Fitz the Filibuster Part 36

"That's one of them," cried Fitz breathlessly. "What about the other?"

_Bang! Bang! Thud! Thud_! came from inside the room, and then the answer in the carpenter's gruff voice--

"I got him at last," he said. "He was a lively one. Reg'lar dodger.

Come and look here. It's all right; he's done. My! He is a whopper!"

The inclination to look in was not great, but the boys stepped back at once to the windows they had left, to see that the burning heap was well alight, but apparently all in motion, while the carpenter was standing near, half-hidden by smoke, pressing the end of the joist he had used down upon a writhing serpent which he was holding pinned against the earth in the middle of the flames.

"Take care! Take care!" cried Poole. "It'll be furious if it gets from underneath that piece of wood."

"He'd be clever if he did, sir. I got him too tight. It's all right, and I am making use of him at the same time."

"Nonsense! Come out, man; you will have the place on fire directly."

"Oh, no, I shan't, sir. Don't you see, I am letting him whack and scatter it all out. There won't be enough to do any mischief now.--Hah!

He's quieting down; and he's the last on 'em. If there were any others they are smoked out."

As he spoke the lads could plainly see that the reptile's efforts to escape were growing weaker, while the rest of the party, who had been busy at the other end of the hacienda, had collected at window and door, attracted by the rising smoke.

"Just in time, mates! About another two minutes and he'll be done. Now then," the speaker added, "I don't want to spoil him," and raking out the heaving reptile, he forked it to the door and tossed it a few yards away into the clearing. "All together!" he shouted. "Fair play!

Knives out. Who's for a cut of hot roast?"

Chips's pantomime was at an end, for, rifle in hand, the skipper came running up.

"What's the meaning of this?" he roared. "Why don't you put that fire out? Do you want to burn the place down? Who's been smoking here?"

"It's all right, father. There were snakes under the floor, but Chips has burned them out."

"Oh, that's it! Dangerous brutes! Here, Winks, how have you been getting on?"

"Oh, tidy, sir, tidy," said the carpenter, wiping his smarting eyes as he tried to check a cough and made it worse. "You see, there was no stuff, and I had to tear up the floor."

"Capital," said the skipper, as he examined the preparations. "Couldn't be better, my man. Here, if there's time you shall serve those other two rooms the same. Axes here, my lads. Cut down those bushes and pile them up under the windows. We mustn't leave them there for cover."

"Take care," cried Fitz. "There's a great snake in there. Here, Poole, let's each take a joist and beat him out."

"Hadn't we better try a match, sir? Them there bushes are that ily evergreen stuff as'll burn like fun."

"Yes," said the skipper. "We don't want the stuff for protection, and the enemy might throw a light in and burn us out. But look here, Chips, are there any sparks inside there, likely to set the wood-work alight?"

"Nay, sir; it was all fluffy touch-and-go stuff. There's nothing there now but smoke."

The man moved as he spoke towards the clump of ornamental shrubs in which the big snake had taken sanctuary, the two lads, each armed with a joist carried lance-fas.h.i.+on, following him up, while the skipper hurried into the building with one of the men, to satisfy himself that the carpenter's words were correct.

The remainder stood by to watch the firing of the clump of bushes, the news that they hid a serpent putting all upon the _qui vive_.

"Take care Chips," said Poole anxiously. "They are dangerous, treacherous things. We don't want to get you bitten."

"Of course you don't, my lad; but tchah! They aren't half so dangerous as I am with a box of matches in my hand. Here, wait a moment; which way's the wind? Oh, this 'ere. Blest if I know whether it's north south, or east west, for I've quite lost my bearings. Anyhow, it don't blow towards the house. Now then, I think I'll just have an armful of these 'ere plantain-leaves and them there bamboo. They're the things to burn."

He hastily collected as many dry great ragged banana-leaves as he could grasp, laid them in a heap to windward of the clump, and jumped back quickly, grinning hugely as he turned to the boys.

"He's there still," he said; "I heard him whisper like a sick goose as I popped that stuff down."

"We'd better look out, then, on the other side," cried Fitz, "or he'll make a bolt. Shall I get my gun?"

"No, no," said Poole; "we must have no firing now."

Fitz moved, joist in hand, towards the other side of the clump.

"Nay, you needn't do that, sir," cried the carpenter. "That's what we want him to do."

"Oh, I see; you don't want there to be any waste," said Poole.

"Ugh!" shuddered Fitz, and the carpenter grinned as he hurriedly snapped off as many dead bamboos as he could secure from a waving, feathery group, bore the bundle the next minute to the edge of the clump of shrubs, laid them on the heap of banana-leaves, and then rapidly applied a burning match to the dry growth, which still retained a sufficiency of inflammable oil to begin to flare at once, making the bamboos crackle and then explode with a series of little reports like those of a revolver.

"That's right," said the carpenter; "if we had only got a few dozen cocoanut-sh.e.l.ls to help it on, we should have a bonfire as'd beat a Guy Foxer all to fits."

But there were no cocoanuts to be had without paying a visit to the seash.o.r.e, so the fire was mended with the bushes that were cut down from here and there, blazing up so furiously that in a few minutes the clump was consumed, and the snake with it, for it was not seen again.

"Now then," said the skipper, "scatter those embers about, and put an end to that smoke, or it will attract the enemy and show them where we are."

These orders were carried out, and the next hour was spent in adding to the defences as far as was possible, in seeing to there being a supply of water, and examining what there was in the shape of provisions in store.

But other precautions were being taken at the same time, the skipper having sent out three of the men right and left along the forest-paths and towards the sh.o.r.e, so as to ensure them against surprise. Then the afternoon wore away, and the evening approached, without alarm, and before the night could fall in its rapid, tropical way, the scouts were recalled, sentries posted, and the defenders gathered-together in their little fortress for their evening meal, by the light of the great stars, which seemed to Fitz double the size that they were at home.

Every one had his arms ready for use at a moment's notice, and the two lads sat together nibbling the biscuit they had brought with them, and moistening it from time to time with a draught of the water from the big pannikin which they shared. That change from glowing sunset to darkness had been wonderfully swift, and as the beauty of the surrounding jungle, with its wondrous tints of green, changed into black gloom, the aspect of the place affected the two young adventurers at once, Fitz giving vent to a long-drawn sigh.

"What's the matter?" said Poole, in a low voice.

"Oh, I don't know," replied the middy. "It seems so strange and weird here in the darkness. It makes me feel quite low-spirited."

"Do you know why that is?" asked Poole.

"Of course I do. It is all dark and dangerous, and at any time we may have those mongrel Spaniels, as Chips calls them, rus.h.i.+ng at us and firing as they come."

"Well, we should fire at them back again," said Poole coolly. "But it isn't that that makes you nervous and dull."

"Isn't it? Well, I suppose I am not so brave as you," whispered the middy.

"Fudge! It's nothing to do with being brave. I don't feel brave. I am just as low-spirited as you are. It's because we are tired and hungry."

"Why, we are keeping on eating."

"Yes; biscuit-and-water. But that only keeps you from starving; it doesn't do you good. Why, if old Andy had a good fire and was roasting a wild turkey, or grilling some fish, we shouldn't feel dull, but be all expectation, and sniffing at the cooking, impatient till it was done."

"Well, I suppose there is something in that," said Fitz, "for I feel as faint as can be. I seem to have been so ever since I began to get better. Always wanting something more to eat."