Hunting the Skipper Part 84

"No, sir," cried the middy cheerily. "Only two _Seafowls_ winged, sir!"

"Nay, sir, not me!" growled the seaman belonging to the second cutter.

"I arn't winged, sir; I'm hind-legged, and I should have had to hop if it warn't for these n.i.g.g.e.rs here."

"Mr Murray, I can't spare you. Tom May, you take Mr Murray's place and help me cover the retreat with all the men. Mr Murray, do the best you can with the wounded, and then join us here."

"No, no, sir," cried Roberts. "I've got a handkerchief round my arm, sir; Seddon tied it, and he's done his own leg up himself."

"Bravo!" cried the lieutenant. "Keep together, my lads. Here, you Caesar, can't you make some of your fellows fight?"

"Caesar try, ma.s.sa; try berry hard. Much frighten of Ma.s.sa Huggin."

"Tell them to fight for their lives if they won't for their liberty."

"Yes, sah. Caesar try all he can;" and the black made a rush at one of his retreating companions whom he saw in the act of throwing away his rough cutla.s.s; and catching him by the shoulder he gave him a heavy cuff on the ear and then forced him to pick up the weapon he had discarded and join a few compatriots who were making something of a stand.

"There's no trusting them, sir," said Murray, who was breathing hard with excitement.

"And no wonder, Murray; all the courage has been crushed out of them, poor wretches."

As Mr Anderson spoke there was a burst of startled yells and cries, following directly upon the reports of several muskets, and what seemed to be quite a crowd of the retreating blacks came rushing along the path right upon where the _Seafowl's_ men were making a stand.

"Here, where are you coming to?" roared Tom May, in his deep-toned voice. "Keep back, or go round, or crawl, or do something, or we'll give _you_ a blessed good dose of b.u.t.t-ending.--Who's to fire, do you think," continued the big sailor, "with you all coming in the way?"

At that moment Caesar made a rush in amongst the shivering retreating party, striking to right and left with the flat of his machete.

"Here, what are you up to, darkie?" cried the big sailor. "Them's friends."

"Yes, sah," panted the black. "Caesar know. Make 'em fight."

"Oh, that's it, is it?" growled May, "but I don't see as you will do any good. They won't fight, and I don't know as I want 'em to; but they might let us."

"Do what you can to clear the way, man."

There was the sound of more trampling feet, a burst of yells, more firing, and Tom May shouted in protest--

"Beg pardon, sir; what are we to do? Some more of our fellows will be down directly, and we can't fire a shot for fear of hitting our friends.

I never see such friends," he growled; "they're worse than enemies."

"Look out, my lads," shouted Murray excitedly. "Fire! Here they come!

No, no--over their heads," he cried. "These are more friends."

In his excitement the middy struck up a couple of presented muskets with the cutla.s.s he handled, his example being followed by the lieutenant, doubtless the saving of Caesar's life, for the brave black had dashed in amongst his companions, thrusting them to the right and left in amongst the trees, just as several of the sailors fired, fully half of them firing in the air.

Fortunately the reports were as effective as a volley would have been aimed right into the advancing enemy, who pulled up short and then began to retire, giving the poor flying wretches an opportunity to recover themselves a little, and realise that there was some shelter to be obtained behind the st.u.r.dy English sailors, who stood firm, while Caesar worked hard at forming them up where they stood, and with such good effect that about forty of them grasped their rough cutla.s.ses more firmly and showed some signs of using them against their foes now that these latter had ceased to advance.

"Well done, my lad," cried the lieutenant; "if you can find a couple of score like yourself we'll send these black fiends and their white leaders to the right-about."

"Steady there!" cried Murray, the next minute, for the effect of the volley had died out, and the enemy advanced again, shouting, and fired once more.

"Fire!" cried the lieutenant, for there was no sign of the retreating blacks in front, and the levelled muskets of the sailors poured out a well-levelled volley, which was received by the slavers with a yell of surprise and the rush of feet in full retreat; and then once more there was silence.

"That has done its work, my lads," cried the lieutenant, as the men reloaded rapidly, the sound of the thudding ramrods as they were driven down raising a low murmur of excitement through the black fugitives, among whom, as far as could be made out in the darkness, Caesar was busy at work, talking loudly, and ending after dragging and thrusting his compatriots, by getting them well together and then making his way to where the lieutenant and Murray stood some little distance in advance, listening and trying to make out when the planter's men were coming on again.

"Boys say won't run away any more, ma.s.sa," whispered the black breathlessly.

"Glad to hear it, my friend," said the officer bitterly.

"Yes, ma.s.sa; so Caesar. Not frighten now. Ready 'tan' fast. Ready kill Ma.s.sa Huggin sailor fellow."

"But I can't trust them, Caesar; can _you_?"

The black was silent for a few moments, and then he said sadly--

"Caesar do um bes', ma.s.sa."

"So you have, my lad. But the next time the enemy come on your men shall try what they can do."

"Here they come again, sir," whispered Murray.

"Keep silence then," said the lieutenant. "May, all of you wait and let them come on till you hear their leaders' orders to fire, and let them have it first."

Then turning to the black, the speaker bade him head his men, who now began to be pretty steady, and lead them along the path in the direction of the planter's cottage.

"No, no, ma.s.sa. Caesar make boys fight now."

"You do as I tell you, sir," replied the lieutenant sternly. "Go on back, collecting as many more of your men as you can, and my lads shall cover the retreat and check the slaves."

"Ma.s.sa want Caesar do this?" said the black sadly.

"Yes, and I want you to obey my orders."

"Yes, ma.s.sa," said the black, with a sigh, "only Caesar feel like fight and die for ma.s.sa now."

_Crash_!

There was the sound of a volley, so many muskets going off together like one, while as the sound began to die away, it was mingled with loud yells and curses, and emphasised as it were by the rattling of the ramrods in the barrels of the muskets.

"I think that's checked them, sir," said Murray; but almost as he spoke there came three shots from some of the boldest of the enemy who had stopped short to snap off their vengeful retreating replies to the sailors' volley.

"Waste of powder," growled Tom May. "Hear 'em running through the trees, Mr Murray, sir?"

"Yes, and I should like to give them another volley."

"So should I, sir," panted the big sailor, as he drove down his ramrod till it nearly hopped out of the musket-barrel again; "but we can't afford it."

"Any one hurt there, May?" cried the lieutenant.