Chapter 26. A Night Watch

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_ CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. A NIGHT WATCH

It was not many minutes later when, attracted by a group of the lovely insects playing about the shrubs that were in full bloom, Fitz had hung back, making them an excuse while he rested, standing mopping his face, streaming with perspiration, while Poole, no less willing to enjoy a few minutes' halt, stood looking back watching him.

Meanwhile the skipper had gone on, closely followed by the men, and passed out of sight. And then the few minutes became a few minutes more, neither of the lads noting the lapse of time, for everything around was so beautiful that they had no thought for the task in hand, nor fear of being interrupted by any of the enemy who might be near.

Everything was so dreamy and beautiful that Poole cast his eyes around in search of some fallen trunk, with the idea that nothing could be more delightful than to sit down there in the shade and drowse the time away.

Then he was awake again, for from somewhere ahead, but so far off that it sounded quite faint, there came a shout--

"Ahoy! Poole!"

The lad ran, rifle in hand, to answer his father's call, but only to stop short to look round sharply, feeling that he was leaving Fitz behind.

"Oh, there you are," he cried, as he caught sight of the lad following swiftly after. "I thought that you were not coming."

"I was obliged to. You don't suppose that I want to be left alone here by myself?"

"No, I suppose not. 'Tis a wild spot. It wouldn't be very pleasant if one of the enemy came upon you. You'd be rather safer along with us. Come on; we had better run. Mind how you come. These logs are rather slippery where the sun doesn't shine."

"Yes, and you had better mind, or some of this tangled stuff that's growing up between will trip you up. Rather awkward if your gun went off."

A few minutes later they came up to where the skipper was standing waiting for them.

"Found the place, father?"

"Yes; it's just over yonder in a clearing beyond those trees."

"Where are the men?"

"Inside the house."

"Has Don Ramon come?"

"No. There's not a soul in sight. I can't see any signs of a fight, but it looks to me as if the enemy had been destroying all they came across. I hope they didn't come upon him and take him prisoner, but it looks very bad."

"What shall you do, father?"

"What he told me, my boy: take possession, and hold it if the enemy come back. I have told the men to try and knock up a breastwork and close up the windows. To put it into a state of defence is not possible, but they can make it look stronger, and it will be better than the open jungle if those mongrel scoundrels do come on. Winks is there with half-a-dozen men; join them and superintend. Make them stick to it hard. I am afraid of their thinking that there is no danger, and taking it too coolly."

"All right, father," said Poole, giving Fitz a glance as he stood ready for starting off.

"Oh, by the way, Mr Burnett, I am sorry to have got you into this trouble. It doesn't seem the thing, does it? But I can't help myself. I daren't let you get into the hands of the enemy, for they are a shady lot. Only please mind this; you are a looker-on, and you are not to fight."

"Of course not, sir," cried Fitz.

"Well, don't forget it. Let's have none of your getting excited and joining in, if the row does begin. But it's hardly likely. If the scoundrels see a strong-looking place they will give it a wide berth. But if they do come, just bear this in mind; you are a spectator, and not to fire a shot."

"I shall not forget my position, sir," said Fitz quietly. "That's right. You can't be in a safer place than in the shelter of Ramon's farm. Off with you, Poole. I will join you soon."

The two lads trotted off, and as they ran on side by side, Fitz said rather testily--

"Your father needn't have talked to me like that. 'Tisn't likely that I should join in such a fight as this."

"Of course not," said Poole coolly; "only you look rather warlike carrying that double gun."

"Absurd! A sporting piece, loaded with small shot!" cried Fitz.

"Not so very small," said Poole, laughing. "I shouldn't like it to be loaded with them by any one firing at me. Oh, there's the hacienda yonder. I heard of this place when I was here before. It's a sort of summer-house near the river and sea, where Don Ramon used to come. My word, though, how it seems to have been knocked about! It looks as if there had been fighting here. The grounds have all been trampled down, and the porch has been torn away."

"What a pity!" cried Fitz, as he trotted up, with his gun at the trail. "It must have been a lovely place. Oh, there are some of our men."

"Yes," said Poole, smiling to himself and giving a little emphasis to one word which he repeated; "there are some of 'our' men. Look at old Chips scratching his head."

For the carpenter on hearing their approach had stepped out into the wrecked verandah, and two or three of the sailors appeared at the long low windows belonging to one of the principal rooms.

"Oh, here y'are, Mr Poole, sir!" cried the carpenter, waving his navy straw hat and giving it two or three vicious sweeps at the flies. "Just the very gent as I wanted to see. How are yer, Mr Burnett, sir? Warm, aren't it? Don't you wish you was a chips, sir?" he added sarcastically, as Fitz gave him a friendly nod.

"A chips? A carpenter, Winks?" said Fitz. "No; why should I?"

"Of course not, sir. Because if you was you would be every now and then having some nice little job chucked at your head by the skipper."

"Why, of course," cried Poole. "What are you on board the schooner for?"

"Oh, nothing at all, sir--only to stop leaks and recaulk, cut sticks out of the woods to make new spars and yards, build a new boat now and then, or a yard or two of bulwark or a new keel. Just a few little trifles of that sort. It's just like so much play. Here's the very last of them. Nice little job ashore by way of a change. Skipper's fresh idea. He didn't say so, but seems to me as if he means to retire from business, and this 'ere's going to be his country house."

"And a very nice place too," said Fitz, laughing. "It only wants doing up."

"That's right, sir," cried the carpenter; "only just wants doing up, and a bit of paint, and then all you'd have to do would be to order a 'technicum van or two of new furniture out of Totney Court Road, or elsewhere. And an other nice little job for me to lay down the carpets and hang the picturs, and it would be just lovely."

"Well, you seem in a nice temper, Chips," said Poole.

"Temper, Mr Poole! Why, I feel as soft and gentle as a baby. I arn't got nothing to grumble at."

"And if you had you are the very last person in the world to say a word; eh, Chips?"

"Hear that, Mr Burnett, sir? That's Mr Poole, that is! He's known me two years and a narf, which means ever since he come on his first voyage, when I teached him how to handle an adze without cutting off his pretty little toes. If ever I wanted my character, Mr Burnett, sir, I should refer captains and other such to Mr Poole Reed, as knows me from the top of my head down to the parts I put lowest in my shoes."

"Look here, Chips, I want you to get to work. Whatever is the matter now?"

"Oh, nothing at all, sir; nothing at all! Carn't you see how I am smiling all over my face?"

"Oh yes, I know your smile. Now then, speak out. What do you want? What is there wrong?"

"Oh, nothing worth speaking of, Mr Poole. I arn't the sort of fellow to grumble, Mr Burnett, sir; but now just look here, gentlemen.--Get out, will you! Bother the flies! I wish I could 'ford to keep a nigger with a whisk made out of a horse's tail. They are regular tarrifying me to-day. I wouldn't keer if I could kill one now and then; but I carn't. Either they're too fast or I'm too slow. But now just look here, both on you, gentlemen. Here's a pretty position for a fellow to be in! Nobody can't say even in this hot country as I arn't willing to work my spell, but here's the skipper says to me, he says, 'I want you to do everything you can,' he says; 'take what men you want, and make this 'ere aitch--he--hay--ender as strong as you can.' Now, I ask you, just give your eyes a quick turn round the place and tell me, as orficers as knows what's what, how am I to make a thing strong as arn't strong, and where there arn't a bit of stuff to do it with? For what's the good of a lot of bamboo-cane when what one wants is a load of good honest English oak, or I wouldn't say no to a bit of teak."

"Well, it is a ramshackle sort of place, certainly, Chips."

"Ramshackle, sir? Why, a ramshackle shed is a Tower of London to it. It's just a bandbox, that's what it is--just one of them chip and blue paper things the same as my old mother used to keep her Sunday bonnet in. Why, I could go to one end, shet my eyes, and walk through it anywhere. Why, it wouldn't even keep the wind out. Look at them windows--jalousies, as they calls them, in their ignorant foreign tongue. Look at 'em; just so many laths, like a Venetia blind. What's to be done to them? And then them doors. Why, they wouldn't keep a cat in, let alone a Spaniel out. I dunno what's to be done; and before I know where I am the skipper will be back asking me what I have been about. Do you know what I'm about? About off my head. A man can't make something out of nothing. Where's my tools? says you. Aboard the schooner. Where's the stuff to work with? Nowhere. Why, I aren't got so much as a tenpenny-nail. It's onreasonable; but I suppose it aren't no use to talk. Come on, my lads, and let's see. Axes here. Get one in between them two floor-boards and wedge one of them out--that's the style!" And as he spoke, _rip, rip, crack_! the board was wrenched out of its place, leaving a long opening and easy access to the boards on either side. "Steady there, mates; don't lose a nail. They are very poor ones, and only rusty iron now, but just you handle them as if they was made of gold. That's your sort. We'll just nail them boards up across the lower parts of them windows, far enough apart for us to fire through, and when that's done they'll make a show if they don't do anything else. It'll satisfy the skipper; but as to keeping the bullets out, when the beggars begin to fire, why, Mr Poole, sir, I believe I could take half-a-dozen of them little sugar-loaf-shaped bits of lead in my mouth and stand outside and blow them through.--What do you say, Camel? Where's a hammer? There are dozens of them, mate, in High Street, Liverpool, at any price from one-and-six up to two bob. Did you leave your head aboard the schooner?"

"Did I leave my head aboard the schooner? What are you talking about?" growled the cook.

"Thought perhaps you had left it in the galley, stood up in one of the pots to keep it safe till you got back. Turn the axe round and use the head of that, stoopid. Chopper-heads was invented before hammers, I know."

"Well, you needn't be so nasty, mon," growled the cook.

"Make you nasty if you was set to cook a dinner without any fire, and no meat."

Andy grunted and began hammering away, helped by two of his messmates, who held the floor-boards in place while such nails as had come out of the joists were driven in.

Satisfied with this, the carpenter set to work at the end of one of the joists, using a sharp axe so deftly that the great wedge-like chips began to fly, and in a minute's time he had cut right through.

"That's your sort!" he cried. "Now, lads, two on you hoist up."

The men had hold of the freshly-cut end of the stout joist in an instant, raised it up, its length acting as a powerful lever, and it was wrenched out of its place, to be used beneath its fellows so dexterously that in a short time there was no longer any floor to the principal room of the hacienda, the joists being piled up on one side, and those who were in it stood now a couple of feet lower with the window-sills just on a level with their chests.

"Bravo! Splendid!" cried Fitz excitedly. "Why, that gives us a capital breastwork--bulwark, I mean--to fire over."

"Yes," cried Poole, "and plenty of stuff, Chips, for you to barricade the doors."

"Barricade the doors, sir? You mean stop 'em up, I suppose. But how? Arn't got a big cross-cut saw in your pocket, have you?"

"Go on, old chap, and don't chatter so," cried Poole. "Break them in half."

"Nice tradesman-like job that'll make, sir! It is all very fine to talk. Here, stand aside, some on you. I never was in a hurry but some thick-headed foremast-man was sure to get in the way. Let's see; where's my rule? Yah! No rule, no pencil, no square. Lay that there first one down, mates. What are they? About twelve foot. Might make three out of each of them."

One of the joists was laid on the earth close to a collection of dry leaves.

"Looks like an old rat's nest," said Fitz. "Like enough, sir, only we haven't no time to hunt 'em. Sure to be lots in a place like this."

"Yes, I can smell them," said Poole--"that nasty musky odour they have!"

The carpenter paced along beside the joist, dividing it into three, and made a notch in two places with his axe, to begin the next minute delivering a sharp blow or two where he intended to break the joist. But at the first stroke the violent jar made the far end of the joist leap and come heavily down upon the gathered-together nest of leaves.

"Wo-ho!" cried the carpenter. "Steady there!"

"Eh, mon! Look at that!" yelled the cook, as there was a scuffling rush, and a thickish snake, about seven feet long, dashed out from its nest and made for the door.

There was a yell of dismay, and the men rushed here and there for the windows, to escape, the boys as eager as their companions.

It was only the carpenter who stood firm, and he made a chop with his axe at the reptile's tail, but only to drive the blade into the dry earth a yard behind.

"After him, Camel!" he roared. "Don't lose him, lad! He'd do to cook like a big eel. Yah, butter-fingers! You let him go! Why didn't you try and catch him by the tail? Here, come back, all of you. Take hold of a joist or two and stir up them nest-like places in the corners. I dare say there's some more. We shall be hungry by and by. Don't let good dinners go begging like that. Here, Mr Burnett, sir, and you, Mr Poole, never you mind them cowardly lubbers; come inside and have a hunt. It'll be a regular bit of sport."

"Thanks, no," said Fitz, who was looking in through one of the windows, Poole following his example at another.

"You had better mind, Chips," said the latter. "I dare say there are several more there, and they may be poisonous."

"So am I, sir," said the carpenter, grinning. "Just you ketch hold of my axe."

"What are you going to do?" said Poole, as he took hold of the handle.

"You stand by a moment, sir," said the carpenter, picking up the joist upon which he had been operating, and holding it as if it were a lance. "I am going to poison them."

As he spoke he drove the end right into a heap of Indian corn-husks that lay in the first corner, the blow being followed by a violent rustling, and another snake made its appearance, not to dash for the door, but turning, wriggling, and lashing about as it fought hard till it wriggled itself free of the little beam which had pinned it into the corner, crushing its vertebra about a third of its length from the head, and ending by tying itself in a knot round the piece of wood and holding on.

"Below there!" shouted the carpenter. "Stand clear!"

He advanced towards Fitz with the joist, and as the boy leaped back he thrust out the piece of wood, resting the middle on the window-sill.

"Here you are, Camel," he cried; "fresh meat, all skewered for you like a bun on a toasting-fork. Look alive, old haggis, and take him off. He's a fine un, Master Poole. I can't abear to see waste."

Fitz and Poole both stepped back, and at that moment with one quick writhe the little serpent seemed to untie itself, dropping to the ground limply, writhed again as if to tie itself into a fresh knot, and then stretched itself out at full length.

"Take care, Mr Burnett, sir," cried the carpenter, hastily taking from Poole and holding out the axe he had been using. "Don't go too near. Them things can be precious vicious. Ketch hold of this and drop it on to him just behind his head."

"No, no, don't, Fitz!" cried Poole. "Look at its little fiery eyes. It may strike."

"Not it," cried Fitz. "Chips has spoiled all his fighting for good;" and taking a step or two forward with the axe he had snatched from the carpenter's hand, he made one quick cut and drove it into the earth, for the blade to be struck at once by the serpent's head, while the ugly coils were instantaneously knotted round the haft.

Fitz involuntarily started back, leaving the axe-handle with its ugly load standing out at an angle, and the two lads stood watching the serpent's head as the jaws parted once or twice and then became motionless, while the folds twisted round the stout ash-handle gradually grew lax and then dropped limply and loosely upon the earth, ending by heaving slightly as a shudder seemed to run from the bleeding neck right to the tail.

"He's as good as dead, gentlemen," said the carpenter. "He won't hunt no more rats under this place. Give me my chopper, please; I am thinking there are a few more here. Let's have 'em out, or they'll be in the way and get their tails trodden on when the fighting begins."

"Yes, let's have them out, Chips," cried Poole; "but be careful. They may be poisonous, and savage with being disturbed."

"Oh yes, I'll be careful enough," cried the carpenter; and raising the joist again he stepped back from the window and drove it into another corner of the room, the boys peering in through the nearest window and eagerly watching for the result.

"Nothing here," cried the carpenter, after giving two heavy thrusts. "Yes, there is. Here's a little baby one. Such a little wriggler! A pretty one too; seems a pity to kill him."

"No, no," cried Fitz, as he watched the active movements of the little snake that suddenly raised itself like a piece of spiral spring, its spade-shaped head playing about menacingly about a foot from the ground.

"Yes, take care," cried Poole. "I believe that's a viper."

"So's this," said the carpenter, letting one end of the joist rest upon the ground and the other fall heavily right across the threatening snake. "Hah! That's a wiper, and I wiped him out."

Next moment he lifted the joist again, and used it pitchfork-fashion to jerk the completely crushed dangerous reptile out of another window, before advancing to the third corner, where a larger heap of Indian corn-husks seemed to have been drawn together.

"Anything there, Chips?" cried Fitz.

"Oh yes, there's a big un here--two on 'em; and they're telling tales of it, too, for they've left 'em hanging outside. Now, whereabouts will their heads be?"

"Take care," cried Poole, "for you may cripple one and leave the other to dart at you."

"Yes, and that wouldn't be nice," said the carpenter thoughtfully. "I don't mind tackling one of them, but two at a time's coming it a bit too strong. 'Tarn't fair like."

"Look here," cried Fitz, "we'll come in, and each have a joist. We should be sure to kill them then."

"I dunno so much about that, gen'lemen. You might help, and you moten't. If they made a rush you might be in my way, and you know, as old Andy says, Too many cooks spoil the snake-soup. Here, I know; I can soon turn them out."

"How?" cried Poole, as the man stood the joist up against the wall.

"I'll soon show you," cried the carpenter, pulling out a match-box.

"You'll burn the place down."

"Nay," cried the man; "them corn-shucks will just flare up with a fizz; I can trample them out before they catch the wood. You two be on the look-out, for there's no knowing which window my gentlemen will make for as soon as they find as it aren't the sun as is warming them up."

He struck a match as he spoke, let the splint get well alight, and then stepping forward softly he stooped down to apply it to the pale, dry, creamy-looking corn-leaves.

"Look out!" cried Fitz excitedly.

"Oh, my fingers are too hard to burn," growled the carpenter, ignoring the notion of the danger being from the serpents; and he applied the burning match to three places, letting the flame drop in the last, before he stepped quickly back, watching the bright crackling flare which rose in each spot where he had applied the match and then began to run together to form one blaze.

"Why, there's nothing there," cried Poole.

"Oh, yes, there is, gen'lemen, and they're beginning to feel it. It's so nice and warm that--Look, they are pulling their tails in under the blanket to get their share. Now they says it's too hot. Look out; here they come."

The warning was not needed, for there was a sharp, fierce hissing heard plainly above the spluttering crackle of the burning husks, the pile was violently agitated, and then the burning heap was heaved up and scattered about in various directions, while, half-hidden by the smoke, it seemed as if a couple of pieces of stout Manilla cable were being furiously shaken upon the earthen floor.

"Murder!" shouted Poole, starting back from the window where he stood, his action being involuntarily imitated by Fitz, who just caught a glance of the snake that had startled his companion passing like a flash over the window-sill, and making at what seemed to be an impossible speed for a clump of bushes close at hand.

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

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

"I got him at last," he said. "He was a lively one. Reg'lar dodger. Come and look here. It's all right; he's done. My! He is a whopper!"

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

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

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

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

"Oh, no, I shan't, sir. Don't you see, I am letting him whack and scatter it all out. There won't be enough to do any mischief now.--Hah! He's quieting down; and he's the last on 'em. If there were any others they are smoked out."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why, we are keeping on eating."

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

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

"Of course you do. That's right enough."

"What's that?" cried Fitz, catching his companion by the arm; for there was a loud slap, as if the water of the river had suddenly received a sharp blow with the blade of an oar.

"I d'know," said Poole. "Boat coming, I think. Did you hear that, father?" And the speaker looked in the direction where the skipper had last been seen.

"Oh yes," was the reply, coming from outside one of the windows of the room they had strengthened with a breastwork.

"It's a boat coming, isn't it, father?"

"No, my lad," said the skipper, in a deep-toned growl. "It's one of the crocodiles or alligators fishing for its supper."

"No, no, Mr Reed," cried Fitz; "we mean that sound like a heavy slap on the water. There it goes again! That!"

"Yes, that's the sound I meant," said the skipper. "Sounds queer, doesn't it, in the darkness? But that's right. It's one of the great alligator fellows thrashing the water to stun the fish. This makes them turn up, and then the great lizardly thing swallows them down."

Fitz uttered a little grunt as if he thought it was very queer, and then went on nibbling his biscuit.

"Poole," he whispered, "what stupids we were not to go and fish before it got dark."

"That's just what I was thinking," was the reply.

"Yes," continued Fitz; "we hadn't as much sense as an alligator. I wish we had a good fish or two here."

"To eat raw?" said Poole scornfully. "Raw? Nonsense! We'd set old Andy to work."

"No, we shouldn't. How could we have a fire here? It would be like setting ourselves up for the enemy to fire at. Why, they could creep in through the jungle till they were fifty or sixty yards away, and take pot-shots at us. But only let us get to-night over, and we will go shooting or fishing as soon as it's day."

"Hark at that," said Fitz, catching him by the arm. "Here they come at last!" And not only the boys, but every one present but the skipper, felt a strange fluttering about the heart, as a curious hollow cry rose from somewhere at the edge of the jungle.

And then from out of the darkness there was a sharp _click, click_! of the lock of a rifle, the force of example bringing out quite a series of the ominous little sounds, which came forth sharp and clear as every one prepared to use his piece.

"Steady there, my lads!" growled the skipper. "You don't think you can shoot that bird?"

"There, laddies; I kenned it was a bird--one of them long-legged, big-beaked chaps that stand out in the water spearing eels. Wish we had got him now."

"Was that a bird, father?" whispered Poole. "Why, you ought to have known it was, my lad. There goes another, and another. If you listen you can hear the cry dying right away in the distance--one of those great cranes."

"Fine bird to keep for singing," said the cook, "only I want everything for the pot or the spit. There he goes again. What a rich voice, laddies! Sounds as if he were fat."

The rifles were uncocked gently and carefully, and all sat listening again, thoroughly on the _qui vive_, for though fully expecting that the first warning of danger would be a shot from one of the sentries, all felt that there was a possibility of the enemy stealing up in the darkness and making a rush which would quite take them by surprise.

It was depressing work to the wakeful, and as the hours stole slowly on first one and then another, tired out with the exertions of the day, let his head sink upon his breast where he crouched and gave audible notice that he had forgotten everything in the way of danger, in sleep.

From time to time the boys kept up a desultory conversation, but at last this ceased, and Fitz suddenly lifted his head with a jerk and began to look wonderingly round at the great stars.

"What's the matter?" said Poole, in a startled way.

"I dunno," replied the middy. "It seemed to me that somebody got hold of me and gave me a jerk."

"That's just how I felt. Look out!"

Fitz did look out as far as the darkness would allow, and his hands began to turn moist against the stock of his gun; but there was nothing to be heard but the heavy breathing of the sleepers, and both lads were beginning to think that the start and jerk were caused by their having been asleep themselves, when there was a familiar voice close at hand.

"Well, lads, how are you getting on?"

"Not very well, father," replied Poole. "Is it all right?"

"Yes, my boy; I have heard nothing but the cries of the night birds, and the creeping of something now and then among the boughs."

"Think the enemy will come to-night, Mr Reed?" said Fitz.

"Can't say, my lad. They may, or they may not. If they knew how easily they could get the better of us they would make a rush. Tut, tut, tut! Kick that fellow, Poole. Can't he sleep without snoring like that? Who is it?"

"I think it's Winks, father."

"Rouse him up, then."

"Eh? Hullo! All right! My watch?"

"No, no," said Poole. "Be quiet; you are snoring away as if you were sawing wood."

"Was I, my lad?" whispered the man. "Well, I believe I dreamed I was at that game. Any fighting coming off?"

"No, not yet."

"All right; then I'll have another nap."

But at that moment from out of the darkness, at apparently the edge of the jungle beyond the hacienda clearing, there was a sudden crashing as of the breaking of wood, followed instantly by an exceedingly shrill and piercing shriek, the rustle and beating of leaves, two or three low piteous sobs, and then silence for a few moments, followed by a soft rustling which died away.

"Steady there!" whispered the skipper, as he heard the click of a lock. "Don't fire, my lad. It would only be wasting a charge."

"But the savage has killed somebody, Mr Reed," whispered Fitz, in a voice he did not know as his own; and he crouched rigidly there with the butt of his piece to his shoulder, aiming in the direction of the sounds, and with every nerve upon the strain.

"Yes," said the skipper coolly; "the savage has killed somebody and has carried him off. There, you can hear the faint rustling still."

"But a savage could not carry a man off like that," said Fitz wonderingly.

"No," replied the skipper, with a low chuckle. "But that savage has gone off with the body he seized. Don't you know what it was, my lad?"

"No," replied Fitz wonderingly.

"Then I'll tell you, as far as I know myself. I should say that was one of those great cats, the tigers, as they call them here, the jaguars. He was prowling along in one of those big trees till he could see a monkey roosting, and then it was a leap like a cat at a rat, and he carried him off."

"Ah!" said Fitz, with a sigh. "I thought it was something worse."

"Couldn't have been any worse for the monkey," said Poole, laughing.

"No," continued Fitz thoughtfully; "but I didn't know there were jaguars here."

"Didn't you, my lad?" said the skipper quietly. "Why, we are just at the edge of the impenetrable jungle. There is only this strip of land between it and the sea, and the only way into it is up that little river. If we were to row up there we should have right and left pretty well every wild creature that inhabits the South American jungles: tigers--you have had a taste of the snakes this afternoon--water-hogs, tapirs, pumas too, I dare say. There goes another of those great alligators slapping the water with his tail."

"Would there be any of the great serpents?" asked Fitz.

"Any number," replied the skipper, "if we could penetrate to where they are; the great tree-living ones, and those water-boas that live among the swamps and pools."

"They grow very big, don't they?" said Fitz, who began to find the conversation interesting.

"All sizes. Big as you or me round the thickest part, and as long as--"

"A hundred feet?" said Poole.

"Well, I don't know about that, my boy," said the skipper. "I shouldn't like to meet one that size. I saw the skin of one that was over thirty, and I have heard tell by people out here that they had seen them five-and-forty and fifty feet long. They may grow to that size in these hot, steamy jungles. There is no reason why they shouldn't, when whales grow to seventy or eighty feet long in the sea; but I believe those monster anacondas of fifty feet long were only skins, and that either they or the stories had been very much stretched."

"What time do you think it is, father?"

"Well, by the feel of the night, my lad, I should say it's about three."

"As late as that, father? Time seems to have gone very quickly."

"Quickly, eh? That's proof positive, my boy, that you have had a nap or two. I have not, and I have found it slow." _

Read next: Chapter 27. A Junction

Read previous: Chapter 25. A Tropic River

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