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Hunting the Skipper Part 17

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"Yes, sir?" he said enquiringly.

"I did not call, Tom."

"No, sir, but I thought you looked as if you was signalling me. Beg pardon, sir; I s'pose you know we're going to burn out this here wasp nest?"

"I expect so, Tom."

"Yes, sir, that's so, and the lads are getting so hot to begin that we all feel warm enough to set fire to the place without matches."

"Well, it is hot, Tom," said Murray, smiling, while the man showed his big white teeth in a broad grin.

"I expeck we shall be 'vided into squads, sir, and there's about half-a-dozen of my messmates will fall nat'ral along o' me. Couldn't manage, I s'pose, sir, to have us under your command, could you?"

"I don't know, Tom," replied the young man. "You'll see that Mr Anderson will settle all that."

"Yes, sir; I know, sir; but I thought p'raps that if you happened to be standing along with us just as if you and us was ready for a start, it might happen as the first luff, sir, would see as it was all sootable like. They're a handy lot, so I promise you, and used to work with me."

"Oh, I know all about that, Tom, and I should be glad to have you."

"Thankye, sir; and you'll try, sir?"

"I will, Tom."

"Thankye again, sir, and I'll tell the lads."

"I make no promise, mind," said the mids.h.i.+pman.

"I know, sir; it's all right, sir. It'll be like this. Mr Munday will take the lead, sir, with one lot; old Dempsey another; you the next, and then Mr Roberts, sir, and the first luff'll be like tip-top of all. I shouldn't wonder a bit, sir, if me and my squad falls to you."

Murray never troubled himself to a.n.a.lyse whether it was accident or management, but somehow or other he found himself, soon after the return of the second cutter, in command of six of the best foremast men of the sloop's crew, headed by Tom May, who bore a lighted s.h.i.+p's lantern, while each man was provided with a bundle of dry, easily-igniting wood.

The men were drawn up and the first lieutenant gave his very brief instructions as to the way in which the fires were to be started, the officers in command being duly urged to exercise all care in making the conflagration thorough, while at the same time guarding against surprise.

"You see, gentlemen," said the lieutenant in conclusion, "we have not had a sight of one of the blacks, but we may be sure that they are in hiding not far away, ready to take advantage of any sign of weakness; and their spears are not very sharp, but are handled well and can be thrown a long way with good aim. In an ordinary way they would not risk our bullets, and certainly would not give our bayonets a chance, but I feel that the sight of their burning village will rouse them up, and hence an attack upon scattered men is very possible. I have _no_ more to say but this; I want the village to be burned to ashes, and every man to get back to the boats unhurt."

The men cheered, and the next minute they had begun to open out till they were in line ready to advance, with the now briskly blowing wind, when a final order was given in the shape of a prolonged whistle from the boatswain, which was followed by the starting forward of the extended firing party with their freshly ignited torches blazing high.

"Bravo!" cried Murray excitedly, as he stood with Tom May behind ten of the bee-hive shaped palm-walled and thatched huts, which were so close together that five of his men were easily able to fire to right and left, Tom and another man musket-armed ready to cover them, and their young leader standing sword in one hand, the lantern in the other, well on the watch, and at the same time ready to supply fresh ignition to any of the rough torches which should become extinct.

"Bravo!" shouted Murray, for at the first start of his little party the torches were applied to the dry inflammable palm fabrics, and the flames sprang into fiery life at once. "Good, my lads--good! That's right,"

he cried. "Right down at the bottom. Couldn't be better."

For at the first application there was a hiss, then a fierce crackling sound, and the fire literally ran up from base to crown of the rounded edifice, which was soon roaring like a furnace.

"Hooray, boys!" cried Tom May. "Don't stop to save any of the best chayney or the n.i.g.g.e.rs' silver spoons and forks. They belong to such a bad lot that we won't loot anything to save for prizes. And I say, that's it, going fine. Never mind getting a bit black with the smoke.

It'll all wash off, and that's what these brutes of n.i.g.g.e.rs can't do."

The men shouted in reply and roared with laughter at their messmates'

sallies, as they hurried from hut to hut, every one blazing up as rapidly as if it had been sprinkled with resin.

Murray's idea was that they would be able to keep on steadily in a well-ordered line, firing hut after hut as they went; but in a very few minutes, in spite of discipline, he soon found that it would be impossible to follow out his instructions. Once the fire was started it roared up and leaped to the next hut or to those beyond it. The heat became insufferable, the smoke blinding, so that the men were confused and kept on starting back, coughing, sneezing, and now and then one was glad to stand stamping and rubbing his hair, singed and scorched by the darting tongues of flame.

"Hold together, my lads; hold together!" shouted Murray. "We must look to ourselves; the others will do the same; but keep on shouting so as to be in touch."

"Ay, ay, sir!" cried Tom May. "You hear, my lads?"

Half-heard shouts came back out of the smoke, but it soon became impossible to communicate with the men with anything like regularity, for the roar and crackle of the flames grew deafening, many of the bamboo posts exploding like muskets, and before long Murray had hard work to satisfy himself that the men were not using their pieces.

"That you, Tom May?" he cried, at last, as he became aware of a dimly seen figure emerging from the smoke.

"Not quite sure, sir," was the reply, "but I think it's me."

"Where are the lads?"

"Oh, they're here, sir, somewheres, only you can't see 'em. I've just been counting of 'em over, sir, by touching 'em one at a time and telling 'em to shout who it was."

"They're all safe, then?"

"Hope so, sir; but I wouldn't try to go no furder, sir. Now the fire's started it's a-going on like furnaces, sir, and it's every man for himself. We can't do no more. Can't you feel how the wind's got up?"

"Yes, Tom; it comes rus.h.i.+ng from seaward and whistles quite cold against the back of my head, while in front the glow is quite painful."

"Yes, sir, and it's growing worse and worse."

"It's my belief, Tom, that this wind will fan the flames till the forest will take fire before long as well as the huts."

"'Fore long, sir?" said the man, in the intervals of coughing and choking. "Why, it's been on fire ever so long, and roaring away right up to the tops of the trees. We shall be hearing some of them come toppling down before long."

"I wish this smoke would blow over, for I can't make out where we are."

"No, sir, nor n.o.body else neither. Oh! Here's one of us, if it ain't a n.i.g.g.e.r. Here, who are you?"

"I'm Jenks, messmet, I think," came hoa.r.s.ely. "But I say, where's the orficer?"

"I'm here, Jenks," cried Murray. "What is it?"

"On'y this, sir; I just wanted to know whether fresh clothes'll be sarved out after this here job, for I'm sure as I shan't be decent."

"What, have you got your s.h.i.+rt burned, my lad?"

"'Tarn't on'y my s.h.i.+rt, sir; I'm 'most all tinder, and I had to back out or I should soon ha' been cooked."

"Keep back, my lads!" cried Murray now, and by degrees he managed to get his little party all together in what seemed to be an open s.p.a.ce where all was smoke and smouldering ashes, where the men stood coughing, while the heat was terrific.

"Stand still, my lad; stand still!" cried Murray.

"Can't, sir," growled the dim figure addressed; "it smarts so."

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Hunting the Skipper Part 17 summary

You're reading Hunting the Skipper. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): George Manville Fenn. Already has 670 views.

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