Chapter Twenty Six.

Chapter Twenty Six.Danger Signals.Oliver suffered from a sensation of disappointment during those next two hours, for he regretted not stripping the skins from the magnificent fruit pigeons, but, as his companions said, he had no cause to complain, for he secured specimens of two beautifully feathered birds of Paradise, of an exceedingly rare kind. In addition he had a couple of brilliant scarlet and green lories, and half-a-dozen sun-birds, while Drew’s collecting box and pockets were full of specimens, and Panton perspired freely beneath his burden of crystals, vitrified rock, and pieces of quartz. Several of these contained specks of metal, and proved satisfactorily that in spite of volcanic eruption and the abundant coral, the nucleus of the land on which they stood was exceedingly ancient, and evidently a part of some continent now submerged.Smith met them as they approached camp and announced dinner, and in spite of the absence of bread and vegetables, no meat was ever more enjoyed than the roast Goura pigeons, nor greater justice done to the viand.“Now then for the brig,” said Oliver, decisively. “We must not stop by the way, for the sun will soon be getting low. Mr Rimmer will be coming after us if we are not there in good time, and we’ve a long tramp yet to get to the shore.”“Collect as we go?” said Drew.“Oh no, let’s be content with what we have. I shall have enough to do to preserve mine.”“And I to arrange my little lot,” said Panton. “Here, Smith, carry a few of these.”“Certeny, sir, but there’s heaps of as good stones close to where the brig lies.”“Never mind that, I want these.”“All right, sir,” said the man, cheerily, and with a bag of stones and the ropes, and with Wriggs at his side shouldering the ladder, the little party started back, discussing the results of their expedition, and the fact that though they had not climbed to the crater, they had half explored the great mountain. That, and the fact that there were no savages to be seen, they felt was news enough for the mate, while, as to themselves, they were all three more than satisfied with their finds.The long tramp in the forest before dinner and the dinner itself made the journey back to the shore of the lagoon where they had left the boat seem doubly long, but they reached it at last, just as the west was one glory of amber and gold, and the globular cloud high up over the crater appeared of a rosy scarlet. The long fringe of cocoa palms, too, seemed as if their great pinnate leaves had been cut out of orange metal, and reflected as they were in the glassy water of the lagoon, a scene of loveliness met the travellers’ eyes that made them soon forget their weariness, and set to with a will to drag the boat over the sand, and then launch it in the mirror-like sea.“Now for a gentle pull back,” said Oliver. “Shall we do it before dark?”“No; and there is no moon.”“Never mind, we can easily run the boat in among the trees, and avoid the coral blocks and the pools as we walk to the brig. Crocs are pretty active of a night, so let’s give them a wide berth.”“Yes, we must,” said Panton, “for I daresay they’ll be getting hungry as they finish all the fish left in their larder.”“If it had not been for those reptiles in the pools they would have been getting offensive by now.”“And when they have cleared them out, you think the crocs will journey down to the sea?”“I haven’t a doubt of it,” replied Panton.“Then I hope they will not have begun their journey to-night, for I’m too tired to care about meeting enemies.”Their row along the narrow lagoon was glorious with the cocoa-nut grove on one side and the reef with its tumbling billows and subdued roar on the other. Then, as the sun set, the long mirror they traversed and the backs of the curling over breakers were dyed with the most refulgent colours, which grew pale only too soon. When the darkness closed in, the croaking of reptiles and night birds rose from beyond the grove, and the breakers grew phosphorescent and as if illumined by a pale fire tinged with a softened green, while the foam resembled golden spray as it was dashed over the coral sand.The sailors were relieved from time to time as they rowed on with the stars spangling the still water, so that in the distance it was hard to tell where sea ended and sky began; and at last, dimly seen against the sky, three tall trees marked the spot where they ran up the boat.“Sure this is right?” asked Oliver, as the sharp prow touched the soft, white sand.“Oh, yes, sir, this is right enough,” replied Smith. “Here’s our marks that we made this morning when we ran her down.”There was the faintly marked furrow, sure enough, and, all taking hold of the sides, the boat was run up easily enough over the soft, loose sand and then in amongst the smooth, round, curved trunks of the cocoa-nut trees till her old quarters were reached, and the painter secured to a stout stem.“No fear of tide or wind affecting her,” said Oliver; “but how dark it is under these trees. Look here, Smith, I don’t think you men need carry that ladder on to-night. Leave it here. It will be ready for next time we try the ascent.”“All right, sir,” replied Smith.“I don’t know, though; perhaps it will be as well to bring it along. We’ll help you if you get tired.”“I sha’n’t get tired o’ carrying a thing like that, sir,” said the man, with a laugh. Then he shouldered it at once and the start was made for the brig.They reckoned upon it taking a good hour in the darkness, what with the care they would have to exercise to avoid half-dried pools, scattered fragments of coral rock, and the many heaps of snag-like trees half buried in sand and mud, but when as near as they could guess an hour had passed they were still some distance from the brig and suffering from a feeling of weariness which made them all trudge along slowly and silently in single file.Oliver was leading with his gun over his shoulder, the piece feeling heavier than it had ever felt before and as if it was increasing in weight each minute.Smith was behind him with the ropes over his shoulder, and Wriggs now bore the ladder, coming last.For some minutes they had been walking in utter silence, their footsteps deadened by the soft sand, and a terribly drowsy feeling was coming over Lane, making him long to lie down and sleep, but he fought it back and strained his eyes to gaze forward in search of obstacles, knowing as he did that the others were trusting him to pick out the best road and keep them out of difficulties.But it was very dark in spite of the stars, and hard to make anything out till, all at once, he saw a misty and strange-looking form run by, about twenty yards ahead.“What’s that?” he said to himself, and then he started, for Smith caught his arm, and whispered,—“Mr Lane, sir? See that?”“Yes, what was it? Was it a deer?” and he involuntarily lowered his piece.“Two legged ’un, sir, if it was,” said the man, softly. “Will you call a halt? I think it was a hinjun.”“Nonsense. One of our men, perhaps,” said Oliver, testily. “Don’t say that and scare them. We’re close up to the ship now.”Bang.The sharp report of a piece came from about a couple of hundred yards farther on.“There; I knew we were close up to the brig. Mr Rimmer fired that as a signal to let us know the way in the darkness. I’ll fire him one back.”The lock clicked and Oliver raised the muzzle to fire, when a ragged volley came from ahead, followed by a savage yelling, and as the sounds struck a chill to every heart there was utter silence. Then came a flash and a bright gleam, which grew brighter and brighter, developing into the sickly glare of a blue light, while as they stood there, fearing to advance, all grasped the meaning of the light.The brig had been attacked by the Indians. A gallant defence was being made, and the blue light had been thrown out to show where the enemy lay.

Oliver suffered from a sensation of disappointment during those next two hours, for he regretted not stripping the skins from the magnificent fruit pigeons, but, as his companions said, he had no cause to complain, for he secured specimens of two beautifully feathered birds of Paradise, of an exceedingly rare kind. In addition he had a couple of brilliant scarlet and green lories, and half-a-dozen sun-birds, while Drew’s collecting box and pockets were full of specimens, and Panton perspired freely beneath his burden of crystals, vitrified rock, and pieces of quartz. Several of these contained specks of metal, and proved satisfactorily that in spite of volcanic eruption and the abundant coral, the nucleus of the land on which they stood was exceedingly ancient, and evidently a part of some continent now submerged.

Smith met them as they approached camp and announced dinner, and in spite of the absence of bread and vegetables, no meat was ever more enjoyed than the roast Goura pigeons, nor greater justice done to the viand.

“Now then for the brig,” said Oliver, decisively. “We must not stop by the way, for the sun will soon be getting low. Mr Rimmer will be coming after us if we are not there in good time, and we’ve a long tramp yet to get to the shore.”

“Collect as we go?” said Drew.

“Oh no, let’s be content with what we have. I shall have enough to do to preserve mine.”

“And I to arrange my little lot,” said Panton. “Here, Smith, carry a few of these.”

“Certeny, sir, but there’s heaps of as good stones close to where the brig lies.”

“Never mind that, I want these.”

“All right, sir,” said the man, cheerily, and with a bag of stones and the ropes, and with Wriggs at his side shouldering the ladder, the little party started back, discussing the results of their expedition, and the fact that though they had not climbed to the crater, they had half explored the great mountain. That, and the fact that there were no savages to be seen, they felt was news enough for the mate, while, as to themselves, they were all three more than satisfied with their finds.

The long tramp in the forest before dinner and the dinner itself made the journey back to the shore of the lagoon where they had left the boat seem doubly long, but they reached it at last, just as the west was one glory of amber and gold, and the globular cloud high up over the crater appeared of a rosy scarlet. The long fringe of cocoa palms, too, seemed as if their great pinnate leaves had been cut out of orange metal, and reflected as they were in the glassy water of the lagoon, a scene of loveliness met the travellers’ eyes that made them soon forget their weariness, and set to with a will to drag the boat over the sand, and then launch it in the mirror-like sea.

“Now for a gentle pull back,” said Oliver. “Shall we do it before dark?”

“No; and there is no moon.”

“Never mind, we can easily run the boat in among the trees, and avoid the coral blocks and the pools as we walk to the brig. Crocs are pretty active of a night, so let’s give them a wide berth.”

“Yes, we must,” said Panton, “for I daresay they’ll be getting hungry as they finish all the fish left in their larder.”

“If it had not been for those reptiles in the pools they would have been getting offensive by now.”

“And when they have cleared them out, you think the crocs will journey down to the sea?”

“I haven’t a doubt of it,” replied Panton.

“Then I hope they will not have begun their journey to-night, for I’m too tired to care about meeting enemies.”

Their row along the narrow lagoon was glorious with the cocoa-nut grove on one side and the reef with its tumbling billows and subdued roar on the other. Then, as the sun set, the long mirror they traversed and the backs of the curling over breakers were dyed with the most refulgent colours, which grew pale only too soon. When the darkness closed in, the croaking of reptiles and night birds rose from beyond the grove, and the breakers grew phosphorescent and as if illumined by a pale fire tinged with a softened green, while the foam resembled golden spray as it was dashed over the coral sand.

The sailors were relieved from time to time as they rowed on with the stars spangling the still water, so that in the distance it was hard to tell where sea ended and sky began; and at last, dimly seen against the sky, three tall trees marked the spot where they ran up the boat.

“Sure this is right?” asked Oliver, as the sharp prow touched the soft, white sand.

“Oh, yes, sir, this is right enough,” replied Smith. “Here’s our marks that we made this morning when we ran her down.”

There was the faintly marked furrow, sure enough, and, all taking hold of the sides, the boat was run up easily enough over the soft, loose sand and then in amongst the smooth, round, curved trunks of the cocoa-nut trees till her old quarters were reached, and the painter secured to a stout stem.

“No fear of tide or wind affecting her,” said Oliver; “but how dark it is under these trees. Look here, Smith, I don’t think you men need carry that ladder on to-night. Leave it here. It will be ready for next time we try the ascent.”

“All right, sir,” replied Smith.

“I don’t know, though; perhaps it will be as well to bring it along. We’ll help you if you get tired.”

“I sha’n’t get tired o’ carrying a thing like that, sir,” said the man, with a laugh. Then he shouldered it at once and the start was made for the brig.

They reckoned upon it taking a good hour in the darkness, what with the care they would have to exercise to avoid half-dried pools, scattered fragments of coral rock, and the many heaps of snag-like trees half buried in sand and mud, but when as near as they could guess an hour had passed they were still some distance from the brig and suffering from a feeling of weariness which made them all trudge along slowly and silently in single file.

Oliver was leading with his gun over his shoulder, the piece feeling heavier than it had ever felt before and as if it was increasing in weight each minute.

Smith was behind him with the ropes over his shoulder, and Wriggs now bore the ladder, coming last.

For some minutes they had been walking in utter silence, their footsteps deadened by the soft sand, and a terribly drowsy feeling was coming over Lane, making him long to lie down and sleep, but he fought it back and strained his eyes to gaze forward in search of obstacles, knowing as he did that the others were trusting him to pick out the best road and keep them out of difficulties.

But it was very dark in spite of the stars, and hard to make anything out till, all at once, he saw a misty and strange-looking form run by, about twenty yards ahead.

“What’s that?” he said to himself, and then he started, for Smith caught his arm, and whispered,—

“Mr Lane, sir? See that?”

“Yes, what was it? Was it a deer?” and he involuntarily lowered his piece.

“Two legged ’un, sir, if it was,” said the man, softly. “Will you call a halt? I think it was a hinjun.”

“Nonsense. One of our men, perhaps,” said Oliver, testily. “Don’t say that and scare them. We’re close up to the ship now.”

Bang.

The sharp report of a piece came from about a couple of hundred yards farther on.

“There; I knew we were close up to the brig. Mr Rimmer fired that as a signal to let us know the way in the darkness. I’ll fire him one back.”

The lock clicked and Oliver raised the muzzle to fire, when a ragged volley came from ahead, followed by a savage yelling, and as the sounds struck a chill to every heart there was utter silence. Then came a flash and a bright gleam, which grew brighter and brighter, developing into the sickly glare of a blue light, while as they stood there, fearing to advance, all grasped the meaning of the light.

The brig had been attacked by the Indians. A gallant defence was being made, and the blue light had been thrown out to show where the enemy lay.

Chapter Twenty Seven.An Awkward Scrape.The first impulse of Oliver Lane was to drop down flat upon the sun-baked sand and earth, so as to protect himself from being seen in the glare of the blue light. His example was followed by the others, whose thoughts reverted also to the possibility of a bullet intended for the enemy, hitting a friend.And there they lay listening after the dying out of the yells, and watching the glare from the blue light as it lit up the surroundings of the brig, and then sank lower and lower till all was darkness as well as silence.Judging from what they heard, Mr Rimmer and his men were safe enough so far, and had been aware of the Indians’ attack. But what was to come next?The watchers asked themselves this question as they lay close together listening for the slightest sound, waiting for a solution of the little problem which had so much to do with their future: Had the enemy seen them when the light was burning?Long-drawn-out minutes passed as they waited in the darkness, now hopeful, now despondent, for Oliver felt a touch on his arm simultaneously with a soft, rustling sound, and thepat, patof naked feet going over the sand.The message of danger was silently telegraphed by a touch to the others, and every weapon was grasped, those who had guns slightly raising the muzzles, while Smith took out his jack-knife to open it with his teeth, and Wriggs, to use his own words—afterwards spoken—“stood by” with the ladder, meaning to use it as a battering-ram to drive it at any enemy who approached.But the sound passed over to their right, and all was silent again.“Hadn’t we better creep up to the ship?” whispered Oliver.“And be shot for enemies?” replied Panton, in the same tone.“They haven’t seen us, so we had better wait till morning.”“And then make ourselves marks for spears and arrows.”“Better than for bullets. I’d rather a savage mop-headed Papuan shot me, than Mr Rimmer did.”“Hist! Silence!” whispered Drew, who had crept closer. “Enemy.”He was right, for footsteps were heard again, coming from the direction of the brig, and it seemed like a second party following the first, till it occurred to Panton that this might be the same party returning from passing right round the vessel.But they had no means of knowing, and a few minutes later they all lay there asking themselves whether they would not have acted more wisely if they had fired a volley into the enemy when they first came up, and followed up the confusion the shots would have caused by rushing to the brig.“They would not have taken us for the enemy then,” said Drew.But the opportunity had gone by, and to add to their discomfort, a low, murmuring sound indicated that the savages had come to a halt between them and their friends.For a good hour the party waited in the hope that the enemy would move away, but it soon became evident that they had settled down for a permanent halt, and the murmur of voices came so clearly to the ear that all felt the danger of attempting to speak, lest they should bring the enemy upon them.Somehow, in spite of his being the youngest, Drew and Panton fell into the habit of letting Oliver Lane take the post of leader, and when after a long and wearisome period of waiting he whispered his ideas, they were accepted at once, as being the most sensible under the circumstances.Oliver’s plan was this: to gradually creep back from the position they occupied, until they felt that they were out of hearing, and then to bear off to their left, and gradually get round to the other side of the brig, which would thus be placed between them and the enemy.The greatest caution was necessary in the presence of so wary a foe, and it was not until this had been duly impressed upon the two sailors that Oliver began the retrograde movement so slowly and softly that his companions could hardly realise the fact that he had started.Panton followed, then Smith and Wriggs, and Drew brought up the rear.They had all risen and followed one another in Indian file, almost without a sound. But the murmuring that was made by the Papuans came softly through the darkness, as if the savages were engaged in a debate upon the subject of how they had better make their next attack.Then all at once there was a sharp crack, for Oliver had stepped upon a large, thin shell, which broke up with a fine ear-piercing sound, that must have penetrated for a long distance.That it had reached the spot where the Papuans were was evident, for the murmuring of voices ceased on the instant.“Down. Lie down,” whispered Oliver. “They will come to see what the noise was.”They lay down upon the soft sand, listening with every nerve upon the strain, but not for long. Before many seconds had passed, there was a peculiar soft, rattling sound such as would be made by a bundle of reed arrows, secure at one end and loose at the other. This noise came nearer, and then at a little distance, as they held their breath, it seemed as if a shadow passed by, and then another, and another.Oliver’s hand which held his gun trembled, not from fear, but from the nervous strain, and the knowledge that at any moment he might, for the first time in his life, be compelled in self-defence, and for the protection of his companions, to fire upon a party of savages, and so shed the blood of a human being.He stretched out his left hand as the third shadowy figure went lightly by, and touched Panton’s arm, to have the extended hand caught and pressed warmly.This was encouraging, and told of a trusty friend ready to help. Then they lay there upon their breasts for some minutes, gazing in the direction taken by the enemy, while the impressive silence continued. At last came a quick, sharp pressure of the hand, which seemed to imply—Look out! Here they come.For at that moment, the quick, soft beat of feet came again, and three shadowy figures passed so close to them that it seemed impossible for them to remain unseen, but their clothes assimilated so with the sun-burned sand and earth that the enemy passed on, and in a minute or two the murmuring of voices arose once more.“Come on,” whispered Oliver, and he rose quickly, while the word was passed to the others, and they recommenced their retreat, taking every step cautiously.It was not an easy task, for there was no judging distances by any object, and hence Oliver had to walk straight away into the darkness, till he guessed that he was far enough distant. Then he began to veer round to his right, and he had hardly done this, when from somewhere behind came a sharp sound, best expressed by the wordThung! accompanied by a sharp whizz.No one needed any telling what had produced that noise, for it was evident that one of the Papuans had hung back to keep watch, and hearing if not seeing, he had sent an arrow in the direction by which the party was retreating.Oliver halted for a few moments with the thought in his mind which took the form “poisoned,” and he listened for some exclamation from one or other of his companions indicating pain, or the sound of a fall. But all was still. The others had given up to him as leader, and when he stopped they halted, and when he moved on again they followed, in full expectation of another arrow whizzing by.But none came, and increasing his speed now and trying as well as he could to move in a curve large enough to carry him round to the other side of the brig, Oliver pressed on.“Oh, if only they would burn another blue light,” he muttered, as striving to pierce the darkness ahead, and with his gun across his breast ready for instant action, he went on and on, with all kinds of curious thoughts occurring to him as his pulses beat heavily, and even his brain seemed to throb. Stories he had read and heard of people who were lost moving in a circle and getting back to the place from which they had started troubled him, others of people wandering about in the dark and going over the same ground, and of others walking right into the very spot they sought to avoid. These and similar thoughts made him break out into a cold perspiration, and wish that Panton had taken the lead.But all the time he was steadily walking on in the direction he believed to be correct, till he felt at last that he must be level with the brig, then passing it, and again that he must be well on his way now, and that it was time to turn more sharply round and get up to the other side of the vessel. Then—Splash!He drew back with a chill of dread running through his frame, for he had reached the edge of a pool, and there was no water within half a mile of the spot where the brig lay.“What is it—water?” whispered Panton.“Yes, I have come wrong.”“No, you haven’t, only kept straight on instead of bearing more to your right.”“But I thought I was bearing well to the right,” whispered Oliver.“So did I—too much, but you see you were not. This is the half-dried-up pool, where there are three crocos. I saw them the other day.”“It can’t be.”Splash, splash, splash, splash!Four heavy blows given to the surface of the water by the tail of a great reptile, for the purpose of stunning any fish there might be close at hand.“Yes; you’re right,” said Oliver. “Then we ought to bear away to the right now?”“That’s it. Go on.”Fortunately the ground was open now, and there was nothing to dread but the scattered blocks of coral which it was too dark to see, but Oliver stepped out boldly, chancing a fall over any of these obstacles, and for the next ten minutes or so he made pretty good progress, and felt sure that he was going right, for he every now and then stepped short with his right foot.“I must be near the brig now,” he said to himself, and after gradually slackening his pace he stopped short and listened, in the hope of hearing some sound on board the vessel, and to his great joy there was a whispering not far away. Reaching out his hand, he touched Panton, and then placing his lips to his companion’s ear he said,—“Can you hear that?”“Yes, some one talking.”“Well, I make it out to be on the brig. What are we to do next?”“Creep a little nearer, and then wait for morning. If we go too close, the next thing will be a shot in our direction.”“Hark!”“What is it?”“Listen. Isn’t this peculiar?”Panton was silent there in the darkness for a few minutes, and then with his lips to Oliver’s ear,—“I say,” he said, “isn’t this rather queer?”“What? I don’t understand you.”“If that’s people on the brig she’s coming nearer to us; I thought at first that the wind might be bringing the sound, but it isn’t. The sound’s coming closer.”“Mr Rimmer is down, then, patrolling round with some of his men. Be careful, or they may shoot.”“Not he. Mr Rimmer wouldn’t leave his wooden fort in the darkness. Listen.”“Yes, you’re right. Whoever it is, is coming this way.”“It’s the enemy, then, and we must retreat again.”“But which way? What are we to do? We must be near the brig at daybreak, so that as soon as it is light we may make a rush for it.”“We ought to be, but we mustn’t be within sight of Mr Papuan at daybreak; for, so near as we are, we shall have some of his arrows quivering in us. I don’t know that I am very much afraid of a wound as a rule, but I am awfully scared about having a poisoned arrow in me. I don’t want to die of locked jaw.”“Hist. Back,” whispered Oliver. “We must go somewhere, for they’re coming on, and it sounds like a good number of them.”Talking was quite plain now, and those who spoke were evidently full of confidence, for one man spoke in a loud voice, and a chorus of agreement or dissent arose, otherwise the enemy must have heard the whispering of the little party, which now retreated steadily, but with the result that Oliver grew confused, for he felt that he had entirely lost all sense of direction, and letting Panton come up abreast he told him so.“Don’t matter,” said the latter. “You’ve evidently been going all wrong, and no wonder. Nature never meant us to play rats and owls. But I daresay we shall get right after all. I wish there were some trees so that we could shelter under them, and—”“But there is nothing for a long distance but those barren rocks a quarter of a mile from the brig’s bows. If we could reach them.”“Yes, where do you think they are?”“I can’t think. I don’t know, only that they must be somewhere.”“Yes, that’s exactly where they are,” said Panton, with a little laugh. “Somewhere, unless the earth has swallowed them up, but where that somewhere is I don’t know, nor you either, so we’re lost in the dark.”“Hush, not so loud, the daylight cannot be very far-off now.”“What? Hours. I don’t believe it’s midnight yet.”“There, I told you so,” whispered Oliver, a few minutes later, “there’s the dawn coming and the sunrise.”“Nonsense, it’s the moon; but look here, oughtn’t we to be facing the east now.”“Yes, according to my calculations,” replied Oliver.“Your calculating tackle wants regulating, for so sure as that’s the moon rising over yonder we’ve been working along due west.”“Tut, tut, tut!” ejaculated Oliver, as he gazed round at the faint light on the horizon, “and I did try so hard. But that must be the dawn.”“Then it has got a good, hard, firm, silvery rim to it. Look! That’s uncommonly like the moon, isn’t it?”Panton pointed to where the edge of the pale orb came slowly above the horizon, looking big, and of a soft yellowish tarnished silver hue.“Yes, it’s the moon sure enough,” said Oliver. “I’m all wrong. We shall be able to make out where the brig is, though, when it gets a little higher.”“And the niggers will be able to make out where we are, and skewer us all with arrows, if we don’t look out. Hadn’t we better all lie down?”“No, no, let’s aim at getting back on board. We shall be stronger there, and it will be a relief to Mr Rimmer to have us all back again safely. Better wait. I can’t hear the enemy now, and in a few minutes we may be able to see the brig. What do you say, Drew?”“All right.”

The first impulse of Oliver Lane was to drop down flat upon the sun-baked sand and earth, so as to protect himself from being seen in the glare of the blue light. His example was followed by the others, whose thoughts reverted also to the possibility of a bullet intended for the enemy, hitting a friend.

And there they lay listening after the dying out of the yells, and watching the glare from the blue light as it lit up the surroundings of the brig, and then sank lower and lower till all was darkness as well as silence.

Judging from what they heard, Mr Rimmer and his men were safe enough so far, and had been aware of the Indians’ attack. But what was to come next?

The watchers asked themselves this question as they lay close together listening for the slightest sound, waiting for a solution of the little problem which had so much to do with their future: Had the enemy seen them when the light was burning?

Long-drawn-out minutes passed as they waited in the darkness, now hopeful, now despondent, for Oliver felt a touch on his arm simultaneously with a soft, rustling sound, and thepat, patof naked feet going over the sand.

The message of danger was silently telegraphed by a touch to the others, and every weapon was grasped, those who had guns slightly raising the muzzles, while Smith took out his jack-knife to open it with his teeth, and Wriggs, to use his own words—afterwards spoken—“stood by” with the ladder, meaning to use it as a battering-ram to drive it at any enemy who approached.

But the sound passed over to their right, and all was silent again.

“Hadn’t we better creep up to the ship?” whispered Oliver.

“And be shot for enemies?” replied Panton, in the same tone.

“They haven’t seen us, so we had better wait till morning.”

“And then make ourselves marks for spears and arrows.”

“Better than for bullets. I’d rather a savage mop-headed Papuan shot me, than Mr Rimmer did.”

“Hist! Silence!” whispered Drew, who had crept closer. “Enemy.”

He was right, for footsteps were heard again, coming from the direction of the brig, and it seemed like a second party following the first, till it occurred to Panton that this might be the same party returning from passing right round the vessel.

But they had no means of knowing, and a few minutes later they all lay there asking themselves whether they would not have acted more wisely if they had fired a volley into the enemy when they first came up, and followed up the confusion the shots would have caused by rushing to the brig.

“They would not have taken us for the enemy then,” said Drew.

But the opportunity had gone by, and to add to their discomfort, a low, murmuring sound indicated that the savages had come to a halt between them and their friends.

For a good hour the party waited in the hope that the enemy would move away, but it soon became evident that they had settled down for a permanent halt, and the murmur of voices came so clearly to the ear that all felt the danger of attempting to speak, lest they should bring the enemy upon them.

Somehow, in spite of his being the youngest, Drew and Panton fell into the habit of letting Oliver Lane take the post of leader, and when after a long and wearisome period of waiting he whispered his ideas, they were accepted at once, as being the most sensible under the circumstances.

Oliver’s plan was this: to gradually creep back from the position they occupied, until they felt that they were out of hearing, and then to bear off to their left, and gradually get round to the other side of the brig, which would thus be placed between them and the enemy.

The greatest caution was necessary in the presence of so wary a foe, and it was not until this had been duly impressed upon the two sailors that Oliver began the retrograde movement so slowly and softly that his companions could hardly realise the fact that he had started.

Panton followed, then Smith and Wriggs, and Drew brought up the rear.

They had all risen and followed one another in Indian file, almost without a sound. But the murmuring that was made by the Papuans came softly through the darkness, as if the savages were engaged in a debate upon the subject of how they had better make their next attack.

Then all at once there was a sharp crack, for Oliver had stepped upon a large, thin shell, which broke up with a fine ear-piercing sound, that must have penetrated for a long distance.

That it had reached the spot where the Papuans were was evident, for the murmuring of voices ceased on the instant.

“Down. Lie down,” whispered Oliver. “They will come to see what the noise was.”

They lay down upon the soft sand, listening with every nerve upon the strain, but not for long. Before many seconds had passed, there was a peculiar soft, rattling sound such as would be made by a bundle of reed arrows, secure at one end and loose at the other. This noise came nearer, and then at a little distance, as they held their breath, it seemed as if a shadow passed by, and then another, and another.

Oliver’s hand which held his gun trembled, not from fear, but from the nervous strain, and the knowledge that at any moment he might, for the first time in his life, be compelled in self-defence, and for the protection of his companions, to fire upon a party of savages, and so shed the blood of a human being.

He stretched out his left hand as the third shadowy figure went lightly by, and touched Panton’s arm, to have the extended hand caught and pressed warmly.

This was encouraging, and told of a trusty friend ready to help. Then they lay there upon their breasts for some minutes, gazing in the direction taken by the enemy, while the impressive silence continued. At last came a quick, sharp pressure of the hand, which seemed to imply—Look out! Here they come.

For at that moment, the quick, soft beat of feet came again, and three shadowy figures passed so close to them that it seemed impossible for them to remain unseen, but their clothes assimilated so with the sun-burned sand and earth that the enemy passed on, and in a minute or two the murmuring of voices arose once more.

“Come on,” whispered Oliver, and he rose quickly, while the word was passed to the others, and they recommenced their retreat, taking every step cautiously.

It was not an easy task, for there was no judging distances by any object, and hence Oliver had to walk straight away into the darkness, till he guessed that he was far enough distant. Then he began to veer round to his right, and he had hardly done this, when from somewhere behind came a sharp sound, best expressed by the wordThung! accompanied by a sharp whizz.

No one needed any telling what had produced that noise, for it was evident that one of the Papuans had hung back to keep watch, and hearing if not seeing, he had sent an arrow in the direction by which the party was retreating.

Oliver halted for a few moments with the thought in his mind which took the form “poisoned,” and he listened for some exclamation from one or other of his companions indicating pain, or the sound of a fall. But all was still. The others had given up to him as leader, and when he stopped they halted, and when he moved on again they followed, in full expectation of another arrow whizzing by.

But none came, and increasing his speed now and trying as well as he could to move in a curve large enough to carry him round to the other side of the brig, Oliver pressed on.

“Oh, if only they would burn another blue light,” he muttered, as striving to pierce the darkness ahead, and with his gun across his breast ready for instant action, he went on and on, with all kinds of curious thoughts occurring to him as his pulses beat heavily, and even his brain seemed to throb. Stories he had read and heard of people who were lost moving in a circle and getting back to the place from which they had started troubled him, others of people wandering about in the dark and going over the same ground, and of others walking right into the very spot they sought to avoid. These and similar thoughts made him break out into a cold perspiration, and wish that Panton had taken the lead.

But all the time he was steadily walking on in the direction he believed to be correct, till he felt at last that he must be level with the brig, then passing it, and again that he must be well on his way now, and that it was time to turn more sharply round and get up to the other side of the vessel. Then—Splash!

He drew back with a chill of dread running through his frame, for he had reached the edge of a pool, and there was no water within half a mile of the spot where the brig lay.

“What is it—water?” whispered Panton.

“Yes, I have come wrong.”

“No, you haven’t, only kept straight on instead of bearing more to your right.”

“But I thought I was bearing well to the right,” whispered Oliver.

“So did I—too much, but you see you were not. This is the half-dried-up pool, where there are three crocos. I saw them the other day.”

“It can’t be.”

Splash, splash, splash, splash!

Four heavy blows given to the surface of the water by the tail of a great reptile, for the purpose of stunning any fish there might be close at hand.

“Yes; you’re right,” said Oliver. “Then we ought to bear away to the right now?”

“That’s it. Go on.”

Fortunately the ground was open now, and there was nothing to dread but the scattered blocks of coral which it was too dark to see, but Oliver stepped out boldly, chancing a fall over any of these obstacles, and for the next ten minutes or so he made pretty good progress, and felt sure that he was going right, for he every now and then stepped short with his right foot.

“I must be near the brig now,” he said to himself, and after gradually slackening his pace he stopped short and listened, in the hope of hearing some sound on board the vessel, and to his great joy there was a whispering not far away. Reaching out his hand, he touched Panton, and then placing his lips to his companion’s ear he said,—

“Can you hear that?”

“Yes, some one talking.”

“Well, I make it out to be on the brig. What are we to do next?”

“Creep a little nearer, and then wait for morning. If we go too close, the next thing will be a shot in our direction.”

“Hark!”

“What is it?”

“Listen. Isn’t this peculiar?”

Panton was silent there in the darkness for a few minutes, and then with his lips to Oliver’s ear,—

“I say,” he said, “isn’t this rather queer?”

“What? I don’t understand you.”

“If that’s people on the brig she’s coming nearer to us; I thought at first that the wind might be bringing the sound, but it isn’t. The sound’s coming closer.”

“Mr Rimmer is down, then, patrolling round with some of his men. Be careful, or they may shoot.”

“Not he. Mr Rimmer wouldn’t leave his wooden fort in the darkness. Listen.”

“Yes, you’re right. Whoever it is, is coming this way.”

“It’s the enemy, then, and we must retreat again.”

“But which way? What are we to do? We must be near the brig at daybreak, so that as soon as it is light we may make a rush for it.”

“We ought to be, but we mustn’t be within sight of Mr Papuan at daybreak; for, so near as we are, we shall have some of his arrows quivering in us. I don’t know that I am very much afraid of a wound as a rule, but I am awfully scared about having a poisoned arrow in me. I don’t want to die of locked jaw.”

“Hist. Back,” whispered Oliver. “We must go somewhere, for they’re coming on, and it sounds like a good number of them.”

Talking was quite plain now, and those who spoke were evidently full of confidence, for one man spoke in a loud voice, and a chorus of agreement or dissent arose, otherwise the enemy must have heard the whispering of the little party, which now retreated steadily, but with the result that Oliver grew confused, for he felt that he had entirely lost all sense of direction, and letting Panton come up abreast he told him so.

“Don’t matter,” said the latter. “You’ve evidently been going all wrong, and no wonder. Nature never meant us to play rats and owls. But I daresay we shall get right after all. I wish there were some trees so that we could shelter under them, and—”

“But there is nothing for a long distance but those barren rocks a quarter of a mile from the brig’s bows. If we could reach them.”

“Yes, where do you think they are?”

“I can’t think. I don’t know, only that they must be somewhere.”

“Yes, that’s exactly where they are,” said Panton, with a little laugh. “Somewhere, unless the earth has swallowed them up, but where that somewhere is I don’t know, nor you either, so we’re lost in the dark.”

“Hush, not so loud, the daylight cannot be very far-off now.”

“What? Hours. I don’t believe it’s midnight yet.”

“There, I told you so,” whispered Oliver, a few minutes later, “there’s the dawn coming and the sunrise.”

“Nonsense, it’s the moon; but look here, oughtn’t we to be facing the east now.”

“Yes, according to my calculations,” replied Oliver.

“Your calculating tackle wants regulating, for so sure as that’s the moon rising over yonder we’ve been working along due west.”

“Tut, tut, tut!” ejaculated Oliver, as he gazed round at the faint light on the horizon, “and I did try so hard. But that must be the dawn.”

“Then it has got a good, hard, firm, silvery rim to it. Look! That’s uncommonly like the moon, isn’t it?”

Panton pointed to where the edge of the pale orb came slowly above the horizon, looking big, and of a soft yellowish tarnished silver hue.

“Yes, it’s the moon sure enough,” said Oliver. “I’m all wrong. We shall be able to make out where the brig is, though, when it gets a little higher.”

“And the niggers will be able to make out where we are, and skewer us all with arrows, if we don’t look out. Hadn’t we better all lie down?”

“No, no, let’s aim at getting back on board. We shall be stronger there, and it will be a relief to Mr Rimmer to have us all back again safely. Better wait. I can’t hear the enemy now, and in a few minutes we may be able to see the brig. What do you say, Drew?”

“All right.”

Chapter Twenty Eight.In a Fog.“Look-ye here, old mate,” growled Wriggs to his companion, “I’m getting jolly well sick o’ this here job.”“Why, yer ungrateful beggar, what are you grumbling about now? You had too much o’ them joosety pigeons, and it’s been too strong for you.”“’Tarn’t that,” growled Wriggs, in a hoarse whisper. “It’s this here ladder.”“What’s the matter with the ladder, mate? Seemed to me to be a nice light strong ’un when I carried it.”“Oh, yes, it’s strong enough, messmate, but it makes me feel like a fool, Tommy.”“Why so, Billy?”“’Cause I’m having to go cutting about here like a lamp-lighter as has lost his lantern, and ain’t got no lamposties near. Blow the old ladder! I’m sick on it.”“Give us hold, and you take these ropes,” said Smith, “I never see such a fellow for grumbling as you are, Billy. You’d only got to say as you was tired, and I’d ha’ took it at once.”Wriggs chewed and spat on the ground, but he made no other movement.“Well, are yer going to ketch hold o’ these here ropes?”“No, I aren’t going to ketch hold o’ no ropes. Cause why? It’s my spell with the ladder, and I’m a-going to carry the ladder till it’s time to give it up.”“Well, you are a horbstnit one, Billy, and no mistake.”“Look-ye here, are you going to keep your mouth shut? ’Cause if you’re not, I’m a-going to get furder away afore the Injuns begins to shoot. I don’t want no pysoned arrows sticking into me.”“Course you don’t, mate. Look-ye here, if I was you I’d stand that there ladder straight up, and then go aloft and sit on the top rung. You could rest yourself, and be a deal safer up there.”“Chaff!” growled Wriggs. “Chaff! Better hold your tongue, Tommy, if yer can’t talk sense. What does young Mr Oliver say—Forrard again?”“Yes.”“Oh, all right, then, I don’t mind. I’ll go off ’lone with the ladder if he likes. Where’s the Injuns now?”“Dunno. But they ain’t Injuns, Billy; they’re savygees, that’s what they are.”“Why, I heered Mr Oliver call ’em pap you hans. But there, I don’t care. Call ’em what you like, so long as I can get rid o’ this ladder and rest my soldier.”“Then why don’t you put it over your other soldier, Billy, or else let me carry it?”“’Cause I shan’t, Tommy, so there you have it, sharp.”“You men will be heard by the Papuans if there are any lurking about,” whispered Oliver just then. “Silence, and keep close behind us.”As the moon rose higher it was not to shine out bright and clear, for there was a thin haze floating over the sea, and consequently, as the softened silvery light flooded the wave-swept plain, every object looked distorted and mysterious. Tree-trunks, where they lay together, seemed huge masses of coral rock, swollen and strange, and the hollows scooped out by the earthquake wave appeared to be full of a luminous haze that the eye could not penetrate, and suggested the possibility of enemies being in hiding, waiting to take aim with some deadly weapon, as soon as the light grew plain enough for the returning party to be seen.But out in the open, as far as they could make out, no lurking savages were visible, and as the light spread more and more, unless hidden by some shadowy hollow, there was no danger close at hand.This was satisfactory and encouraging, the more so that though they all listened with every nerve on the strain, there was now not a sound to betray the enemy’s whereabouts.On the other hand, in spite of the light growing stronger, there was no sign of the brig, and, worse still, everything looked so distorted and hazy, not one familiar object to enable them to judge of their position.“It’s just like looking through a big magnifying glass,” whispered Oliver, “at the point when everything is upside down and distorted from being out of focus.”“Perhaps so,” said Drew, “but we’re not looking through a magnifying glass.”“I wonder that you, a man who is always using a microscope, should talk like that,” replied Oliver. “We are not looking through a glass, certainly, but we are piercing a dull transparent medium, caused by water in the form of mist floating in the air. I don’t want to be conceited, but my idea was quite right.”“Quite,” said Panton, “only this is not a good time for studying optics. What we want is knowledge that shall bring us to the brig without being shot at by our friends.”“Hear that, Tommy,” whispered Wriggs. “We’re going to be shot at now in front by Muster Rimmer and the others, while the savages shoots at us behind.”“Well, if we can’t help it, Billy, what’s the use o’ grumbling?” returned his mate.“’Cause I’ve got this here ladder. What’s the good of a ladder when you’re being shot at?”“None as I sees, Billy.”“’Course not. Now, if it had been a good stout plank, there’d be some sense in it.”“What, you’d shove it behind yer when the niggers was shooting harrers?” said Smith, thoughtfully.“O’ course.”“And afore yer when Muster Rimmer was lettin’ go with his revolver or a gun.”“Right you are, mate. That’s it.”“Might keep off a harrer,” said Smith, thoughtfully, “but bullets would go through it like they would through a bar o’ soap.”“Yah, that’s where you allers haggravates me, Tommy. I knows you’re cleverer than I am, but sometimes you do talk so soft.”“What d’yer mean?”“I mean what’s the good o’ you hargying whether a bullet would go through a thick plank or whether it wouldn’t, when it’s on’y a split pole and so many wooden spells. Don’t you see it ain’t a board but on’y a ladder; and I’m sick on it, that I am.”“Then let me carry it.”“Sharn’t!”“Will you two men be quiet?” said Oliver in a sharp whisper. “Do you want to betray our whereabouts to the enemy?”“It aren’t me, sir, it’s Tommy Smith keeps a-haggrywating like.”“I aren’t, sir! it’s Billy Wriggs a-going on about that ladder as he’s got to carry.”“Well, it is a nuisance to be carrying a thing like that about all night. Lay it down, man. I daresay we can find it again in the morning. Now follow us on quietly.”Oliver joined his companions, and the two sailors were left a little way behind.“Now, then! d’yer hear?” whispered Smith. “He telled yer to chuck that there ladder down.”“I don’t care what he telled me, Tommy. He aren’t my orficer. I was to carry that there ladder, and I’m a-goin’ to carry that there ladder till my watch is up.”“Yah! yer orbsnit wooden-headed old chock.”“Dessay I am, Tommy, but dooty’s dooty, and ship’s stores is ship’s stores. I’ve got to do my dooty, and I aren’t going to chuck away the ship’s stores. That sort o’ thing may do for natralists, but it don’t come nat’ral to a sailor.”“You won’t be better till you’ve had a snooze, Billy. Your temper’s downright nasty, my lad. I say, what’s that?”“Which? What? Wheer?”“Yonder, something fuzzy-like coming along yonder.”“Niggers,” whispered back Wriggs. “You can see their heads with the hair standing out like a mop. But say, Tommy, what’s that up yonder again the sky?”“Nothin’ as I knows on.”“Not there, stoopid: yonder. If that there ain’t the wane on the top of our mast sticking up out of a hindful o’ fog, I’m a Dutchman.”“Talking again?” said Oliver, angrily.“Yes, sir, look!” whispered Smith. “Yonder’s the brig.”“Can’t be that way, my man.”“But it is, sir, just under that bit o’ fog. See the little weather-cock thing on the mast?”“Of course! Bravo! Found.”“Yes, sir, and something else, too,” growled Wriggs. “Look yonder behind yer. Niggers—a whole ship’s crew on ’em and they’re coming arter us—there under the moon.”“Yes,” said Oliver sharply. “Now, then, for the brig. Sharp’s the word.”“Where is it?” asked Panton excitedly, as he too caught sight of the undefined hazy figures of the Papuans beneath the moon.“There in that patch of fog: the top mast shows above it. Altogether: run.”They set off at full speed, nerved by a yell from the savages, when, all at once, the thin mist which had hidden the ship was cut in half a dozen places by flashes of light. The dull reports of as many rifles smote their ears, and as Oliver uttered a sharp cry, Wriggs went down with a rush, carrying with him the ladder, which fell crosswise and tripped up Panton and Smith, who both came with a crash to the ground.

“Look-ye here, old mate,” growled Wriggs to his companion, “I’m getting jolly well sick o’ this here job.”

“Why, yer ungrateful beggar, what are you grumbling about now? You had too much o’ them joosety pigeons, and it’s been too strong for you.”

“’Tarn’t that,” growled Wriggs, in a hoarse whisper. “It’s this here ladder.”

“What’s the matter with the ladder, mate? Seemed to me to be a nice light strong ’un when I carried it.”

“Oh, yes, it’s strong enough, messmate, but it makes me feel like a fool, Tommy.”

“Why so, Billy?”

“’Cause I’m having to go cutting about here like a lamp-lighter as has lost his lantern, and ain’t got no lamposties near. Blow the old ladder! I’m sick on it.”

“Give us hold, and you take these ropes,” said Smith, “I never see such a fellow for grumbling as you are, Billy. You’d only got to say as you was tired, and I’d ha’ took it at once.”

Wriggs chewed and spat on the ground, but he made no other movement.

“Well, are yer going to ketch hold o’ these here ropes?”

“No, I aren’t going to ketch hold o’ no ropes. Cause why? It’s my spell with the ladder, and I’m a-going to carry the ladder till it’s time to give it up.”

“Well, you are a horbstnit one, Billy, and no mistake.”

“Look-ye here, are you going to keep your mouth shut? ’Cause if you’re not, I’m a-going to get furder away afore the Injuns begins to shoot. I don’t want no pysoned arrows sticking into me.”

“Course you don’t, mate. Look-ye here, if I was you I’d stand that there ladder straight up, and then go aloft and sit on the top rung. You could rest yourself, and be a deal safer up there.”

“Chaff!” growled Wriggs. “Chaff! Better hold your tongue, Tommy, if yer can’t talk sense. What does young Mr Oliver say—Forrard again?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, all right, then, I don’t mind. I’ll go off ’lone with the ladder if he likes. Where’s the Injuns now?”

“Dunno. But they ain’t Injuns, Billy; they’re savygees, that’s what they are.”

“Why, I heered Mr Oliver call ’em pap you hans. But there, I don’t care. Call ’em what you like, so long as I can get rid o’ this ladder and rest my soldier.”

“Then why don’t you put it over your other soldier, Billy, or else let me carry it?”

“’Cause I shan’t, Tommy, so there you have it, sharp.”

“You men will be heard by the Papuans if there are any lurking about,” whispered Oliver just then. “Silence, and keep close behind us.”

As the moon rose higher it was not to shine out bright and clear, for there was a thin haze floating over the sea, and consequently, as the softened silvery light flooded the wave-swept plain, every object looked distorted and mysterious. Tree-trunks, where they lay together, seemed huge masses of coral rock, swollen and strange, and the hollows scooped out by the earthquake wave appeared to be full of a luminous haze that the eye could not penetrate, and suggested the possibility of enemies being in hiding, waiting to take aim with some deadly weapon, as soon as the light grew plain enough for the returning party to be seen.

But out in the open, as far as they could make out, no lurking savages were visible, and as the light spread more and more, unless hidden by some shadowy hollow, there was no danger close at hand.

This was satisfactory and encouraging, the more so that though they all listened with every nerve on the strain, there was now not a sound to betray the enemy’s whereabouts.

On the other hand, in spite of the light growing stronger, there was no sign of the brig, and, worse still, everything looked so distorted and hazy, not one familiar object to enable them to judge of their position.

“It’s just like looking through a big magnifying glass,” whispered Oliver, “at the point when everything is upside down and distorted from being out of focus.”

“Perhaps so,” said Drew, “but we’re not looking through a magnifying glass.”

“I wonder that you, a man who is always using a microscope, should talk like that,” replied Oliver. “We are not looking through a glass, certainly, but we are piercing a dull transparent medium, caused by water in the form of mist floating in the air. I don’t want to be conceited, but my idea was quite right.”

“Quite,” said Panton, “only this is not a good time for studying optics. What we want is knowledge that shall bring us to the brig without being shot at by our friends.”

“Hear that, Tommy,” whispered Wriggs. “We’re going to be shot at now in front by Muster Rimmer and the others, while the savages shoots at us behind.”

“Well, if we can’t help it, Billy, what’s the use o’ grumbling?” returned his mate.

“’Cause I’ve got this here ladder. What’s the good of a ladder when you’re being shot at?”

“None as I sees, Billy.”

“’Course not. Now, if it had been a good stout plank, there’d be some sense in it.”

“What, you’d shove it behind yer when the niggers was shooting harrers?” said Smith, thoughtfully.

“O’ course.”

“And afore yer when Muster Rimmer was lettin’ go with his revolver or a gun.”

“Right you are, mate. That’s it.”

“Might keep off a harrer,” said Smith, thoughtfully, “but bullets would go through it like they would through a bar o’ soap.”

“Yah, that’s where you allers haggravates me, Tommy. I knows you’re cleverer than I am, but sometimes you do talk so soft.”

“What d’yer mean?”

“I mean what’s the good o’ you hargying whether a bullet would go through a thick plank or whether it wouldn’t, when it’s on’y a split pole and so many wooden spells. Don’t you see it ain’t a board but on’y a ladder; and I’m sick on it, that I am.”

“Then let me carry it.”

“Sharn’t!”

“Will you two men be quiet?” said Oliver in a sharp whisper. “Do you want to betray our whereabouts to the enemy?”

“It aren’t me, sir, it’s Tommy Smith keeps a-haggrywating like.”

“I aren’t, sir! it’s Billy Wriggs a-going on about that ladder as he’s got to carry.”

“Well, it is a nuisance to be carrying a thing like that about all night. Lay it down, man. I daresay we can find it again in the morning. Now follow us on quietly.”

Oliver joined his companions, and the two sailors were left a little way behind.

“Now, then! d’yer hear?” whispered Smith. “He telled yer to chuck that there ladder down.”

“I don’t care what he telled me, Tommy. He aren’t my orficer. I was to carry that there ladder, and I’m a-goin’ to carry that there ladder till my watch is up.”

“Yah! yer orbsnit wooden-headed old chock.”

“Dessay I am, Tommy, but dooty’s dooty, and ship’s stores is ship’s stores. I’ve got to do my dooty, and I aren’t going to chuck away the ship’s stores. That sort o’ thing may do for natralists, but it don’t come nat’ral to a sailor.”

“You won’t be better till you’ve had a snooze, Billy. Your temper’s downright nasty, my lad. I say, what’s that?”

“Which? What? Wheer?”

“Yonder, something fuzzy-like coming along yonder.”

“Niggers,” whispered back Wriggs. “You can see their heads with the hair standing out like a mop. But say, Tommy, what’s that up yonder again the sky?”

“Nothin’ as I knows on.”

“Not there, stoopid: yonder. If that there ain’t the wane on the top of our mast sticking up out of a hindful o’ fog, I’m a Dutchman.”

“Talking again?” said Oliver, angrily.

“Yes, sir, look!” whispered Smith. “Yonder’s the brig.”

“Can’t be that way, my man.”

“But it is, sir, just under that bit o’ fog. See the little weather-cock thing on the mast?”

“Of course! Bravo! Found.”

“Yes, sir, and something else, too,” growled Wriggs. “Look yonder behind yer. Niggers—a whole ship’s crew on ’em and they’re coming arter us—there under the moon.”

“Yes,” said Oliver sharply. “Now, then, for the brig. Sharp’s the word.”

“Where is it?” asked Panton excitedly, as he too caught sight of the undefined hazy figures of the Papuans beneath the moon.

“There in that patch of fog: the top mast shows above it. Altogether: run.”

They set off at full speed, nerved by a yell from the savages, when, all at once, the thin mist which had hidden the ship was cut in half a dozen places by flashes of light. The dull reports of as many rifles smote their ears, and as Oliver uttered a sharp cry, Wriggs went down with a rush, carrying with him the ladder, which fell crosswise and tripped up Panton and Smith, who both came with a crash to the ground.

Chapter Twenty Nine.The Value of a Ladder.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.”Panton grasped his arm, and whispered hoarsely,—“Tell me the truth. That was a poisoned arrow, was it not?”“How should I know?” said the mate, roughly. “It was an arrow; I’ve taken it out, bathed the wound, and what you have to do, is to lie still, and not worry yourself into a fever by fancying all kinds of horrors.”“But these men poison their arrows, do they not?”“People say so,” said the mate, bluffly, “but it doesn’t follow that they do. Now, then, I’ve got to attend to Mr Lane. You’ve had your turn.”He bent down over Oliver, and began to remove the bandage which Smith had passed round the upper part of the young man’s left arm.“Thank goodness it isn’t in the body,” said the mate. “I thought it was at first.”“No, sir,” said Smith. “He was all wet about his chest, and I thought he’d got it somewhere there, but it’s a nice, neat hole right through his arm, and here’s the bullet which tumbled out of the sleeve of his jacket.”He handed the little piece of lead to the mate, who took it quickly, held it to the lamp and then drawing his breath sharply between his teeth, he slipped the bullet into his pocket before slitting up Oliver’s sleeve, and examining a couple of ruddy orifices in the upper part of his arm.“Hurt you much, sir?” he said, cheerfully.“Hurt?” cried Oliver, angrily. “Why, it throbs and stings horribly.”“So I s’pose. But you mustn’t think that this is poisoned. No fear of that.”“I did not think so,” said Oliver, shortly. “I wish I knew who it was that fired at me.”“Well,” said the mate, drily, as he bathed the two wounds where the bullet had entered and passed out right through the thickest part of the arm, carefully using fresh water and sponge, “I don’t think that would help the places to heal.”“No—ah! you hurt! Mr Rimmer, what are you doing?”“I was trying to find out whether the bone was injured.”“Is it broken?” said Oliver, who was wincing with pain.“No, the bullet never touched it, sir. There’s only a nice clean tunnel through your flesh to heal up.”“Nice clean tunnel, indeed!” said Oliver, whose deadly faintness was giving way to irritability, caused by the sharp pain. “I only, as I said before, wish I knew who shot me. How could a man be so stupid?”“Well, I’ll tell you,” said the mate, as he softly dried the wounds. “If people come rushing out of a fog in company with a lot of yelling savages, they can’t expect other people to know the difference. The fact is, my lad, I fired that shot, for it was a bullet out of the captain’s gun.”“You, Mr Rimmer!”“Yes, my lad, and I’m very thankful.”“What, that you shot me?”“Yes, through the arm instead of through the chest, for I couldn’t have doctored you then.”“I say! Oh! What are you doing?” cried Oliver.“That’s right, have a rousing shout if it will do you good, my lad,” said the mate, whose fingers were busy. “But that’s right, don’t shrink,” he continued as he went on with his task, which was that of plugging the two mouths of the wound with lint—“Hallo! What is it?”A sailor’s head had appeared inside the cabin door.“Mr Drew says, sir, as the savages are coming back, and would you like to come on deck?”“Yes, of course,” said the mate hastily. “Go and tell him I’m coming.”“Yes, sir.”The man disappeared, and the mate turned to Smith.“Here,” he said, “carefully and tightly bind up Mr Lane’s arm, so that the plugs cannot come out.”“Me, sir? Don’t you want me to come and fight?”“I want you to obey orders,” said the mate, sharply. “There, you will not hurt, Mr Lane; and as for you, Mr Panton, don’t let imagination get the better of you, sir. I’ll come down again as soon as I can.”“You won’t hurt, sir,” said Smith, with rough sympathy, as he took up the bandage and examined the injured arm by the light of the lamp. “But he can. All very fine for him to say that, after ramming in a couple o’ pellets just as if he was loading an elder-wood pop-gun. Look here, sir, shall I take ’em out again?”“No, no,” said Oliver, trying hard to bear the acute pain he suffered, patiently.“But they must hurt you ’orrid, and he won’t know when the bandage is on.”“Tie up my arm, man,” said Oliver, shortly. “It is quite right. That’s better—Tighter.—No, no, I can’t bear it. Yes: that will do. How are you getting on, Panton?”“Badly. Feel as if someone was boring a hole in my shoulder with a red hot poker.”“So do I,” said Oliver; “and as if he had got quite through, and was leaving the poker in to burn the hole bigger.”“Serve you right.”“Why?”“You were always torturing some poor creature, sticking pins through it to ‘set it up’ as you call it.”“But not alive. I always poisoned them first.”“Worse and worse,” said Panton, trying hard to preserve his calmness, and to master the horror always to the front in his thoughts, by speaking lightly. “That’s what I believe they have done to me, but they’ve failed to get me as a specimen.”“Haw, haw, haw!” laughed Smith.“Quiet, sir!” cried Oliver. “What have you got to laugh at?”“Beg pardon,” said the man, passing his hand across his mouth, as if the laugh required wiping away, “but it seemed so comic for the natives to be trying to get a spessermen of an English gent, to keep stuffed as a cur’osity.”“Ah, they wouldn’t have done that, Smith, my lad. More likely to have rolled me up in leaves to bake in one of their stone ovens, and then have a feast.”“Well, they aren’t got yer, sir, and they sha’n’t have yer, if me and Billy Wriggs can stop it.”“God bless you both, my lads,” said Panton huskily. “You stood by me very bravely.”“Oh, I don’t know, sir,” said Smith bashfully. “People as is out together, whether they’re gents or only common sailors, is mates yer know for the time, and has to stand by one another in a scrimmage. Did one’s dooty like, and I dessay I could do it again, better than what I’m a doing here. My poor old mother never thought I should come to be a ’orspittle nuss. Like a drink a’ water, sir?”“Yes, please, my mouth’s terribly dry.”Smith looked round, but there was no water in the cabin, and he went out to get some from the breaker on deck, but he had not reached halfway to the tub, before there was a sharp recommencement of the firing, and he knew by the yelling that the savages were making a fresh attack.The sailor forgot all about the wounded in the cabin, and running right forward, he seized a capstan bar for a weapon, and then went to the side waiting to help and repel the attack, if any of the enemy managed to reach the deck.But evidently somewhat daunted by the firearms and the injuries inflicted upon several of their party, the savages did not come too near, but stood drawing their bows from time to time, and sending their arrows up in the air, so that they might fall nearly perpendicularly upon the deck. Many times over the men had hairbreadth escapes from arrows which fell with a sharp whistling sound, and stuck quivering in the boards, while the mate made the crew hold their fire.“Firing at them is no good,” he said, “or they would have stopped away after the first volleys. Let them shoot instead and waste their arrows. They’ll soon get tired of that game. So long as they don’t hurt us, it’s of no consequence. All we want, is for them to leave us alone.”“But it does not seem as if they would do that,” said Drew, to whom he was speaking.“Well, then, if they will not, we must give them another lesson, and another if it comes to that. We’re all right now in our bit of a fort, but it seems queer to be in command of a ship that will not— Hah! Look at that!” he cried, stooping to pull from the deck an arrow which had just fallen with a whizz. “You may as well keep some of these and take ’em home for curiosities, sir. There’s no trickery or deceit about them. They were not made for trade purposes, but for fighting.”“And are they poisoned?” said Drew anxiously.“Best policy is to say no they are not, sir. We don’t want to frighten Mr Panton into the belief that he has been wounded by one, for if he does, he’ll get worse and worse and die of the fancy; whereas, after the spirits are kept up, even if the arrow points have been dipped into something nasty, he may fight the trouble down and get well again. I say, take it that they are not poisoned and let’s keep to that, for many a man has before now died from imagination. Why, bless me! if the men got to think that the savages’ weapons were poisonous, every fellow who got a scratch would take to his bunk, and we should have no end of trouble.”“I suppose so,” said Drew. “But tell me, what do you think of my companions’ wounds?”“Well, speaking as a man who has been at sea twenty years, and has helped to do a good deal of doctoring with sticking plaster and medicine chest—for men often get hurt and make themselves ill—I should say as they’ve both got nasty troublesome wounds which will pain them a bit for weeks to come, but that there’s nothing in them to fidget about. Young hearty out-door-living fellows like yourselves have good flesh, and if it’s wounded it soon heals up again.”“Yes, I suppose so.”“Of course, sir: when you’re young you soon come right. It’s when you are getting old, and fidget and worry about your health, that you get better slowly. Hah! there’s another stuck up in the mainsail. That won’t hurt anybody.”“But tell me, Mr Rimmer, when did the savages come and attack you?”“I was going to ask you to tell me why you were all so long. I was just thinking of coming in search of you, expecting to find that you’d gone down some hole or broken your necks, when one of the men came running up from where he had been fishing in that nearest pool—for the crocs and things have left a few fish swimming about still. Up he comes to the gangway shouting,—‘Mr Rimmer, Mr Rimmer, here they are,’ he says. ‘Good job too,’ says I. ‘Are they all here?’ ‘Quick, quick,’ he says. ‘Get out the guns,’ and looking half wild with fear, he began to shut up the gangway and to yell for some one to help him pull up the ladder. I thought he was mad, and I caught hold of him as the men came running up. ‘Here, young fellow,’ I says, ‘what’s the matter with you; have you got sunstroke?’ ‘No, sir,’ he says, ‘but one of their poisoned arrows whizzed by my ear. Don’t you understand? I was fishing and I’d just hooked a big one when a croc seized it, and nearly dragged me into the water. Then, all at once, I looked up and let go of the line, for there was a whole gang of nearly naked black fellows, with their heads all fuzzed out, and spears and bows and arrows in their hands. They were a long way off on the other side of the pool, but they saw me, and began to run as fast as ever they could, and so did I.’”“Enough to make him,” said Drew.“Yes, and it didn’t want any telling, for the perspiration was streaming down his face, his hair sticking to his forehead, and you could see his heart pumping away and rising and falling. Next minute we could see the rascals stealing up looking at the brig as if they expected to see it come sailing down upon them; but as soon as they made sure it was not going to move, they came shouting and dancing round us, and in the boldest way tried to climb on board.”“Well?” said Drew, for the mate stopped.“Well? I call it ill, sir.”“But what did you do then?”“Oh! the game began then, of course. I told the men to tell them that nobody came on board except by invitation; but they didn’t like it and insisted upon coming.”“But could they understand English?”“No, not a word.”“Then how could you tell them?”“Oh! that was easy enough,” said the mate with a droll look. “I made the men tell them with capstan bars, and as soon as a black head appeared above the bulwarks it went down again. I didn’t want to fire upon the poor ignorant wretches, who seemed to have an idea that the brig was their prize, and that everyone was to give way to them, for they came swarming up, over fifty of them, throwing and darting their spears at us, and shooting arrows, so I was obliged to give them a lesson.”“Have you killed any?” said Drew.“Not yet. I found that hitting their thick heads was no good, so I served out some swan shot cartridges, and sent a lot of them back rather sore.”“It checked them, then?”“Yes, for a time, while we ran up that canvas and cleared away everything that made it easy for them to swarm up over the bulwarks. But they’re so active that one’s never safe.”“Hark! what’s that?” cried Drew. “Someone called ‘help!’”“It came from the cabin. Come along.”“Who’s there?” said Drew.“I left Smith with them, but he’s here,” panted the mate, as he passed the sailor, who was hurrying back horrified by the cry he had heard.They were just in time to see the cabin window blocked up by black heads, whose owners were trying to force their way in, while a couple of fierce-looking wretches had their clubs raised as if about to dash out the brains of the two injured passengers.There was no time to take aim. The mate and Drew both drew trigger as they entered the cabin, when there was a savage yelling, the place filled with smoke. Then as it rose, Oliver Lane and Panton could be seen lying half fainting upon the cabin floor, and the open cabin window was vacant.“The brutes!” cried Drew, running to the window to lean out and fire the second barrel of his piece at a group of the Papuans.“Mind!” roared the mate, as Drew passed him, but his warning was not heeded in the excitement. The need, though, was evident, for the young man shrank away startled and horrified as half a dozen arrows came with a whizz and stuck here and there in the woodwork, and two in the ceiling, while a spear struck off his cap, and then fell and stuck with a loud thud in the cabin floor, not a couple of inches from one of Oliver Lane’s legs.“Hurt?” cried the mate, excitedly.“Yes—no—I can’t tell,” said Drew, whose hands trembled as he reloaded his gun.“But you must know,” cried the mate, seizing his arm and gazing at him searchingly.“No: I don’t know,” said Drew. “Something touched me, but I don’t feel anything now. I am certain, though: I am not wounded.”“For heaven’s sake be careful, man!” cried the mate. “We have shelter here and must make use of it. We are regularly besieged, and how long it will last it is impossible to say.”As he spoke he dragged the little narrow mattress out of a bunk, and, signing to Drew to take hold of one end, they raised it and placed it across the window to act as a screen, while Mr Rimmer thrust out one arm, got hold of a rope, and drew up the dead-light which was struck several times before he got it perfectly secure.“Oh, you’re there, Smith,” he said, turning to the sailor, who, now feeling very penitent, was down on one knee holding a panikin of water to Oliver Lane’s lips. “How came you to leave the cabin, and with that window open?”“I didn’t, sir. Window was shut fast enough when I left it, and I only went for some water for the gentlemen to drink.”“And nearly sent them to their graves?” cried the mate.“Will you come on deck, sir, please?” cried one of the men, who had come to the cabin door with his face looking drawn and scared.“Yes. What is it?” said the mate.“There’s a lot more on ’em just come up, sir, and we think they’re going to rush us now.”“Yes. Come on, Mr Drew. You, too, Smith. Quick, they’re attacking.”For there was a terrific yelling, and the sound indicated that it must come from quite a crowd.They rushed on deck and none too soon, for, at the first glance Drew obtained, he could see that the savages had surrounded the brig, and that many of them bore small palm trunk poles whose purpose was evident the next moment, for a dozen men rushed forward and laid them from the earth to the bulwarks, sinking down directly to clasp the little trees with their arms while as many of their companions leaped up, took as high a hold as they could, and then began to swarm up toward the deck.“It’s all over now,” muttered Drew, and he took aim at a man who seemed to be the leader.

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.”

Panton grasped his arm, and whispered hoarsely,—

“Tell me the truth. That was a poisoned arrow, was it not?”

“How should I know?” said the mate, roughly. “It was an arrow; I’ve taken it out, bathed the wound, and what you have to do, is to lie still, and not worry yourself into a fever by fancying all kinds of horrors.”

“But these men poison their arrows, do they not?”

“People say so,” said the mate, bluffly, “but it doesn’t follow that they do. Now, then, I’ve got to attend to Mr Lane. You’ve had your turn.”

He bent down over Oliver, and began to remove the bandage which Smith had passed round the upper part of the young man’s left arm.

“Thank goodness it isn’t in the body,” said the mate. “I thought it was at first.”

“No, sir,” said Smith. “He was all wet about his chest, and I thought he’d got it somewhere there, but it’s a nice, neat hole right through his arm, and here’s the bullet which tumbled out of the sleeve of his jacket.”

He handed the little piece of lead to the mate, who took it quickly, held it to the lamp and then drawing his breath sharply between his teeth, he slipped the bullet into his pocket before slitting up Oliver’s sleeve, and examining a couple of ruddy orifices in the upper part of his arm.

“Hurt you much, sir?” he said, cheerfully.

“Hurt?” cried Oliver, angrily. “Why, it throbs and stings horribly.”

“So I s’pose. But you mustn’t think that this is poisoned. No fear of that.”

“I did not think so,” said Oliver, shortly. “I wish I knew who it was that fired at me.”

“Well,” said the mate, drily, as he bathed the two wounds where the bullet had entered and passed out right through the thickest part of the arm, carefully using fresh water and sponge, “I don’t think that would help the places to heal.”

“No—ah! you hurt! Mr Rimmer, what are you doing?”

“I was trying to find out whether the bone was injured.”

“Is it broken?” said Oliver, who was wincing with pain.

“No, the bullet never touched it, sir. There’s only a nice clean tunnel through your flesh to heal up.”

“Nice clean tunnel, indeed!” said Oliver, whose deadly faintness was giving way to irritability, caused by the sharp pain. “I only, as I said before, wish I knew who shot me. How could a man be so stupid?”

“Well, I’ll tell you,” said the mate, as he softly dried the wounds. “If people come rushing out of a fog in company with a lot of yelling savages, they can’t expect other people to know the difference. The fact is, my lad, I fired that shot, for it was a bullet out of the captain’s gun.”

“You, Mr Rimmer!”

“Yes, my lad, and I’m very thankful.”

“What, that you shot me?”

“Yes, through the arm instead of through the chest, for I couldn’t have doctored you then.”

“I say! Oh! What are you doing?” cried Oliver.

“That’s right, have a rousing shout if it will do you good, my lad,” said the mate, whose fingers were busy. “But that’s right, don’t shrink,” he continued as he went on with his task, which was that of plugging the two mouths of the wound with lint—

“Hallo! What is it?”

A sailor’s head had appeared inside the cabin door.

“Mr Drew says, sir, as the savages are coming back, and would you like to come on deck?”

“Yes, of course,” said the mate hastily. “Go and tell him I’m coming.”

“Yes, sir.”

The man disappeared, and the mate turned to Smith.

“Here,” he said, “carefully and tightly bind up Mr Lane’s arm, so that the plugs cannot come out.”

“Me, sir? Don’t you want me to come and fight?”

“I want you to obey orders,” said the mate, sharply. “There, you will not hurt, Mr Lane; and as for you, Mr Panton, don’t let imagination get the better of you, sir. I’ll come down again as soon as I can.”

“You won’t hurt, sir,” said Smith, with rough sympathy, as he took up the bandage and examined the injured arm by the light of the lamp. “But he can. All very fine for him to say that, after ramming in a couple o’ pellets just as if he was loading an elder-wood pop-gun. Look here, sir, shall I take ’em out again?”

“No, no,” said Oliver, trying hard to bear the acute pain he suffered, patiently.

“But they must hurt you ’orrid, and he won’t know when the bandage is on.”

“Tie up my arm, man,” said Oliver, shortly. “It is quite right. That’s better—Tighter.—No, no, I can’t bear it. Yes: that will do. How are you getting on, Panton?”

“Badly. Feel as if someone was boring a hole in my shoulder with a red hot poker.”

“So do I,” said Oliver; “and as if he had got quite through, and was leaving the poker in to burn the hole bigger.”

“Serve you right.”

“Why?”

“You were always torturing some poor creature, sticking pins through it to ‘set it up’ as you call it.”

“But not alive. I always poisoned them first.”

“Worse and worse,” said Panton, trying hard to preserve his calmness, and to master the horror always to the front in his thoughts, by speaking lightly. “That’s what I believe they have done to me, but they’ve failed to get me as a specimen.”

“Haw, haw, haw!” laughed Smith.

“Quiet, sir!” cried Oliver. “What have you got to laugh at?”

“Beg pardon,” said the man, passing his hand across his mouth, as if the laugh required wiping away, “but it seemed so comic for the natives to be trying to get a spessermen of an English gent, to keep stuffed as a cur’osity.”

“Ah, they wouldn’t have done that, Smith, my lad. More likely to have rolled me up in leaves to bake in one of their stone ovens, and then have a feast.”

“Well, they aren’t got yer, sir, and they sha’n’t have yer, if me and Billy Wriggs can stop it.”

“God bless you both, my lads,” said Panton huskily. “You stood by me very bravely.”

“Oh, I don’t know, sir,” said Smith bashfully. “People as is out together, whether they’re gents or only common sailors, is mates yer know for the time, and has to stand by one another in a scrimmage. Did one’s dooty like, and I dessay I could do it again, better than what I’m a doing here. My poor old mother never thought I should come to be a ’orspittle nuss. Like a drink a’ water, sir?”

“Yes, please, my mouth’s terribly dry.”

Smith looked round, but there was no water in the cabin, and he went out to get some from the breaker on deck, but he had not reached halfway to the tub, before there was a sharp recommencement of the firing, and he knew by the yelling that the savages were making a fresh attack.

The sailor forgot all about the wounded in the cabin, and running right forward, he seized a capstan bar for a weapon, and then went to the side waiting to help and repel the attack, if any of the enemy managed to reach the deck.

But evidently somewhat daunted by the firearms and the injuries inflicted upon several of their party, the savages did not come too near, but stood drawing their bows from time to time, and sending their arrows up in the air, so that they might fall nearly perpendicularly upon the deck. Many times over the men had hairbreadth escapes from arrows which fell with a sharp whistling sound, and stuck quivering in the boards, while the mate made the crew hold their fire.

“Firing at them is no good,” he said, “or they would have stopped away after the first volleys. Let them shoot instead and waste their arrows. They’ll soon get tired of that game. So long as they don’t hurt us, it’s of no consequence. All we want, is for them to leave us alone.”

“But it does not seem as if they would do that,” said Drew, to whom he was speaking.

“Well, then, if they will not, we must give them another lesson, and another if it comes to that. We’re all right now in our bit of a fort, but it seems queer to be in command of a ship that will not— Hah! Look at that!” he cried, stooping to pull from the deck an arrow which had just fallen with a whizz. “You may as well keep some of these and take ’em home for curiosities, sir. There’s no trickery or deceit about them. They were not made for trade purposes, but for fighting.”

“And are they poisoned?” said Drew anxiously.

“Best policy is to say no they are not, sir. We don’t want to frighten Mr Panton into the belief that he has been wounded by one, for if he does, he’ll get worse and worse and die of the fancy; whereas, after the spirits are kept up, even if the arrow points have been dipped into something nasty, he may fight the trouble down and get well again. I say, take it that they are not poisoned and let’s keep to that, for many a man has before now died from imagination. Why, bless me! if the men got to think that the savages’ weapons were poisonous, every fellow who got a scratch would take to his bunk, and we should have no end of trouble.”

“I suppose so,” said Drew. “But tell me, what do you think of my companions’ wounds?”

“Well, speaking as a man who has been at sea twenty years, and has helped to do a good deal of doctoring with sticking plaster and medicine chest—for men often get hurt and make themselves ill—I should say as they’ve both got nasty troublesome wounds which will pain them a bit for weeks to come, but that there’s nothing in them to fidget about. Young hearty out-door-living fellows like yourselves have good flesh, and if it’s wounded it soon heals up again.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Of course, sir: when you’re young you soon come right. It’s when you are getting old, and fidget and worry about your health, that you get better slowly. Hah! there’s another stuck up in the mainsail. That won’t hurt anybody.”

“But tell me, Mr Rimmer, when did the savages come and attack you?”

“I was going to ask you to tell me why you were all so long. I was just thinking of coming in search of you, expecting to find that you’d gone down some hole or broken your necks, when one of the men came running up from where he had been fishing in that nearest pool—for the crocs and things have left a few fish swimming about still. Up he comes to the gangway shouting,—‘Mr Rimmer, Mr Rimmer, here they are,’ he says. ‘Good job too,’ says I. ‘Are they all here?’ ‘Quick, quick,’ he says. ‘Get out the guns,’ and looking half wild with fear, he began to shut up the gangway and to yell for some one to help him pull up the ladder. I thought he was mad, and I caught hold of him as the men came running up. ‘Here, young fellow,’ I says, ‘what’s the matter with you; have you got sunstroke?’ ‘No, sir,’ he says, ‘but one of their poisoned arrows whizzed by my ear. Don’t you understand? I was fishing and I’d just hooked a big one when a croc seized it, and nearly dragged me into the water. Then, all at once, I looked up and let go of the line, for there was a whole gang of nearly naked black fellows, with their heads all fuzzed out, and spears and bows and arrows in their hands. They were a long way off on the other side of the pool, but they saw me, and began to run as fast as ever they could, and so did I.’”

“Enough to make him,” said Drew.

“Yes, and it didn’t want any telling, for the perspiration was streaming down his face, his hair sticking to his forehead, and you could see his heart pumping away and rising and falling. Next minute we could see the rascals stealing up looking at the brig as if they expected to see it come sailing down upon them; but as soon as they made sure it was not going to move, they came shouting and dancing round us, and in the boldest way tried to climb on board.”

“Well?” said Drew, for the mate stopped.

“Well? I call it ill, sir.”

“But what did you do then?”

“Oh! the game began then, of course. I told the men to tell them that nobody came on board except by invitation; but they didn’t like it and insisted upon coming.”

“But could they understand English?”

“No, not a word.”

“Then how could you tell them?”

“Oh! that was easy enough,” said the mate with a droll look. “I made the men tell them with capstan bars, and as soon as a black head appeared above the bulwarks it went down again. I didn’t want to fire upon the poor ignorant wretches, who seemed to have an idea that the brig was their prize, and that everyone was to give way to them, for they came swarming up, over fifty of them, throwing and darting their spears at us, and shooting arrows, so I was obliged to give them a lesson.”

“Have you killed any?” said Drew.

“Not yet. I found that hitting their thick heads was no good, so I served out some swan shot cartridges, and sent a lot of them back rather sore.”

“It checked them, then?”

“Yes, for a time, while we ran up that canvas and cleared away everything that made it easy for them to swarm up over the bulwarks. But they’re so active that one’s never safe.”

“Hark! what’s that?” cried Drew. “Someone called ‘help!’”

“It came from the cabin. Come along.”

“Who’s there?” said Drew.

“I left Smith with them, but he’s here,” panted the mate, as he passed the sailor, who was hurrying back horrified by the cry he had heard.

They were just in time to see the cabin window blocked up by black heads, whose owners were trying to force their way in, while a couple of fierce-looking wretches had their clubs raised as if about to dash out the brains of the two injured passengers.

There was no time to take aim. The mate and Drew both drew trigger as they entered the cabin, when there was a savage yelling, the place filled with smoke. Then as it rose, Oliver Lane and Panton could be seen lying half fainting upon the cabin floor, and the open cabin window was vacant.

“The brutes!” cried Drew, running to the window to lean out and fire the second barrel of his piece at a group of the Papuans.

“Mind!” roared the mate, as Drew passed him, but his warning was not heeded in the excitement. The need, though, was evident, for the young man shrank away startled and horrified as half a dozen arrows came with a whizz and stuck here and there in the woodwork, and two in the ceiling, while a spear struck off his cap, and then fell and stuck with a loud thud in the cabin floor, not a couple of inches from one of Oliver Lane’s legs.

“Hurt?” cried the mate, excitedly.

“Yes—no—I can’t tell,” said Drew, whose hands trembled as he reloaded his gun.

“But you must know,” cried the mate, seizing his arm and gazing at him searchingly.

“No: I don’t know,” said Drew. “Something touched me, but I don’t feel anything now. I am certain, though: I am not wounded.”

“For heaven’s sake be careful, man!” cried the mate. “We have shelter here and must make use of it. We are regularly besieged, and how long it will last it is impossible to say.”

As he spoke he dragged the little narrow mattress out of a bunk, and, signing to Drew to take hold of one end, they raised it and placed it across the window to act as a screen, while Mr Rimmer thrust out one arm, got hold of a rope, and drew up the dead-light which was struck several times before he got it perfectly secure.

“Oh, you’re there, Smith,” he said, turning to the sailor, who, now feeling very penitent, was down on one knee holding a panikin of water to Oliver Lane’s lips. “How came you to leave the cabin, and with that window open?”

“I didn’t, sir. Window was shut fast enough when I left it, and I only went for some water for the gentlemen to drink.”

“And nearly sent them to their graves?” cried the mate.

“Will you come on deck, sir, please?” cried one of the men, who had come to the cabin door with his face looking drawn and scared.

“Yes. What is it?” said the mate.

“There’s a lot more on ’em just come up, sir, and we think they’re going to rush us now.”

“Yes. Come on, Mr Drew. You, too, Smith. Quick, they’re attacking.”

For there was a terrific yelling, and the sound indicated that it must come from quite a crowd.

They rushed on deck and none too soon, for, at the first glance Drew obtained, he could see that the savages had surrounded the brig, and that many of them bore small palm trunk poles whose purpose was evident the next moment, for a dozen men rushed forward and laid them from the earth to the bulwarks, sinking down directly to clasp the little trees with their arms while as many of their companions leaped up, took as high a hold as they could, and then began to swarm up toward the deck.

“It’s all over now,” muttered Drew, and he took aim at a man who seemed to be the leader.

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