The shouting and yelling was so plainly heard in the cabin, that Oliver
tried to raise himself up, but sank back with a sigh of pain, for the
rough usage he had met with from the Papuans had made him lie back half
fainting and speechless. But he was conscious of the words shouted by
the seaman to the mate, and of the latter's orders as he ran out of the
cabin.
Oliver groaned as he lay back upon his couch, listening to the sounds of
the impending strife.
"It is too hard to be left alone and helpless here," he muttered. "I
wouldn't care if I were strong enough to go and help."
"You there, Lane?" came in feeble tones from the other side of the
cabin.
"Yes. How are you?"
"Bad. But what's that noise? That shouting?"
"Papuans attacking the ship."
"Oh, yes," said Panton faintly. "I remember now. They followed us and
shot me down. Ah! I should have liked to have one turn at the fellow
who drew a bow at me. Hark! they're fighting."
"Fighting! Yes; and oh! it is dreadful to have to lie here and not be
able to help."
"Yes, I should like to help our fellows," sighed Panton, "Drew is there,
I suppose?"
"Yes, of course. Hark! they've begun firing."
They lay listening for some minutes, and then Panton suddenly
exclaimed,--
"I'm weak and faint as can be, but I can't lie like this. Look here,
Lane, old chap; if those blacks get the best of it, they'll come down
here and murder us."
"Without mercy," said Oliver, with a groan.
"Well, wounded men have helped the fighting before now. Don't you think
you and I could do our little bit now?"
"I don't feel as if I could raise an arm," said Oliver, "but I'll have a
try."
"So will I. It's of no use to lie here fancying one has been wounded by
poisoned arrows. I shall think of nothing but paying those fellows out.
The guns are there on that locker."
"And the cartridge bags with them," said Oliver.
"Then here goes."
"Hist!"
"What is it?" whispered back Panton.
"Some one is trying that window."
There was no mistake about the matter, for the grating as of a great
piece of wood was heard, followed by a cracking sound like the point of
a spear being inserted in a crevice so as to wrench open the dead-light.
The young men looked at each other, and Panton reached out his sound
arm, setting his teeth hard as he tried to master the agony he felt in
his effort, and succeeded in grasping one gun.
The rest was easy: by its help he drew the other within reach--their own
guns which had been thrown down there when they were brought into the
cabin. In another minute he had the cartridge satchels as well, and
pushed one and his gun to Oliver. They both examined the breeches to
see that they were properly loaded, listening the while to the
crackling, wrenching noise.
Meanwhile the sounds from without increased. There was plenty of firing
going on from the deck, answered by savage yelling and the dull sounds
of blows, as arrow and spear kept on striking the woodwork and flying
over the protected bulwarks to the deck.
"Haven't got a foot on board yet," whispered Panton, faintly.
"No; it sounds as if they were climbing up, and our fellows kept
knocking them backward. Oh, if I were only strong enough to go up and
see."
"I'd give anything to be there," said Panton, with his eyes brightening.
"I say," said Oliver, hoarsely; "does it come natural to fellows to want
to kill as soon as they get hurt and fighting's going on?"
"I suppose so. It seems to take all the fear out of you, and you don't
care for anything. I say--look out!"
For at that moment there was a sharp splitting sound at the cabin
window, the dead-light fell over with a sharp crack, and as a couple of
savage grinning faces appeared, Oliver held out his gun with one hand as
if it had been a pistol, and without attempting to raise his head from
the rough pillow on which it lay, drew trigger.
The effect was instantaneous. One moment the two Papuans were there,
the next they were gone, and a heavy thick smoke rose towards the
ceiling.
"Hit them?" said Panton, excitedly.
"Must have hit them, or they wouldn't have dropped. But some of the
pellets were sure to go home, for it was loaded with small shot."
"You were too quick for me," said Panton, huskily, as Oliver reloaded,
opening the breech as the gun lay across him, only one hand being at
liberty for the task.
"Think they'll come again?" said Oliver, through his teeth, for the
recoil of the gun had horribly jarred his injured arm, and there were
moments when he felt as if his senses were leaving him in a swoon.
"Yes, they'll come again, and I must have a shot this time. Am I loaded
with small shot too? I forget. My head is so horribly muddled."
"Yes, I think so. Look out. I'm not ready."
Panton was looking out, and he, too, saw the top of a mop-headed
savage's fuzz begin to appear softly over the edge of the window, then
dart up quickly and bob down again, after its owner had made a quick
observation.
"Don't fire; he'll come back."
Lane was quite right, for a hand holding a spear was raised now, the
weapon poised ready to be hurled into the cabin. Then the head of the
holder appeared and bobbed down once more.
"Too quick, don't fire," said Oliver, hoarsely. "Wait, and we'll fire
together."
"No, no," said Panton, faintly. "I must have this one."
Up came the bead again sharply, the spear was poised, and, holding on by
the sill with one hand, the savage drew back to give force to his throw,
which was intended for Panton, who lay there as if in a nightmare,
completely paralysed, feeling that he ought to fire to save his friend,
but unable to hold his gun steady for a moment, and to draw trigger.
At last. _Bang_! A terrible yell; the spear dropped on the sill, the
point was then jerked upwards, and struck the top of the window as the
savage fell headlong, leaving the opening clear once more.
"Did--I hit him?" said Panton, faintly.
"Yes, he went down at once. Quick, load again. Another will be up
directly."
He was quite right, but Panton did not stir; he lay back senseless, the
recoil of the fired piece having sent so agonising a pang through him
too that he turned sick and fainted dead away; and this just as a couple
more spear-armed savages dragged themselves up and began to climb
through. In fact, one was dimly seen half in before Oliver could shake
off his feeling of lethargy and steady the gun for another shot.
The report sounded deafening in the confined cabin, filling it far more
with smoke, which Oliver lay trying hard to penetrate as he wondered at
the silence which had now fallen.
The window was open and no enemy was to be seen as the smoke slowly rose
and floated out through the door, carried by the current of air which
set in through the window, and as there was no fresh alarm the young
naturalist lay listening, till all at once steps were heard, and the
mate's voice saluted him,--
"Well, how's the wound? Hear all our noise and firing?"
"Yes," said Oliver, slowly, "I heard."
"But, hallo! what's the meaning of this? I thought that dead-light was
put up? and what! Guns?"
Oliver told him what had happened, and the mate caught his hand.
"And we were so much taken up by our own firing that we did not hear a
sound of yours?"
"Have you beaten them off?" asked Oliver.
"Yes, they've drawn back for the time," replied the mate. "Then if you
two had not helped in the defence of the brig, they would have got in?"
"I suppose so," said Oliver; "but, pray see to Mr Panton."
The request was necessary, and it was some time before he recovered
sufficiently to answer when spoken to, then falling into a sleep that
was broken by feverish dreams.