It was a very lovely day now. The sea all round towards the eastern
side of the island was deep and blue; but the waters to the west were
here and there more shallow, so that the ocean here was patched with
splendid colouring--tints of opal, tender green, and crimson were set
off by the deep dark-brown of a rocky bottom, whereon masses of sea-weed
waved with the ebb or the flow of the tide.
There was not a breath of wind to-day, not a whisper in the woodlands;
scarce a sound was to be heard, save the drowsy hum of the waves as they
broke far below on the beach of snow-white sand, or the occasional
screaming of the sea-birds sailing round and round the beetling crags
where their nests were.
In very joy they seemed to scream to-day. Happy birds! There was no
one to molest them on this far-off beautiful isle of the ocean. No gun
was ever levelled at them, not a pebble ever thrown even by Fitz; and so
tame were they that they often ran about the cliff-top, or even alighted
on the ship itself.
But slowly indeed to-day does James Malone walk towards the cliff. Out
through the inner, out through the great outer gate; for he will not
feel comfortable until he is clear of the encampment, and seated near to
the very brink of that great wall of rocks.
"Gentlemen," he said, when at last he had filled and lit his pipe with
all the coolness of a North American Indian--"gentlemen, hitherto all
our efforts to find the gold mine have been in vain, but mere chance has
revealed to us the secret that has been hidden from us so long--"
"James," said Tandy, excitedly, "you don't mean to say--"
"But," interrupted James, "I do mean to say it, Tandy. Halcott there
knows that I seldom make an assertion till I have well-considered the
matter on all sides."
"You never do, brother."
"That cave, gentlemen, which in so strange a way the children have
found, is a gold mine--_the_ gold mine!
"The land entrance I can now remember, although it is somewhat changed.
Show me the map of the island, brother."
Halcott spread it out before him.
He pointed out Fire Hill, then drew his finger along until it rested on
the spot where the cave was.
"The fault has been all mine, gentlemen; I alone led you astray, for
appearances deceived me. But it is not yet too late.
"And so you see, Tandy, that, after all, Providence has changed our
mourning into joy. I do not now despair of anything. God moves in a
mysterious way, brothers, and you may rest assured we shall yet return
in peace to enjoy the fruits of our labours in the land of our birth."
Halcott was silent; so too was Tandy for a time.
Need I tell you what they were thinking about? If they could but return
with enough gold to give them an independence, how pleasant would be
their prospects for the future!
Well, this world is not all sorrow, and it is only right we should enjoy
it. I think I can honestly go further, reader, and say it is a sin not
to make the best of the beautiful world we live in, a sin to look always
at the darkest side when clouds surround us. Let us not believe in the
pessimism of Burns when he wrote his dirge "Man was made to mourn," a
verse or two of which run as follows:--
"Look not alone on youthful prime,
Or manhood's active might;
Man then is useful to his kind,
Supported is his right:
But see him on the edge of life,
With cares and sorrows worn;
Then age and want--oh! ill-matched pair!--
Show man was made to mourn.
"A few seem favourites of fate,
In pleasure's lap carest;
Yet think not all the rich and great
Are likewise truly blest.
But, oh! what crowds in every land
Are wretched and forlorn!
Through weary life this lesson learn--
that man was made to mourn."
Tandy had risen to his feet, and was looking somewhat anxiously towards
Observatory Hill.
The seaman who took day and day about with Fitz in watching was at this
moment signalling.
"He wants us to come up," said Tandy.
"Who knows," said James, with far more cheerfulness in his voice than
usual--"who knows but that our deliverance is already at hand? The man
may have seen a ship!"
Halcott and Tandy, about an hour after this, stood beside the man on the
brow of the hill, with their glasses turned towards the far-off island.
They could see the beach with far greater clearness than usual to-day.
It was crowded with savages running to and fro, into the bush and out of
it, in a state apparently of great excitement.
At this distance they resembled nothing more than a hive of bees about
to swarm.
Independent of innumerable dug-outs drawn up here and there were no less
than five huge war-canoes.
Tandy turned away with a slight sigh.
"Just as the cup of joy," he said, "was being held to our lips,
ill-fortune seems to have snatched it away."
"Heigho!" sighed Halcott, "how I envy honest James for the hopefulness
that he never appears to lose, even in the very darkest hours, the hours
of what we should call despair.
"But look," he continued, pointing towards Fire Hill. "Not a cloud to
be seen!"
"The volcano is dead!" said Tandy, with knitted brows; "and now, indeed,
we shall have to fight."
Halcott took Tandy's hand, while he looked calmly into his face.
"My friend," he said, "we have come through many and many a danger side
by side, and here we are alive and well to tell it. If fighting it must
be with these savages, neither you nor I shall be afraid to face them.
But we may succeed in making peace."
"Ah, Halcott, I fear their friendship even more than their enmity. But
for my dear boy and my little girl, I should care for neither."
And now all haste back to the camp was made.
All hands were summoned, and the case laid plainly before them.
The story of the cave was told to them also, and it did Halcott's heart
good to hear the ringing cheer with which their words were received.
The next thing Halcott ordered was a survey of stores. Alas! this did
not take long; and afterwards the defences were most carefully
inspected.
On the whole, the outlook was a hopeful one, even if the savages did
come in force and place the strange little encampment in a state of
siege. Their provisions and even their ammunition would last for three
weeks at least.
And--and then?
Ah! no one thought of an answer to that question. They meant to do
their best, and trust in Providence for everything else.
But the expected arrival of these warlike natives was not going to
prevent them from finding gold, if gold there were in the Medicine-man's
Cave, as it was now named.
So early next morning the discovery party had reached the landward
opening. They were provided with lamps to light and hang, with tools,
and with provisions for the day.
At the mouth of the cave Fitz was stationed with glass in hand, to watch
for a signal to be given from Observatory Hill, in case the boats should
start from the distant island.
The lamps were lit at the entrance to the cave, which was gloomy enough
in all conscience.
"Surely," cried Tom Wilson, when they reached the interior and saw the
great stalactites, the candles and icicles of glass, and the walls all
shining with "rubies and rainbows,"--"surely this is the cave of
Aladdin. Ah, it is diamonds as well as gold we ought to be able to
collect here, maties!"
And now hours were spent in a fruitless search for the mine. Even the
floor of the seaward cave was dug up and its walls tapped, but all in
vain.
It was not until they were preparing to leave, that, chancing to hear
Bob whining and scraping not ten yards from the outer entrance, Halcott
turned his attention in that direction.
A ghastly sight met their gaze! For here lay a pile of human bones half
covered with dust, and half buried in the debris that had fallen from
the roof.
And near this awful heap, but above it, was a hole about five feet high,
and wide enough to admit two men at a time.
The excitement now was intense, but for a time all stood spell-bound
with horror.
"Here," said James, slowly, "is the spot where that fiend, the
medicine-man, murdered the boys as an offering to the great fire-fiend.
Now we shall find the gold. Come, follow me, men!"
He took a lamp from Tom Wilson's hand as he spoke, and boldly entered
the cave.
It was far from an inviting place where they now stood.
What did that signify to those determined gold-seekers? For hardly had
they dug two feet down ere they were rewarded by finding one large,
rough nugget of pure gold and several small ones.
They forgot all about the savages now, and nothing could exceed the
eagerness with which the men laboured. But fatigue, at last, overcame
them, and they were obliged to retire, carrying with them more of the
precious ore than many an Australian digger has found during a whole
lifetime.
It was very dark as they made their way through the bush; but Fitz was
an excellent guide, so they got back in time for supper.
A very happy evening this was, fore and aft, and Tom Wilson seemed the
gayest of the gay. The poor fellow had sinned and fallen, it is true,
but surely God had already forgiven him. Tom believed so, and it was
this belief, he told James more than once, that made him forget his
sorrow.
"I'll meet my wife and children on the other shore," he said once, with
a sad smile, "and they'll forgive me too."
In a week's time the gold fever was at its height. And no wonder, for
in whatever direction they dug nuggets were found in this marvellous
cave.
The fortune of every man there was made.
But would the gold be of any use to them?
------------------------------------------------------------------------
One day, about a fortnight after the wonderful discovery, something very
startling occurred. Almost every hour while digging they had heard
strange sounds, like the rumbling of heavy artillery along a rough road,
with now and then a loud but muffled report, as of a great gun fired in
the distance.
No wonder James had remarked that the heathen minds of the savages
believed that a great fire-fiend dwelt deep down here, and must be
propitiated with human sacrifice.
But on this particular day, after a terrible report, the earth shook and
quivered, great masses of soil fell crashing down here and there, and
the lamps were all extinguished.
The noise died away like the muttering of a thunderstorm in the far
distance.
"Keep quiet and cool, men; we are all right. We can relight the lamps."
It was Halcott who spoke.
Yes, and so they quickly did; but judge of their horror when, on making
their way to what had been the entrance to the cave, they found no exit
there!
Then the terrible truth revealed itself to them--they were entombed
alive!
At first the horror of the situation rendered them speechless.
Was it the heat of internal fires, or was it terror--I know not which--
that made the perspiration stand in great beads on their now pale faces?
"What is to be done?" cried one of the men.
"Never despair, lad!"--and Halcott's manly voice was heard once
more--"never despair!"
His voice sounded hollow, however--hollow, and far away.
Book 3--CHAPTER NINE.
"ON SWEPT THE WAR-CANOES TOWARDS THE CORAL BEACH."
"It was just here, was it not," said Halcott, "where the entrance was?
Keep up your hearts, boys, we shall soon dig ourselves clear."
Cheered by his voice, every one set himself bravely to the task before
him.
But a whole hour went by, and they were now nearly exhausted.
One or more had thrown themselves on the ground panting.
The heat increased every minute, and the atmosphere became stifling.
The thirst, too, was almost unendurable.
Even James himself was yielding at last to despair, and already the
lights were burning more dimly.
But hark! the sound of the dog barking. His voice seemed ever so far
away, but every heart was cheered by it.
Again, lads, again! Up with your spades; one more effort.
The men sprang up from the floor of the cave and went to work now with a
will.
Nearer and nearer the dog's anxious barking sounded every minute.
At last, with a joyous cry, Bob burst through, and with him came a
welcome rush of pure air.
They were saved!
Is it any wonder that when they found themselves once more out in the
jungle, with flowers and foliage all around them and the breath of
heaven fanning their faces, James Malone proposed a prayer of
thankfulness?
They rose from their knees at last.
"We have been taught a lesson," said this honest fellow; "our ambition
was far too overweening. Our lust for gold all but found us a grave."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
They had arrived early at camp, so Tandy and Halcott determined to make
another visit to Observatory Hill, for the man had once more signalled.
Extra activity was apparent among the savages in the northern island.
It was evident enough now that they would not long delay their coming.
The sun set, and soon afterwards darkness fell, but still the man
lingered on the hill-top.
And now they could see a great fire spring up, just a little way from
the water's edge, and soon the savages were observed dancing wildly
around it in three or four great circles.
It was evident that some horrible orgie was taking place, and they might
easily presume that the medicine-man was busy enough, and that a human
sacrifice was being offered up to appease the fiends of war, in which
those benighted beings so firmly believed.
Next day, and just after breakfast, on looking towards the hill-top,
behold the red British ensign afloat on the flag-pole!
Shortly after this the signalman himself ran in.
"They are coming!" he cried; "they are coming!"
"And their strength?" asked Halcott calmly.
"Five great war-canoes, and each one of them contains at least thirty
armed warriors."
"And there may be more to follow. Humph! Well, we shall have to reckon
with between two and three hundred at least. What about making
overtures of peace to them, brother James?"
Now brother James, as has already been said, was a very practical kind
of a Christian.
"Well," he said, slowly and thoughtfully, "I think, Charlie Halcott,
that in this case our duty lies straight and clear before us, and we've
got to go for it. We shall just be content to make war first, and leave
the peace to follow."
Every man heard him, and the hearty British cheer they gave was
re-echoed even from the hill itself.
It was agreed by all, however, that to fight these savages in the open
would be but to court death and destruction to all hands.
Other tactics must be adopted. The enemy would no doubt land on the
beach, and so the big gun was dragged towards the cliff-top. Here they
would make their first stand, and, if possible, sink some of the
war-canoes before they had a chance to land.
In savage warfare cover is considered of very great importance. It was
determined, therefore, to deprive the invaders of this at any cost, so
heaps of withered branches and foliage were collected and placed here
and there all around the bay and close to the edge of the wood; and not
only there, but on the table-land itself, between the encampment and
Observatory Hill.
One of the most active young men was told off to fire those heaps,
beginning at the farther side of the bay. His signal to do so would be
a rifle, not the gun, fired from the top of the cliff.
In less than three hours' time the great war-canoes were quite in view,
slowly approaching the land. They were still ten miles away, however,
and it was evident to every one that they meant to time themselves so as
to land on the beach at Treachery Bay about an hour after sunset.
Another hour went slowly by. Through the glasses now a good view could
be had of the cannibal warriors. One and all were painted in a manner
that was as hideous as it was grotesque. In the first boat, standing
erect in the bows, with a huge spear in his hand, the head of which was
evidently of gold, for it glittered yellow in the sun's rays, was a
stalwart savage, whom James Malone at once pronounced to be the king.
Beside him squatted two deformed and horrible-looking savages, and they
also were far too well-known to James. They were the king's chief
medicine-men.
At the bow of each war-canoe, stuck on a pole, was a ghastly human head,
no doubt those of prisoners taken in battles fought with tribes living
on other islands. There was no doubt, therefore, that their intentions
in visiting the Crusoes were evil and not good, and that James Malone's
advice to fight first and make peace afterwards was wise, and the only
one to be pursued.
At sunset they were within two miles of the land, and lying-to, ready to
make a dash as soon as darkness fell.
The gun belonging to the _Sea Flower_ was a small breechloader of good
pattern, and could carry a shell quite as far as the boats.
It was trained upon them, and great was the terror of the king when in
the air, right above his head, the shell burst with a terrible roar.
They put about and rowed further off at once.
And now, after a short twilight, the night descended quickly over land
and sea.
It was very still and starry, and in a very short time the thumping and
noise of the oars told those on watch that the boats were rapidly
approaching. And now the rifle was fired.
Sackbut, the young sailor, had been provided with a can of petroleum and
matches, and hardly had the sound of the rifle ceased to reverberate
from the rocks ere those on the cliff saw the first fire lighted.
Running from heap to heap he quickly set fire to them one by one. Up on
to the table-land he came next, and so in less than twenty minutes the
whole of this part of the island presented a barrier of rolling fire
towards the sea.
The fire lit up the whole bay until it was as bright almost as if the
sun were shining on it. But the savages were not to be deterred or
denied, and so on swept the great war-canoes towards the coral beach.
Yet, although they succeeded at last in effecting a landing, they had
paid dear for their daring.
Seven rifles played incessantly on them, and the howls and yells that
rose every now and then on the night air told that the firing was not in
vain.
Only a few shots were fired from the gun, there being no time, but a
shell crashed into the very midst of one of the war-canoes, and the
destruction must have been terrible. She sank at once, and probably not
more than ten out of the thirty succeeded in swimming ashore.
The sharks had scented the battle from afar, and were soon on the field
enjoying a horrid feast.
With that bursting shell the war might be said to have commenced in
earnest, and it was to be a war _a outrance_, knife to knife, and to the
death.
The yelling of the savages now, and their frantic gestures as they
rushed in mass to the shelter of the rocks, mingling with the crackling
and roaring of the flames and the frightened screams of myriads of
sea-gulls, was fearful--a noise and din that it would be difficult
indeed to describe.
All haste was now made to get the gun inside the first line of defence,
load it with canister, and place it where it would be most handy.
And nothing more could be done now until the savages should once more
put in an appearance. So Tandy hurried on board, a sadly anxious man
indeed. His anxiety was, of course, centred in his little daughter.
Janeira was the first to meet him.
"Miss Nelda?" he said quickly; "where is she, and how is she, Jane?"
"Oh," replied Jane, "she cry plenty at fuss, sah, cry and dance, but now
she done go to bed, sah; come, sah, come."
And down below she ran.
Poor Nelda! There she lay in her bunk, pale and frightened-looking.
No tears now though; only smiles and caresses for her father. She had
one arm round Bob, who was stretched out beside the child, as if to
guard her from threatened danger.
But strange and earnest were the questions she had to ask.
Were the savages all killed, and shot, and drowned? Would they come
back again? Would Ransey, and Bob, and the 'Rallie, and poor daddie be
killed and roasted if the awful men came with their spears and knives,
and their bows and arrows?
Tandy did all he could to assure her, and if in doing so he had to
equivocate a little, surely he would be forgiven.
As they were still talking, in at the door stalked the Admiral himself.
He looked more solemn than any one had ever seen him before. Poor
fellow! he too had received a terrible fright, and I suppose he felt
that he would never, never care to dance again.
The child called to him, and he came to the bunk-side at once, and
lowering his long, beautiful neck, laid his beak across her neck. This
was 'Rallie's way of showing affection.
Then he went slowly and sadly away to the other end of the cabin, and
"trussed" himself in a corner.
Tandy stopped for two whole hours with Nelda. She promised to be very
good, and not to cry, even if the bad men did come back again.
Then she fell soundly asleep, holding her father's finger.
He kissed her now and quietly left the cabin, and Janeira herself
slipped in and took the camp-stool Tandy had just vacated.
The fire was by this time a long distance away, only the trees that had
not been destroyed stood at one moment like black spectres in the
starlight, but like rugged pillars of crimson and gold when a puff of
wind swept through the woods.
Waiting and watching! Ah, what a weary thing it is! Hours and hours
passed by, and if the men of this little garrison slept at all, it was
on the bare ground, and with only their elbows for pillows.
But not until far on in the morning watch did the enemy show signs of
activity, or give a single token of their presence.
The fire was now too far back for the crackling of the flames to be
heard, though its red glare and the cloud of rolling smoke that obscured
the sky told that it was still blazing fiercely. The sea-birds had gone
to rest once more in the rocks, and everything around the encampment was
as silent as the grave. A dread silence--a stillness like that which
precedes the outbreaking of some fearful storm!
And all too soon the storm burst.
Book 3--CHAPTER TEN.
"AN EYE FOR AN EYE, AND A TOOTH FOR A TOOTH."
With a yell that once more scared the sea-birds, and sent them screaming
in terror across the waves, a yell that seemed to awaken the echoes in
every rock and hill from end to end of the island, the savages sprang to
their feet, and rushing towards the palisade, made their first fearful
onset.
Not twenty yards away were they when they had given voice. So quickly,
too, did they rush across the intervening ground, that scarce was there
time to fire a rifle volley, far less to train the gun upon the
spear-armed mass, before it was close alongside and had surrounded the
stockade.
In their hundreds, these fearsome savages attempted to scale it; but
their bodies were frightfully torn with the spikes, and cries of pain
now mingled with those of anger. The defenders ran from one part of the
stockade to another, firing from the loopholes; and so densely massed
together was the foe that every bullet must have found a billet. In
spite of all this, several managed to get over, but were immediately
shot down with revolvers, or cut down with sword or cutlass.
Small though the loopholes were, spears were several times thrust
through, and as each of them was poisoned, a single scratch would have
resulted in the agonised death of the receiver.
Dark enough it was, and with nothing now but the stars to direct their
aim, yet the little band fought well and determinedly, and at last the
foe retired, leaving scores of their dead behind--drew off, dragging the
wounded away.
At that black mass, just as it was nearing the woods, and while the
rifles still played upon it, the breechloader, grape-loaded, was trained
and fired.
So close together were the natives that the carnage must have been
terrible.
But twice again ere morning they attacked the fort, receiving the same
treatment, and being obliged at last to withdraw.
When morning broke, the defenders were completely wearied out, and so
the little garrison, after two sentries were set, lay down to snatch a
few hours' much needed rest. There was no fear of the attack being
renewed before sunset, for darkness seemed best to suit the tactics of
these sable warriors.
In the afternoon of this first day of siege a sally was made from the
great gate, and seven men stood ready with their rifles, while four
began to remove the dead. Each was dragged to the edge of the cliff and
thrown over into the sea. When all were cleared away the gate was once
more shut and barred. But though the burial must have been witnessed,
no rush was made by the savages to attack them. The afternoon was spent
in taking pot-shots at every figure that could be seen in the burned
bush.
The next attack was made at midnight, and in a manner quite as
determined as the first.
One of the _Sea Flower's_ men was killed by a spear. It had been thrust
with tremendous force through a loophole, and pierced the poor fellow's
brain.
Tandy himself had a narrow escape. He was about to fire, but,
stumbling, fell, and next moment a poisoned arrow whizzed past and over
him. There was surely a Providence in this, for only fools believe in
blind chance.
With the exception of the death of poor Ross, who was an able seaman,
there was no other casualty that night.
The savages withdrew, but when, next day, the men of the _Sea Flower_
sallied forth to remove the enemy's dead, which they succeeded in doing,
it was noticed that many of the spike-nails had, during the fight, been
removed. These, however, were easily replaced by others, and many more
were added.
There was no attack this evening. The savages had determined to
endeavour once more to propitiate their "fiend of war," and an immense
fire could be seen burning at midnight in the centre of their camp, not
more than half a mile from the stockade. The big gun was trained upon
this, and a shell planted right in the centre of the dusky mob seemed to
work great destruction, and quickly put an end to the orgie.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The terrible siege was kept up for three whole weeks, and, harassed
beyond measure with the constant night attacks, affairs were becoming
very desperate indeed, and the little garrison was already almost worn
out. Day after day it was becoming more apparent to all that utter
annihilation was merely a question of time.
A council of war was held now, at which every man was present, and
various proposals were made, but few indeed were feasible.
The number of the defenders was so small, compared to the hundreds of
armed savages opposed to them, that a "sally in force," as Tom Wilson
who proposed this called it, was out of the question.
To attempt to make peace would only be to give themselves away. The
savage king would be ready enough to promise anything, but in a few
weeks afterwards not one of the poor Crusoes would be left alive.
Should they get the largest boat ready, provision her, and put to sea?
Surely the ocean itself would be less cruel at its very wildest than
those bloodthirsty savages.
The question had been put by Tandy himself. He was hoping against hope;
he was like a drowning man clutching at straws. For himself he had no
thought. He was brave almost to a fault, and, like any other brave man,
was willing to die, sword in hand, fighting the foe.
"And where can man die better,
Than in facing fearful odds?"
But his children, especially innocent wee Nelda--ah! that was what
softened that heart of his.
"My dear Tandy," said Halcott, "the idea of being once more away out on
yonder beautiful and peaceful ocean, even if only in an open boat, is
one that commends itself to us all, but, alas, it would in this case be
but a choice of death. Even if we should succeed in eluding the savages
and escaping, which I believe would be almost impossible, we could never
reach the mainland."
So the council ended, and the little garrison remained precisely as
before.
It was evident to all, however, that the end could not be far distant,
for not only provisions, but ammunition itself, would soon give out.
All hands saving Nelda were therefore put on short allowance. Coals
were carefully saved, no more being used than was necessary to make
steam to be condensed and used as drinking water; and not an unnecessary
shot was to be fired.
But now there came a lull which lasted for three whole days and nights.
Two things were evident enough: first, that the enemy were making some
change in their mode of warfare; secondly, that the final struggle would
soon take place--and indeed, as regards that, many of the men within the
little encampment would have preferred to rush forth, cutlass in hand,
and finish the fighting at once.
Most of the country was devastated by the fire that had been kindled,
with the exception of a patch away south and east at the foot of
Observatory Hill, on which the proud ensign was still floating, as if to
give the besieged some hope and comfort.
But one day this patch of jungle, like the famous Birnam Wood, seemed to
be slowly advancing towards the camp.
Tandy was gazing at it, and looking somewhat puzzled, when Halcott came
up.
"That is more of their fiendish tactics," he said; "and the scheme, I
fear, will be only too successful. You see," he added, "they are piling
up heaps of branches; these will defy our rifle bullets, and
unfortunately we have no shells left to fire them. Gradually these
heaps will be advanced, and under cover of them they will make their
next and, I fear, final attack, and it will be made by day."
Halcott was right, and in a few days' time the savages were within a
hundred yards of the palisade. They no doubt meant to advance as near
to it as possible during the hours of darkness, and with might and main
attack at sunrise.
It was midnight when the movement on the part of the besiegers began,
and the cover was then slowly advanced. A gentle breeze had begun to
blow away from the camp, and the night was moonless and dark.
Presently a hand was laid on Halcott's shoulder. He had been lying near
the outer stockade quietly talking with James; while Tandy was in the
ship's state-room keeping his little girl company. The poor child was
sadly uneasy to-night, and the father was trying his best to comfort
her.
"What! you here, Lord Fitzmantle?" said Halcott.
"I'se heah, sah."
It was probably well he said so, for excepting his flashing teeth and
rolling eyes, there wasn't much else of him to be seen.
"And you're pretty nearly naked, aren't you?"
"I'se neahly altogedder naked, sah. I'se got noddings much on, sah, but
my skin. I go on one 'spedition [expedition] all same's Dabid of old go
out to meet de giant Goliah. Dabid hab sling and stone though; Fitz hab
no sling, on'y one box ob matches. You open dat gate, sah, and I go
crawl, crawl, all same's one snake, and soon makee one big fire to wahm
de hides ob dose black niggahs."
"Brave and generous little fellow!" cried Halcott, shaking the boy's
hand. "But I fear to risk your life."
"You no feah foh me, sah, all I do. I jes' done gone do foh de sake ob
dat pooh deah chile Babs.
"Good-night, ge'men. You soon see big fire, and you heah de niggahs
fizz. Suppose dey killee me, dey no can kill de soul. Dis chile findee
his way to Hebben all the same, plenty quick."
They let the little lad out.
Whether the acute ears of the savages had heard the bolts drawn or not
will never be known. Certain it is, however, that Fitz was discovered
and wounded. But wounded as he was, he had the determination to light
the pile.
The savages threw themselves at it, and tore at the burning branches,
but this only helped to scatter the flames about.
Fitz crawled back, just in time to die inside the stockade.
"I go to Hebben now," he said faintly to James, who was kneeling beside
him holding his hand. "I'se dun my duty I fink--heah below. I see my
pooh old mudder to-night--she--she--"
He said no more, and never spoke again. The noble little fellow had
indeed done his duty, and doubtless would receive his reward.
James Malone was like a wild man now.
"Brother Halcott," he cried, "summon all hands to arras, and let us
sally forth and give these fiends a lesson. They have done to death
this noble little fellow. Come, Halcott, come. An eye for an eye, and
a tooth for a tooth!"
He waved his sword aloft as he spoke.
So sudden and determined was the sally now made by ten resolute men
that, taken thus unexpectedly, the savages became at once unmanned and
demoralised.
The men of the _Sea Flower_ advanced in a semicircle, and well spread
out. After the first volley, the blacks threw a few spears wildly into
the darkness, for the terrible conflagration blinded their eyes; but,
huddled together as they were, they made an excellent target for the
riflemen.
Volley after volley was poured into their midst with terrible effect,
increasing their confusion every minute.
"Lay aft here now, lads!" shouted James. "Down with your guns! Charge
with cutlass and revolver. Hurrah!"
High above the demoniacal shrieks of the savages and the roaring of the
flames rose that wild British cheer. Next moment the revolvers poured
upon the foe a rain of death.
Again a cheer. Sword and cutlass flashed in the firelight. Right and
left, left and right, the men struck out, and blood flowed like water.
Towering above all was James himself, with flashing eyes and red-stained
blade, his long hair streaming behind in the breeze that fanned the
flames.
Short but fearful was that onslaught. In the eyes of the
terror-stricken savages every man must have seemed a multitude. And no
wonder. It was death or victory for the poor Crusoes; and never before
did soldier on battlefield, or sailor on slippery battle-deck, fight
with greater fury than they did now.
But, lo! James has seen the king himself, with his golden-headed spear,
which he tries in vain to poise, so crushed and crowded is he in the
midst of his mob of warriors.
"It is I," shouts James, in the native tongue, "I, whose blood you would
have drunk. Drink it now if you dare!"
Nothing can withstand him, and soon he has fought his way towards the
chief, and next moment the savage throws up his arms and falls dead
where he stands.
As if moved now but by a single thought, the enemy, with a howl of
terror, go rushing away and disappear in the darkness. The victors are
left alone with the dead!
But, alas! the victory has cost them more than one precious life.
Here, stark and stiff, lies the brave young fellow Sackbut, who had
fired the bush on the first landing of the savages.
And not far off poor Tom Wilson himself.
At first they can hardly believe that Tom is dead. He is raised partly
on his elbow, and his eyes are fixed on a portrait he has taken from his
bosom. Tandy, who found him, had seen that picture before. It was that
of his wife.
Ah, well, he had sinned, he had suffered, but his sorrows were all past
now.
Another man is wounded--honest Chips himself.
Is this all? Ah, no, for James himself, as he turns to leave the scene
of carnage, leans suddenly on his sword, his face looks ghastly pale in
the firelight, and Halcott springs forward only in time to prevent him
from falling.
Book 3--CHAPTER ELEVEN.