Hunting the Skipper Part 102

Nothing could have been better done, but as Tom May said, they wanted time.

"'Tain't wittles and drink, Mr Murray, sir," he said. "There's been plenty o' that, sir. I think we've all had too much. What we want is, as I says afore, time, sir, for it all to turn into strength."

"Yes, Tom," said the middy bitterly; "we are all completely exhausted-- that is to say, you and all our brave fellows are."

"Well, arn't you too, sir? Seems to me as you're much more zausted than we lads is."

"Oh, don't talk about me, Tom. I'm as weak as a child now."

"Nat'rally, sir. Your muscles is done up, and what you ought to do now is to see if you can't hit on some dodge."

"Tom," cried Murray despairingly, "I've tried to hit on some plan till my brains refuse to act."

"Yes, sir; nat'rally, sir; but can't yer hit on something in the blowing-up-of-the-beggars line?"

"Tom!" cried the lad pa.s.sionately. "How can I scheme an explosion and blow the wretches up without powder?"

"Zackly so, sir; that's what I've been thinking. You can't, can yer?"

"No, Tom."

"Couldn't make a big pot or kettle so hot that when they come along next time it would bust, could you, sir?"

"No, Tom, I certainly could not," said the middy decisively.

"Course not, sir," growled the man, frowning.

"We're beaten, Tom; we're absolutely beaten," said Murray bitterly; "and the next time the wretches come on it will be the last."

"Oh, I dunno, sir. Never say die! Don't you be downhearted, sir.

There's a deal o' fight in us yet, as you'll see nex' time the beggars makes a roosh."

"No, Tom; we're getting weaker and weaker."

"Yah! I wonder at you, sir," said the sailor, moistening his hand, taking a good grip of his cutla.s.s, and then laying it down again.

"We're getting a bit longer rest this time, and jest as like as not, sir, they'll begin to tire soon."

"No, Tom; they fight with a desperate energy which is too much for us."

"Well, they do go it, sir, I must say. You see, it makes a deal o'

differ when a man's got a noose round his neck. They knows that if they don't get the best of us they'll be strung up to the yard-arm, and it sets 'em thinking that they may as well fight it out as that. But there, we're not licked yet, sir, though I must say as it was a nasty knock for us when the first luff went down, knocked silly as he was by that swivel-eyed Molatter chap--'bout as ugly a ruffian as ever I did see. Then, too, it was a bit o' hard luck for us when that darkie chap got rooshed off in the muddle. He would ha' been useful to fetch powder and help load."

"When there was no powder, Tom?" said the lad bitterly.

"Yes, sir; I meant if there had been any, o' course. Poor chap, he couldn't help being a black un, could he, sir? I've thought over and over again that if he could ha' grown white and talked like a Christian, sir, he'd ha' made quite a man."

"Lie still, Tom," cried Murray, laying a hand upon the big sailor's arm.

"Thought they was coming on agen, sir?"

"No, no! I'll rouse you up the moment I hear them advancing. Rest all you can."

"Thankye, sir," said the man drowsily. "But you won't go to sleep, sir?

You must be dead tired yourself, sir, and it's so dark it may tempt yer, sir."

"You may trust me, Tom."

"Course I may, sir. But I think if I was you I'd give the first luff another drink o' water, sir."

"I did a short time ago, Tom."

"And I been thinking, sir, that if you could tie three or four sheets together and slide down 'em you might get hold o' that ladder they put up again' the window to swarm up."

"I did, Tom, when you told me the last time."

"Course you did, sir, and I forgot," said the man drowsily. "But what's that there?"

"What?" asked Murray, as he sat listening in the darkness, with his exhausted comrades lying about beside the barricaded window.

"That there," whispered the man, pointing through the gloom over where a dark line was formed by a piece of furniture.

Murray made a s.n.a.t.c.h at the sailor's cutla.s.s, took a firm grip of the hilt, and then creeping cautiously over two of the rec.u.mbent sailors, made for the opening, now quite satisfied that May's eyes even now had been sharper than his own, and that one of the enemy was stealing up by means of some bamboo pole or ladder, to guide his companions into the bravely defended room.

Murray rose slowly, threw back the heavy sharp blade till the hilt rested against his left ear, and gathering into the effort all his force he was about to deliver his cut upon the unguarded enemy's head, when there was a quick whisper:

"Ma.s.sa Murray no hit. Take hold 'fore Caesar tumble down."

The middy loosened his hold of the cutla.s.s just in time, and catching hold of the black's hand with both his own, dragged him over the barricade right into the room.

"Hullo, darkie," whispered Tom May; "it is you, is it?"

"Yes, Ma.s.sa Big Tom," replied the black feebly, and as if speaking in weakness and in pain.

"Thought you'd come back to your friends again. Didn't bring in any more powder, did you?"

"No, Ma.s.sa Tom," replied the poor fellow faintly. "Caesar nearly get kill. T'ink nebber see poor Ma.s.sa Allen again. Couldn't find um."

"Did you, blackie? Well, we all began to think something of that kind."

"Ma.s.sa Murray Frank and all Bri'sh sailor come 'long o' Caesar. T'ink take um where Ma.s.sa Allen must be."

"No, my man," said the middy sadly. "I can't leave my friends here. We must hold this place to the last."

The black sank back on the littered floor and groaned.

"Poor Ma.s.sa Allen!" he said.

"Lookye here, darkie," said the big sailor; "tain't no use to howl.