The Island of Gold Part 49

It was midnight when the movement on the part of the besiegers began, and the cover was then slowly advanced. A gentle breeze had begun to blow away from the camp, and the night was moonless and dark.

Presently a hand was laid on Halcott's shoulder. He had been lying near the outer stockade quietly talking with James; while Tandy was in the s.h.i.+p's state-room keeping his little girl company. The poor child was sadly uneasy to-night, and the father was trying his best to comfort her.

"What! you here, Lord Fitzmantle?" said Halcott.

"I'se heah, sah."

It was probably well he said so, for excepting his flas.h.i.+ng teeth and rolling eyes, there wasn't much else of him to be seen.

"And you're pretty nearly naked, aren't you?"

"I'se neahly altogedder naked, sah. I'se got noddings much on, sah, but my skin. I go on one 'spedition [expedition] all same's Dabid of old go out to meet de giant Goliah. Dabid hab sling and stone though; Fitz hab no sling, on'y one box ob matches. You open dat gate, sah, and I go crawl, crawl, all same's one snake, and soon makee one big fire to wahm de hides ob dose black n.i.g.g.ahs."

"Brave and generous little fellow!" cried Halcott, shaking the boy's hand. "But I fear to risk your life."

"You no feah foh me, sah, all I do. I jes' done gone do foh de sake ob dat pooh deah chile Babs.

"Good-night, ge'men. You soon see big fire, and you heah de n.i.g.g.ahs fizz. Suppose dey killee me, dey no can kill de soul. Dis chile findee his way to Hebben all the same, plenty quick."

They let the little lad out.

Whether the acute ears of the savages had heard the bolts drawn or not will never be known. Certain it is, however, that Fitz was discovered and wounded. But wounded as he was, he had the determination to light the pile.

The savages threw themselves at it, and tore at the burning branches, but this only helped to scatter the flames about.

Fitz crawled back, just in time to die inside the stockade.

"I go to Hebben now," he said faintly to James, who was kneeling beside him holding his hand. "I'se dun my duty I fink--heah below. I see my pooh old mudder to-night--she--she--"

He said no more, and never spoke again. The n.o.ble little fellow had indeed done his duty, and doubtless would receive his reward.

James Malone was like a wild man now.

"Brother Halcott," he cried, "summon all hands to arras, and let us sally forth and give these fiends a lesson. They have done to death this n.o.ble little fellow. Come, Halcott, come. An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth!"

He waved his sword aloft as he spoke.

So sudden and determined was the sally now made by ten resolute men that, taken thus unexpectedly, the savages became at once unmanned and demoralised.

The men of the _Sea Flower_ advanced in a semicircle, and well spread out. After the first volley, the blacks threw a few spears wildly into the darkness, for the terrible conflagration blinded their eyes; but, huddled together as they were, they made an excellent target for the riflemen.

Volley after volley was poured into their midst with terrible effect, increasing their confusion every minute.

"Lay aft here now, lads!" shouted James. "Down with your guns! Charge with cutla.s.s and revolver. Hurrah!"

High above the demoniacal shrieks of the savages and the roaring of the flames rose that wild British cheer. Next moment the revolvers poured upon the foe a rain of death.

Again a cheer. Sword and cutla.s.s flashed in the firelight. Right and left, left and right, the men struck out, and blood flowed like water.

Towering above all was James himself, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes and red-stained blade, his long hair streaming behind in the breeze that fanned the flames.

Short but fearful was that onslaught. In the eyes of the terror-stricken savages every man must have seemed a mult.i.tude. And no wonder. It was death or victory for the poor Crusoes; and never before did soldier on battlefield, or sailor on slippery battle-deck, fight with greater fury than they did now.

But, lo! James has seen the king himself, with his golden-headed spear, which he tries in vain to poise, so crushed and crowded is he in the midst of his mob of warriors.

"It is I," shouts James, in the native tongue, "I, whose blood you would have drunk. Drink it now if you dare!"

Nothing can withstand him, and soon he has fought his way towards the chief, and next moment the savage throws up his arms and falls dead where he stands.

As if moved now but by a single thought, the enemy, with a howl of terror, go rus.h.i.+ng away and disappear in the darkness. The victors are left alone with the dead!

But, alas! the victory has cost them more than one precious life.

Here, stark and stiff, lies the brave young fellow Sackbut, who had fired the bush on the first landing of the savages.

And not far off poor Tom Wilson himself.

At first they can hardly believe that Tom is dead. He is raised partly on his elbow, and his eyes are fixed on a portrait he has taken from his bosom. Tandy, who found him, had seen that picture before. It was that of his wife.

Ah, well, he had sinned, he had suffered, but his sorrows were all past now.

Another man is wounded--honest Chips himself.

Is this all? Ah, no, for James himself, as he turns to leave the scene of carnage, leans suddenly on his sword, his face looks ghastly pale in the firelight, and Halcott springs forward only in time to prevent him from falling.

Book 3--CHAPTER ELEVEN.

DEATH OF JAMES.

The morning of the victory was a sad enough one in the camp of the Crusoes.

The enemy was routed, the king was slain. For a time, at least, there would be a cessation of strife. For how long no one troubled himself to consider; sorrow seemed everywhere, on board and in the camp around.

Poor James lay on a mattress on deck. Perhaps he was the only man that smiled or seemed happy. _He_ knew, and Halcott knew too, that he could not last for many days, so grievously was he wounded.

Halcott, I need not say, was constant in his attendance on him, and so too was little Nelda.

The girl would sit for hours beside him, sometimes reading childish stories to him, which she felt certain, in her own mind, would help to make him better. Or she would gently pat his weather-beaten face, saying, as she did so, "Poor uncle James! poor dear uncle! Never mind!

never mind!"

The dead were tenderly wrapped in hammocks which were heavily loaded.

Theirs would be a sailor's grave. Halcott himself read the beautiful words of the English Church service, the few that were now left of the brave crew of the _Sea Flower_ kneeling bareheaded beside the bodies of their late comrades; more than one was weeping.

"We commit their bodies to the deep, And their souls to Him who gave them."

Their s.h.i.+pmates just patted the hammocks, before they let them slide, in a way that was very pathetic; then down, one by one, over the cliff they dropped--

"To lie where pearls lie deep."