A yell of triumph rose from the savages, and they stopped short to send
a little flight of arrows at the knot of men struggling to their feet--
no easy task, for Panton's right leg had gone between two of the rounds,
and as he strove to get up he jerked the implement, and upset Smith
again.
"Don't--don't fire," cried Drew, who rushed forward, and none to soon;
for the clicking of locks came out of the thin mist. "Friends!
friends!"
A cheer rose at this; but it was answered by another yell, and the
savages came on now at a run.
"Hurt, Lane, old chap?"
"Don't talk: forward, all of you."
Somehow or another the little party, hurt and unhurt, rose to their
feet, and ran hard for the brig, fortunately only a short distance away,
but their speed did not equal that of the arrows winged after them, and
one of the deadly missiles struck Panton in the shoulder, making him
utter an angry ejaculation, stop, turn, and discharge both barrels of
his gun at the advancing enemy.
"Don't; don't stop to do that," groaned Oliver. "To the brig, man--to
the brig."
He spoke in great pain, but the two shots had their effect, for they
checked the advancing enemy for a few moments, and gave the flying party
time to struggle to the side of the brig, but utterly worn out and
exhausted. Then a terrible feeling of despair came over them as they
looked up and saw that if the savages came on their case was hopeless,
for the gangway was fastened up and sails had been rigged up along the
bulwarks as a protection against an attacking foe, while to open out and
let down steps would have taken many valuable minutes, and given the
enemy time to seize or slay.
"Quick, my lads, throw them ropes. Hold on below, there; we'll soon
haul you up."
Oliver saw that long before they could be dragged up it would be all
over with them, and he placed his back to the vessel's side, meaning to
sell his life as dearly as he could, while the others followed his
example, feeling completely shut out from the help they had sought.
"Fire over our heads, sir," cried Drew, "we must not wait for ropes."
"Yes. Guns, all of you," cried Mr Rimmer, as the savages came on in
the moonlight, winging arrow after arrow, which stuck in the ship's side
again and again.
"Hooray for Billy Wriggs!" yelled Smith just then, as his comrade came
panting up last.
"Here y'are gents," cried Wriggs, and with steady hands he planted the
ladder he had been so long abusing right up against the side. "Now,
then, up with yer, Mr Oliver Lane, sir."
"No, no; up, Drew."
"Quick: don't shilly-shally," roared Mr Rimmer. "Now, boys, fire!"
A ragged volley came from overhead as Drew ran up the ladder, and then
leaned down to hold out his hand to Panton, who went up more slowly,
with an arrow sticking in his shoulder.
"Now, Smith," cried Oliver.
"No, sir. Orficers first," was the reply.
"Confound you, you'll be too late!" roared Mr Rimmer, and Smith sprang
up as the savages came on with a rush, and, literally driven by Wriggs
to follow, Oliver went up next, while Wriggs followed him so closely
that he touched and helped him all the while, the ladder quivering and
bending and threatening to give way beneath their weight.
The next moment the mate's strong hands had seized Oliver's sides and
pitched him over the sail cloth to the deck, while, as Wriggs got hold
of a rope and swung himself in, the ladder was seized and dragged away
as a trophy taken from the enemy, the savages yelling wildly, and then
increasing their rate of retreat, as a fresh volley was sent after them.
"Oh, murder, look at that!" yelled Wriggs, excitedly, as he climbed up
and looked over at the retreating foe.
"Tommy, old lad, see here. The beggars! Arter my troubles too, all the
night: they've carried off my ladder, after all."
The moon was now high above the mist, and bathed the deck with the soft
light, veining it at the same time with the black shadows of stay, spar,
yard, and running rigging.
"Don't fire, lads," cried Mr Rimmer. "We mustn't waste a shot. Wait
till they come on again. Now, gentlemen, thank God you're all back safe
again. Eh? Not safe? Don't say anyone's hurt."
"Yes, Lane's hurt, and Panton."
"So's Billy Wriggs, sir," said Smith.
"Course I am, mate, so would you be if you'd slipped your foot between
the ratlines of an ugly old ladder, and broke your ankle."
"Why, I did, Billy, right up to the crutch, and snapped my thigh-bone in
half," growled Smith.
"I'll see to you as soon as I can. Here, two of you carry Mr Lane down
into the cabin."
"No, Mr Panton first," said Oliver. "He's worst."
"Don't stand on ceremony, gentlemen," cried the mate, angrily. "Mr
Drew, are you all right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then take command here. You have your gun, keep a sharp look-out, and
no mercy now, down with the first of the treacherous dogs who comes
near."
"Right. I'm ready," said Drew; "but pray see to my friends."
Oliver was already on his way to the cabin hatch.
"You trust me for that, sir," said the mate. "Steady there. Ah! An
arrow! Here, quick; down with Mr Panton."
The men who had lifted him from the deck, panting with fear and horror,
were quick enough in their actions, and the two young men were soon
lying one on each side of the cabin floor.
"You shall be attended to directly, Mr Lane," said the mate, hurriedly.
"You're not bleeding much. Here, Smith, hold this cloth tightly
against Mr Lane's arm."
He hurried to Panton's side, and turned him more over upon his face,
showing the broken shaft of an arrow sticking through the cloth of the
young man's jacket. Then quickly taking out his knife, he did not
hesitate for a moment, but ordering Wriggs to hold the cabin lamp so as
to cast its light upon the broken arrow, he inserted his knife, and
ripped the light Norfolk jacket right up to the collar, and across the
injured place, so that he could throw it open, and then serving the thin
flannel shirt the young man wore in the same way, the wound was at once
laid bare, and the extent of the injury seen.
"Can't ha' gone into his heart, sir," said Wriggs, respectfully.
"'Cause it's pinting uppards."
"Yes," said Mr Rimmer, "imbedded in the muscles of his shoulder. Poor
fellow, best done while he's fainting."
It was rough surgery, but right. Taking hold of the broken arrow shaft,
of which about three inches stood up from the wound, which was just
marked by a few drops of blood, Mr Rimmer found that it was held
firmly, and resisted all efforts to dislodge it without violence, so
judging that the head was barbed, and that tearing would be dangerous,
he at once made a bold cut down into the flesh, parallel with the flat
of the arrow head, and then pressing it gently up and down, he drew the
missile forth. He followed this up by carefully washing out the wound
with clean water, and finally, before bandaging, poured in some ammonia.
Just as he gave the final touches to the bandage, Panton came to, and
looked wildly round, his eyes resting at last upon the mate's.
"You have taken out the arrow?" he asked.
"Yes, and made a good job of you, sir," said the mate, cheerily. "I
didn't think I was such a surgeon."