Hunting the Skipper Part 107

"Ray--ray--hooray!" came loudly.

"What's that?" cried the lieutenant excitedly. "Quick, lad! My sword.

A fresh attack."

"No, sir," cried Murray, who had run to the window as the cheering was responded to loudly. "It's Mr Munday with over a dozen men coming up at the double. Do you hear, sir?--'_Seafowls_ ahoy!'"

"Ah!" sighed the lieutenant, sinking back upon the now stained pillow which had been taken from one of the planter's beds.

"Mr Murray, that you?" came from the front.

"Yes, sir," cried Murray, who was looking from the window.

"Well, I shouldn't have known you. You're as black as a sweep."

"Yes, sir," said the middy, clapping his hand to his face.

"Seen anything of Mr Anderson?"

"Yes, he's lying up here, wounded."

"What! Not badly?"

"Got a nasty wound, sir, but it will soon be better," replied the middy, glancing back at the half-fainting officer.

"Come up, Munday," cried the latter; and in a few minutes the second lieutenant had forced his way over the barricaded entrance and reached the rooms that now formed the temporary infirmary.

"Very, very glad to have found you at last," said Mr Munday, shaking hands warmly. "My word, sir, you have had a tremendous fight here!"

"You can report to the captain that I have done my best, Munday, and our lads have fought like heroes."

"That's good, sir. I'm sure they have. I wish, though, we had been here."

"And now you will either get us aboard or send for Mr Reston."

"I'm sorry to say that I can't do either," said the second lieutenant.

"What!" cried the chief officer.

"It has been like this; the captain sent me ash.o.r.e with a boat's crew to find you and the rest, and as soon as we were out of sight he was attacked by a couple of schooners."

"How did you know that?" asked Murray, who had laid his hand upon the chief officer's lips to keep him from speaking.

"From the two boat-keepers; and one of these schooners our lads report as being commanded by that scoundrel who tricked us with his lugger. He was the real owner of the schooner that escaped."

"Ah! Go on," said Mr Anderson faintly. "Tell Murray, and let me lie and listen."

"Well, then," continued the officer, "these two schooners attacked the skipper just when he was shorthanded, and before I could get back to my cutter they had been there, driven the two boat-keepers ash.o.r.e, and scuttled her. Of course my two men could do nothing but make for me.

So there I was ash.o.r.e, listening to the firing, while the skipper had to keep on a running fight, and that's been going on ever since, for they've been a bit too many for the _Seafowl_, it seems to me."

"How unfortunate!" said Murray.

"Horribly, sir," said the second lieutenant. "Here have I been hunting you ever since, though I've had a few skirmishes with the scoundrels, who have seemed to swarm."

"Yes," said Murray, nodding his head. "White, black and mongrel sc.u.m of the earth."

"Exactly, my lad. Well, to make a long story short, the place is such a maze that I'm sure I should never have found you if we hadn't seen the flash of this explosion. Of course we heard the roar far enough away, but that would not have guided us without we had seen the direction."

"No, sir, I suppose not. Well, sir, what's to be done now?" said Murray.

"Let's hear what Mr Anderson says."

"Hus.h.!.+ He has fallen asleep," whispered Murray. "Poor fellow! He is very weak."

"And ought to have Reston to him. We're in a nice hole, Murray, upon my word! Have you got a morsel of prog? My lads are starving."

"We've plenty, sir."

"Hah! Then feed us, dear lad, and then we shall be ready to fight or do anything you like. But hullo! What about d.i.c.k Roberts?"

"Wounded, but getting better. He's in the next room, doing nothing but sleep."

"Next room! Upon my word you middies are pretty sybarites! Well, let us have this prog."

"Come down to the dining-room," said Murray. "Mr Anderson cannot do better than sleep."

"Dining-room!" said the second lieutenant in a whisper, as they left the chamber. "What next? You haven't got such a thing as a cellar of wine on the premises, have you, my lad?"

"Yes, sir," said Murray, laughing; "but that's where we have our powder magazine."

"Give us something to eat, then, my dear fellow, and then let's see if we can't use the powder to blow up the two schooners which are pounding the _Seafowl_. Hark! They're at it still."

"No," said Murray, listening; "those must be the _Seafowl's_ guns."

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE.

THE CAPTAIN'S LAST BLOW UP.

Murray proved to be right, for the distant reports which came from somewhere on the far side of the island proved to be the last fired by the man-o'-war, which, shorthanded though she was, and desperately attacked by the powerful well-manned schooners, had kept up a continuous fight, so cleverly carried on that it had at last ended by the running ash.o.r.e of one of the big slaving craft, and the pounding of the other till in desperation the skipper, who proved to be the cunning Yankee hero of the lugger trick,--the twin brother of the scoundrel Huggins who had met his fate in the explosion,--set his swift craft on fire before taking, with the remnants of the crew, to the woods.

It was not until a couple of days later that, after extinguis.h.i.+ng the fire on board the second schooner and setting sail with her for the harbour, Captain Kingsberry commenced firing signal guns to recall his scattered crew, and communication was made by the help of Caesar.

"Yes, Ma.s.sa Murray Frank," he said eagerly; "Caesar soon show um way to where big gun go off."

He, too, it was who gave signals which resulted in the collection of as many of the plantation slaves as were wanted to bear the wounded men in palanquins through the maze-like cane brakes and down to the sh.o.r.e, where a shady hospital was started in which Dr Reston could rule supreme, his patients chuckling to one another as they luxuriated in the plantation coffee, sugar, mola.s.ses, fruit and tobacco, and thoroughly enjoyed themselves--so they said--in the jolliest quarters that had ever fallen to their lot.

Caesar, too, in his actions was certainly one of the greatest of the Caesars, for in spite of a terribly scorched face, and burned and wounded arms and hands, he worked almost without ceasing. Scores of his fellow-slaves flocked to help, and under his guidance the captain and crew of the _Seafowl_ were perfectly astounded by the extent of the plantation buildings, and the arrangements that existed for carrying on the horrible trade and keeping up the supply from the far-off African coast.