Murray's despair was a thing of the past, and his spirits rose to a pitch of excitement now, for at the end of the clearing was the roughly-made hut of some negro, which appeared to have been only quite lately forsaken.

He entered the hut cautiously, expecting to find traces of inhabitants, and these were simple and plain in the shape of several cocoanut shells that had been used for food vessels, and close at hand a large dry calabash.

Trembling with excitement, the discoverer seized the latter vessel and one of the nut-shells, to bear them to the side of the grip, where he dipped with the shell and drank with avidity of the perfectly clear-looking water, which proved to be of a deep amber colour, but tasted sweet and refreshing.

He refilled the nut-shell and drank again with a feeling of excited hope running through him. Then filling the calabash, he drew the cutlass he bore, hacked through the fruit-stalk of the ripest banana plant he could find, shouldered it, and with the calabash in his right hand paused for a few moments to look excitedly round, fully expecting to find that he was watched.

But the place was quite forsaken, and, trembling with eager desire now to get back to the two sufferers he had left behind, he muttered to himself, "Saved!" and stepped out, but only for his heart to sink again, for in his excitement he felt that he had not taken sufficient precaution as to his way back.

It was after some minutes and only through forcing himself to step back and stand in the very position where he had first felt, that he was gazing upon the clearing, that he caught his idea of location of the place again, when he started back with the treasures he had found, and further encouraged himself with one of the sweet succulent fruit which with the water gave him invigoration and enabled him to recover his traces and blazings of the trees on his way back.

And now it was that he found how much further he had strayed away than he had thought, and twice over he seemed to have missed his marks entirely, and turned hot and faint.

A fresh draught of the water he bore, however, restored the failing clearness of his intellect, and he found that which he had missed, started afresh, and at last to his intense delight he staggered with his load to where he found Roberts lying asleep, but quite alone.

"Dick!" he cried excitedly, as he looked round in vain, while laying down his burden.

There was no reply.

"Dick! Here, Dick," he whispered softly, lest he might raise an alarm and bring upon them danger from their lurking foes.

There was no reply, but the poor fellow stared up at him in a half-delirious way.

As quietly as he could manage, Murray filled the cocoanut he had brought, raised his brother middy's head upon his arm, and held the hard, dark-brown cup to the lad's lips.

There was no response for a few minutes, during which Murray contrived to moisten the parched and cracking membrane as if in vain, and he was about to try in despair to bathe the poor lad's temples when the lips softened, there was a choking gurgling sound, a gasp or two, and then with strange avidity the midshipman drank and drank, spilling much, but drinking a fair proportion, and as the cup was drained asking in a hoarse, dry voice for more.

Instead of refilling the half nut Murray tore off another banana, hastily skinned it, and placed that in his companion's hand, watching him eat it, gazing about him the while, and then as he found that the lad was recovering himself, he asked him if he could speak.

"Speak! Yes," cried the lad. "It is like life."

"That's right. Cheer up!"

"Water! More water;" cried Roberts.

"Yes, soon. Eat that first;" and he gave him another of the bananas. "Where's Titely?"

"Titely? There," said Roberts, pointing.

"No, he is not there," said Murray excitedly. "Where has he gone?"

"He was there when I fell asleep."

"Has Tom May been back?"

"No; I have not seen him. But have you found more water and more fruit?"

"Yes; I have found a plantation and a stream or long pool. But where can Titely be?"

"I don't know. Can Tom May have fetched him?"

"No; he would have spoken to you."

"Perhaps he did, but I was half insensible and did not hear. Oh, Frank, old man, you've saved my miserable life!"

"Thank heaven, old fellow! If we can only avoid the slavers we may hold out till Mr Anderson or the captain comes to our help. But I must find Titely. Perhaps he has crawled away. There, go on eating while I search round. Go on eating and drinking; only leave enough for Tom May when he comes back, and for Titely when I have found him."

"You have some too," said Roberts, who was beginning to recover fast, save that his wound gave him increasing pain.

And now began a search which grew more and more hopeless as hours glided by. There was no trace of the injured sailor, and no sign of Tom May's return; and at last, when the first signs of the coming brief tropical evening began to show themselves, and with them the desire for more water and fruit, Murray made up his mind to guide his companion to the negro's hut, after leaving by way of refreshment all the fruit and water that was left, trusting to the fact that upon finding the refreshments Tom May might go further and trace the way they had gone by means of the blazings and other signs he had left upon the canes and trees.

It took some making up of the boy's mind before he could decide to leave the place where they had hidden themselves for so long; but he felt himself bound to try hard to place his wounded comrade in safety, and where he could supply him amply with food and water; and at last, hesitating no longer, he induced his companion to make an effort to rise, and they started off together, after a final look round, for the idea had forced itself upon Murray that if they did not go at once they would not reach their haven of rest and refreshment before it grew dark.

As it was the task proved to be anxious enough before Murray succeeded in getting his companion within the hut, where he sank down in weariness and pain, but glad enough to drink heartily from a fresh nut cup of the sweet, rather peculiarly coloured water, after which he dropped into a complete state of insensibility, with a half-eaten banana grasped in his hand, while Murray eagerly seized his opportunity to follow his brother middy's example, drinking with avidity, and for his part eating almost ravenously to master the weakness and hunger from which he suffered.

Satisfied with this, he set himself to watch and think about the two men who were sharing their troubles.

"Tom must have come upon poor Titely somewhere, wandering from our hiding-place," he thought, "and taken him back after I had gone with Dick, and it is madness to go back to him. I couldn't do it in the darkness, any more than he could track me out; and yet I don't know—I ought to try and find him. Perhaps, poor fellow, he has found no food, and may be nearly starved. I think I could find him, even if it is dark. I ought to know the way to him after going over the ground twice. I ought to, and I will—after I've had about an hour's rest. I must have that, and then I'll start."

The midshipman sat and thought of the scene when they crouched together, expecting moment by moment to be discovered.

The next minute his mind had wandered away to his search, the fortunate discovery of the old hut and the cultivation carried out by some slave; and then he came to the determination that he would crawl to where Dick Roberts lay sleeping so heavily that his breathing had become a deep snore.

"Poor fellow," he sighed; "he has suffered badly enough, but I ought to try and put him in an easier position. It is his wound which makes him so uneasy."

Then he thought he would wait a little longer before waking his comrade and telling him that he was going back to the old hiding-place to say where they were.

Murray had just come to the conclusion that he ought to be content with the rest he had snatched, when there was a faint rustling sound just beyond the doorway where he had seated himself, and like a flash he recalled the scene in the planter's cottage where Tom May had shrunk from going up into the chamber behind the screen on account of the snakes—poisonous or not. This was a thatched cottage place, up whose angles or sides one of the reptiles that had lurked among the bananas and maize of the plantation could easily have made its way to the roof, ready to descend upon any one sleeping on the floor.

So suggestive was this thought that the midshipman felt startled and drew himself up slightly, feeling that he ought to go to his companion's assistance.

"Perhaps poisonous," he thought, "and I may get a bite if I disturb it in the darkness. Perhaps, too, it may be tired out as I am, and drop asleep without molesting either me or Roberts. He's not sleeping so heavily now," he thought, "and I ought to be off trying to find poor worn-out and hungry Titely. I wonder how far he has wandered away from where he was left. I ought to have found him, but it wasn't to be helped. Tom will know now. I wonder how long it will take me to get to where we left the poor fellow? But is that Dick Roberts breathing hard—snoring—or is it one of those snakes creeping about in the maize-leaf thatch? I wonder what I had better do! Of course I can't leave poor Dick, but it's a pity that he should make all that noise. It is like trying to betray himself.

"I think I must go and wake the poor fellow. It isn't fair to leave him, of course. And it isn't fair to leave poor Tom May lying done up and faint for want of water. It's rather hard, though, when I'm so done up too;" and then he thought how beautiful it was with the soft yellow moonlight of the tropical night shining through the Indian corn leaves down through the roof of the flimsy hut, on to the floor close by where Dick Roberts was sleeping so heavily.

But no, he was not sleeping so deeply now, for he was not snoring.

And then there was the snake, or snakes, that had been rustling about so heavily. It or they were quite silent now. They had not bitten the midshipman, for of course he would have shrieked out in pain or fear. So perhaps the reptiles had crept right away, and it was quite time that he, Frank Murray, started upon his quest to find Tom May and Bill Titely. He ought in fact to have gone before, but he was so wearied-out that he felt obliged to rest for a few minutes; and now the moon was shining so brightly that it would be much better and easier to make a start through the forest lit-up by the soft yellow rays of the tropic night.

"Yes," he muttered to himself; "it will be much better. What a beautiful night!"

And then he sat up; and again another moment and he had crawled out of the hut doorway with his eyes widely open from wonder.

"Why, it isn't the moon, nor night!" he exclaimed, half aloud. "It's morning, with the sun glowing through the shades of the forest, and I must have been asleep for hours.—Or else," faltered Murray, after a pause, "I'm off my head with fever, and don't know what I'm about."



CHAPTER FORTY TWO.

WITHOUT A DOCTOR.

Fever? Brain heat? The poor fellow turned cold with horror, and hurried back, careless of any impending danger that there might be, into the rough hut within whose shades he could dimly make out the figure of his comrade, who appeared to be sleeping heavily, but not well, for he was muttering.

"I say, Dick," he whispered, "how's your wound?"

There was no reply.

"Dick," he continued, "your wound doesn't hurt much, does it?"

Still there was no reply, and beginning to realise now that his own brain was clear, and that he really had been fast asleep, wearied-out beyond the power of watching by the previous night's exertions, he sank down upon one knee to lay his hand upon Roberts's forehead, when, feeling that it was burning, and that at the slightest touch the poor fellow started with pain, he began to master himself.

"What fancies one does get into one's head at a time like this! Of course I've been asleep, and no wonder. I was done up; but, thank heaven, I'm all right and able to think and act, while poor Dick's feverish and bad with his wound."

"Asleep, Dick?" he whispered again; and once more he laid his hand upon the poor fellow's brow, but with no fresh result. His comrade was insensible, and as Murray bent over the mutterer a fresh chill of horror ran through him as he thought of his position.

Suppose he grew worse, and no help came. What should he do? The idea was horrible. Suppose he were to—

He determined not to dwell upon the thought, and drawing a deep breath, he whispered to himself, now full of excitement—

"That's not the way to do any good," he said. "It's only playing the coward and thinking of one's self. I'm playing with shadows."

And setting his teeth, the middy sprang to his feet and stole quickly and silently to the doorway to peer out and listen as he gazed at the scene of beauty that opened out before him.

The rough plantation was mingled with wild growth, both of which, the cultivated and the natural, were flourishing luxuriantly. Wondrous creepers tangled themselves in the boughs which sheltered the hut from the morning sunshine, and bell-flowers of exquisite beauty hung in the pure limpid air; and as his eyes roamed here and there in search of danger, a couple of ruby-crested humming birds darted into a patch of sunshine, and chased one another round, sparkling, flashing and quivering in the light, till one of them darted away and seemed to suspend itself in front of one of the most beautiful bells, so as to probe the honied depth of the great blossom like a gigantic bee.

The lad snatched himself from this to gaze in a fresh direction, for all at once there was a prolonged whistle; but at its repetition he knew that it was no human utterance; and when fresh bird-calls came from the verdant tangle beyond the plantation, he felt encouraged by the feeling that even if there were no friends forcing their way towards the wild-looking hut in the forest, no enemy could be near, for the birds that played about were too bold.

The next thought which came to the lad's eager, busy brain was of Tom May and his intent of the previous night to go in search of him. "But I can't go now," he thought, and, satisfied himself now that there was as far as he could make out no immediate danger, he hurried back to the side of Roberts, to try and take in his position and promptly decide upon his actions.

This was soon done.

There was water at hand; rough vessels in which to fetch it; and after a moment's thought as to whether he should carry his companion out into the light, a smile crossed his lips as he thought of the old legend about carrying the well to the pitcher, and making use of his unsheathed cutlass, a few strokes resulted in his hacking away a portion of the rough leafy thatching and admitting a broad band of light right across his comrade's reclining figure.

A few touches convinced the amateur surgeon that the injury was too tightly bound, and after removing the covering he set to work and bathed the wound with the soft cool water till the temperature was reduced, re-bound it tenderly, and soon after had the satisfaction of noting that his patient's irritation and evident pain had grown less, while when he raised his head and applied the freshly-drawn nut-full of water to the poor lad's lips he drank with avidity, and then sank back with a sigh of relief. The muttering grew less frequent, and he sank into a quiet sleep.

It was Murray's turn to sigh now that he had achieved thus much; but it was not with relief, for he was dripping with perspiration, the heat was dense within the hut, and a sense of faint weariness stole over him of so strange a nature that it seemed to him that his senses were passing away.

"I am going to be bad now," he thought, feeling that perhaps in spite of pluck and effort his time had come.

"What will poor Roberts do?" he felt in a queer, strange way, and somehow it never seemed in the midst of the feeble dizzy sensation that he was of any consequence himself.

"How hot!" he muttered feebly, and he made an effort to crawl out of the hut, and then on and on almost unconsciously until he had dragged himself to where a bright ray of light flashed from the glowing surface of the clear amber water and played upon the great, green, glossy leaves of a banana plant, one from whose greeny-yellow bunch of fruit he had plucked the night before.

That all seemed dream-like, but it did not trouble him, for his nature had prompted him to thrust forward his lips till they touched the water just where the ray shot forth glowing light and life as well, for he drank and drank, and as he imbibed the fluid, which looked like fire but tasted like water, the feeling of faintness grew less, his senses began to return, and he drew back to lie over with a sigh and gaze dreamily at the great arum-like leaves of the banana and the huge bunch of green and yellow finger-shaped fruit.

"Finger-like—thumb-like," he muttered, "just as if it was so many huge hands resting one upon the other."

Murray sighed at his fancy, closed his eyes for a few moments to dream about the refreshing water, and soon after opened them again to let them gaze up the curve of a tree till it rose higher and higher, perfectly straight now, and ended by resting his vision amidst the great fount of green leaves which started from the crown and curved outwards.

There was a curious clump of fruit there, flowers too, and small and large nuts; huge, semi-triangular and rounded masses of fibre, and he looked at the high-up cluster, realising the while that hanging far above him, where they would fall in front of the hut, was an abundance of good satisfying food in the shape of pulpy nut, milk and cream, as well as sweet water that he might drink; so that the occupant of that humble hut might partake, but which was out of his reach, for the fruit would not fall and he could not climb.

Murray lay thinking, as his senses grew stronger, of how blessed by nature the black who lived in that hut must be, with a home that he could easily construct, and with such ripe fruits ready to his hand with hardly a care in the production; and then somehow the feeling of envy seemed to turn to equally profound pity, as it flashed into his mind that the poor wretch paid for it at the cost of labour, misery, and despair forced upon him by some of the vilest wretches that lived beneath the sun.

"Slavery!" muttered the lad, and again slavery mingled with the thoughts of the horrible sufferings inflicted aboard the slave-ships—sufferings that he and those with him were there to check and sweep away.

As these thoughts flooded the lad's brain, he at the same time grew clearer and began to think of Tom May and Titely, of where they were, and whether they would come to him and Roberts. He even pictured to himself the former, big, hulking, and strong, coming staggering into sight with his wounded comrade upon his back. Then his thoughts floated away to Mr Anderson and his men. How had they got on? he asked himself. Would the captain soon come with their vessel and by means of a few shots sweep the place clear of the slave-hunting miscreants?

The midshipman's brain was fast growing clearer still, and all at once he found himself gazing in imagination at the faithful black, shiny of face, and clothed in white. Would he find him and his wounded comrade and guide them back to the boats, or only perhaps to where he hoped Mr Anderson was holding out at Plantation Cottage? And as he thought, strangely enough it seemed to Murray in his faint, dreamy state, he stretched out one hand to separate the great green leaves of the banana near at hand so as to open a way for him to look beyond the great plant through the plantation and see if the blacks were coming.

Then somehow, half unconsciously, the middy's hand closed upon something soft to the touch and smooth—something that he plucked and peeled and ate, and then plucked and ate again and again, till he began to grow less faint, and refreshed as well as clear of brain, ending by feeling strengthened and ready to crawl back into the hut, half wondering at what had happened, until he fully realised it all and was able to tell himself that he had been thoroughly exhausted and was now refreshed as well as rested and ready to take fresh steps to help his less fortunate comrade.

"Asleep still, Dick, old chap?" he whispered cheerfully.

But there was no reply, and after bathing the poor fellow's injury again and watching him anxiously by the clear light that struck through the roof, Murray rose to his feet, feeling more and more refreshed and ready to act. He was encouraged, too, by the growing restfulness that came like a soft flood through his senses.

"Well," he said to himself, "there's nothing wrong with me now. I was completely done up. It's of no use to despair, for it is only cowardly. I'm in a bad position, but it might be worse, even as poor old Dick's is horribly bad, but as soon as I got to work I found that I could make him better. It was a very simple thing to do, and if I could make him better when he was so bad, now he is better I ought to be able to make him better still."

But first of all he tried to settle thoroughly within himself what it was his prime duty to do.

"Nature says to me, Try and save your own life. But then that seems to be so horribly selfish and unnatural. I am fairly healthy and strong now that I have got over that bit of a fit—bit of a fainting fit, I suppose."

Here the lad pulled himself up short to think a little more.

"Fainting fit," he said to himself. "That sounds like being a girl. I don't know, though: men faint as well as women when they are exhausted by pain or by bleeding. Well, I was exhausted, and now I'm strengthened and mustn't let myself get so weak again, and what's more, I mustn't let poor Dick grow so weak. Oh, if old Reston were only here with his bottles of stuff! But I don't know; perhaps I can get on without them, for it isn't as if the poor chap was bad of a fever. Fever there is, of course, but it's only the fever that comes from a wound, and wounds heal by themselves. So I'm not going to despair.

"I'm sure of one thing," he continued, after a little more thought, "as I'm so much better I don't want any doctoring, and it's my duty to attend to poor old Dick, and I'm going to do it. It's very horrible to be in such a hole as this, but I know that the first luff won't rest until he has found every one of his party, and the captain won't rest till he has found his officer, and—"

Frank Murray's cogitations were at an end, for just as he had come to the conclusion that matters were far better than he expected, and that all he had to do was to devote himself to his comrade's recovery, which was already on the way, he started suddenly, for he was conscious of a slight rustling noise somewhere apparently at the back of the hut, a sound as of some animal forcing its way through the dense growth which shut the building in upon three sides.

Murray's heart began to beat fast as he listened, for the noise was repeated, and though there was caution connected with the movement, the sound was of such a nature that he was not long in doubt as to its cause.

It was, as far as the lad could determine, a man forcing his way through the jungle at the back; and then, just as it came close at hand, so close that the rough walls of the hut seemed to quiver, the sound ceased again, and in the midst of the deep silence which ensued, the lad felt convinced that he was being watched by some one who was peeping through the wall opposite to where he crouched over his sleeping companion; and he waited in agony for some fresh movement, ready to spring up with his cutlass gripped in his hand.

His excitement seemed to grow till he could bear it no longer, and he rose to his feet, and stepped softly to the side of the door, just as there was a louder rustle than ever, and some one bounded out of the thicket right to the front of the doorway, stared into the darkness for a brief moment, and then turned and ran along the edge of the rough plantation, disappearing amongst a clump of maize-stalks. Murray was beginning to breathe freely, in the hope that in the brief glance he had not been seen in the darkness within, when his heart sank once more, for he recalled the hole he had hacked in the thatch—a hole which must have flooded the place with light.

At that moment there was the soft pad of footsteps again, and to his horror, in company with the rustle of the tall corn stalks, the figure of the black, who now seemed to be herculean in build, dashed into sight, armed, as the middy could see, with a heavy machete, and coming rapidly straight for the door of the hut.



CHAPTER FORTY THREE.

NOCTURNAL VISITORS.

Desperate, but ready for action in defence of his comrade, Murray gripped his cutlass hard, and in those exciting moments found time, oddly enough, to congratulate himself upon the fact that he was armed with the heavy service weapon in place of the ordinary ornamental dirk that formed part of a midshipman's equipment. As to his chance, slight, well-built and youthful, he could not help feeling doubtful, pitted as he was about to be against a heavy, work-hardened negro wielding the heavy cutting weapon utilised for laying low the canes; but on the other hand he felt that skill would count somewhat on his side, for in company with the wounded lad he sought to defend he had devoted every opportunity that presented itself to small-arms practice, and was no mean handler of the service sword.

"I can only do my best," he thought; and in this spirit he stood on guard in the darkness, his eyes flashing, and fresh and active, prepared for everything that might befall him.

And that for the time being proved to be nought, for in those brief moments the black made for the doorway, Murray noting the glistening of the great fellow's opal eyes, and standing ready to receive him upon his point, when with a sharp swerve to his right, the man sprang at the broad-leaved banana plant which had supplied the lads' sustenance, and disappeared from his sight, and then there was the sharp hacking sound of a couple of blows being delivered at the fruit stem, before the huge fellow backed into sight again with a banana bunch thrown over his left shoulder.

A minute later the black had plunged in amongst the canes, and Murray, whose heart was still beating hard from excitement, was listening to a repetition of the sounds he had first heard, as the man worked himself round by the back, the imaginary danger passing away and leaving the middy wondering how it could have happened that the black had not caught sight of him, and coming to the conclusion that the poor fellow was so intent upon obtaining the food that he had been driven from by his enemies, that he had eyes for nothing else.

"What a coward I must be!" thought Murray, as he calmed down. "I'm precious glad that there was no one by to see what a fine brave-hearted fellow I am. Poor fellow, why, he must be the black who built this hovel and planted the fruit. Well, of course he's a slave, and I only hope we may have the opportunity to set him free."

Murray stood thinking for a few moments, and then in obedience to a sudden thought he made a dash for the spot where the black had plunged in. But all was silent again, and he felt that it would be impossible to follow his trail.

"It's a pity," thought the lad, as he went slowly back to the hut doorway. "Here was a friend, if I had only known—one who would have helped me to find the way back to the others—if I could have made him understand what I wanted."

Upon reaching the side of Roberts he had the satisfaction of finding him sleeping more calmly, and after making up his mind to be on the watch for the black's next coming, he crouched down by his wounded companion to think again about trying to hunt out Tom May; but he ended by wrinkling up his brow and coming to the conclusion that it would be cruel to forsake his friend in such distress.

"A hundred things might happen," he mused. "I should as likely as not lose my way and be unable to get back. Poor Dick—I don't think I care much for him, for he always sets himself against me and is as jealous as can be; but trouble seems to wipe all that away, and I suppose I am pretty fond or I shouldn't have been ready to fight for him. Yes," he mused, "he might recover his senses and find himself alone and so weak that he could hardly stir. Why, it would be enough to drive him nearly mad."

Murray employed himself twice over in the course of that day bathing and dressing his comrade's wound, and always with good results, for though the lad remained insensible, he sank each time into a more restful slumber, leaving his nurse and surgeon at liberty to watch and plan as to their future.

It was towards evening that he had another scare—one sufficiently real to make him feel that they were again in imminent danger, for though he could not identify a couple of fresh-comers of whose advent he had warning, their fierce aspect, the way in which they were armed, and their action, seemed to show for certain that they belonged to one or other of the slavers' crews.

Murray heard them approach suddenly, and darting out of the hut, he took refuge in the shelter of the cane plantation, from amidst whose thick growth he saw them step to the front of the hut, which in no wise excited their curiosity; but they stopped short for a few minutes, just long enough for one of them to climb one of the cocoanut trees and hack off a couple of the great husks, to fall with heavy thuds, before the climber slipped to earth again, when both set to work hacking off the husk and cutting away one end of the half-hardened shell.

They were moments of intense excitement for Murray, as he crouched a few yards away, almost afraid to breathe, fully expecting that one or other of the pair might rise from where he had thrown himself down, and entering the hut discover its occupant. But it seemed as if the rough little edifice only represented the hut of a slave in the fresh-comers' eyes, and having satisfied their thirst with the sweet sub-acid cream, they cast away the shells and sat talking together for a few minutes; and then the crucial moment seemed to have arrived for the discovery, for they suddenly sprang up—so sharply that the lad's hand flew to his cutlass, and then he had hard work to suppress a cry of relief, as the pair rapidly stalked away.

"It is too risky," muttered the lad. "I must find some safer hiding-place."

"So beautiful and yet so horrible," he thought, as he crouched in amongst the abundant growth, the narrow sunlit openings being visited from time to time by tiny birds whose scale-shaped feathers were dazzling in their hues as precious stones, while they were so fearless that he watched them hang suspended in the air or flit with a low hum to and fro within a few inches of his face. At another time he would be visited by butterflies that were the very perfection of Nature's painting, while wherever the sun's rays struck down hottest the jungle was alive with glistening horny-coated beetles whose elytra looked as if they had been fashioned out of golden, ruddy and bronze-tinted metal.

Just when the sun was beginning to sink lower and warning him that it would not be long before he would have the protection of another night, his attention was caught by a fresh rustling noise not far away, and it struck him that this might be the sound made by the returning of the builder of the hut.

So sure did the lad feel of this that he congratulated himself upon the fact that he was well hidden still amongst the foliage around, where he could suddenly start out upon the big black if he should enter the shelter.

But as the faint rustling continued, he awakened to the recollection of the previous night's alarm, for it now dawned upon him that the movement was not made by a human being, but by one of the reptiles with which he had peopled the thatch.

This was soon plain enough, and whether venomous or not it was enough to startle the watcher, as a serpent some seven or eight feet in length came into sight, travelling through the undergrowth, with its scales ever changing in tint as its folds came more or less into connection with the light that penetrated the leaves.

Murray felt the natural disgust for the lithe creature and dread of the poison fangs of which it might be the bearer, but at the same time he could not help feeling a certain admiration for its wondrous activity, the power with which it intertwined itself among the twigs and in loops and wreaths and coils, while the light played upon the burnished scales in silver greys, chestnuts and ambers, and softly subdued and floating over it as if in a haze of light, played bronze green and softened peacock blues.

For a time the serpent seemed to be making its way towards him, and there were moments when he felt certain that he was its goal, and that two brilliant points of light shot from the two hard jewel-like eyes were marking him down.

Then all at once there was a sharp movement as if a spring had been let loose, and the midshipman felt paralysed for a few moments, before his hand glided to the cutlass and he began to draw it slowly from its sheath ready to make a cut, for, following upon the sharp spring-like movement the serpent had disappeared, the next sound that met his ears being that of the reptile trickling, as it were, through the undergrowth in his direction.

For a few moments he could not stir, and the recollection of what he had read about the fascination displayed by snakes seemed to have a paralysing effect upon him, till his reason suggested that it was the eye that was said to produce the power described, while now the reptile had dropped out of sight amongst the undergrowth. His dread was increased, though, by the fact that the sun was rapidly passing out of sight, according to its way in the tropics, and it began to seem to him that he would be at the mercy of what might probably be a venomous creature approaching slowly amongst the leaves.

All at once there was another quicker and sharper movement, as if something passing amongst the undergrowth very slowly and cautiously had startled the reptile, which made where it was growing dark three or four rapid darts, each more distant, the last being followed by one that developed into a glide, which soon died away, the sound being supplanted by a steady slow rustle that was gradually approaching; and for a certainty the sounds were made by a human being forcing his way through the forest.

"Enemy or friend?" Murray asked himself, and then, freed from the horror of the approaching serpent, he roused himself to try and creep silently back towards the hut.



CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.

"YOU DAH?"

Murray's movements were cautious in the extreme, and as he crept almost inch by inch he grew more confident of his power to do so without being heard, for the movements made by whoever it was that was drawing near were loud enough to cover his own.

To remain away from his companion during the long night was a thing not to be dreamed of, with the possibility of the companionship of reptiles such as he had seen; and the opportunity of creeping back unseen as well as unheard grew more and more promising as the minutes glided by, and he listened now so that he might be in no danger of losing his way. But at the same time there was the risk of this being an enemy.

How he completed his short journey he could hardly tell, for he had to battle with nervous excitement as well as with the darkness that now began to fall rapidly in the deep shades of the forest, and at the last he was attacked by a fresh trouble which was as startling as the first, and showed him beyond doubt that some one was making for the hut. He had more than once nearly convinced himself that he who approached was the huge black, who had startled him with a false alarm of danger; but somehow, when this idea was still hanging in the balance and he felt doubtful of the wisdom of making his presence known to one who might after all prove an enemy, he grasped suddenly at a fresh development, for when at last the movements to which he listened had drawn very near, he felt his heart sink with something approaching dread on his fellow sufferer's behalf, for certainly now it could not be the huge black he had seen, for two people, evidently well accustomed to thread a way through the forest, were converging upon his hiding-place, and rapidly now.

"If it were only morning!" he said to himself, as, unable to keep down his hard breathing, he covered the last few yards which lay between him and his brother midshipman, and then, cutlass in hand, turned at bay.

The lad's experience had already been giving him lessons in wood-craft, and so it was that in his last movements he had hardly made a sound; but he had evidently been heard, for the duplex movement amongst the trees ceased at once, and a silence ensued which seemed terrible. So well was it sustained that as the lad crouched there, cutlass in hand, bending over his comrade, upon whose breast he had laid one hand, it seemed to him that his own breathing and that of Roberts was all that could possibly be heard. In fact, there were moments when the lad felt ready to believe that he had been a victim to imagination, and that he had been for some time fancying the presence of a snake. Yes, those were the heavy pulsations of his own breast—of that there could be no doubt; and those others which sounded like the echoes of his own heart were as certainly the result of the beating which kept on heavily in the breast of his wounded companion. It could not be—it was impossible that any one else was near. If there had been pursuers at hand, Murray felt that they must have gone by. And as he leaned forward, staring hard above where his comrade lay insensible, and trying to pierce the darkness, he at last found himself faintly able to make out a little opening which meant feeble light that was almost darkness; and this he now recognised as being the opening he had made with the cutlass by removing a portion of the leafy roof.

"We are alone," thought Murray, "and this is all half-maddening fancy."

The effort to retain silence had at last become greater than he could sustain, and even at the risk of bringing down danger upon their heads, Murray felt that he must speak—if only a word or two. If matters should come to the worst he was ready with his cutlass—ready to strike, and his blow would send the enemy, if enemy it was, or even enemies, scuffling rapidly away through the forest. At any rate the lad determined that he could retain silence no longer, and drawing a long, slow, deep breath, he was about to ask who was there in some form or another, and fend off at the same time any blow that might be struck at them, when the silence was broken from close at hand, and in a low deep whisper, with the words—

"Massa—massa! You dah?"

And now, suffering from the strange whirl of excitement which seemed to choke all utterance, Frank Murray felt that it was impossible to reply.



CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.

A FRIEND IN NEED.

"Massa sailor officer, you dah?" came again; and still the midshipman could not respond.

"You dah?" came in an angry whisper. "You no open your mouf, sah?"

"Yes, yes," whispered Murray, recovering himself. "I could not speak. It is you, Caesar, isn't it?"

"Caesar. Come. Big black fellow Tullus come along to get plantain; see young sailor officer. Tell Caesar. Where big sailor?"

"Tom May? I have lost him."

"Not killed, sah, and other young officer?"

"No; he is here, Caesar. Where is Mr Anderson?"

"Gone; had big fight with Huggins's men."

"Any one hurt, Caesar?"

"Caesar no don't know. Nearly get kill. Where Massa young sailor hand, take hold?"

Murray raised his hand, and it was taken directly between those of the black speaker; and the midshipman started, for one of these was bandaged up as if the poor fellow had been wounded.

"Where other young sailor officer?"

"Hurt, and lying down here asleep."

"Very bad hurt?"

"Yes, my man. Where is Mr Allen?"

"Caesar don't know yet awhile. Want to find Massa Allen. Very much great deal of fighting, sah. Massa Huggins bring many men out of schooner ship kill much slabe boy. Kill very bad, and poor Caesar can't find Massa Huggins. Want kill um and save Massa Allen."

"Who wounded you, Caesar?"

"Massa Huggin, sah. Poor slabe fellow too much afraid. Run away. Caesar t'ink massa sailor officer killed dead."

"Is your wound very bad?" asked Murray.

"Yes, sah; dreffle bad."

"Let me examine it."

"Examine?"

"Yes; let me see how bad it is and tie it up."

"No time. Caesar tie corn-leaf all about and stop bleed. Caesar don't mind. What massa sailor officer call himself?"

"Murray—Frank," was the reply.

"Murray Frank, sah. Murray Frank, sah, come away dreckerly and bring your brudder sailor. Caesar couldn't find young massa for big long time. Now come?"

"Come where?" asked Murray quickly.

"Caesar don't know. Want find Massa Anderson lieutenant. Want find big Tom May chap. Massa know where?"

"No, Caesar. Can't you show me?"

"No, sah! Everybody run all away. Lot people get killed. Caesar glad find Massa young sailor 'gain."

"So am I, my lad. But now can you find Tom May and Bill Titely?"

"Caesar try, sah. Come along."

"But I can't leave my wounded friend here."

"No, sah. Take um 'long."

"That's right; but can you find the way in the darkness?"

"Caesar going try," said the black confidently; but he did not inspire the midshipman with the same amount of confidence. In fact, the little he felt was a good deal shaken by a great hand darting as it were out of the darkness and seizing him roughly by the shoulder.

"What does that mean?" he cried.

A deep-toned whispering ensued, and it seemed to Murray that the huge black who had so much startled him by his appearance before was eagerly whispering to his recovered friend.

"Big Tullus," whispered Caesar. "Say Massa Huggin men come along. Murray Frank come along quick."

"Yes, but I tell you I cannot leave my brother midshipman," whispered Murray.

"No, sah," said the black. "Big Tullus take um 'long on back."

"But you must be careful," whispered Murray. "He is wounded."

"Big Tullus fellow take care," replied the black, and he whispered to his invisible companion, with the result that, in spite of the darkness, Murray made out that poor Roberts, who moaned slightly, was easily lifted up, and the huge black seemed to have no difficulty in throwing the slightly-made wounded lad over his shoulder as if he had been a child.

"Now massa, come quick," whispered the black.

"But will your black friend keep up with us in the dark?"

"Yes, massa. Caesar knock um head off if don't. Him Caesar man. Come and tell young massa um find young sailor. Now carry other one. Come along quick, 'fore sailor crew find um and catch um. Now Murray Frank hear?"

"Oh yes, I hear plainly enough," replied Murray. "Now lead on."

It was evidently quite time enough, for from somewhere near at hand the voices of some of the overseer's crew of followers could be heard, as if making for the middle of the clearing where the big black had set up his hut, a spot which was evidently known to Huggins's people, by the way in which they had come in search of food.

So close were the men that the midshipman seized the big black by the arm and stopped his progress.

"What massa do?" whispered the black.

"Take care! They will hear you," replied Murray.

"Yes, hear massa if massa talk," whispered the man warningly. "Massa come along."

"But do you know the way to Mr Allen's cottage?"

"Iss—yes, Caesar know the way. Come along," whispered the man, and seizing the lad by the arm, he thrust him before his companion, who the next minute was making his way through the woodland, with the enemy so close behind that it was plainly evident that they were ignorant of the proximity of the fugitives, who pressed on steadily, with the huge black bearing his burden as lightly as if he were in no way troubled by the weight.

A very real danger, however, now began to show itself, for, becoming uneasy at being swayed about by Catullus, Roberts began to mutter impatiently, though in an incoherent way, with the result that the great black suddenly stopped short and, bending towards Caesar, uttered a few words in a tone full of protest.

"What does he say, Caesar?" whispered Murray.

"Say massa young sailor no talk so much. Bring Massa Huggin men come see what's all a bobbery and kill um all."

"I can't stop him, my lad," whispered back Murray. "He is insensible from his wound and does not know what he is saying."

"Caesar tell big slabe boy walk fast and get along a way;" and Murray heard a low whispering follow as he was thrust onward, with the canes and other growth being brushed aside. But, in spite of the extra pressure brought to bear, it became more and more evident that their enemies were keeping up with them and following their movements so exactly that it was hard to believe that they were not aware of their proximity.

Murray whispered words to this effect, but the black only laughed.

"No, no," he said; "Huggins's men don't know we come along here, or run fast and kill Massa Murray Frank, kill Roberts, kill Caesar, and big Tullus. Come along and see if Massa Allen find way back to cottage."



CHAPTER FORTY SIX.

CAESAR'S PROPOSAL.

For the most part of that night all thought of sleep had passed away, and a feeling of wonder filled the middy's brain at the ease with which the black forced his way through the darkness.

"Black as a bat," thought Murray, "and just like one. It's wonderful how these fellows can see as they do. It can't be because they are used to it, for my eyes would never be of any good, I am sure."

But there it was all the same.

"Come 'long. Massa Huggins man dat way want to find Caesar;" and the black led the way and seemed to put pressure upon his white companion just at the right moment, "steering" him, Murray mentally called it, in and out among tree and cane so that he never came in contact with any obstacle, while the lad's anxiety about his wounded comrade was always alleviated when a halt was made by the comforting whispered assurance from Caesar after an examination.

"Massa sailor Roberts fas' 'sleep. No know nothing at all."

There were times, though, when at one of their many halts Murray's heart sank very low, for generally when all was silent save for some strange cry of night bird, croak of reptile, or weird whirr of insect that seemed to be magnified in power by the heated misty air, the black's fingers would tighten upon the lad's arm with spasmodic suddenness, in company with what seemed to be the piercing humming trumpet of a mosquito. Twice over Murray as he toiled on in the black darkness took it for granted that the black had stopped short to avoid being bitten or stung, but only to find afterwards that the sound came with perfect realism from the black's lips, being his warning to his big companion to halt while he reconnoitred as to the position of the enemy.

And now a fresh direction would be taken, or more than once it seemed to Murray that they completely retraced their steps; but after a time a feeling of dullness akin to despair came over the lad, and he resigned himself to his fate, satisfying himself that Roberts was being carefully carried, and then plodding on and on, plunging as it seemed to him in a state of torpidity or stupid sleep in which he kept on dreaming about the ship and the boats and going through various adventures at sea.

Then he would start awake with a strange suddenness, feeling as if his conscience had pricked him for his drowsiness and neglect, and he would begin to tremble with anxiety, for he felt that he must have spoken aloud just at a time when they were near their pursuers, and so have betrayed their whereabouts.

Thoroughly wakened then, Murray found that they were motionless with his black companions listening, while Caesar's fingers were pressing his arm very tightly.

"No speak," he whispered; and the man's breath came hot into his ear. "Huggins fellow chap everywhere. No catchee."

Murray's brain was closing up again, so it seemed to him, back into a deep sleep, and he remembered afterwards that during the latter part of that night he woke up from time to time when Caesar pinched his arm for him to stop, but directly the journey was continued he dropped asleep again.

Then it seemed to the middy that he must have been asleep an immensely long time, and he started up awake, staring hard at his guide, who had laid one hand over his lips while the other was offering him a ready-opened cocoanut.

"No speak, massa."

"Why?"

"Huggins man over dah. See sailor officer—see slabe boy—see Caesar— shoot, kill."

The man pointed over where Roberts lay half hidden by the undergrowth, while beyond him the big black was seated munching away at some half-ripe bananas, and ready to meet his eyes with a pleasant smile.

"It's morning, then!" whispered Murray, in surprise.

"Yes: to-morrow morning, sah," said the man, smiling; and it appeared to Murray that he had made a very absurd remark, for it must have been daylight for many hours, the sun being high.

"Whereabout do you think Mr Allen's cottage is?" he whispered now, as his head seemed to clear.

"Over dah," was the confident declaration. "Huggins man all round about come to fight."

"Fight? Who with?"

"Massa officer sailor men."

"Do you think they have got back to the cottage?"

The black nodded.

"Big very much fight. Sailor kill big lot Huggins man."

"How do you know that?" said Murray sharply, for it seemed to him now that the last dreamy feeling of exhaustion had passed away.

"Caesar find free dead men. Him tread on two," was his ready reply, "him" being the big black.

"But not white men!" said the midshipman, with his voice sinking to a whisper that was almost inaudible.

"Huggins man, massa. Bad fellow. Caesar berry glad."

"Hah!" sighed Murray, and he crept to where Roberts lay apparently sleeping comfortably now.

"Is it far to Mr Allen's cottage?" asked the lad, after a pause.

"Over dah, sah," replied the black, pointing.

"Then why not go on at once?"

The black showed his teeth as his face lit-up in a smile.

"Lots Huggins man all about. Wait shoot white man. Wait shoot massa sailor officer. Shoot big slabe boy and Caesar. 'Top here get dark again and Massa Murray Frank crawl up close to cottage 'long o' Caesar show de way. Massa Murray Frank put hand to mouf so how, like Caesar and say, Ahoy! No shoot, my boy! Friend!"

"Yes, I understand," said Murray eagerly.

"Dat's de way," said the black, laughing with satisfaction; and he placed his hollowed hand to the side of his mouth and cried very softly again: "Ahoy! No shoot, my boy! Friend! British sailor boy shoot more than Huggins man. Shoot drefful bad. Kill friend in a dark. Kill Murray Frank. Kill Roberts officer. Kill big slabe boy, and kill poor ole Caesar; and dat drefful bad job, eh, sah?"

"Yes," said Murray, responding to the black's smile most heartily; "that would be a dreadfully bad job, and no mistake."

"And no mistake, sah," cried the black, bringing to bear his natural imitative faculty apparently with a feeling of intense enjoyment, and repeating the expression, "And no mistake, sah. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Hallo! 'Top, 'top!" he added, in an excited whisper. "Caesar make too much noise enough and tell Huggins man where we hide umself. Massa Murray Frank eatum Caesar nut. Do um good and makum fight like sailor man."

"Yes, I'll eat it soon," replied Murray. "But you're right, Caesar; we must wait till it is dark, for fear that my people should shoot us by mistake."

"Yes, sah; dat be bad job and no mistake," whispered the black, bringing in the fresh expression again. "What Massa Allen do widout Caesar? Hey?"

"Mr Allen trusts you, then?" said Murray.

"Yes, sah. Massa Allen berry much trust Caesar. Massa Allen tell Caesar he berry sorry he ebber trust Massa Huggin. Wish um nebber come plantation. Caesar see big tear in Massa Allen eye, and make Caesar berry sorry. Make um fink a deal. Massa Huggins kill poor black niggah, sah, lots o' times. Massa Huggins got bad brudder come sometime with ship schooner full o' slabes. Flog um and sell um. Make um die sometime. Massa Huggins' brudder tell um bad sailor man. Talk like dis way;" and the man as he knelt by Murray's side gave an exact imitation of the keen Yankee skipper. "Say 'Chuck um overboard,' sah." As the black uttered the command he acted it, and added grimly: "'Chuck um overboard to de shark?'" and added now a horrible bit of pantomime, dashing and waving his arms about to represent the terrible fish gliding over one another in a wild struggle to seize their prey.

"Don't! Don't!" whispered Murray, with a look of horror which proved the realism of the black's word-painting and gesticulation.

"No, massa," whispered Caesar solemnly. "Um nebber chuck black niggah overboard. But," he added, with a fierce look that was even ferocious, "Caesar like chuck Massa Huggins overboard. Like see shark fish bite all a pieces and eat um. So—so—so!"

As he uttered the last words with hideous emphasis he brought his imitative faculty once more into action by laying bare his fine white teeth, throwing his head from side to side, and snapping like a savage animal.

"Horrible!" ejaculated Murray.

"Yes, sah; dreffle horrible see shark bite poor half-dead niggah a pieces."

"But you have never seen this?"

"Yes, massa—long time ago. Caesar brought in schooner ship from Caesar own country. Bring lot of poor niggah all shut up down below. Ship quite full, and ebery night some shut um eyes, and to-morrow morning some won't open eyes again. Gone dead. Sailor chap come along rope, haul niggah up on deck—haul on deck, and Massa Huggins brudder say: 'Chuck um o'erboard,' and chap come and take rope off Caesar and make um open um eye like say: 'What's de matter?' Den Massa Huggins' brudder say, 'What's dat, you lubber? Dat one not dead!'"

"Did you hear that?" said Murray, with his lips apart as he listened in horror to the black's narrative.

"Yes, sah. Caesar no understand den what um mean, but um say—'What's dat, you lubber? Dat one not dead!' Nebber forget um—nebber! Caesar shut um eye now and see it all again—those niggah chap chuck overboard and shark fish coming up out of water and roll over and over and snap, snap, snap—so. Make Caesar keep eyes open so dat couldn't go to sleep again for long time. Massa Huggins man come take hold of um by arm and leg and chuck down below. Caesar not dead a bit. Caesar quite 'live now. Go and talk lot o' time to pore black niggah when Massa Huggins' brudder bring schooner ship full of niggah. Caesar talk to um, not like um talk to Massa Murray Frank. Talk to um in own way sometime. Sometime poor niggah can't understand, but berry glad find Caesar sorry for um. Make um happy; laugh again."

"Poor creatures!" said Murray.

"Yes, massa. Poor creature! Come and talk togedder in de night sometime. Massa Huggins flog um when him find um out, but poor niggah don't mind dat. Like to talk about de ole country where um come from. Massa Allen find um out too, but um only laugh and say, 'Poor fellow!' But Massa Huggin flog um, and some shut eye and nebber open um again. Poor Massa Allen good massa, but won't do what Caesar say. He berry ill now, and get frighten of Massa Huggins. Tell Caesar one day he wish Massa Huggins die."

"He told you that!" said Murray, for the black had ceased speaking, and his narrative had so great a fascination for the lad that he wanted to hear more.

"Yes, massa; um say he wish Massa Huggin die so that poor niggah boy be happy again and do um work. Massa Allen say so free time to Caesar, and den Caesar wait till Massa Huggins go out and Caesar go in to Massa Allen in de cottage, where um sit down by de table like dat." And the black rested his head sidewise upon his elbow and hand. "'What you want, Caesar, lad?' he say, and um put um white hand on Caesar black arm. 'Poor niggah ill and can't work? Bad time, Caesar, to be sick man.' 'Yes, massa,' I say to um. 'Berry bad to be sick man.' 'Who is it, my lad?' he say. 'Caesar, massa,' I say to um. 'Caesar berry sick.' 'You bad, Caesar!' him say. 'Your massa berry sorry, for you de only frien' I got in de worl' now, Caesar.' 'Yes, massa,' I say. 'Caesar know dat.' 'What de matter, boy?' he say. 'Caesar bad to see massa so berry sick. Caesar 'fraid massa die.' 'Ah, dat's berry good of you, Caesar,' he say—'berry good. Then you no want me to give you doctor 'tuff?' 'No, massa,' I said. 'Nigger know what to do when niggah ill. Shut um mouf up tight free day, and niggah quite well again.' 'Ah, Caesar,' he say, 'dat do me no good, dat not do for your massa.' Then I say to um, 'No, massa, but you let Caesar do massa good and um quite well again and make all de poor niggah happy over again.' 'No, no, my boy,' um say; 'nebber again.' 'Yes, massa,' I say; 'you let Caesar try.' 'What wiv?' um say, laughing; and den I say in um whisper like: 'Fetish, massa.'"

"What!" cried Murray, half indignantly. "You don't believe in that nonsense, Caesar?"

"Not nonsense, massa."

"Well, my good fellow," said Murray, rather coldly, "I'm not going to argue with you now, but some other time, I hope. Now tell me, what did Mr Allen say?"

"Um say, 'No, my lad, no; I'll hab none of dat.'"

"Of course; but surely he does not believe in it?"

"Yes, massa; um believe for sure. Massa Allen know what niggah know and bring from own country. But Massa Allen say, 'Nebber, nebber, Caesar. Your massa done too much bad in dis worl', and he nebber do no more now.'"

"Well, that's very good of him, Caesar, but I don't quite understand what you mean."

"No, massa? Dat Huggins bad man do bad things to everybody. Make Massa Allen ill and go die. Massa Allen say not fit to live."

"And quite right too, Caesar."

"Yes, sah. Massa Allen quite right, and Caesar come one night and bring niggah Obeah and put in bad Massa Huggin rum. Den Massa Huggin drinkum, drinkum, and go drefful bad and nebber flog no more poor niggah. Nebber. Poor niggah dance and sing, and Massa Allen get well."

"But—what—here—I say, Caesar!" cried Murray, staring hard at the black—"You don't mean to say that you mean you would poison the wretch!"

"Yes, massa," said the black, in the most innocent way. "Gib um Obeah snake poison. Gib um manchineel in um rum. Make um curl up and go dead."

"Oh, that wouldn't do at all, Caesar," cried Murray earnestly. "He's a horribly bad wretch, of course."

"Yes, massa; ollible bad wretch, and ought to be killed dead; but Massa Allen say no, he won't do any more wicked thing."

"And he is quite right, Caesar."

"No, sah," said the black, shaking his head. "Not do no wicked thing. Caesar do it, and it not wicked thing. All good."

"No, no; it would be murder, Caesar," cried the middy.

"What murder, massa?"

"Eh? What is murder? Why, to kill innocent people."

"What innocent people, massa?"

"What are innocent people, my man? Why, those who have done no harm."

"Massa Huggin not no innocent people, Murray Frank. Massa Huggin bad man; kill poor niggah. Try kill poor Massa Allen, take um plantation."

"Yes, that's all very bad," said Murray thoughtfully.

"Yes, sah; berry bad. What British captain do Massa Huggin?"

"Well, I hardly know, Caesar," said Murray thoughtfully. "I should say that if he catches him fighting against the king and setting those blackguards of his to murder the poor creatures he has been dealing in— throwing them overboard so as to escape—the captain will have him hung at the yard-arm."

"Yes, sah," cried the man, with his eyes flashing. "Dat what Massa Allen tell um. Massa Allen say he desarve be hung at um yard-arm for kill an' murder poor black niggah, and Massa Huggin laugh and say Massa Allen hang too. Dat right, sah?"

"No, no; that wouldn't be right, Caesar."

"Bri'sh captain not kill Massa Allen?"

"Certainly not, my man," said Murray earnestly. "No, sah. Much a bes' way for Caesar gib Massa Huggin Obeah."

"No, no, and that would not do either. Hallo! what do you mean by that?"

The black had suddenly thrown himself down upon his face and dragged the midshipman beside him, a movement instantly imitated by the big slave who was seated among the bushes beside Roberts, who lay motionless as if asleep.

"Massa see?" whispered Caesar.

"See what?" asked Murray excitedly.

The black slowly and cautiously extended his right hand while he placed the fingers of his left to his lips.

Murray gazed with wonder in the direction indicated, but for some minutes he could make out nothing more than the closely-packed canes that commenced before the patch of jungle in which they were concealed. Everything seemed to be dim, and in the distance it was as though the thick growth was formed into a soft twilight, but as the lad strained his eyesight, he fancied that in one part the canes were swaying slightly here and there, as if the wind was pressing them on one side. Then as he turned his head a little he started and his heart began to beat with excitement, for what had been for a time indistinct now grew plainer and plainer and shaped itself into what looked to be quite a strong body of men, evidently rough sailors, creeping slowly through a plantation of sugar-cane and making for some definite place. One minute they would be quite indistinct and faint; the next they would stand out quite clearly; and it soon became plain that they were well-armed, for from time to time there was a faint gleam that Murray made out to be shed from the barrel of some musket.

"Massa Murray Frank see um?" whispered the black.

"Yes, quite plainly," replied the lad.

"Dat Massa Huggin man go creep round plantation."

"What plantation is that?" asked Murray excitedly.

"Massa Allen plantation, sah. Massa Allen plantation cottage over dah, sah."

"And is he back there now?"

"No say dat where Caesar tink de lieutenant massa wait long o' Bri'sh sailor. Fink um wait till Massa Huggin bring all a men from two, free schooner. Wait kill all a Bri'sh sailor, sah."

"And if he doesn't look out, my man, he'll be killed instead."

"Caesar hope so, sah."

"When do you mean to go on and join Mr Anderson, then?" asked the midshipman.

"Caesar wait till come dark, sah. No go yet. Massa Huggins men watch all round and take—kill—Murray Frank if um go now."

"But can't you go and warn our people that they are in danger?"

"Massa Anderson know," said the black coolly. "Bri'sh sailor officer keep eye wide open. Dah!"

He uttered the last word in a low, excited fashion, for just then there was the distant smothered report of a musket, and Murray pressed the growth before him a little on one side.

"Was that one of the slavers' crew?" he whispered.

"No, sah. Dat sailor shoot. Look now."

The lad pressed forward again, but nothing was visible, for the densely packed party of sailors who the minute before had been seen to be in motion had quite disappeared, though Murray could grasp the fact that they must still be there.



CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.

"WAIT TILL DARK."

Long hours of weary waiting and expectation of being discovered, for at intervals movements could be detected amongst the tall swaying canes and patches of maize that could be made out beyond the wilderness of undergrowth that lay between the little party of fugitives and the cottage whose presence the black insisted upon as being in the direction he pointed out.

But Murray had the satisfaction of noting that his brother midshipman was slowly recovering his senses. Twice over he had opened his eyes to gaze wonderingly in the face that looked down at him, and once when Murray whispered a few encouraging words he shook his head and seemed to sink back into a deep sleep again.

"What's to be done, Caesar?" said Murray softly.

"Do nothing, sah. Wait till come dark. Then creep, creep, creep froo trees and tell massa officer not to shoot. Then run fas', get in cottage."

Night at last, and with every nerve throbbing from excitement Murray started up in readiness, for the black had bent over to whisper to him that he was going to try and find a way past the several parties of the enemy who were beleaguering the holders of the little cottage, whom it was their aim now to rejoin.

"Massa stop now," said the man. "Wait till Caesar see."

The next minute there was a faint rustling sound, and Murray was alone with the big black and his companion, both silent, the former watchful and alert, and the latter as motionless as if plunged in the deepest sleep.

This silence was to the midshipman the most painful part of the task which he had been called upon to bear. His imagination began to set to work at once and surrounded him with perils that were ever on the increase. He knew from what he had seen that a strong body of the enemy must be lying between him and his friends, but directly Caesar had passed out of hearing it appeared to him that the crews of the slaver's schooners had started into motion and were creeping round behind him to cut him off, and twice over this was enforced by the great black beginning to creep away and leaving him alone with Roberts.

Then when he was beside himself with anxiety as to what he had better do, and more and more certain that he was completely left, he started to find that the great fellow had returned, to seat himself beside his burden, evidently ready to make a fresh start at any moment.

At last, when Murray felt that he could bear no more, there was a faint rustle and a whisper to prove that the black had returned, to lay a hand upon his shoulder.

"Well," whispered the lad excitedly, "have you found a way to get by them?"

"Caesar get by," said the man sadly, "but big slabe, Murray Frank, Roberts, not get by."

"Then what do you mean to do?"

"Try," said the man. "Murray Frank ready?"

"Yes, ready for anything," said the lad, springing up eagerly.

Caesar whispered a few words to his big fellow and as Murray strained his eyes he tried to make out the movements of the black when he caught hold of the midshipman, swung him round over his shoulder, and followed closely behind his leader and Murray, who now began to advance cautiously, hand in hand, pausing to listen from time to time, Caesar progressing more by thought than touch and evidently conscious that at any moment he might stumble upon those who were waiting ready to pounce upon him.

There were moments when hope began to illumine the lad's path, for so silent did everything remain that it seemed as if the enemy must have changed his position; and in this hopeful mood he was about to whisper his belief to his companion when the path was brightened by a totally different illumination. For there was utter silence one moment, and the next, flash, flash, from musket after musket, and the enemy's position was marked out by points of light as he concentrated his fire upon the cottage hidden amongst the trees.

This went on for a time without reply, and it now seemed to the midshipman that it must be the little party of his friends who had gone off. Then crack, crack, the reply began, and plainly mingled with the reports came the strange whistling whirr of bullets about their ears, in company with the crackling of cut-down leaves and twigs which now began to patter upon the earth.

"Come," whispered the black.

"Come where?" asked Murray excitedly.

"Back again," was the reply. "Massa no want sailor shoot massa?"

"No," whispered the lad; "but we were to shout to them that we are friends."

"Yes, massa," said the man drily, "but sailor man shout so loud um no hear massa speak, and massa get shoot dead long o' Caesar and big slabe. No talk; other fellow hear um, and sailor man shoot one side, Massa Huggin man shoot other side, and no get to cottage at all. Come back."

The lad submitted without a word, though it seemed to him maddening to give up when they were so near that every flash was quite plain, and he fully expected to hear himself hailed.

They seemed to him then to have crept exactly into the centre of the firing, and every whizzing whistle sounded as if it must be coming straight for its billet that would end one of their careers; but the moments passed on with the marvel growing more strange that they escaped being laid low; and then the excitement came suddenly to an end, when Caesar literally snatched the lad to earth and the big slave subsided with a low sigh of relief which indicated that he had sunk down too with his silent burden, to lie listening to the cross fire which still went on above their heads, till all at once a familiar voice shouted—

"Now, my lads, all together, forward! Let them have it!"

The order thrilled through Murray's breast, and seemed to rouse Roberts, helpless as he was, to action.

"Hurrah!" cried the midshipman, as he sprang to his feet, followed by his wounded comrade, who staggered for a moment or two, and then fell, clutching at Murray, dragging him down upon his less active comrade, just as there was a rush of feet, the crackling of wood, and the minute later a fierce yell of raging voices, and the sailors who had responded to the first lieutenant's call were borne back again by four times their number and driven as far as the entrance to the cottage, where they stood fast and delivered a little volley, which sent their enemies to the right-about, giving them time to barricade themselves again and hold the entrance fast.

"Answer to your names there," panted the lieutenant, who was breathless with his exertions. "What's that?" he cried directly after. "Prisoners! Two of them?"

"Four, sir," growled a deep voice. "Two black fellows, sir, and here's two youngsters, sir, as far as I can make out. One of 'em's wounded, sir."

"Well, we don't want prisoners," cried the lieutenant, "but we must take them. See that you bind them fast."

"We don't want binding, sir," gasped Murray. "We've got away from the enemy and reached you at last."

"Mr Murray! This is grand!" cried the chief officer. "But have you seen anything of poor Roberts?"

"I've got him here, sir, but he's badly wounded."

"And we've no doctor with us."

"I don't think it's dangerous, sir; but have you had any news of May and Titely?"

"Tom May is with us, my lad."

"Hurt, sir?"

"Here, answer for yourself, my lad," cried the lieutenant.

"Hurt, sir? Yes, sir; pretty tidy, sir," growled the big sailor. "One of them slavers fetched me a crack on the head as knocked all the sense out on it; but I shall get a chance at 'em again one o' these times. But is it really you, Mr Murray, here and all right, sir?"

"It's your turn to answer, Mr Murray," replied the chief officer.

"Yes, sir; and yes, Tom May; I've got back safely. Where's Titely?"

"In the plantation house, sir—in hospital—sick bay, sir; doing pretty tidy. But they're coming on again, I think, sir, and we've them two blacks with us, sir. Where shall we put them?"

"They're not prisoners, sir," cried Murray. "They're friends, and have helped us to escape."

"Do you think we can trust them?" asked the lieutenant.

"Trust them, sir? Yes, and they'll fight for us to the end."

"You answer for them, my lad?"

"Yes, sir," cried Murray. "They're staunch enough."

"Here they come, sir!" cried Tom May.

For with a fierce yelling mingled with an imitation of the hearty cheering of a body of seamen, a strong party dashed up to the hastily barricaded entrance, and sent a volley crashing through the panels of the door and the window.

"You were ready for that, my lads?" cried the lieutenant. "No one hurt?"

"Nay, sir; we're used to that bit o' business," growled the big sailor.

"Then give it them back, my lads."

The words had hardly passed the officer's lips before a dozen muskets bellowed out their reply, lighting up so many roughly-made portholes, and as the volley was responded to by a fiercer yelling than before, mingled with the hurried footsteps of the repulsed attacking party, Murray turned in the darkness to his leader.

"I can't understand it, sir," he said. "I thought Caesar, the black, was retreating with us to the cottage by the lagoon."

"No, no, my lad; this is the plantation house where we came first. I only wish we could have reached the cottage by the water-side. We should have had help from the captain before now if we could have got there."

"Then we are right in the middle of the cane fields, sir?"

"Yes, Murray, and very glad I was to come upon it, for it has been strong enough to hold. Here: your black fellow who guided the expedition—where is he?"

"Here somewhere, sir."

"Ask him then if he can lead us by some path to the water-side."

"Do you hear this, Caesar?" asked Murray. "Is there any path down to the water-side without using a boat along the river?"

"Yes, sah, but Massa Huggin men all dah, and um think they come 'long again to burn Massa Allen house up. Murray Frank look! All de window burn fire."

"Yes, they're trying another way of attack," said the chief officer—"one that I have been wondering that they did not try before. Up-stairs with you, my lad. You go too, Mr Murray. You must pick off those who come up with their firebrands. You'll be able to see the scoundrels now. This is better than that horrible darkness. Ah, the business is warming up. Give them a cheer, my lads, as soon as you are up at the windows. The captain will hear our response, and it will let him know where we are."

"But is that the Seafowl, sir?" cried Murray excitedly.

"Without doubt, my lad; but she sounds a long way off."

For the steady fire of big guns had begun, but as the chief officer had said, sounding some distance away.

"Dat Massa Huggin big schooner, sah," said Caesar sharply; and he had hardly spoken when the heavy but sharp brassy sound of a big gun came from quite another direction. "And dat Massa Huggin oder schooner, sah. Dat um Long Tom."

"Confound the scoundrel!" cried the lieutenant excitedly. "Up with you, Mr Murray. Here they come to the attack again. Take May with you, or we shall be burnt out before help can come. Well, what's that then?" he shouted excitedly, as Murray rushed up the stairs towards the rooms he had helped before to put in a state of defence. "Surely that is one of our brig's carronades. It was time she began to speak."



CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.

"LET 'EM HAVE IT."

"That's your sort, my lads! Let 'em have it!" came in the boatswain's gruff voice, as Murray reached the wide corridor-like landing of the planter's house; and directly after one of the sailors shouted—

"I'm after you, Tommy, old man. Show the ugly foreign varmint what a British bulldog is."

The words came from where a struggle was going on in one of the chambers which the midshipman had helped to barricade before he left upon his unfortunate mission to fetch help; and as the lad now crossed the corridor and ran into the room, followed by Caesar, it was to see that several of the enemy had gained a footing by rearing bamboos against the windows, and evidently in their first charge had beaten the English defenders back.

Murray rushed in just at the recoil, when Tom May had been roused to action and with a couple of companions was obeying the admonition of his messmate to show the varmint what British bulldogs might be.

Murray paused just inside the door of the lit-up room, excited and yet amused by the man's action, for he saw the big sailor in the act of rushing at a couple of the enemy, sticking the cutlass he bore between his teeth, as trusting to his great strength and weight he charged with doubled fists at the first, and in the contact drove him backwards with a heavy thud against the man who followed, with the result that both went down upon the floor and rolled over beneath the open window. Then as if in one movement the great fellow ducked down, avoiding a blow struck at him with a knife, seized the uppermost of the two enemies by the waistbelt, flung him up to the full extent of his reach, and then turning himself as it were into a human catapult, he hurled the fellow at another of his companions and caught him just as he was climbing over the window-sill.

The next instant the window-opening was clear, and the sound of a heavy thud came up from below, along with savage oaths and yells, while Tom May made at once for the man who had first attacked, and who was now struggling to his feet looking as if he had had his neck twisted.

Tom closed with the savage half-breed, Malayan looking sailor, and, to carry out his messmate's simile, seemed to regularly worry him as he bore him backward.

But there were others of the enemy watching the encounter—one who had previously reached the chamber, and another who had suddenly drawn himself up and sprung over the sill.

This fellow drew back for a few moments to watch the struggle and await his opportunity, before, heavy machete in hand, he sprang forward, to make a savage cut that would have gone hard with Tom May, but Murray saw the impending stroke, parried it with the cutlass he held, and then struck upward with the hilt, catching the assailant full in the nose with the heavy steel guard, staggering him for a moment, and then thrusting home, the man went down, just in time for May's antagonist to trip over backward, the two fellows yelling as they rolled over and over.

"Come on, messmates," growled Tom May; and there was a short continuation of the struggle before one after the other the enemy were driven headlong from the window and the room was clear.

"Thankye, Mr Murray, sir," said the big sailor, taking the cutlass from between his teeth. "You did that fine; didn't he, lads?"

"Splendid!" said the boatswain; "but what's the good of a cutlass, mate, if you don't use it?"

"Hah! That's just what I was thinking of," said the big sailor. "I just stuck it atween my tusks so as to tackle that ugly warmint, as I thought it would be easier to chuck overboard, and then you see I was too busy to ketch hold again. But it do seem comic, Mr Murray, sir, don't it? But it have kep' it clean."

"Yes, Tom; and you cleared the deck magnificently."

"Did I, sir? Well, I'm glad I do'd some good; and fingers was made afore forks, warn't they, sir? And pretty handy too."

"Yes, I suppose so, Tom; but look here, my lads," cried Murray sharply. "Lay hold of that big old bedstead and draw it across the window. It will block it up. Then clap that big wardrobe on the top."

"Ay, ay, sir!" cried the men, as they seized the heavy framework and ran it across the opening, fastening it directly after in its place by laying the heavy wardrobe across.

"That's done it tidy," cried the big sailor; "and that's the beauty of having your orficer with yer to show yer what to do."

"None of your banter, Tom," cried the midshipman sternly.

"Beg pardon, sir," said the man, in protest. "'Twarn't done for that. I meant it honest, sir. I shouldn't never have thought on it."

"All right," said Murray, smiling in the broad frank face. "Why, Tom, it's a treat to be with you again."

"Is it, sir?" cried the man.

"That it is, Tom."

"But you don't mean it, sir. I say, ain't that what you called banter?"

"Banter? No, Tom; I'm only too glad to get back to you. But how are you, Tom? Haven't you got hurt over these tussles?"

"Hurt, sir?" said the man, beginning to feel himself over. "I dunno, sir. Bit sore like just there, and my shoulder's just a shade stiff."

"Yes, and there's some paint off your nose, Tommy," said the boatswain, chuckling.

"Is there?" said the man, touching his rather prominent feature tenderly. "Humph! It do feel a bit like it. Never mind; I'll report mysen to the doctor when I get aboard again, and he'll put on a patch of his solid black—that as he keeps ready to lay on all at once. But I say, Mr Murray, sir," he added, closing up to his young officer, "you did me good in saying what you did. I felt real bad without you, sir, and as if I'd not been doing my dooty like to let you get away from me as I did."

"Nonsense, Tom! Who could help it? But it was awkward to be separated like that. I began to be afraid that we should never get together again."

"Well, sir, that's just what I got a touch of, sir, but I pulled myself up short, sir, and I says to myself, 'Mr Murray's too good an orficer,' I says, 'not to find his way out of any hole as these slave-hunting varmint would dig for him.'"

"There you go again, Tom," cried Murray angrily. "You know how I hate flam."

"I'm blest, sir!" cried the man, in an ill-used tone. "Oh, you are hard upon me, sir."

"Then you shouldn't stoop to flattery."

"Flattery, sir? Well, if that warn't honest I'm a Dutchman. I only wish I'd got a witness, sir, as heared me say it, sir; but I only says it to myself, and you don't believe him."

"Yes, I do, Tom," cried Murray.

"Hullo, sir! They're at it again somewhere else."

"Pst!" whispered Murray, holding up his hand and stepping on tiptoe towards a door at one end of the room, partly hidden by a thick curtain.

The next moment he was signing to the men to follow him.

They were just in time, for a ladder had been raised against a narrow slit of a window of what was fitted up as a bathroom, and as the lad dashed in, it was to find that one of the slaver's men was in the act of leaping down into the room, striking at the middy in his bound, and with such force that he drove the lad headlong backwards, half stunning him in his fall.

"Here, what is it?" cried Murray, after a few minutes, in a confused manner. "Who did that?"

"Why, it was this here chap, sir," said Tom May. "Here, ketch hold of his heels, man, and let's send him back to his mates; we don't want him here."

"Who wounded him—who cut him?" cried Murray excitedly.

"I'm not quite sure, sir," said Tom May drily, "but I think as it was me, sir. You see, he let himself go at you, sir, and I just give him a tap."

"You've killed him, Tom," said the lad, in rather an awe-stricken tone.

"Nay, sir. Tap like that wouldn't take it out of him. I might ha' hit a bit softer, but I was 'bliged to be sharp, or he'd ha' finished you off, sir, and of course we didn't want that. There, let go your end, messmate," continued the man, and still half dazed, Murray stood staring as he saw one of their fierce-looking, half European, half Lascar-like enemies passed out of the narrow window, bleeding profusely, and disappear, his passing through the opening being followed by the dull sound of a heavy fall.

"You've killed him, Tom!" cried Murray again, with his face drawn-looking and strange.

"Nay, sir," grumbled the sailor, "but 'twouldn't ha' been my fault, sir, if I had. Some un had to have it, and it was my dooty to see as it warn't my orficer, sir. I do know that."

Murray was silent.

"Why, I say, sir, you'd ha' tapped one on 'em pretty hard on the head if you'd ha' seen him coming at me; now wouldn't you?"

"Yes, I should," said Murray, with something like a sigh. "Look here, Tom," he added hastily, "we have too many holes to keep closed. I want some of the pieces of furniture crammed into these places. It ought to have been done before."

"It was done, sir," grumbled the man. "That's what the first luff said, sir, and we've been doing nothing else; but as fast as we stopped up the beggars kep' on shoving the stuff out again with bamboos."

The high narrow window was, however, once more pretty securely blocked, and for many hours to come the defenders of the place had their work cut out to repel the attacks that were made, the two blacks proving invaluable in keeping up a supply of water to drench the woodwork that the enemy attacked with fire, so that pretty well a day had glided by without much change having taken place.

It was evident that the slaving chief had a strong force at his disposal in carrying on a desultory kind of siege of the plantation house, while at the same time it seemed to the besieged that a sort of running fight was being carried on with the Seafowl, whose guns were heard pretty constantly, though during the afternoon that followed Murray's arrival at the plantation it seemed that the brig must have followed the slaving craft to the opposite side of the island, where firing was still going on.

During a lull in the attack upon the planter's house, Lieutenant Anderson busily inspected his defences, and, like a prudent officer, saw to his supplies and examined as to whether he could not take further measures for their protection and the setting at defiance of the enemy for some time to come.

"He ought to have driven us out or taken us prisoners hours ago, Mr Murray," he said, "for he has five times our force."

"Yes, sir; he seems to have," replied Murray.

"And yet we have managed to keep him at bay. He has the advantage of being able to set scores of blacks to work fetching fuel to try and burn us out, bringing up provisions, doing everything but fight—they are of no use for that—while we have only two of the dark-skinned fellows; but I must say those two have proved to be invaluable."

"Yes, sir. That man, Caesar—we have him to thank for showing us how to utilise the water-tanks."

"Yes, and the underground supplies," said the lieutenant.

"And the whereabouts of the warehouses; otherwise we should have been starved out."

"Yes, Mr Murray; we have been pretty fortunate, and I think we should have been able to hold out if it were not for one thing."

"Should have been, sir?"

"Yes, of course, my lad. You see, I should have contented myself with having remained standing upon the defensive until the captain came to our help, though I should strongly have advocated a sally and the cutting of the way to the sloop so as to receive the help of the doctor for poor Mr Roberts—Eh? What were you going to observe?"