Hunting the Skipper Part 98

"Hurt, sir?"

"Here, answer for yourself, my lad," cried the lieutenant.

"Hurt, sir? Yes, sir; pretty tidy, sir," growled the big sailor. "One of them slavers fetched me a crack on the head as knocked all the sense out on it; but I shall get a chance at 'em again one o' these times.

But is it really you, Mr Murray, here and all right, sir?"

"It's your turn to answer, Mr Murray," replied the chief officer.

"Yes, sir; and yes, Tom May; I've got back safely. Where's t.i.tely?"

"In the plantation house, sir--in hospital--sick bay, sir; doing pretty tidy. But they're coming on again, I think, sir, and we've them two blacks with us, sir. Where shall we put them?"

"They're not prisoners, sir," cried Murray. "They're friends, and have helped us to escape."

"Do you think we can trust them?" asked the lieutenant.

"Trust them, sir? Yes, and they'll fight for us to the end."

"You answer for them, my lad?"

"Yes, sir," cried Murray. "They're staunch enough."

"Here they come, sir!" cried Tom May.

For with a fierce yelling mingled with an imitation of the hearty cheering of a body of seamen, a strong party dashed up to the hastily barricaded entrance, and sent a volley cras.h.i.+ng through the panels of the door and the window.

"You were ready for that, my lads?" cried the lieutenant. "No one hurt?"

"Nay, sir; we're used to that bit o' business," growled the big sailor.

"Then give it them back, my lads."

The words had hardly pa.s.sed the officer's lips before a dozen muskets bellowed out their reply, lighting up so many roughly-made portholes, and as the volley was responded to by a fiercer yelling than before, mingled with the hurried footsteps of the repulsed attacking party, Murray turned in the darkness to his leader.

"I can't understand it, sir," he said. "I thought Caesar, the black, was retreating with us to the cottage by the lagoon."

"No, no, my lad; this is the plantation house where we came first. I only wish we could have reached the cottage by the water-side. We should have had help from the captain before now if we could have got there."

"Then we are right in the middle of the cane fields, sir?"

"Yes, Murray, and very glad I was to come upon it, for it has been strong enough to hold. Here: your black fellow who guided the expedition--where is he?"

"Here somewhere, sir."

"Ask him then if he can lead us by some path to the water-side."

"Do you hear this, Caesar?" asked Murray. "Is there any path down to the water-side without using a boat along the river?"

"Yes, sah, but Ma.s.sa Huggin men all dah, and um think they come 'long again to burn Ma.s.sa Allen house up. Murray Frank look! All de window burn fire."

"Yes, they're trying another way of attack," said the chief officer--"one that I have been wondering that they did not try before.

Up-stairs with you, my lad. You go too, Mr Murray. You must pick off those who come up with their firebrands. You'll be able to see the scoundrels now. This is better than that horrible darkness. Ah, the business is warming up. Give them a cheer, my lads, as soon as you are up at the windows. The captain will hear our response, and it will let him know where we are."

"But is that the _Seafowl_, sir?" cried Murray excitedly.

"Without doubt, my lad; but she sounds a long way off."

For the steady fire of big guns had begun, but as the chief officer had said, sounding some distance away.

"Dat Ma.s.sa Huggin big schooner, sah," said Caesar sharply; and he had hardly spoken when the heavy but sharp bra.s.sy sound of a big gun came from quite another direction. "And dat Ma.s.sa Huggin oder schooner, sah.

Dat um Long Tom."

"Confound the scoundrel!" cried the lieutenant excitedly. "Up with you, Mr Murray. Here they come to the attack again. Take May with you, or we shall be burnt out before help can come. Well, what's that then?" he shouted excitedly, as Murray rushed up the stairs towards the rooms he had helped before to put in a state of defence. "Surely that is one of our brig's carronades. It was time she began to speak."

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.

"LET 'EM HAVE IT."

"That's your sort, my lads! Let 'em have it!" came in the boatswain's gruff voice, as Murray reached the wide corridor-like landing of the planter's house; and directly after one of the sailors shouted--

"I'm after you, Tommy, old man. Show the ugly foreign varmint what a British bulldog is."

The words came from where a struggle was going on in one of the chambers which the mids.h.i.+pman had helped to barricade before he left upon his unfortunate mission to fetch help; and as the lad now crossed the corridor and ran into the room, followed by Caesar, it was to see that several of the enemy had gained a footing by rearing bamboos against the windows, and evidently in their first charge had beaten the English defenders back.

Murray rushed in just at the recoil, when Tom May had been roused to action and with a couple of companions was obeying the admonition of his messmate to show the varmint what British bulldogs might be.

Murray paused just inside the door of the lit-up room, excited and yet amused by the man's action, for he saw the big sailor in the act of rus.h.i.+ng at a couple of the enemy, sticking the cutla.s.s he bore between his teeth, as trusting to his great strength and weight he charged with doubled fists at the first, and in the contact drove him backwards with a heavy thud against the man who followed, with the result that both went down upon the floor and rolled over beneath the open window. Then as if in one movement the great fellow ducked down, avoiding a blow struck at him with a knife, seized the uppermost of the two enemies by the waistbelt, flung him up to the full extent of his reach, and then turning himself as it were into a human catapult, he hurled the fellow at another of his companions and caught him just as he was climbing over the window-sill.

The next instant the window-opening was clear, and the sound of a heavy thud came up from below, along with savage oaths and yells, while Tom May made at once for the man who had first attacked, and who was now struggling to his feet looking as if he had had his neck twisted.

Tom closed with the savage half-breed, Malayan looking sailor, and, to carry out his messmate's simile, seemed to regularly worry him as he bore him backward.

But there were others of the enemy watching the encounter--one who had previously reached the chamber, and another who had suddenly drawn himself up and sprung over the sill.

This fellow drew back for a few moments to watch the struggle and await his opportunity, before, heavy machete in hand, he sprang forward, to make a savage cut that would have gone hard with Tom May, but Murray saw the impending stroke, parried it with the cutla.s.s he held, and then struck upward with the hilt, catching the a.s.sailant full in the nose with the heavy steel guard, staggering him for a moment, and then thrusting home, the man went down, just in time for May's antagonist to trip over backward, the two fellows yelling as they rolled over and over.

"Come on, messmates," growled Tom May; and there was a short continuation of the struggle before one after the other the enemy were driven headlong from the window and the room was clear.

"Thankye, Mr Murray, sir," said the big sailor, taking the cutla.s.s from between his teeth. "You did that fine; didn't he, lads?"

"Splendid!" said the boatswain; "but what's the good of a cutla.s.s, mate, if you don't use it?"

"Hah! That's just what I was thinking of," said the big sailor. "I just stuck it atween my tusks so as to tackle that ugly warmint, as I thought it would be easier to chuck overboard, and then you see I was too busy to ketch hold again. But it do seem comic, Mr Murray, sir, don't it? But it have kep' it clean."

"Yes, Tom; and you cleared the deck magnificently."

"Did I, sir? Well, I'm glad I do'd some good; and fingers was made afore forks, warn't they, sir? And pretty handy too."