Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > Fire Island > This page
Fire Island, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 49. Smith's "Narrow Squeak" |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER FORTY NINE. SMITH'S "NARROW SQUEAK" "Lane, old chap," said Drew, "can't Panton turn on the fireworks?" "What do you mean?" "Poke up the volcano and get up a good eruption, so as to sweep these wretches away." "He seems to have already done it," said Oliver, bitterly. "Haven't you noticed that the ground has been all of a quiver for long enough?" "No, too much worried over getting away. I wish a good blow up would come." "As bad for us as for the blacks, man. But what are we to do?" "I don't know. What do you say to keeping on along the edge till we are opposite to the brig, and then making a rush as you did before?" "Seems our only chance." "Or wait till dusk and then try?" "No, they want our help at the brig as badly as we want theirs. I think we had better creep on slowly. If we are seen, we must let the enemy come close, and then give them four barrels and rush. They'll cover us from the brig." The plan was decided upon, and keeping along the edge of the forest, they went cautiously on, sensible now that the tremulous motion of the earth was on the increase, while in addition there came a short sharp report from the mountain. "Won't this scare the niggers?" said Drew as they stopped to reconnoitre. "It doesn't seem to," replied Oliver, as they peered between the trunks of some newly-sprung-up palms. "They're taking it coolly enough." The blacks were in fact walking about, now gazing toward the brig, now along the opening toward the sea. "Why, I know," cried Drew; "they're waiting for their friends whom we saw. When they come there'll be a general attack." Oliver was silent for a few moments, as he stood watching the movements of the blacks. "That's it," he said at last. "Then our plan is to get to the brig at once." He led on now till they were as near as they could get, and as they stood in the dark shadow of the forest the question was, had the enemy sense enough to invest the vessel and plant sentries all round? If they had, the difficulties were greatly increased; and to solve this problem, Oliver made his companion wait, sheltered by a great tree, while he crept right to the edge to investigate. "You'll come back?" said Drew. "I will if I am left alive," said Oliver, quietly, and then he turned his head and was in the act of drawing out his little glass to watch the actions of a couple of sun-birds playing merrily about in a narrow sunny beam of light, but he checked himself; half-laughing the while. "Use is second nature," he said, and, leaving his gun with Drew, he went down on hands and knees and crept cautiously along, dislodging beetles, lizards, and more natural history specimens in a few yards than he would in an ordinary way in a day. In a few minutes he was at the extremity of and beneath a great bough, with the brilliant sunshine before him, the darkness of the forest behind. There, in front, rising above the low growth and a quarter of a mile away, was the brig, with the look-out in the top and a head showing here and there, one of which he made out by his glass to be Panton's, while it was evident enough that they were well on the _qui vive_. To Oliver's great joy there was not a black in sight on his side, though plainly enough beyond the vessel, they were hanging about in groups and all well armed. As he lay there, sweeping the various objects with his glass, partly for signs of danger, partly for places of shelter to which they could creep, going from one to the other till they were near enough to make a rush for the brig, he marked down quite a series. There, a short distance their side of the brig, were the heaps of wood rejected in the making of the lugger; a little nearer a shed-like construction of bamboo and palm leaves, erected to shelter the men who were adzing and planing the planks. Then, nearer still, there was a high tuft of newly-grown-up grass. Again, nearer, a hollow, once full of fish, but long since dried up, and, nearer still, a freshly-grown clump of bamboos. "If we can crawl to that unseen, we're all right, and we must risk it at once," said Oliver to himself, and then his heart seemed to stand still and a horrible feeling of despair came over him, for he suddenly made out a slight movement and jerking amongst the bamboo stems, and, fixing his glass upon the spot, there, plainly enough, were the soles of a man's feet--a scout evidently, lying extended there, watching the brig. Oliver swept the bamboos on both sides for others of the enemy, but all was so still and the space was so small that he came to the conclusion at last that there was only one foe concealed there, and with pulses beginning to throb now from the exciting thought which came upon him, he backed slowly and silently away and made haste to rejoin Drew. "Well?" said the latter, excitedly. "Hist! Sound travels," whispered Oliver, and he hurriedly told all that he had seen. "The brute!" said Drew. "He is, then, between us and safety." "Yes." "Well," said Drew, sternly, "I would hurt no man if I could help it, but that black would not hesitate to kill us and our friends, and in addition to saving our own lives, we may perhaps help to save those of the others. Lane, old fellow, do you think we could creep up behind and stun the wretch?" "That was the idea that came to me," said Oliver, hurriedly. "I don't want to, but we must." "Yes," said Drew, firmly, "we must." "And at once." "Come on, then," said Drew. "No firing; the butts of our pieces." Oliver nodded with his brow all in wrinkles, and directly after they crept to the spot from which Oliver had caught sight of the feet among the bamboos, and once more, lying flat down, he examined the edge nearest to him, and then handed the glass to Drew, who scanned the spot carefully. "Strange how the insides of the palms of a black's hands and the soles of his feet grow to be nearly white," whispered Oliver, whose natural history propensities always came to the front, even in times of peril. "Yes," said Drew, returning the glass, "and I only wish their hearts would wear white, too--the murderous wretches. Ready?" "Yes, both together, and when we are sheltered by the bamboos from the blacks we must rise, take a few quick steps forward together and club the wretch." "Exactly. No one can see what we do for the canes, and all we want to do is to stun him." "Agreed." The next minute they were creeping silently and cautiously over the sand, keeping their heads well down and gradually nearing the feet, which, even as they grew closer, remained the only portions of their enemy's body visible. Every moment they expected to see him take the alarm, and if he did, and attacked them, they would club him if they could, but it was fully expected that he would take flight, and in that case, they determined to follow rapidly, and take their chance of getting on board. But the man was so intent upon his duty of watching the brig, that he did not hear; and as they came on and on there were the toes twitching and jerking about uneasily, and the bamboos amongst which he lay gently waved. Twenty yards, ten yards, five yards, and now brig and savages were hidden by the giant grass. Oliver turned to Drew, whose face was deadly pale, and their eyes met. Then together they rose, bending in a sloping position, held their guns by the barrels, and, keeping step, advanced foot by foot, raising their pieces as they nearly reached the tall greeny stems and then paused and hesitated, for the same question was mentally asked by both,-- "How can we reach to strike this man on the head when we are standing close to his feet?" The same idea came again to both: "We must strike twice." Then a second plan occurred to Oliver, and making a sign to Drew that he should deliver the blow, he softly laid down his gun and reached forward to seize one ankle, and suddenly drag the man back. Drew took a fresh hold of the barrel of his piece, and raised the butt to strike, as Oliver's hands hovered within a few inches of the man's ankles. "I shall have to charnsh it, that I shall!" The two young men stood as if paralysed, and it was some moments before Oliver could whisper huskily,-- "Smith!" The feet were snatched out of sight in an instant, there was a loud rustling, and then a face was thrust out of the bamboos above where the man's feet had been, and just as a bellowing roar came from the mountain and the earth trembled beneath their feet. "Why, gentlemen; you?" whispered Smith, for it was indeed he. "Yes: we thought you were on board the lugger, and nearly killed you." "Then that was a narrow squeak, gentlemen. And I've been thinking as I was going to be baked instead. I was on my way with the guns, when I ketches sight of a drove of these here ugly black pigs, and they chevied me, but, fortunately, I'd got a good start, and run in among the trees, where, somehow or other, they couldn't find me, and at last they give it up, and here have I been tryin' to crawl within reach of the brig, so as to make a run for it, and get aboard." "Our plan, too, Smith. We were on our way," said Oliver, "when we saw your toes." "And I was going to kill you for a savage, when you spoke," whispered Drew. "Then I'm glad I did speak, sir. My old dad used to say it was a bad habit to think aloud, but it don't seem to be so arter all." "We can't do better than creep on," said Drew. "Yes, and now's our time," said Oliver, excitedly, for a loud shouting was heard, and on peering through the waving bamboos, they could see a party of about a hundred of the blacks coming down from the sea, while those who were on the other side of the brig started off running to meet them. "Quick, all together!" cried Oliver, and flat on their faces, and crawling whenever there was no cover, the three began to make their way toward the vessel, reaching patch after patch of bush unseen in the excitement--the blacks' attention being so much taken off--till the shed, and then the heaps of wood were reached. "Now for it!" whispered Oliver. "Jump up and run!" His order was obeyed, and their sudden appearance was as startling to Panton, and the crew of the _Planet_, as to the blacks who were now a couple of hundred yards on the other side, but who now ran back, yelling furiously. "Quick, ropes, and haul us up!" shouted Oliver, and a terribly long space of time elapsed, or seemed to, before three ropes were cast over the bulwarks, and seized. "Haul away!" roared Smith, "or they'll have us, lads!" and it was a very close shave, for, as they were run up, the savages reached the brig's side, and seizing the ropes, began to drag, expecting to pull the fugitives down. But by this time they had seized the bulwarks, and as a spear and club were thrown, swung themselves over on to the deck, to help in a kind of game of French and English, ending by their jerking the ropes out of the blacks' hands, and sending them to the right about, with a volley from the ready guns. "My dear boys," cried Panton, wringing his friends' hands as soon as he was at liberty. "I was afraid I was left in the lurch." "Why?" said Oliver. "No, no, I mean that you were all killed. Where's Mr Rimmer?--don't say he's dead." "I would almost rather have to say so," said Oliver, "for he seems to have forsaken us." "Gone?" "Yes; in the lugger, and run for it." "To get help, or come back in the dark to help us." "That's what I want to think," said Oliver, "but it is so hard to do so, after what I have seen." "Never mind that now," cried Panton, excitedly. "The niggers are reinforced--so are we, though, thank goodness--and before long they'll make a big attack. We've had two or three little ones, with no particular luck on either side. Ready to fight?" "Of course." "Then take a station, and mind this, we can't afford to show mercy. It's war to the knife, our lives or theirs." They soon had abundant evidence that this was to be the case, for before they had much time to think, there was a loud yelling and the brig was surrounded by a gesticulating mob of savages, who advanced, sending their arrows sharply against the sides of the vessel, shaking their war clubs, and making fierce darts with their spears wherever they imagined a white to be crouched. This went on for an hour or two, and as no real danger threatened so long as they did not attempt to scale the sides, the firing was withheld, and Panton and his lieutenant, Oliver Lane, contented themselves with finishing the elaborate arrangements made against attack by the mate with a plan or two of their own, which consisted in filling some small preserved fish tins with powder, adding a piece of fuse, and keeping them ready for lighting when the right moment came. It came long before evening, for at last, satisfied that they would not be able to frighten the defenders of the brig into a surrender, the blacks made a furious attack, crowding to one side more especially, and trying to scale the bulwarks. And now, as the arrows came in a shower over the attacking party's heads, firing became general, and watching their opportunity just as matters were getting very critical, the place of every man shot down being taken by a dozen more, Oliver and Panton both held the ends of the fuses they had prepared to the candle in a lantern. They saw that they were well alight, and then, as calmly as if there were no danger whatever of the contents exploding, bore them to the side, with the men shrinking away, and cast them over, right into the most crowded part of the attack. A fierce yelling followed, and in place of running away, the poor ignorant wretches crowded round these strange-looking missiles which had been sent into their midst. The next minute there was a terrific roar, followed almost directly by another which seemed to shake the ship, and then a complete stampede, the blacks who were uninjured helping their wounded comrades off to the shelter of the forest, and leaving many dead behind. "Saved!" cried Panton. "They won't face that again." "Yes, they will," said Oliver sadly. "Depend upon it, this is only a temporary scare." "Then we'll get ready some more for them. I'm growing bloodthirsty now, and we'll defend the brig to the last." The men cheered at this, and watched with interest the making of fresh shells, but the afternoon wore on and evening came without a sign of a black, and at last hopes began to be entertained that the enemy had fled, so they all partook of a hearty meal. "It's the darkness I dread," said Oliver, soon after sundown, as he and his friends stood together watching all around, and now and then mistaking shadows for coming enemies. It must have been two hours after dark, though, before there was any fresh cause for alarm, and it arrived just as Panton had confidentially said,-- "Some of us may sleep, for there'll be no attack to-night." "Beg pardon, Mr Oliver Lane, sir," said a voice at their elbow. "Yes, what is it?" "Billy Wriggs, sir. Ever since he had that swim in the black cavern, his hyes has been like your little glasses. Here, Billy, tell the gents just what you says you see." "'Undred niggers a crawlin' along like harnts, sir, each one with a big faggit on his back, and if they arn't a comin' to burn us out, I'm a Dutchman." _ |
||