Читать книгу Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the «Seafowl» Sloop - Fenn George Manville - Страница 9

“Now, Mr Murray,” said the lieutenant, “I don’t want to expose the lads to more of this unwholesome place than I can help, so you must use your brains as soon as we get word from the captain, and see that they start the fire where it will have the best effect. This abomination must disappear from the face of the earth, so where you begin to burn, start your fire well. You understand?”

“Yes, sir,” said Murray, drawing a deep breath as he glanced at the doctor and found that he was watching him.

“I can’t help it,” he said to himself, as he stood alone in the shade watching the departing boat making for the sloop, “and I don’t know that I want to help it. It does seem a horrible thing to do, but they’re right, and it’s one’s duty. Wish I’d been handy, though, when the first luff wanted to send his message to the captain. Dick Roberts does somehow seem to get all the luck.”

It was just a dash of envy; but the feeling did not last, for his common sense began to make itself felt directly after, as he withdrew his gaze from the boat to watch the group of sturdy-looking men sharing his shelter, and all excited and eager as they discussed the events of the morning and the task they evidently knew that they had to do.

“Yes, it’s all envy, and envy is a poor, small, contemptible thing to encourage. I wish I had none. How stupid of me! One never knows. It would have been nice enough to sit back holding the lines and steering while the lads pulled, but only a lazy sort of a task, and here I am put in command of half-a-dozen or so of these stout lads to carry out the captain’s orders and see that they do the work well.”

Perhaps the fact of his thinking about the men and the work in prospect made him fix his eyes upon Tom May and think that he would like to have him in his party; perhaps not, but all the same the man turned his head just then and met his eyes, gave his waistband a hitch in front and rear, and then crossed a patch of sunshine and joined him in the shade.

“Yes, sir?” he said enquiringly.

“I did not call, Tom.”

“No, sir, but I thought you looked as if you was signalling me. Beg pardon, sir; I s’pose you know we’re going to burn out this here wasp nest?”

“I expect so, Tom.”

“Yes, sir, that’s so, and the lads are getting so hot to begin that we all feel warm enough to set fire to the place without matches.”

“Well, it is hot, Tom,” said Murray, smiling, while the man showed his big white teeth in a broad grin.

“I expeck we shall be ’vided into squads, sir, and there’s about half-a-dozen of my messmates will fall nat’ral along o’ me. Couldn’t manage, I s’pose, sir, to have us under your command, could you?”

“I don’t know, Tom,” replied the young man. “You’ll see that Mr Anderson will settle all that.”

“Yes, sir; I know, sir; but I thought p’raps that if you happened to be standing along with us just as if you and us was ready for a start, it might happen as the first luff, sir, would see as it was all sootable like. They’re a handy lot, so I promise you, and used to work with me.”

“Oh, I know all about that, Tom, and I should be glad to have you.”

“Thankye, sir; and you’ll try, sir?”

“I will, Tom.”

“Thankye again, sir, and I’ll tell the lads.”

“I make no promise, mind,” said the midshipman.

“I know, sir; it’s all right, sir. It’ll be like this. Mr Munday will take the lead, sir, with one lot; old Dempsey another; you the next, and then Mr Roberts, sir, and the first luff’ll be like tip-top of all. I shouldn’t wonder a bit, sir, if me and my squad falls to you.”

Murray never troubled himself to analyse whether it was accident or management, but somehow or other he found himself, soon after the return of the second cutter, in command of six of the best foremast men of the sloop’s crew, headed by Tom May, who bore a lighted ship’s lantern, while each man was provided with a bundle of dry, easily-igniting wood.

The men were drawn up and the first lieutenant gave his very brief instructions as to the way in which the fires were to be started, the officers in command being duly urged to exercise all care in making the conflagration thorough, while at the same time guarding against surprise.

“You see, gentlemen,” said the lieutenant in conclusion, “we have not had a sight of one of the blacks, but we may be sure that they are in hiding not far away, ready to take advantage of any sign of weakness; and their spears are not very sharp, but are handled well and can be thrown a long way with good aim. In an ordinary way they would not risk our bullets, and certainly would not give our bayonets a chance, but I feel that the sight of their burning village will rouse them up, and hence an attack upon scattered men is very possible. I have no more to say but this; I want the village to be burned to ashes, and every man to get back to the boats unhurt.”

The men cheered, and the next minute they had begun to open out till they were in line ready to advance, with the now briskly blowing wind, when a final order was given in the shape of a prolonged whistle from the boatswain, which was followed by the starting forward of the extended firing party with their freshly ignited torches blazing high.

“Bravo!” cried Murray excitedly, as he stood with Tom May behind ten of the bee-hive shaped palm-walled and thatched huts, which were so close together that five of his men were easily able to fire to right and left, Tom and another man musket-armed ready to cover them, and their young leader standing sword in one hand, the lantern in the other, well on the watch, and at the same time ready to supply fresh ignition to any of the rough torches which should become extinct.

“Bravo!” shouted Murray, for at the first start of his little party the torches were applied to the dry inflammable palm fabrics, and the flames sprang into fiery life at once. “Good, my lads – good! That’s right,” he cried. “Right down at the bottom. Couldn’t be better.”

For at the first application there was a hiss, then a fierce crackling sound, and the fire literally ran up from base to crown of the rounded edifice, which was soon roaring like a furnace.

“Hooray, boys!” cried Tom May. “Don’t stop to save any of the best chayney or the niggers’ silver spoons and forks. They belong to such a bad lot that we won’t loot anything to save for prizes. And I say, that’s it, going fine. Never mind getting a bit black with the smoke. It’ll all wash off, and that’s what these brutes of niggers can’t do.”

The men shouted in reply and roared with laughter at their messmates’ sallies, as they hurried from hut to hut, every one blazing up as rapidly as if it had been sprinkled with resin.

Murray’s idea was that they would be able to keep on steadily in a well-ordered line, firing hut after hut as they went; but in a very few minutes, in spite of discipline, he soon found that it would be impossible to follow out his instructions. Once the fire was started it roared up and leaped to the next hut or to those beyond it. The heat became insufferable, the smoke blinding, so that the men were confused and kept on starting back, coughing, sneezing, and now and then one was glad to stand stamping and rubbing his hair, singed and scorched by the darting tongues of flame.

“Hold together, my lads; hold together!” shouted Murray. “We must look to ourselves; the others will do the same; but keep on shouting so as to be in touch.”

“Ay, ay, sir!” cried Tom May. “You hear, my lads?”

Half-heard shouts came back out of the smoke, but it soon became impossible to communicate with the men with anything like regularity, for the roar and crackle of the flames grew deafening, many of the bamboo posts exploding like muskets, and before long Murray had hard work to satisfy himself that the men were not using their pieces.

“That you, Tom May?” he cried, at last, as he became aware of a dimly seen figure emerging from the smoke.

“Not quite sure, sir,” was the reply, “but I think it’s me.”

“Where are the lads?”

“Oh, they’re here, sir, somewheres, only you can’t see ’em. I’ve just been counting of ’em over, sir, by touching ’em one at a time and telling ’em to shout who it was.”

“They’re all safe, then?”

“Hope so, sir; but I wouldn’t try to go no furder, sir. Now the fire’s started it’s a-going on like furnaces, sir, and it’s every man for himself. We can’t do no more. Can’t you feel how the wind’s got up?”

“Yes, Tom; it comes rushing from seaward and whistles quite cold against the back of my head, while in front the glow is quite painful.”

“Yes, sir, and it’s growing worse and worse.”

“It’s my belief, Tom, that this wind will fan the flames till the forest will take fire before long as well as the huts.”

“’Fore long, sir?” said the man, in the intervals of coughing and choking. “Why, it’s been on fire ever so long, and roaring away right up to the tops of the trees. We shall be hearing some of them come toppling down before long.”

“I wish this smoke would blow over, for I can’t make out where we are.”

“No, sir, nor nobody else neither. Oh! Here’s one of us, if it ain’t a nigger. Here, who are you?”

“I’m Jenks, messmet, I think,” came hoarsely. “But I say, where’s the orficer?”

“I’m here, Jenks,” cried Murray. “What is it?”

“On’y this, sir; I just wanted to know whether fresh clothes’ll be sarved out after this here job, for I’m sure as I shan’t be decent.”

“What, have you got your shirt burned, my lad?”

“’Tarn’t on’y my shirt, sir; I’m ’most all tinder, and I had to back out or I should soon ha’ been cooked.”

“Keep back, my lads!” cried Murray now, and by degrees he managed to get his little party all together in what seemed to be an open space where all was smoke and smouldering ashes, where the men stood coughing, while the heat was terrific.

“Stand still, my lad; stand still!” cried Murray.

“Can’t, sir,” growled the dim figure addressed; “it smarts so.”

“Tut, tut, tut, tut!” ejaculated Murray. “Can you make out which way the sea lies, May?”

“No, sir; I’ve been a-trying to.”

“We can’t stay here, my lads, and we must make for the shore. It would be madness to go on now.”

“That’s a true word, sir,” growled Tom May.

“I want to know where our chaps are, but I can’t hear nothing but the fire going it. Seems to me as if we’ve set all Africa afire, and it’s going on a mile a minute.”

“Who knows where the slave barrack lies?” cried Murray. “It seems horrible, but we must make sure that the fire has caught there.”

“Seems to me, sir,” said one of the men, “that we’re a-standing in the middle of it here.”

“I know it ketched fire, sir,” said May.

“How can you be sure, man?” said Murray angrily, for he was smarting with pain, and forced to close the lids over his stinging eyes.

“Set it afire myself, sir, and the flames run up the bamboo postesses which set ’em snapping and crackling and going on popping and banging just as if the marine jollies was practising with blank cartridge on an exercise day.”

“But are you sure, Tom?”

“Sure as sure, sir. Mr Anderson never thought it would go like this here. He’d got a kind of idee that we should be able to light all the niggers’ huts one at a time, ’stead of which as soon as we started a few on ’em they set all the rest off, and the job was done.”

“Done, my man!” said Murray. “Why, hark at the roar right away yonder.”

“Oh, yes, sir,” grumbled the man; “I’m a-harking fast enough. There she goes, and as somebody said, I dunno now whether it was me or one of my messmates, we seem to ha’ set all Africa going, and it won’t stop till there’s no more wood to burn.”

“Well,” said Murray decisively, “one thing’s very plain: we can do no more, and we must make for the river.”

“But what about orders, sir?” said the man. “We was to do it thorough, and see as the whole blessed place was a-blazing.”

“Well, it is, my man,” said Murray. “The first lieutenant didn’t mean me to get my men burned as well.”

“Skeercely, sir,” said one of the men. “I don’t know how my messmates are, but I feel as if I was a bacon pig after killing time, and the singeing’s done.”

“Forward, then, and keep close, my lads. I think it looks lighter ahead there. Keep together.”

The midshipman started forward through the blinding smoke, panting and gasping, while at every step the hot ashes emitted sparks and the heat became more intense. But at the end of a score of painful paces a strong hand gripped him by the arm and a hoarse voice growled —

“Beg pardon, sir, but this here won’t do.”

“Right, May,” cried the midshipman. “I was just going to say so. Halt, my lads. Here, right wheel!”

Tramp, tramp, tramp, with the smoke and sparks rising; and the big sailor growled again in protest.

“Wuss and wuss, sir.”

“Yes. – Let’s try this way, my lads.”

“This here’s wusser still, your honour,” growled another of the men.

“Yes: it’s horrible,” cried Murray. “Halt! Now, all together, shout with me, ‘Seafowl ahoy!’”

The men shouted, and then again, three times, but elicited no reply, and the roar and crackle of the blazing forest seemed to increase.

“Here, which of you can make out where the river lies?” cried Murray.

“Not me, sir,” grumbled one of the men out of the stifling smoke, “or I’d soon be into it!”

“Here, once more. I don’t think we have tried this way,” cried Murray, almost in despair. “Look, Tom May, this does look a little lighter, doesn’t it? – No,” continued the lad huskily, and without waiting for the able-seaman’s reply. “Here, try this way, for the flames seem to be mounting higher there. Keep up your pluck, my lads, and follow me. Are you all there?”

“Ay, ay, sir!” cried the sailor. “We’re all here, arn’t we, messmates?”

“Ay, ay!” came in a deep growl.

“Then follow me close,” said Murray. “Everything depends upon your keeping together.”

“Oh, we’ll keep together, sir,” said May. “Won’t we, messmates?”

“Ay, ay!” said another of the men. “But I don’t quite like this here job.”

“No, no, my lads; it’s horrible for you,” said Murray, as he tramped on, fighting with his despair.

“’Tarn’t wuss for us, sir, than it is for you,” said Tom.

“Poor fellows!” thought the midshipman, and he ground his teeth with rage and pain. “But I ought to have led them better.” Then aloud, as an idea struck him, “You, Tom, fire a shot upward, and then as he reloads, the next man fire, as I give orders. The others listen for the reply. Some of our fellows must hear the shots. – Halt!”

The men stood together in the deep gloom, for the smoke rose from around them in every direction.

Then, heard distinctly above the roar and crackle of the flames, came the clear sharp-sounding report of the seaman’s musket.

“Number two make ready!” cried Murray, and then, “What’s that?” For something passed them with a faint hiss, and as it seemed to the lad, stuck in the smoking earth.

“Spear, I think, sir,” growled Tom May.

“Impossible! Piece of bamboo or palm fallen from above. Now then, Number Two – Fire!”

There was the sharp report, followed directly by another whishing sound and a thud in the earth.

“Spear it is,” growled May.

“Ay, ay,” said another of the party; “and I’ve got it too!”

“Hush! Silence there!” whispered Murray excitedly. “Not wounded, my lad?”

“Nay, sir,” came in a subdued voice, “but it would have stuck in my shirt, on’y it was gone to tinder and wouldn’t hold nowt. Here it is, though, sir – nigger’s spear, and they can see us, though we can’t see them.”

“From which way did it come?”

“Way we’re going, sir,” said the man, in a muffled voice; and as he spoke once more came the whish of a well-thrown spear, making another of the men wince, and proving plainly from which direction the missile had come.

The imminence of the fresh danger made the little party forget their sufferings, and with the quickness of highly disciplined men, they were apt to obey the orders whispered sharply by the midshipman. They fell into line, made ready, and at the command given by their officer, six muskets flashed out, sending their bullets whizzing breast high through the smoke, out of which, as if crossing them, came as many spears, this time the deadly missiles being followed by a burst of savage yells.

“Load!” whispered Murray, as the yells were followed by a silence so strange and nerve-startling that the young officer felt his heart thump heavily against his breast.

Then, as the whistling of the air arose caused by the driving down of the cartridges, he bethought himself and uttered a hurried question —

“Any one hurt?”

“Yes, sir,” came in Tom May’s familiar voice; and the midshipman, new to the heart-stirring horrors of a real engagement, waited anxiously for the man’s next words.

“None of us, sir,” came after what seemed to be a long pause, “but some o’ them got it bad and made ’em yell and run i’stead o’ keeping on the slink.”

“Hah!” ejaculated Murray, as he pressed his hand to his painfully throbbing breast. “I thought you meant – ”

“Our lads, sir? Oh no; we’re all right: the enemy, sir. That volley started ’em. I heard ’em rush off quite plain. Like us to give ’em another?”

Murray was silent as he stood straining his eyes and ears, to pierce the smoke and hear the whish of another spear.

“No,” he said, at last, in a low tone full of relief, “waste of powder;” and then he started, and gave vent to a cry of joy. “Hear that, my lads?” For from some distance away to their left came a shout which meant in this peril-fraught position, help and the companionship of friends.

“Ay, ay, sir,” cried Tom May.

“Shout, lads – shout!” cried Murray excitedly; and as a hearty Ahoy! rang out the lad winced, for he felt that he had given an order which would show the enemy once more where they were, and he once more strained his senses in the full expectation of the coming of another spear.

But he gave vent to his pent-up breath with a feeling of intense relief, as instead of the whish of a spear came another hearty “ahoy!” from certainly nearer at hand, followed by the tramp of feet and the crackling sound of charred wood.

“Where are you?” came directly after, in a well-known voice.

“Here, sir!” cried Murray. “Forward, my lads!” And the men followed him at the double.

“This way,” cried the same voice. “That you, Mr Murray?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the midshipman, halting his men in the smoke, feeling more than seeing that they were close up to their friends.

“All your men there?”

“Yes, sir. None hurt,” replied the lad.

“That’s good! Spears have begun to fly, for the enemy are creeping up through the smoke. You started the huts burning, of course?” he continued, after a pause.

“Yes, sir; burning everywhere.”

“Exactly, Mr Murray. I think the work has been thoroughly done, and I am glad you found us, for I am getting to be at fault as to how to reach the shore. There, I can hear nothing of our friends, so you had better lead on. I suppose they have made for the boats.”

“Lead on, sir?” faltered Murray.

“Yes, sir,” cried the chief officer petulantly; “and don’t repeat my words in that absurd way. Haven’t we had enough of this stifling smoke?”

“But I thought you had come to help us, sir.”

“To help you, sir? Why, weren’t you firing to let us know the way out of this horrible furnace?”

“No, sir – at the blacks who were hemming us in and throwing their spears. Don’t you know the way down to the boats?”

“No, my lad,” cried the lieutenant angrily. “Tut, tut, tut! What a mess, to be sure! – Silence there! Listen. – Well,” he continued, after some minutes, during which nothing but an occasional crack from some half-burned bamboo reached their ears. “There, we must give a shout or two. I don’t know, though, Mr Murray; you said that the blacks had begun throwing their spears?”

“Yes, sir; so did you.”

“Yes, Mr Murray, and if we begin shouting all together we shall be bringing them again.”

“That’s what I thought, sir.”

“Well, what of that, sir?” cried the officer petulantly; and for the moment it seemed to the lad that his superior had caught the captain’s irritating manner. “So would any sensible person. Here, I have it! Pass the word for Mr Dempsey. The boatswain’s whistle will bring the stragglers all together.”

“But Mr Dempsey is not with us,” suggested Murray.

“Then where in the name of common sense is he, sir? He had his instructions – strict instructions to keep well in touch with the rest; and now in the emergency, just when he is wanted he is not to be found. Listen, all of you. Can you hear anything?”

There was plenty to hear, for the half-burned posts of the savage town or the fragments of the forest still kept up a petillation, and flames flashed up here and there and emitted more smoke; but no one ventured to speak.

“Bah!” ejaculated the chief officer angrily. “We shall never get out of the smoky maze like this. Now then, all together, my lads, when I give the word; a good hearty shout; but every man make ready, and at the first spear thrown fire in the direction – fire low, mind – Who’s that – Mr Murray?”

“Yes, sir,” whispered the lad, who had suddenly laid a hand upon his officer’s arm. “I fancy I can hear the rustling of steps away to the left, as if the enemy is creeping nearer.”

“Fancy, of course, sir!” snapped out the officer. “Bare-footed savages are not likely to be stealing amongst these red-hot ashes.”

Bang! and directly after bang! bang! The reports of three muskets rang out in a dull half-smothered way, followed by a piercing yell and a distinctly heard rush of feet. Then once more silence, which was broken by a low hail close at hand.

“Who’s that?” cried the lieutenant.

“May it is, sir,” responded that individual. “Here’s one on ’em, sir, as has got it.”

“Who is it?” whispered the lieutenant, accompanying his question with an ejaculation full of vexation.

“Oh, I dunno, your honour – Sambo or Nigger Dick, or Pompey, sir. But he’ll never answer to his name again. Here he is, spear and all.”

“One of the enemy whom you shot down?” said the lieutenant, in a tone full of relief.

“Not me shot him, sir, but one of my messmates.”

“Speak softly, my man,” said the lieutenant, “and be all ready to fire again. I’m afraid they’ve been creeping up all round.”

“Not all round, sir,” said the sailor, “but a whole lot on this side, and them three shots drifted them. There was a regular rush as soon as the lads opened fire.”

“Good,” said the lieutenant. “But they may be coming on again. Stand fast, my lads, ready to fire at the slightest sound. I don’t know how they can stand it, Mr Murray,” he added, “for I feel as if my boot soles are being burned through. – Yes: what were you going to say – that yours are as bad?”

“No, sir,” replied the lad excitedly; “I was going to suggest that the men who fired should stand fast.”

“Why, of course, my lad; but why?”

“Because, sir, they can tell the direction in which they fired, and know the way in which the enemy retreated.”

“Of course, sir; but what good will that do?”

“It ought to be the way in which their friends are gathered, and the opposite direction to that in which we ought to retreat.”

“Good, my lad,” said the lieutenant, clapping the lad on the shoulder. “You’ll make a smart officer some day. I should not have thought of that. It may prove to be the way towards the shore. We’ll draw off at once. Oh!” he added. “If a good sharp breeze would spring up, to drive off this smoke!”

“But wouldn’t it set the remains of the fire blazing up again, sir?”

“Here, Murray,” whispered the officer pettishly, “you’d better take command of the expedition. You are sharper than I am.”

“I beg your pardon, sir.”

“Not at all. I’m not so weak as to resent hearing a good suggestion. You are quite right, my lad. I only wonder that your brain keeps so clear in the horrible confusion this smoke brings on. Here, let’s put your suggestion into use. Where’s Tom May?”

“Here, sir.”

“Can you tell which way the enemy retreated?”

“For sartin. This here nigger’s lying on his back with his head pynted the way his party came from – shot right through his chesty; and there’s a spear, sir, sticking slahntindickler in the ashes as shows the way which it was throwed from. Both being from the same bearings seems to say, sir, as that’s the way the niggers would run.”

“Humph!” ejaculated the lieutenant thoughtfully. “Not quite sure, my man?”

“No, sir, but I heerd them seem to run same way, so I thought it was a bit likely, sir.”

“Likely enough for us to follow, my lad,” said the officer; “so lead off, and keep on in the direction you think that the shore will lie.”

“Can’t do that, sir,” said the man bluntly. “Only think, sir, as it will be farthest from where the enemy came.”

“Lead on,” said the officer shortly. “It’s the best thing for us now. Forward, my lads. You, Mr Murray, keep alongside of me. We’ll bring up the rear.”

The retreat began, with the midshipman nowise happy in his own mind, for he could not help feeling that after all they might be marching into fresh difficulties instead of towards safety; but before long, as they tramped on over the heated ashes, suffering badly, for they began to inhale more and more the heated dust thrown up by their men’s feet, they had something else to think of, for Murray suddenly caught hold of his officer’s arm to check him.

“Don’t, do that, my lad,” came in response. “It’s as dark as can be, and if we are left behind we shall be worse off than ever.”

“Yes, sir,” whispered the midshipman; “but listen.”

“I am listening, Mr Murray, and I can hear the crackling of the men’s shoes as they trample up the burning embers. That’s what you hear.”

“Yes, sir, but something more.”

“Eh? What?”

“Listen again, sir. Just stop for a moment.”

The officer stopped short on the instant, and then caught the lad by the arm.

“Forward,” he whispered, “and keep step with me. Close up to the men, and we’ll halt, fall into line, give the brutes time to get within throwing distance for their spears, and then give them a volley. You are quite right, Mr Murray. Your ears are sharper than mine. We are followed, my lad, and if we hear their footsteps cease we must dash forward to put our movement into effect, for they will have halted to throw their weapons. – Yes, they are creeping after us quite fast now.”

“Yes, sir; I can hear them quite plainly.”

“Never mind so long as we don’t feel them quite plainly, Murray, my lad,” continued the officer, with a faint laugh. “I don’t know how you feel, my boy, but I am suffering from a peculiar tickling sensation about the upper part of my spine. It is a sort of anticipation of the coming of a spear; and the worst of it is that we can’t run, though I’ll be bound to say you feel as if you would like to. Now, frankly, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” said the lad; “I’d give anything to run now, as fast as I could.”

“That’s honest, Mr Murray,” said the lieutenant, in a low, eager whisper, and he squeezed his companion’s arm. “But then, you see, we can’t. That’s the worst of being an officer, Murray, with all his responsibilities. If we were to run we should throw our men into confusion by causing a panic. If the officer shows the white feather his men will whisk it out directly, and, what is worse, they will never believe in him again, and that would not do, would it?”

“No, sir,” said Murray quietly; “but I’ve got that tickling sensation in my back badly now.”

“Of course you have, Murray, but not so bad as I have, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I don’t know, sir,” said the lad, rather huskily.

“Better not talk, Mr Murray,” said the first lieutenant; “the ashes are getting into your throat.”

“Think it’s that, sir?”

“Some of it, my boy. Well, no: it does not do for officers to be too sure. We’ll say it is, though. Nasty sensation, however, that of feeling your enemies are waiting to hurl a spear through the air with such an aim that it will stick right into your back.”

“Yes, sir; it’s a horrible sensation.”

“But we must put up with it, Murray,” continued the lieutenant, “and be thankful that chance comes to our help.”

“Chance, sir?”

“Yes: the savages may miss us, for we are on the move, and besides, it is very smoky and hard for them to take aim. These blacks have very sharp eyes, but I doubt whether they get more than a shadowy glimpse of us, even at the nearest. You see, we have not had a man hit as far as we know. But speaking seriously, Murray, my lad, I do think that we officers have the worst of it, and the men the best. We have to cover them and lead them, and a good officer would never think of setting his men to do anything we would not do ourselves. There, Mr Murray, I have finished my lecture upon an officer’s duty, and I have only to add that I think you have behaved very well.”

“Thankye, sir,” said Murray drily; “but, begging your pardon, sir, what about you?”

“About me? Oh, I’m old and seasoned, my dear boy. And besides, I don’t think that if we had been hit, a spear would kill.”

“But it would make a very ugly wound, sir.”

“Horrible, my boy, so let’s hope none of our brave fellows will be giving the doctor a job. Now then, quick; double up to the lads, and we’ll halt and fire, for the enemy are getting too close to be pleasant, and it’s time that they had a check.”