Part 25 (1/2)

”Lie down, sir, lie down!” shouted Dan, and Briscoe dropped flat upon the deck at once, his rifle clattering against the boards; but before Brace was down, a couple of arrows came _ping, ping_, to stick in the deck, while a third pierced and hung in one of the sails, a fourth dropping with a hiss a little short of the brig and into the water.

”This is nice, Mr Brace,” cried Lynton, laughing. ”It's as the circus clown said, too dangerous to be safe.”

”Yes,” said Dellow, who was crawling towards the starboard bulwark on hands and knees, dragging two rifles after him. ”Come and lay hold of one, Jem. Mind you don't shoot yourself. It's the wooden end of the rifle that you have to put up against your shoulder, and the hole in the iron barrel which you are supposed to point at the enemy.”

”Is it now?” said the second mate sarcastically. ”I'm much obliged and thankye for telling me. You put the bullet in at that end of the gun too, don't you, and push it through with the ramrod like a popgun, eh?”

”Yes, that's right,” said Dellow, chuckling; ”but hit the poor fellows soft the first time so as not to hurt 'em much. If they get saucy afterwards, why then you must hit hard.”

”All right; I'll mind,” said Lynton, looking at Brace and smiling; ”but this ought to be stopped, for the n.i.g.g.e.rs are wonderfully clever at hitting the brig. They shoot right up into the air and guess at their aim, so that the arrows seem to come down out of the sky.”

”Yes,” said Brace, who was now gradually beginning to take an excited interest in the encounter with the natives; ”it's the way they shoot the floating turtles, so that their arrows pierce the sh.e.l.l instead of glancing off.”

”There's another,” said Dellow. ”Well, I wish they'd keep to their turtles. I don't like them practising on me. What's that one like, Mr Brace? Is the point broken?”

”No,” said Brace, who had crept sidewise along the deck so as to reach the last arrow that had come on board, and carefully drawn it out, to sit examining the head.

”Poisoned?” asked the mate.

”I'm afraid so,” replied Brace. ”Look at this stuff lying in the groove,” and he pointed to what appeared to be some kind of gum, adhering to the roughly-made head.

”Ah! looks nasty,” said Briscoe; ”but it isn't obliged to be dangerous to human beings. You see, they use their arrows princ.i.p.ally for small game. I don't believe, mind you, that your brother's going to be much the worse for his trouble.”

”I sincerely hope not,” said Brace, with a sigh.

”So does everybody, sir,” said the mate. ”But come: it's our turn now.

Let's see if we can't stop this game before some of us are hit.”

”Yes,” said Briscoe, who had taken up, examined, and then smelt the arrow-head, ending by moistening a paper which he drew from his pocket and rubbing the arrow-point thereon, with the result that the paper received a brownish smear and the soft iron became clear.

After a few moments he said:

”There is no doubt about the arrows having been dipped in something, and we must not run any more risks.”

Brace experienced a chilly feeling as he thought of his brother, but he made an effort to master the nervous dread by devoting himself to the task they had in hand.

”The arrows seem to come from the foot of that great tree,” he said, pointing to where a giant rose high above the heads of its neighbours and sent forth huge boughs, the lowermost of which swept the surface of the river.

”I fancy they come from some twenty feet up,” said Briscoe thoughtfully.

”You're right, sir,” said his servant. ”Look at that,” and he drew his master's attention to a shaft which just at that moment rose from out of the densest part of the tree, described an arch, and fell upon the deck.

”I can't see him,” cried Lynton, who was crouching in the shelter of the bulwark; ”but I fancy I can make out where he is.”

”Try,” said the mate, and the next minute Lynton fired, his bullet cutting the leaves of the pyramid of verdure, and the report startling a flock of bright green birds, which flew screaming across to the opposite bank of the river.

”A miss,” said the mate. ”Now you try, sir. It's random work though.”

Brace felt a shrinking sensation, but he knew that the time had come for action, and rested his rifle upon the bulwark and sent the bullet hurtling through the densest part of the tree.

”Bravo! Well done!” cried Briscoe.