Hunting the Skipper Part 83

There were moments when, as he saw the great negro struggle and free himself partially from the serpent's folds, he foresaw the reptile's end in the glowing fire, which would become man's colleague as well as servant, and he could almost see the monster writhing and curling up in the roaring flames to which it was apparently adding fresh fury.

But the next moment there was another phase of horror, for one fold of the many convolutions seemed to be tightened about the man's arm, and he was evidently about to be dragged into the fire too, and, as he had before imagined, it was to be death for both.

But no; the serpent s.n.a.t.c.hed itself away from the impending danger and tightened itself about the man, who was the next instant bound by the great living thong about and about his heaving body, and the struggle was resumed upon equal terms.

Was it never going to finish?

The end was at hand in a way that the watcher had never for a moment antic.i.p.ated, for all at once, when the silence, save for the humming noise of the fire, was at its greatest depth, there arose the sudden hollow trumpet-like blast of a great conch sh.e.l.l, followed by a savage fiendish yell, and for one brief moment Murray saw the huge black, golden red in the fire's glow, standing wiping, as it were so to speak, the folds of the great serpent from off his arms, then from his neck, and again from his breast, about which it heaved and twined, before it was gone, as it were, twisted up by the great knotted arms of the huge negro, and thrown into the long coffin-shaped chest, whose lid was slammed down with a noise like the report of a gun; and this was followed by a noise as of a great wind pa.s.sing over the amphitheatre, and Murray looked to see the fire swept away and growing extinct before the force of what sounded like a storm.

But the fire blazed still, and dominating the rushing wind a voice arose from close at hand with the familiar cry of--

"_Seafowls_ ahoy!"

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

A NIGHT IN THE WOODS.

The summons given in hearty English was responded to by a ragged volley of so many muskets, whose flashes came faintly from the edge of the amphitheatre, and wondering what it meant, Murray, as he looked round, was just in time to see the big black giant of a negro spring high in the air, come down with a crash upon the coffin-shaped chest, roll over, and writhe for a few moments before lying perfectly still.

As the big negro was seen to fall, the crowd of blacks who were hurrying here and there as if in dismay, uttered a series of shrieks and yells, and began to run in confusion towards the end of the woody amphitheatre farthest from the fire, but only to encounter another ragged volley of musketry which checked them and drove them back, leaving several of their number to fall struggling upon the ground, while Murray saw two more totter and go down as they ran shrieking, half mad with fear, towards another portion of the lit-up ring of light, for they avoided the little party of armed seamen as if they took them for one of the causes of the sudden attack.

"Stand fast, my lads," cried the lieutenant. "Now then, forward!"

He placed himself at the head of his men, who followed him with their muskets shouldered, but at the end of a few yards their commander called--

"Halt--I'm not at all sure of our way, gentlemen," he said, addressing the two midshipmen, "but I think we ought to take that end--yonder where the blacks are collecting."

"No, sir, I don't think that's right," cried Murray. "You see, every part of the circus-like place looks like the rest."

"Yes, I see that, Murray, but surely there is the path yonder by which we came."

But as he spoke, half-a-dozen more musket flashes came from the very spot to which he had pointed, and what might be called a wave of black figures came, dotting the earth with as many white cotton-clad wounded or dead unfortunates as shots had been fired.

"Bah! I'm wrong," cried the lieutenant angrily. "This looks like a planned ma.s.sacre of the poor creatures gathered at this meeting. If we could only find our guide we might have a chance to get out of the horrible confusion. Here, let's try this way."

"Yes, sir; that is the way, I am sure, for it is just opposite to that chest out of which that poor fellow took the snake."

"You are right, sir," cried the lieutenant; "and we must retreat in that direction, for it is of no use to try and make a stand against a hidden enemy."

"Why don't those poor wretches show fight, sir?" cried Murray excitedly, as the little party began their march.

"Because they have no one to lead them, my lad."

"Can't we, sir?"

"We could if they knew us, Murray; but we are strangers, and it would be madness to try and head such a confused mob."

"I suppose so, sir," said Murray sadly, as he marched on beside his commander, who now gave an order to the men he led, which was heard plainly above the shouting and yelling of the blacks, who in their fear and confusion had cast away the heavy machetes with which they had armed themselves.

"Make ready, my lads, in case the enemy has taken possession of our line of retreat."

But all seemed perfectly still amongst the trees they approached, and their lit-up trunks and boughs offered shelter as well as a way of retreat, when at one and the same moment, just as Mr Anderson called out, "Forward, my lads! That is the right path," Tom May shouted from the rear--

"Here's that there Caesar, sir, coming after us full pelt."

"Yes," cried Roberts, "and he's bringing all the blacks with him to this end."

Then it was that a fresh burst of flashes came from the now plainly seen opening for which the _Seafowls_ made, checking their advance and laying two of them low.

"Retreat!" shouted a voice which sounded father strange, and it was followed by a fierce roar from the lieutenant bidding the men reply.

In an instant a good steady volley was fired at the spots from which the last shots had come, and then obeying the order that followed, the whole party, cutla.s.s in hand, with Tom May roaring "Go on, my lads--forrard!"

charged into the heavily-beaten forest path, trampling over three fallen blacks who lay struggling, faintly seen, upon the earth.

"Why, we're firing upon the wrong men," cried Mr Anderson.

"No, ma.s.sa," said a familiar voice, hoa.r.s.e with shouting. "All Ma.s.sa Huggin men. Our boys no got gun."

"Then we're all right?"

"Yes, ma.s.sa."

"And who are these coming on here?"

"All pore boy run away. Ma.s.sa Huggin men come out of trees long behind, ma.s.sa listen."

There was occasion to hearken, for above the murmurs, wails and shouts of the blacks who were flying from pursuit came the scattered firing of those who had been busy in the ma.s.sacre that had been taking place.

"Guide us back along the path to Mr Allen's house," cried the lieutenant.

"No, ma.s.sa; boy here do that. Caesar must stop fight."

"Good! Brave fellow!" cried the lieutenant. "Here, I'll give those who fired upon us a few shots first to clear the way."

"No, ma.s.sa; all gone," cried the black; "all run away. Ma.s.sa let poor black boy come 'long here. Make sailor man shoot Ma.s.sa Huggin slave-catch-man. Hark! Um come 'long fast. Shoot, shoot!"

"Do you understand what he means, Mr Murray?" said the lieutenant, rather breathlessly.

"Yes, sir. He means let the poor wretches go by us and we hold the path till the enemy comes up, and give them a volley or two to check the advance."

"Very good tactics if you are right," said the lieutenant. "At any rate we'll try it. But what does this mean?"

The light from the fire barely penetrated to where they stood, but there was enough to show that Caesar was in a confused fashion sorting the flying blacks into two parties,--those who were unarmed he hurried down the path in the way of retreat, while those who had maintained enough courage to keep their machetes, he ranged upon either side of the path, while, to Murray's wonder and surprise, for they had been forgotten for the moment, four of the blacks came forward supporting two of the wounded man-o'-war's men.

"Oh, my poor lads!" cried the lieutenant eagerly.

"You, Mr Roberts, and you, Seddon. Are you badly hurt?"