A FIGHT FOR LIFE
The boys did not need any exhortation on the necessity of fighting to
the last. They knew that the issue was fairly joined and could only be
finally settled by the complete victory of one side or the other. The
malignant threats of Ramirez still rang in their ears, and they had not
the slightest doubt that the scoundrel would do exactly what he had
stated, in case any of them were luckless enough to fall into his hands.
So they looked well to their weapons in the period of respite that
ensued, and prepared for the coming onset. Yet as hour after hour passed
without any move on the part of the enemy, they grew puzzled. Why was
the attack delayed?
Once at some distance off in the woods they heard a shot, followed by a
scream.
“Have they got to fighting among themselves, I wonder,” remarked Phil.
“It would solve our problem if they’d only kill each other off like so
many Kilkenny cats,” said Tom.
“I guess that was Ramirez enforcing discipline and killing one of his
rascals to cow the others,” concluded Benton. “If so, it makes one less
for us to handle.”
Another half hour passed, and still the attack hung fire.
“They’ll have to come along pretty soon or it will be daylight, and that
will be all to our advantage,” muttered Benton in some perplexity at the
enemy’s tactics.
Just then there came a sharp exclamation from Phil. His eyes were keener
than those of any of the others, and he had detected a black blur that
to him indicated a massing of men.
“I think they’re getting ready for a rush,” he exclaimed.
The words had scarcely left his lips before they were followed by the
roar of a volley, and Ramirez and his men came plunging from the woods,
uttering wild yells and making straight for the entrance of the cave.
This time they did not scatter, but depended on the power of their mass
attack to overwhelm the little party of defenders by sheer weight of
numbers.
It was a fatal mistake, for their course was taking them right over the
place where the mine had been planted. Phil already had his finger on
the key.
“Now!” shouted Benton, and Phil sent the spark along the wire.
There was a terrific explosion, as tons of earth were sent hurtling
upward, carrying with them the whirling, sprawling bodies of some of the
attacking party. Others were sent staggering to the ground on either
side of the great yawning hole that had been dug by the dynamite.
Even in the cave itself the force of the explosion was felt, and the
boys were thrown from the positions in which they had ensconced
themselves, while their weapons were sent clattering from their hands.
“Get ready to rush them, boys,” Benton’s voice rose high over the din.
“It’s our turn now.”
The boys sprang to their feet, and followed their leader through the
narrow passage between the rocks that formed the barricade.
They awaited the command to fire, but as Benton saw the devastation that
had been caused by the mine, he forbore to give the order.
For the victory had already been won. The mine had done all and more
than had been expected of it. It had taken all the fight out of the
attacking party. Several had been killed, and the others in wild panic
had sought refuge in flight. The boys could hear them plunging in a mad
stampede through the underbrush, their sole anxiety to get as far away
from the fatal spot as possible. In their confused minds they had
probably interpreted the mine as another manifestation of the
earthquake.
“No use of following them, boys,” remarked Benton as they listened to
the fugitives crashing through the bushes. “They’re making tracks for
their ship as fast as they know how. No doubt we could follow them and
pick them off like so many rabbits, but we don’t want any slaughter.
What we’ve done has been in self defense and because we had to. And we
don’t want any captives either. They’d only add to our troubles and make
a complicated situation.”
“But don’t you think that Ramirez may rally his men and make another
attack?” asked Dick anxiously.
“Here’s the answer to that,” replied Benton, who had taken out his
flashlight and was sending its rays over the bodies lying on the ground.
“Here’s Ramirez himself. He’s done his last killing, and has met the
fate that he has handed out so ruthlessly to others.”
The boys crowded around him and gazed on the villainous features of the
scoundrel who a few hours before had threatened them with unimaginable
tortures.
“He met the fate he courted and the fate he well deserved,” remarked
Benton. “That settles the question of any more fighting. He was the only
one in the gang that had any of the qualities of leadership and without
him the rest are only a lot of panic-stricken dogs. They think the
island’s hoodooed, this end of it especially, and you couldn’t drag them
over here again with a team of horses. No, I think our worries are over
as far as those rascals are concerned. But on the mere chance that some
sniper may want to take a last shot at us before scurrying off after his
comrades, we’d better get back to the cave now and wait till daylight.
Then we’ll bury these bodies and clear up some of this debris.”
Phil felt a nudge on his arm, and turning about saw Bimbo standing
beside him.
“Please suh,” said the negro with a note of pride in his voice, “Ah’s
wounded.”
“Is that so?” asked Phil in quick concern. “Where?”
Bimbo exhibited his knuckles, which were bleeding where they had been
grazed by a bullet. Phil saw at a glance that it was nothing, but not
for the world would he have taken away from Bimbo the satisfaction that
the wound gave him.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” he said gravely, “but it’s what a fighter has to
expect. Come into the cave and I’ll bathe and dress it for you.”
Bimbo followed, his white teeth showing in a grin of pride, at the same
time nursing his scratched hand and emitting an occasional groan which
he thought the situation demanded.
“Mighty lucky dat de mine done got dat Ramirez fo’ dis nigger got at
him,” he ejaculated. “Ah had him mahked fo’ def, an’ Ah sho would huv
messed him up pow’ful.”
“I’m sure you would,” returned Phil, keeping his face straight with
difficulty. “If any of those fellows come back we’ll let you have the
first hack at them.”
Bimbo’s face fell at this.
“Yassuh, yassuh,” he agreed, but with a marked loss of enthusiasm, “but
af’er you, Marse Phil, af’er you an’ de udder gemmun. Dis nigger knows
his place, yassuh.”
“And now, Bimbo,” remarked Phil, after he had completed his task, “if
you still feel equal to it, it might be a good thing to turn to and
rustle us some grub. I guess I speak for all of us when I say that we’re
as hungry as wolves.”
There was a universal chorus of assent. Now that the strain was over
they had time to think of their material wants, and they did full
justice to the abundant meal that Bimbo soon put before them.
They were tired too, desperately tired, and all would have welcomed
sleep. But there was too much to do just now to think of that. By the
time they had finished their meal, daylight had come, and they set to
work to remove the traces of the struggle.
The deep crater dug by the mine served as a burial place, and they
placed in it the bodies of the attackers. Bimbo had ventured some feeble
remonstrances at having them buried so near the cave and had hinted
mysteriously at “ha’nts,” but his objections were overruled.
“That dynamite has surely stood us in good stead,” remarked Phil, as
they smoothed out the ground after their task had been completed.
“Without it we wouldn’t have got the treasure and perhaps we’d have lost
our lives.”
“And don’t forget radio,” put in Dick. “If we hadn’t had the batteries
of the set along the dynamite wouldn’t have done us any good.”
“They made a good team,” assented Benton. “And now before we do anything
else, we’ll snatch a few hours of sleep. We’ll post guards and keep
watch, turn and turn about.”
This met with universal approval, and with the exception of the time
spent in sentry duty they slept till noon and awoke refreshed and ready
to resume the work of treasure hunting. They were in high spirits when
Benton summoned them to a council of war.
“You know why I think the danger is over from those rascals,” he said,
“but a wise general never takes anything for granted. We’ve got to make
sure as to what they are up to. So we’ll have to do a little scouting. I
think Phil had better come along with me, while the rest of you stay
here to guard the cave and treasure. I’ve had a lot of experience in
this kind of work in San Domingo and Phil has the advantage of having
been over the ground before. We’ll be off now, and probably be back in
two or three hours.”
They looked well to their weapons and started off. The way was
difficult, even more so than before, because of the changes made by the
earthquake and volcanic eruption. In places there were streams of lava,
not yet cooled, that had blasted everything in their paths. In other
sections trees had been uprooted and thrown about in the wildest tangle
and confusion. Many times they had to make wide detours, but each had a
keen sense of direction, and they steadily pursued the general route
that led to the former camp of Ramirez and his gang.
They came to the lagoon, or rather the hollow basin that formed a lagoon
when the tide was in. Just now the sands were bare, but Phil could
barely repress a shudder as he pointed out to his companion the place
where he had had his terrible experience with the sharks. Even now he
seemed to feel those horrid noses poking at him through his envelope of
seaweed, and his skin prickled at the recollection.
They had reached a height of ground that commanded the sea when Benton
suddenly grasped Phil’s arm.
“Look!” he exclaimed, as he pointed out to sea.
A ship had just left the cove that had sheltered it and was beating its
way slowly to the open sea beyond. As they watched, another sail was run
up, and under the added impetus the schooner quickened its pace and,
rounding a headland, was lost to sight.
Benton and Phil looked at each other.
“They’re off!” exclaimed Phil.
“Thank God!” said Benton.