Part 48 (1/2)

Shall I cover them, skipper, and let the n.i.g.g.e.rs have a sprinkling of buckshot to show them we are ready?”

”Yes,” said the captain; ”and you two gentlemen had better help. That's the first thing--to get them aboard safe.”

Pieces were c.o.c.ked, and their holders sat in the boats watching the flight and pursuit, Brace's heart beating violently. He glanced up and down at the novel sight of canoes where all heretofore had been so deserted, and saw at once that there was nothing to fear in their direction for the next half-hour, while in another minute or two he could plainly see that a serious engagement would have commenced with the natives on sh.o.r.e, and the sensation this caused was both novel and strange to him.

”The idiots!” he said, in a low voice; ”why couldn't they keep to their duties instead of breaking away like this?”

”Because they're just ordinary men,” said Briscoe, who was by his side.

”They're going to pay pretty dear for their game, though.”

”Don't you think that they will be able to get here safely?”

”That's just what I am afraid about. The n.i.g.g.e.rs are better runners than they are, and more at home on the ground, and they could catch up to them at once, only they like to tackle their enemies at a distance.

Look!”

”Yes, I see,” said Brace, whose breath came and went as if he had been running hard, and his eyes dilated when he saw that, as the men tore off through the various obstacles of rock, bush, and tree, the Indians suddenly began to slacken their pace and prepare their bows.

”Ah, we must put a stop to that, gentlemen,” cried the captain. ”Give them something to put an end to those games.”

A low murmur of acquiescence arose, and guns were levelled, but no shot rang out.

”Can't fire yet, skipper,” growled Briscoe. ”I could pick off a man or two with a rifle easily, but I'm not loaded with ball, and these buckshot scatter so. I don't want to hurt any of our own chaps if I can help it.”

”And they're too far off from us as yet,” said Brace excitedly.

”Well, they'll soon shorten the distance,” growled the captain; and then he clapped his hand to the side of his mouth and yelled to his mutineers: ”Now, run, you lubbers! Don't go to sleep. Run as if you meant it.”

_Taang_!

”Bah! he's got it,” cried the captain.

There was the dull half-musical sound of a bowstring, and to Brace's horror one of their flying men made a spasmodic jump into the air and came down upon hands and knees, his nearest messmates pa.s.sing on some twenty yards before they could check their speed; and then, in the midst of the thrill of excitement which ran through the occupants of the boats, the retreating party paused, and dashed back to help their fallen mate.

An involuntary cheer of encouragement rang out from those in the boats.

”Good boys--good boys!” yelled the captain. ”That's true British, Briscoe. There, I forgive 'em all for that. Oh, if they only had something in their fists they'd drive the beggars back to the woods.

Pick him up, boys, a leg or a wing apiece, and run again. Oh, Lor' a'

mercy, gentlemen, can't one of you shoot?”

For in those exciting moments the Indians, who had come bounding forward with a triumphant yell on seeing the white man fall, hesitated and stopped in fear and surprise when they saw that their flying enemies had halted and dashed back to rescue their messmate.

This, however, was only a momentary pause, for, recovering themselves, they yelled again and rushed forward.

It was the opportunity wanted, and almost together three guns flashed out their contents, sending a little storm of buckshot amongst the runners, who turned on the instant and began to retreat towards the woods.

”Missed!” cried the captain.

”Hit!” cried Briscoe.

”No: there's not a man gone down,” cried the captain.