think the same: he's had enough of it, sir, and
gone."
"Who has?" said Tom May gruffly.
"That there nigger, Caesar, Tom."
"Dunnot believe it," said Tom May fiercely, for he was very sore.
"Well, messmate," said Harry Lang, "he arn't here."