semicircle, and well spreadout. After the first volley, the blacks threw a few spears wildly intothe darkness, for the terrible conflagration blinded their eyes; but,huddled together as they were, they made an excellent target for theriflemen.
Volley after volley was poured into their midst with terrible effect,increasing their confusion every minute.
"Lay aft here now, lads!" shouted James. "Down with your guns! Chargewith cutlass and revolver. Hurrah!"
High above the demoniacal shrieks of the savages and the roaring of theflames rose that wild British cheer. Next moment the revolvers pouredupon the foe a rain of death.
Again a cheer. Sword and cutlass flashed in the firelight. Right andleft, left and right, the men struck out, and blood flowed like water.
Towering above all was James himself, with flashing eyes and red-stainedblade, his long hair streaming behind in the breeze that fanned theflames.
Short but fearful was that onslaught. In the eyes of theterror-stricken savages every man must have seemed a multitude. And nowonder. It was death or victory for the poor Crusoes; and never beforedid soldier on battlefield, or sailor on slippery battle-deck, fightwith greater fury than they did now.
But, lo! James has seen the king himself, with his golden-headed spear,which he tries in vain to poise, so crushed and crowded is he in themidst of his mob of warriors.
"It is I," shouts James, in the native tongue, "I, whose blood you wouldhave drunk. Drink it now if you dare!"
Nothing can withstand him, and soon he has fought his way towards thechief, and next moment the savage throws up his arms and falls deadwhere he stands.
As if moved now but by a single thought, the enemy, with a howl ofterror, go rushing away and disappear in the darkness. The victors areleft alone with the dead!
But, alas! the victory has cost them more than one precious life.
Here, stark and stiff, lies the brave young fellow Sackbut, who hadfired the bush on the first landing of the savages.
And not far off poor Tom Wilson himself.
At first they can hardly believe that Tom is dead. He is raised partlyon his elbow, and his eyes are fixed on a portrait he has taken from hisbosom. Tandy, who found him, had seen that picture before. It was thatof his wife.
Ah, well, he had sinned, he had suffered, but his sorrows were all pastnow.
Another man is wounded--honest Chips himself.
Is this all? Ah, no, for James himself, as he turns to leave the sceneof carnage, leans suddenly on his sword, his face looks ghastly pale inthe firelight, and Halcott springs forward only in time to prevent himfrom falling.
Book 3--CHAPTER ELEVEN.
DEATH OF JAMES.
The morning of the victory was a sad enough one in the camp of theCrusoes.
The enemy was routed, the king was slain. For a time, at least, therewould be a cessation of strife. For how long no one troubled himself toconsider; sorrow seemed everywhere, on board and in the camp around.
Poor James lay on a mattress on deck. Perhaps he was the only man thatsmiled or seemed happy. _He_ knew, and Halcott knew too, that he couldnot last for many days, so grievously was he wounded.
Halcott, I need not say, was constant in his attendance on him, and sotoo was little Nelda.
The girl would sit for hours beside him, sometimes reading childishstories to him, which she felt certain, in her own mind, would help tomake him better. Or she would gently pat his weather-beaten face,saying, as she did so, "Poor uncle James! poor dear uncle! Never mind!never mind!"
The dead were tenderly wrapped in hammocks which were heavily loaded.Theirs would be a sailor's grave. Halcott himself read the beautifulwords of the English Church service, the few that were now left of thebrave crew of the _Sea Flower_ kneeling bareheaded beside the bodies oftheir late comrades; more than one was weeping.
"We commit their bodies to the deep, And their souls to Him who gave them."
Their shipmates just patted the hammocks, before they let them slide, ina way that was very pathetic; then down, one by one, over the cliff theydropped--
"To lie where pearls lie deep."
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When Halcott returned one day from the cliff-top, some time after thissad funeral, there was a shade of greater uneasiness than usual on hisface.
James was quick to note it.
"They are coming again?" he said quietly.
"You have guessed aright," said Halcott. "And they are using the sametactics--coming up under cover of brushwood. There is no Fitz now tofire the heap, and our strength is terribly reduced."
"Be of good cheer, Halcott--be of good cheer; it is God Himself whogiveth the victory. But death cometh sooner or later to all."
"Amen!" said Halcott; "and oh, James, I for one am almost tired oflife."
"Say not so, brother, say not so, 'tis sinful."
How terrible is war, reader! The accounts that we read of this scourge,in papers or in books, seldom show it up in its true colours. We aretold only of its glory--its tinsel show of glory. But that glory is butthe gilded shell that hides the hideous kernel, consisting of sorrow,misery, murder, and rapine.
I am not poor Tandy's judge, and shall not pretend to say whether theresolve he now made was right or wrong.
Just under the saloon was the magazine, and when the worst should cometo the worst, and the savage foe burst through the outer barrier withyells and howls of victory, his child, he determined, should not be tornfrom his grasp, to suffer cruelty unspeakable at the hands of the foe._He would fire the magazine_!
"My friends," said Halcott, a morning or two after this, as he stoodtalking to his garrison of five, "the enemy is advancing in even greaterforce than on any previous occasion. I have but little more to say toyou. Let us bid each other `good-bye' just before the fight begins, anddie with our swords in our hands--
"`Like true-born British sailors.'"
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The time came at last--and the enemy too.
It was one of the brightest days the Crusoes had ever witnessed on thisIsle of Misfortune. Even from the cliff-top, or over the barricade, thedistant islands could be seen, like emeralds afloat between sea and sky.The volcanic mountain--so clear was the air--appeared almost withingunshot of the camp.
For hours and hours there had not been a sound heard anywhere. Themonster pile of brushwood, behind which those dusky, fiendish warriorshid, had been advanced to within seventy yards of the palisade, but allwas silence there. Even the sea-birds had ceased their screaming. Allnature was ominously hushed; the bare and blackened country around thecamp lay sweltering in the noon-day heat; and the ensign on ObservatoryHill had drooped, till it appeared only as a thin, red line against theupper end of the pole.
No one spoke save in a whisper.
But with a little more excitement than usual, Halcott advanced to theplace where Tandy stood, rifle in hand, his pistols in his belt, waitinglike the others for the inevitable.
Halcott did not even speak. He simply took his friend by the arm andpointed westward.
A cloud lay like a dark pall on the very summit of Fire Hill.
Tandy knew the meaning of it. He only shook his head, however. "Toolate, I fear!" That was all he said. But hardly had the last word beenspoken, before a stranger thing than that cloud on the mountainattracted attention.
A huge, smooth, house-high billow was seen gradually approaching the bayfrom seaward. It gathered strength, and speed too, as it came onwards,and finally it broke on the beach in one long line of curling foam, andwith a sound as loud as distant thunder.
Wave after wave succeeded it, though they were neither so high nor soswift; then silence once more prevailed, and the sea was as quiet andstill as before.
Not for long though.
For a few minutes' time every man's senses seemed to reel, and a giddy,sickly feeling pas
sed through the brain, such as only those who havevisited countries like Japan or South America have ever experienced.
It was the first shock of an earthquake!
Peal after peal of strange subterranean thunder accompanied it, and akind of hot wave spread suddenly over the island, like a breeze blowingover a burning prairie.
The effect of these manifestations on the enemy was marvellous. For afew moments they were dumb and silent with terror; then yells of feararose, and they fled indiscriminately away towards the sea beach,throwing away bows, arrows, and spears, and even their scanty articlesof apparel, in their headlong, hurried flight.
"The fire-fiend! He comes! he comes!"
That was their cry now, and their only cry.
In a marvellously short time they were seen swarming on the beach, andin all haste dragging down and launching their great war-canoes; and inless than twenty minutes' time they were, to the immense relief of thelittle garrison, afloat on the now heaving bosom of the deep.
When