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Fire Island, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 50. The Great Peril |
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_ CHAPTER FIFTY. THE GREAT PERIL It was the terrible danger foretold by the mate, and dreaded by Oliver, coming when Mr Rimmer was away with his men, and unable to help his companions. For the sailor's eyes, long trained to watching through the darkness, had told the truth, there were the blacks slowly advancing, armed with those simple but deadly weapons, bundles of the most inflammable materials they could cut in the forest. There they came, stealing along in a line, crawling like insects toward the bows of the ship, with all a savage's cunning, for they were pointed toward the west, whence the night breeze now blew strongly, and in utter silence first one and then another thrust his load close against the vessel and passed on into the darkness. For a few minutes, the besieged gazed down over their breastwork of planking bewildered by the danger. They might have fired and shot many of their assailants, but they knew that would not save them, for the whole party kept persistently piling up the faggots, and though Oliver and his friends did not know it, passing round the brig to go back straight from the stern to the spot whence they had issued from the forest to fetch more faggots, so that there were soon two lines, one coming laden toward the bows, the other returning from the stern. "Buckets," said Oliver, suddenly. "Form lines to the water tanks." The men leaped with alacrity to the task, and in a very short time the buckets were being filled and passed along to where Smith and Wriggs bravely mounted on to the bowsprit and poured the water down upon the increasing heap. "Give it a good souse round, Billy," said Smith, "and wet all yer can." "Ay, ay," was the reply, and _splash, splash_ went the water, as the buckets were passed up and returned empty, producing a great deal of whispering from below, but no missiles were sent up, and the blacks worked on with the advantage that their supply was inexhaustible, while that of the unfortunate defenders was failing fast. "Water's done," cried Drew, suddenly, "only a few more buckets." "Save them, then," said Panton, sharply. "Yes," said Oliver, "Now, then, Panton, try one of your shells to blow the heap of faggots away." "Good," cried Panton, and he ran to get one of the powder-filled tins just as a couple of fire-flies of a different kind were seen to be gliding toward the vessel from the nearest point in the forest. "No," said Oliver, addressing Smith, who had not spoken, but after hurling down the last bucket of water had seized his gun once more. "Those are not fire-flies but fire sticks." "Yes, sir, they're a-goin' to light us up, so that we can see to shoot some of the beggars, for up to now, it would ha' been like aiming at shadders. Is it begin, sir?" "No, wait till Mr Panton has thrown down the powder." Smith drew a long breath, and just as the two bright points of light disappeared under the faggot heap, piled now right up among the tarry stays beneath the bowsprit, Panton came up with his lighted fuse. "Now," he said, "down by the side or right atop?" "Down beside it, or it will do more harm to us than to them." "Here goes," said Panton, and steadily giving the fuse a good puff which lit up his face, he pitched the shell gently, so that it should roll down beyond the faggots, and they watched it as it went down and down with the fuse hissing and sputtering as it burned. "Now, then," cried Oliver, "down: everyone flat on the deck." "No go," said Panton sharply. "I heard the fuse hiss: it fell right in the water beneath." At that moment one of the dry, freshly-thrown faggots, of those the blacks kept on steadily piling up, began to blaze, then to crackle and roar, and directly after a blinding, pungent smoke arose, and set dead on the bows and over the deck, driving the defenders away. The next minute the pile was hissing and roaring with increasing fury, and, as the surroundings were illumined, the blacks could be seen running now, each with his faggot, which he threw on to the heap, where the fire grew fiercer and fiercer, and licked up the water which clung to the lower layer, as if it had been so much oil. "The powder, the powder!" yelled Wriggs. "It's of no use, my man," cried Oliver, "it would only increase the fire." "Hadn't we better shoot some of the beggars down, sir?" said Smith. "What would be the good?" replied Oliver. "Even if we killed a dozen or two we should be no better off. Now, every man be ready with his gun, in case they try to swarm on deck." He motioned his devoted band a little back, for Panton somehow resigned everything into his hands now, and there by the bright light they drew away aft, facing outward, ready for their first assailant. But attack now seemed to be far from the intentions of the enemy; they had delivered their assault, and with patient energy they kept on pertinaciously bearing more and more faggots to the pile, even when the task had become unnecessary. For the great sheets of flame curved over the bulwarks, and the unfortunate defenders had the mortification of seeing that the boards and planks, all carefully nailed up under the mate's directions, were so much inflammable matter to feed the flames, which began to roar now like a furnace, as the bowsprit, with its well tarred ropes and stays, caught, and the figure-head and fore part of the vessel were well alight. "On'y one thing'd save her now, Billy," said Smith, coolly. "What's that, mate, blowin' of her up?" "Nay, a good header into a big wave." He was quite right, for moment by moment the furnace-like heat increased, and the fire could be seen burning slowly up the stays toward the fore mast, with drops of burning tar beginning to rain down on the deck. "Anyone got anything down below he wants to save?" cried one of the men, as they were gradually beaten back, and there was a movement towards the forecastle hatch. "Stop!" shouted Oliver. "Are you all mad? The cabin there is in a blaze." It was too true; the forepart of the brig was well alight now, and the flames eating their way slowly and steadily toward the stern. "Be ready, all of you," said Oliver, the next minute. "What are you going to do?" asked Panton. "Throw one of the small kegs into the fire. Then, as it goes off, we must all drop down from the gangway, and fight our way to the south opening in the woods. I daresay we can get some distance under the cover of the smoke and confusion." "Good," cried Panton. "It is our only chance. This vessel will be a pile of ashes in an hour's time." That was evident to all, for the heat was growing tremendous, and even as Panton spoke the flames were running rapidly up the rigging of the foremast, which promised soon to be in a blaze right to the truck. The smoke, too, was blinding, but when they could get a glance over the side, there were the blacks still silently toiling away, hurling on the faggots of wood which were licked up in a few moments, as with a crackling roar they added to the fierceness of the blaze. And now, without a word, the little keg of powder was got up from the stores where it had been carefully stowed along with the cases of cartridges and the captain's tiny armoury. Panton went with Smith to bring it up, the latter carrying it and placing it upon the deck while the sparks and flakes of fire flew overhead in a continuous stream, some of them lodging upon the furled sails, forming specks of fire which soon began to glow, telling that before many minutes had elapsed the main mast would become a pyramid of flame. "I don't know how it's to be done now," said Panton. "No one could go near enough to the fire to fling it in." "I'll scheme that, sir," said Smith, "if you'll let me." "No," said Oliver, "I will not let any man run risks. Stop: I know," he cried. "How?" asked Panton. "Stand ready there, right aft," said Oliver. "Get plenty of ropes over the stern rail, and we must escape there when the powder explodes." "But how will you manage with the keg?" "I'll show you," said Oliver, and while ropes were made fast to the belaying-pins and stays, and cast over the stern in a dozen places, he took Smith and Wriggs with him bearing one of the longest planks that could be torn down above the bulwarks. The end of this was rested upon the cover of the deck-house, seven feet above the deck, the other thrust forward to where the flames were eating their way along, and showing that below, the forecastle and hold were rapidly becoming a furnace of fire. "Now give me the keg," said Oliver, and Smith handed it up to where he climbed on the deck-house, and it was placed there on end, the young man's figure showing up in the brilliant glow of light, and offering an easy mark to any savage who liked to draw a bow. But no arrow came flying, and Oliver, whose plan was now grasped, sent his companions aft to the ropes, to stand ready to save themselves when the critical moment came. Every man was well armed, and his pockets and wallet crammed with cartridges, and the orders were as soon as they had dropped from the stern to follow Panton as he led them towards the opening in the wood, some hundreds of yards from the spot whence the line of blacks still brought their faggots. "For goodness' sake be careful," cried Panton, turning to where Oliver stood. "You'll act at once, will you not? the heat here is stifling." "Directly you get back to your place. Then I shall join you, and Drew and I will form the rear guard. Now, then, off with you, and God help us." Panton reached up to wring his hand, and then, with the mainmast overhead already beginning to burn, he ran aft. There was no time to spare, for the fire was creeping astern with wonderful rapidity, and, after a glance downward at the deck, Oliver lifted the keg and held it carefully balanced upon the top of the sloping plank, whose lower end was now just beginning to burn. For the space of quite a minute he held it with a fire in front scorching his brow, and the sparks rushing overhead on what was now a fierce wind. Then, when he had it perfectly balanced to his satisfaction, he let go with both hands, and the keg remained stationary for an instant. Then it began to roll down the plank faster and faster, and ended by literally bounding off the burning deck as it reached the bottom of the plank and plunging right into the fiery furnace that had been the forecastle. Oliver stayed till he saw the keg disappear, and then swung himself down and ran to where his friends were waiting. "Over!" cried Panton, and the men dropped from the stern, just as there was a tremendous roar and a rush of flame; sparks and burning pieces of timber rose from the forepart of the ship, followed by the burning foremast, which fortunately fell over toward the bows, sending the blacks flying. "All here?" said Panton, in a low voice, but no one spoke, and for a few minutes the darkness seemed intense, as huge clouds of smoke rolled up from where the fire had blazed so fiercely. "Then off!" but before they were far on their way, the flames burst forth again with fury, lighting up the open flat across which they retreated, and a yell arose. "Now, steady," cried Panton. "Double. When I cry halt, we'll turn and give them a volley. Then another run, loading as we go. You there, Lane?" "All right." They ran till the blacks began to press them, halted, checked the enemy with a volley, ran on loading, and turned again, the evolution being so successful that at last they reached the opening in the forest without losing a man. Here they gave the enemy another volley, reloaded, and now in single file, led by Panton, entered the dense shades. "Where to?" said Oliver to Drew. "Safety, I hope," was the reply. "Safety. We have not a scrap of food, only ammunition. Yes, we have," he cried more cheerily, "stout hearts and plenty of faith. We can easily keep the enemy at bay, too, along here." _ |
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