The dangerous preparations were soon made, and Tom May's and his
comrades' hands were plainly seen trembling as they handled their kegs.
"Look at that now, sir," said the big sailor. "Did you ever see such a
set o' cowards in your life?"
"Cowards, Tom? Never," said Murray, who was all of a quiver too.
"More did I, sir. I wouldn't ha' believed I could ha' been in such a
shiver and shake. I supposed it'd be for fear we shouldn't be ready for
the warmint; but it don't look like it, do it?"
"Yes, Tom, for your hands are steady enough now you've done."
"Well, I hope so, sir," said the man, "because it seems such a bad
example to the lads, and they've all ketched it. Hullo, darkie! What,
are you shaking too?"
"Yes, Massa Tom," replied the black, with his teeth chattering. "Caesar
drefful frighten we no get the gunpowder go off when Massa Huggin man
come. You let Caesar take lilly barrel now and light um, massa."
"Why, here's another awfully cowardly chap, Mr Murray, sir. It's a rum
un, arn't it?"
"You make has'e, Massa Tom May; not talkee so much palaver," cried the
trembling black, seizing hold of one of the barrels and hoisting it upon
his shoulder. "You bring candle; set light."
"No, no, Caesar," cried Murray. "Not ready yet. Wait."
The man parted with the little keg unwillingly, and stood with his hand
to his ear straining his neck out of the window, and listened.
"Massa Huggin man come along," he panted.
"Well, we're ready for them, my coal-dust messmate."
"Hush!" whispered Murray. "Who's that calling?" For a voice reached
them from the next room.
"It's Mr Roberts, sir. Ahoy, there! Coming, sir."
Murray ran through the opening to where the middy was lying trying to
make himself heard.
"Were you calling, Dick?" said Murray, his voice still trembling with
excitement.
"Calling? Yes! Shouting till I was hoarse. I could hear. You've got
powder now. Bring some here, and the fellows' muskets. I can load if I
can't do anything else."
"Yes, bring powder," said another voice, one, however, that sounded very
weak and faint. "I think I can reload, too, for the lads."
"No, no, Mr Anderson," cried Murray excitedly; "leave it all to us,
sir. The enemy are coming on again, and there is no time to make fresh
preparations."
"Ahoy, there, Mr Murray! Now's your time!"
"Off with you, my lad, and Heaven help you!" groaned the lieutenant.
"Roberts, we must bear our lot, and be satisfied with our defenders."
Murray was already through the door which separated the two rooms, to
find the men waiting, as ready and eager as if not one amongst them had
been wounded.
"Are they very near?" asked Murray excitedly.
"Quite nigh enough, sir," growled the man who was hugging one keg,
another able-seaman holding another, while the black grasped a couple of
the extemporised shells.
"No, no, Caesar," said Murray sharply. "Put those down here; they are
for throwing. You lead the way out through the lower door along the
path the enemy will come."
"Yes sah. You come too?" cried the black.
"Yes; quick! Off with you!"
The man hurried down the staircase, followed by the two sailors, whose
comrades had received their orders to stand fast at the upper window to
cover the engineering party. The door was thrown open, and Murray led
the way out into the darkness, Caesar holding his hand tightly.
"Too late!" said the lad hoarsely; and he drew back.
"No, no, sah; plenty time," whispered the black. "Come 'long."
"Ay, ay, sir!" growled Tom May. "Sharp's the word."
"But we shall be running into their arms, my lad, and lose the powder."
"Not us, sir. They can't see us coming, and we mustn't let 'em hear
us."
"Forward, then," whispered Murray. "What! there, Caesar?" he continued,
for the black had run forward a few steps and then stopped short in a
dark alley leading towards the side of the plantation and the quarters
of the black servants.
"Yes, massa. Huggins man mus' come 'long here."
There was no time for consideration, for the enemy was evidently
approaching cautiously, and before any further order could be given Tom
May had plumped down the keg he carried, and his companion was about to
follow suit with the other, but Murray checked him.
"No, no," he whispered; "one first. Is the top quite open, Tom?"
"Open it is, sir," was the reply.
"Now then, my lad, take the other keg and lay the train. Sprinkle it
thickly, walking backward right away along the path here to the door."
"Right it is, sir," growled the big sailor. "No, no, messmate; you keep
hold o' the barrel and walk alongside. I'll ladle it out. Mind, all on
you, not to tread in the dust. D'yer hear, darkie? Keep back, I tell
you; too many cooks 'll spoil the broth."
It was rough work, and clumsily executed, but somehow or other, and in
spite of the near approach of the enemy, who seemed to be aware of their
proximity, the train was effectively laid, and the engineers regained
the doorway, just in front of which the train was made to end.
"Now for the candle, Tom," whispered Murray. "Here, you, Caesar, where
are you going?"
There was no reply, for the black had dashed in and run up the
staircase, to seize the light from the upper room where the covering
party were standing ready to fire from the window.
It was a risky proceeding, and Murray stood below in the doorway looking
on, but afraid to speak for fear of doing more harm than good, as he saw
the faithful black steal rapidly down the stairs, his black fingers
enclosing the burning candle like an open lanthorn which threw its
glowing fluttering flame upwards over the black weird-looking face with
its glistening eyes and white teeth. Every moment the flame threatened
to be extinct, but it fluttered and recovered itself as the black
tottered down into the hall and then stepped quickly past Murray in the
effort to shelter the candle behind the door.
"Dah, massa," he panted. "Now say when Caesar set fire to de powder."
"No, my man," panted Murray. "I must fire the powder myself. You tell
me when."
"Caesar say when, massa?"
"Yes, and I will fire the train. Now then, you stand close behind me
when I step out. You, Tom, stand behind the door, and as soon as I have
fired the train Caesar and I will dash back into the house, and you clap
to and fasten the door. Do you see?"
"No, sir, but I can feel," growled the man; "but won't the 'splosion
bust it open?"
"Very likely, Tom."
"Ay, ay, sir; but right it is, sir."
"Now then, Caesar," whispered Murray, thrusting one hand behind the door
to seize the candle and place it ready in shelter.
"Not yet, massa," said the black, who stood out a couple of yards from
the door. "Dey come 'long close, but all 'top now."
"Ah, they have found the powder keg," ejaculated Murray.
"No, sah. Dey all close 'longside and wait for more Massa Huggin man."
"Then I will not fire yet."
"No, sah. Caesar fink dey watch see Murray Frank, want know what um do.
All talkee palaver. No fire yet."
"I must fire soon," whispered the lad, in a strangely excited tone of
voice, which sounded as if he were being suffocated.
"No; Murray Frank not fire yet," whispered the black, in eager tones.
"Wait plenty more Huggins man come. Yes," he whispered, as a burst of
voices as of many of the enemy hurrying up could be heard; and then
above all came the strangely familiar tones of one who had been leading
the newly-arrived party, and Murray started violently as there fell upon
his ear in fierce adjuration--
"Wall, why are you waiting? In with you, curse you, and finish them
off!"
The black started back to retreat into the house, but Murray extended
his left hand and caught him by the shoulder.
"Where are you going?" he whispered.
"Run!" was the reply. "Massa Huggin."
"Not yet," whispered Murray. "Is it time now?"
The lad's calm words had the effect of steadying the trembling black as
they listened, and his voice was no longer the same as he said firmly
now--
"Yes, massa. Time now. Fire!"
Murray thrust the black from him as he snatched the light from behind
the door, took a couple of steps towards the enemy, and stooped down
with the candle burning blue and seeming to become extinct as the lad
touched the path. Then there was a bright flash as the powder caught,
sputtered and began to run, lighting up the figure of the midshipman in
the act of dashing in through the doorway, a score of bullets rattling
after him in answer to an order; and then the door closed with a heavy
bang.
Darkness within and a blaze of light without, where the voice of the
Yankee could be heard shouting orders which rose above the buzzing
fluttering noise of the running train.
"Hurt, Mr Murray, sir?"
"No! Where's the black?"
_Crash_!
A fierce burst as of thunder, and the just-closed door was dashed in,
while the hall and staircase were filled with light.