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Nic Revel; A White Slave's Adventures in Alligator Land, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 11. A Black Night |
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_ CHAPTER ELEVEN. A BLACK NIGHT Nic's cry was answered by a loud cheer from his men, which seemed to paralyse the enemy--some thirty strong, who stood staring, the torch-bearers holding their smoky lights on high--giving the party from the Point plenty of opportunity for picking their men, as they followed their leader's example and leaped into the pool. This caused a rush of the fish towards the lights for the most part, though many made for the gap to follow the stream, shooting against the net, which was held tightly in its place. "There, go home, you set of ugly fools, before you're hurt," cried the deformed man, with a snarl like that of a wild beast. "What! You will have it? Come on, then. Hi, there! hold the links higher, and let us see their thick heads. Give it to 'em hard." Emboldened by old successes, two wings of the gang whipped out their sticks and took a step or two forward, to stand firm on either side of the deformed man, who was a step in front. The next minute the fray had commenced, Nic leading off with a tremendous cut from his left at Humpy Dee's head. For the young man's blood was up; he was the captain of the little party, and he knew that everything depended upon him. If he fought well they would stand by him to a man, as they had shown before. If, on the other hand, he seemed timid and careful, they would show a disposition to act on the defensive. That would not do now, as Nic well knew. His object was to make a brave charge and stagger the enemy, so that they might become the easier victims to panic when they found that they were attacked by a strong party in the rear. _Crack_! went Nic's stout stick, as he struck with all his might; and _crick_, _crick_, _crack_, _crash_! went a score or more, mingled with shouts of defiance. But Nic's cudgel did not give forth its sharp sound from contact with the leader's head, for he had to do with a clever cudgel-player as well as one who had often proved his power as a tricky wrestler in contests with the best men of the neighbouring farthest west county. Nic's blow was cleverly caught on as stout a cudgel, and the next moment his left arm fell numb to his side. He struck savagely now, making up for want of skill by the rain of blows he dealt at his adversary, and thus saved himself from being beaten down into the water at once. But it was all in vain. On the other hand, though his men did better, being more equally matched they did not cause the panic Nic had hoped for, and the enemy kept their ground; while the torches spluttered, blazed, and smoked, and to the spectators the amphitheatre during those few brief moments looked wild and strange as some feverish dream. But, as before said, Nic's brave efforts were all in vain. His muscles were too soft and green, and he was, in addition to being young, no adept in the handling of a stick. He fought bravely, but he had not the strength to keep it up against this short, iron-muscled, skilful foe. He was aware of it only too soon, for his guard was beaten down, and he saw stars and flashes of light as he received a sharp blow from his adversary's stick. Then he felt himself caught by the throat, and by the light of one of the torches he saw the man's cudgel in the act of falling once more for a blow which he could only weakly parry, when another cudgel flashed by, there was a crack just over his head, and Humpy Dee uttered a yell of rage. "You coward!" he roared. "Take that!" and quick as a flash Nic made out that he struck at some one else, and attributed the side-blow in his defence to Solly, who was, he believed, close by. At that moment a loud, imperious voice from somewhere in front and above shouted, so that the rocks echoed: "Hold hard below there!" Nic involuntarily lowered his cudgel and stood panting, giddy, and sick, listening. "Yah! never mind him," roared Humpy. "You, Pete, I'll pay you afterwards." "Now, boys, down with you." "The poachers' companions," cried one of Nic's men, and they stepped forward to the attack again, when a pistol-shot rang out and was multiplied by the rocky sides of the arena, making the combatants pause, so that the voice from above was plainly heard: "Below there, you scoundrels! Surrender in the king's name. You are surrounded." "Brag, my lads!" roared Humpy Dee. "Stand to it, boys, and haul the beggars out." There was a moment's pause, just enough for the next words to be heard: "At 'em, lads! You've got 'em, every man." A roaring cheer followed, and Nic saw the torches through the cloud that seemed to be thickening around them. He could hear shouts, which grew louder and fiercer. There was the rattle of cudgels, savage yells seemed to be bellowed in his ears, and he felt himself thrust and struck and hauled here and there as a desperate fight went on for his possession. Then, close at hand, there was a deafening cheer, a tremendous shock, the rattle of blows, and he was down upon his knees. Lastly, in a faint, dreamy way, he was conscious of the rush of cold water about his face, in his ears the thundering noise of total immersion, with the hot, strangling sense of drowning; and then all was blank darkness, and he knew no more. _ |
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