"That I venture to think that it would be the wisest plan in any case, sir."

"No, not in any case, Mr Murray. You see, our position is a very serious one."

"I don't think the men think so, sir."

"Eh? Do you think that they take a rosy view of it?"

"I'm sure they do, sir."

"Humph! Well, I mustn't damp them till the last extremity."

"But surely, sir—" began Murray.

"I surely see that you do not know what I know, Mr Murray."

"I suppose not, sir," said the lad.

"But I do not see why you as a youth growing into manhood, and who are sharing with me the responsibilities of this position, should not know everything."

"I think I do know everything, sir," said Murray, smiling, "and see fully how precarious our position is."

"Indeed, Mr Murray?" said the lieutenant sadly.

"Yes, sir; I think I see all, and it makes me feel very proud to know how brave and contented the men are, poor fellows! If I were in command, sir, I should be delighted to see the confidence the men have in their leader."

"Hah! Yes, my dear boy," said the lieutenant, smiling more sadly than before. "Well, I think that perhaps I shall tell you all."

"All, sir? Is there a graver peril than I know of?"

"Yes, my lad, and I think that you ought to know—that is, if you would rather share my knowledge than remain in ignorance."

"I would rather share the knowledge, sir, and try to help you," said the lad firmly.

"Good! Then you shall; Mr Murray, we have a strong little fort here, and provisions enough to last us a month."

"Yes, sir."

"But we shall be driven to cut our way somehow to the sloop."

"Why not attack one of the schooners, sir—board her—for there are evidently more than one."

"Because we want the sinews of war, Mr Murray."

"Money, sir?" cried Murray.

"Tchah! Nonsense! Powder, my boy—powder."

"Why, sir, I thought—" began Murray.

"So did I, my lad; but unfortunately those blacks in supplying us with water to saturate that last fire—"

"Threw it over the powder-supply, sir!" cried Murray, in horror.

"Yes, my lad; that is our position, and we have only a few charges left."

"Hah! Well, sir," said Murray drawing a deep breath, "then we must use the edges of our cutlasses."

"Good!" said the lieutenant, clapping the lad upon the shoulder. "I am glad I told you, Mr Murray, for it has taught me that I have a brave lad upon whom I can depend. Yes, my lad, we have edges to our cutlasses, and when it comes to the last we must use them too."



CHAPTER FORTY NINE.

"CAESAR DON'T KNOW."

It was a little later on that, during a quiet interval and while in obedience to his officer Murray had been seeing to the men and taking care they were well refreshed ready for the next attack that might be delivered, the lieutenant joined the lad.

"Are the men satisfied?" he said quietly.

"Yes, sir; any one would think that we were out upon an excursion."

"Poor lads!" said the lieutenant. "I'm afraid it is going to be a sad excursion for them."

"Oh, I don't know, sir," said Murray cheerily. "Who knows, sir, but what the captain may come and cut us out at any time, and call upon us to help him rout out the horrible wasps' nest?"

"That's a good, bright, boyish way of looking upon things, my boy," said the lieutenant, "and we shall see. There, come and let's look at our wounded ones. Have you had a chat with your messmate lately?"

"I've been to see him three times to-day, but he is very weak yet. You have been with him too, sir. He told me. I wish you would speak to Titely, sir. He wants to get up and fight, and he is not fit."

"I've already forbidden it, Mr Murray," said the lieutenant; "and the poor fellow looked quite cut up, so I promised him a double allowance as soon as he got well enough."

The lieutenant was silent for a few minutes, and stood as if listening so intently that Murray grew uneasy.

"Do you hear anything, sir?" he asked.

"No, my lad; I wish I could. I am getting anxious."

"The men are keeping a very sharp lookout, sir."

"Oh yes; I am not afraid of that, my lad. My anxiety is for the Seafowl. It is so long since I have heard her guns, and then they were apparently a long distance away."

"Yes, sir," said Murray cheerfully; "but then it is a long while since we heard the slaver's guns, and that seems to mean that the captain has silenced and perhaps—"

"Perhaps what, Mr Murray?"

"I was going to say sunk the schooner, sir; but I hope he has not done that, for the men's sake."

"What, on account of prize money?" replied the lieutenant. "Oh, by the way, Mr Murray, I suppose you still believe in that black fellow, Caesar?"

"Oh yes, sir, thoroughly. I'm sure he saved my life."

"Humph! Well, I want to have faith in him, but it is hard work to trust in people sometimes. Then I get thinking a great deal about that Mr Allen. I suppose he is sincere."

"Oh, I feel sure he is, sir. The thorough reverence the black Caesar has for him is sufficient to prove that his master is good to his people."

"Well, after the ill these slave-owners have done the poor creatures they owe them something in the way of recompense. Humph! How strange! We begin talking of the black, and here he is. He wants to speak to you, seemingly. Call him up."

Caesar had come peering in at one of the doors, and as soon as Murray signed to him he hurried eagerly into the room, when the lieutenant looked at him searchingly and said—

"What about your master, my man? Where do you think he is now?"

Caesar started violently, and his lips quivered as he said huskily—

"Caesar don't know, sah. Berry much frighten."

"What, about the slavers and their schooners?"

"No, massa. Caesar 'fraid Massa Huggin take um and kill um."

"What for? Why should he kill one who is his master?"

"Bad man, massa. 'Fraid Massa Allen talk to Bri'sh cap'en and set all a black free. 'Fraid Massa Huggin kill um."

"Not so bad as that, I hope," said the lieutenant.

"Caesar berry much 'fraid Massa Allen no let Caesar kill Massa Huggin."

"I should think not!" said the lieutenant; and Caesar looked at him curiously.

"Massa Huggin bad man, sah. Caesar kill, sua. Him take away and kill um. Caesar t'ink so first time. T'ink so now."

"Where would he take them?"

"Caesar know, sah. Show Bri'sh officer where. Oder side island where slabe barracks and slabe ship come."

"You could take us there, my man?" said the lieutenant.

"Yes, massa. Caesar show way when Bri'sh cap'en come wif plenty men. Not 'nough now. All get kill. Show Bri'sh officer all um slabes. All Massa Huggin strong men, berry strong men."

"Good. You shall, my man," said the lieutenant; "and as you say this Huggins's men are so strong we will wait for reinforcements, so as to make sure of taking them."

"Massa try," said the black. "Try sabe Massa Allen. Try quick."

"But what are you fidgeting about?" said Murray sharply.

"Caesar t'ink Massa Huggin man come and fight soon."

"What makes you think that?" asked Murray.

"Caesar don't know, massa. Caesar feel Massa Huggin man come soon. Look, massa. Big Tom May come 'long."

The black turned excitedly to point in the direction of the head of the open staircase, where the big sailor had suddenly appeared.

"Rocks ahead, sir," he said, in a low gruff whisper.

"Something wrong to report, my lad?"

"Ay, ay, sir. They arn't come out yet, but three lookouts report seeing the enemy just inside the edge of the plantation, sir."

"Off with you then, Mr Murray," cried the lieutenant, "and take your old station. Use your ammunition carefully," he added, with a meaning intonation and a peculiar look which made the lad nod his head quickly. "Keep the sharpest lookout for fire. They must not get hold of us there."

Murray hurried off with Tom May, followed by the black, and before many minutes had elapsed the expected attack had developed so rapidly, and was delivered with such energy, that but for the brave resistance, the enemy must have carried all before them. As it was the little party of defenders met them with so fierce a fire that the savage-looking mongrel crew were sent staggering back, followed by the triumphant cheers of the Seafowls, who were still cheering when Mr Anderson made a gesture and called for silence.

"Up on to the head of the staircase, my lads," he cried. "We must make our stand there."

"Beg pardon, sir," growled Tom May, with the look of an angry lion, "but will you have some cartridges sarved out, for me and my messmates have fired our last."

"Yes, my lads," said the lieutenant, "that is a bitter fact. We have fired our last shots, and we must fall back now upon our cutlasses."

"Ay, ay, sir," said the big fellow coolly. "D'yer hear, my lads? Cutlashes it is."

And at that crucial moment, as Murray ran his eyes along the faces of the men, there was no sign of dismay—just the cheery, contented look of Seaman Jack Tar ready for the worst, and the deep threatening tones of the beaten-back enemy were pretty well deadened by a hearty cheer.

But an hour later, the enemy were back in stronger force, to be driven off once more, but at a terrible expenditure of force, for as Murray and Tom May came back from the sheltered room where they had laid their gallant leader, badly wounded, by the side of Roberts, it was to find the members of their sadly diminished force sitting wearily together discussing another loss which Harry Lang unwillingly communicated to the young officer.

"But have you looked round well? Perhaps he's lying somewhere among the trees."

"Oh yes, sir, we've looked, and he arn't there. We've been talking it over, sir, and we all think the same: he's had enough of it, sir, and gone."

"Who has?" said Tom May gruffly.

"That there nigger, Caesar, Tom."

"Dunnot believe it," said Tom May fiercely, for he was very sore.

"Well, messmate," said Harry Lang, "he arn't here."



CHAPTER FIFTY.

CAESAR FINDS THE KEY.

It was at the end of a desperate struggle, during which the brave little party of sailors had again and again driven their assailants back and repaired the defences of the two windows they held by dragging fresh pieces of furniture to their breastwork from other rooms, and they had now thrown themselves down, panting and exhausted, so as to recover what strength they could before another attack was made.

Nothing could have been better done, but as Tom May said, they wanted time.

"'Tain't wittles and drink, Mr Murray, sir," he said. "There's been plenty o' that, sir. I think we've all had too much. What we want is, as I says afore, time, sir, for it all to turn into strength."

"Yes, Tom," said the middy bitterly; "we are all completely exhausted— that is to say, you and all our brave fellows are."

"Well, arn't you too, sir? Seems to me as you're much more zausted than we lads is."

"Oh, don't talk about me, Tom. I'm as weak as a child now."

"Nat'rally, sir. Your muscles is done up, and what you ought to do now is to see if you can't hit on some dodge."

"Tom," cried Murray despairingly, "I've tried to hit on some plan till my brains refuse to act."

"Yes, sir; nat'rally, sir; but can't yer hit on something in the blowing-up-of-the-beggars line?"

"Tom!" cried the lad passionately. "How can I scheme an explosion and blow the wretches up without powder?"

"Zackly so, sir; that's what I've been thinking. You can't, can yer?"

"No, Tom."

"Couldn't make a big pot or kettle so hot that when they come along next time it would bust, could you, sir?"

"No, Tom, I certainly could not," said the middy decisively.

"Course not, sir," growled the man, frowning.

"We're beaten, Tom; we're absolutely beaten," said Murray bitterly; "and the next time the wretches come on it will be the last."

"Oh, I dunno, sir. Never say die! Don't you be downhearted, sir. There's a deal o' fight in us yet, as you'll see nex' time the beggars makes a roosh."

"No, Tom; we're getting weaker and weaker."

"Yah! I wonder at you, sir," said the sailor, moistening his hand, taking a good grip of his cutlass, and then laying it down again. "We're getting a bit longer rest this time, and jest as like as not, sir, they'll begin to tire soon."

"No, Tom; they fight with a desperate energy which is too much for us."

"Well, they do go it, sir, I must say. You see, it makes a deal o' differ when a man's got a noose round his neck. They knows that if they don't get the best of us they'll be strung up to the yard-arm, and it sets 'em thinking that they may as well fight it out as that. But there, we're not licked yet, sir, though I must say as it was a nasty knock for us when the first luff went down, knocked silly as he was by that swivel-eyed Molatter chap—'bout as ugly a ruffian as ever I did see. Then, too, it was a bit o' hard luck for us when that darkie chap got rooshed off in the muddle. He would ha' been useful to fetch powder and help load."

"When there was no powder, Tom?" said the lad bitterly.

"Yes, sir; I meant if there had been any, o' course. Poor chap, he couldn't help being a black un, could he, sir? I've thought over and over again that if he could ha' grown white and talked like a Christian, sir, he'd ha' made quite a man."

"Lie still, Tom," cried Murray, laying a hand upon the big sailor's arm.

"Thought they was coming on agen, sir?"

"No, no! I'll rouse you up the moment I hear them advancing. Rest all you can."

"Thankye, sir," said the man drowsily. "But you won't go to sleep, sir? You must be dead tired yourself, sir, and it's so dark it may tempt yer, sir."

"You may trust me, Tom."

"Course I may, sir. But I think if I was you I'd give the first luff another drink o' water, sir."

"I did a short time ago, Tom."

"And I been thinking, sir, that if you could tie three or four sheets together and slide down 'em you might get hold o' that ladder they put up again' the window to swarm up."

"I did, Tom, when you told me the last time."

"Course you did, sir, and I forgot," said the man drowsily. "But what's that there?"

"What?" asked Murray, as he sat listening in the darkness, with his exhausted comrades lying about beside the barricaded window.

"That there," whispered the man, pointing through the gloom over where a dark line was formed by a piece of furniture.

Murray made a snatch at the sailor's cutlass, took a firm grip of the hilt, and then creeping cautiously over two of the recumbent sailors, made for the opening, now quite satisfied that May's eyes even now had been sharper than his own, and that one of the enemy was stealing up by means of some bamboo pole or ladder, to guide his companions into the bravely defended room.

Murray rose slowly, threw back the heavy sharp blade till the hilt rested against his left ear, and gathering into the effort all his force he was about to deliver his cut upon the unguarded enemy's head, when there was a quick whisper:

"Massa Murray no hit. Take hold 'fore Caesar tumble down."

The middy loosened his hold of the cutlass just in time, and catching hold of the black's hand with both his own, dragged him over the barricade right into the room.

"Hullo, darkie," whispered Tom May; "it is you, is it?"

"Yes, Massa Big Tom," replied the black feebly, and as if speaking in weakness and in pain.

"Thought you'd come back to your friends again. Didn't bring in any more powder, did you?"

"No, Massa Tom," replied the poor fellow faintly. "Caesar nearly get kill. T'ink nebber see poor Massa Allen again. Couldn't find um."

"Did you, blackie? Well, we all began to think something of that kind."

"Massa Murray Frank and all Bri'sh sailor come 'long o' Caesar. T'ink take um where Massa Allen must be."

"No, my man," said the middy sadly. "I can't leave my friends here. We must hold this place to the last."

The black sank back on the littered floor and groaned.

"Poor Massa Allen!" he said.

"Lookye here, darkie," said the big sailor; "tain't no use to howl. What do you say to getting a good bunch of palm leaves and waiting till these slaver beggars come again, and then setting fire to the place and burning them all up together?"

"Yes, sah," said the black sadly. "Caesar go and set fire to sugar-barrel; all burn up."

"Bah! Take too long, darkie. Now, if you'd got a barrel o' powder!"

"Big Massa Tom want barrel o' powder?"

"Do I want a barrel of powder?" growled the big sailor, in a deep-toned voice full of contempt and scorn.

"Not big barrel sugar," said the black sadly; "lilly barrel black powder, all black like niggah."

"Here, what are you talking about, you old pitch kettle?" cried the sailor, full of animation now. "You don't know where there's a lilly barrel, do you?"

"Yes," said the man quietly.

"Not a lilly white barrel?"

"No, sah; lilly black barrel. Two—ten—twenty lilly barrel."

"What!" cried Murray excitedly. "Where is it?"

"Down'tair," said the black, speaking with more animation now. "Massa Murray Frank wantum?"

"Yes, of course," cried the lad. "Where do you say it is? Down-stairs?"

"Yes, massa. Down'tair long wi' Massa Allen bottle of wine. Plenty bottle o' wine. Two, ten, twenty lilly barrel black powder."

"Avast there, my lads," said the big sailor, in a deep, low whisper. "Rouse and bit, my chickens. Here's corn in Egypt and no mistake." And then, as the men sprang up ready to meet another attack, even if it might be the last, Tom May turned to Murray. "Beg pardon, sir, but what's it to be?"

"Get a barrel of powder up directly, Tom," replied the lad; "that is, if it doesn't turn out too good to be true. You serve it out to the lads, too, and be ready to give the enemy a surprise when they come on again."

"Beg pardon, sir, but hadn't we better make it a mine, sir? Clap a couple o' barrels just in their way. Lay a train, and one on us be ready to fire it just as they're scrowging together under the window."

"Yes, far better, Tom; far better than blazing at the wretches with the muskets. Here, Caesar, show us where the powder is. Is it locked up?"

"Yes, massa; down'tair. Caesar know where key."

The feeling that he was going to be of some great assistance to those who were the friends of his master seemed to rouse up the black, who staggered at first as he rose, and then seemed to grow stronger as he led the way towards the door, caught at the balustrade, and before he could be seized fell and rolled heavily down the stairs, to lie groaning feebly at the bottom.

"Look at that now!" cried the big sailor, as he helped Murray to raise the poor fellow to his feet. "Why didn't you speak out about the gunpowder before?"

"Caesar not know," moaned the shivering black. "Key dah," he panted. "Key dah."

"Key dah!" growled the big sailor. "Who's to know where dah is? Can't you show us? I believe we shall have the beggars here before we can find it, sir."

But the black began to recover a little and ended by leading the way in the darkness to a closet in the principal down-stairs room, leaving it open, and then, armed with a key and hurrying his companions back, he opened a door in the wide hall, and holding on by the big sailor, showed the way down into the cellar of the well-vaulted house.

The rest proved to be easy, though every step was taken under a state of intense excitement, while the wounded and worn-out sailors forgot every suffering, inspired as they now were by hope.

At last, armed with a couple of fair-sized kegs of powder, held in reserve in case of troubles with the large body of slaves that were always about the plantation and at the so-called barracks, the plan of laying a mine and firing it when next the enemy made an attack was modified at Murray's suggestion into the preparing of some half-dozen shells, each composed of an ordinary wine bottle or decanter fully charged and rammed down with an easily prepared slow match such as would occur to any lad to contrive ready for lighting from a candle held prepared in the upper chamber, risk being a matter that was quite left out of the question.

"Hah!" ejaculated Murray, as the shells were at last prepared. "Now they may come on as soon as they like. This must be the best plan, Tom—to wait till they begin to attack, and fire from here."

"Well, it's the safest, sir; but mightn't we load every piece we've got and give 'em a taste of that wittles as well, sir?"

"Of course," was the reply; and every piece was loaded; but still the enemy did not come.

"I say, sir, this here arn't going to end in a big disappyntment, is it, sir?"

"What, do you think they mayn't come?"

"Yes, sir, that's it."

"What could be better, Tom?" replied Murray.

"Oh, I want 'em to come, sir," grumbled the man. "They've made us so savage that we shan't none of us be happy without we gets a chance to use this here dust."

"They'll come; depend upon it, Tom," said Murray.

"Then how would it be to light a fire out yonder, sir?" suggested the big sailor.

"What, so as to see the enemy?"

"Nay, sir; we shall manage that, and when the shells busts, sir, they'll light it up a bit; but what I meant was, sir, to start a pretty good fire just at a fair distance in front of the window, sir, just handy for some of us to make up good big charges of powder tied up in the sleeves of our shirts, sir, handy and light ready to heave into the hot parts where the fire's burning. They're pretty tough, them slavers, but a few of them charges set off among 'em would be more than they'd care to face. We've got plenty o' powder, sir, to keep it on till to-morrow; so what do you say?"

"I say, certainly, Tom," replied Murray; "and on thinking again of what we had first planned, I say that we will lay a train from the door under this window to a mine consisting of one of the barrels just hidden."

"And me fire it, sir?" cried the big sailor eagerly.

"No; I shall do that myself," said Murray firmly.

"All right, sir; you're orficer," said the big sailor, rather sulkily, "and a sailor's dooty's to obey orders; but I did think, sir, as a orficer in command was to give orders and let them as was under him do the work. I don't mean no offence, Mr Murray, sir, but I thought you was in command now that the first luff was down in orspittle, or as we say, in sick bay."

"Well, we'll see, Tom," said Murray. "I don't want to disappoint you, my lad. What we've got to make sure of is that the mine is fired."

"Ay, ay, sir; but you might trust me, sir."

"I do trust you, Tom," replied Murray. "There, let's have the powder up and take the head out of another keg."

"Ay, ay, sir. Give the word, sir, and we'll soon do that."

"Off with you," cried Murray; and while the men were gone below, he carefully arranged the so-called shells that had been prepared, so that they were handy for hurling from the window, and once more examined the quick match that had been formed of strips of linen and moistened powder—a fuse that could be depended upon to keep burning when once set alight.

He had hardly satisfied himself as to the arrangement of the terrible weapons that had been prepared, before a sound that floated through the open window drew him close up, and he had hardly stood there in doubt a couple of minutes before his doubt was dispelled, for plainly enough, and apparently from the other side of the island, came the report of a heavy gun, which was answered by another report, evidently from a gun of different calibre.

Just then the men who had been below came hurrying up, bearing the powder as coolly as if it was so much butter.

"I've brought two on 'em, sir," said the big sailor, "and if you'll just look on, sir, we'll make all right."

"Be careful, my lad," said Murray. "Remember the light's here."

"Ay, ay, sir; we'll be on the lookout for sparks," replied the man; "but hullo, sir! Hear that?"

"Yes," said Murray; "firing over there, and the captain at work."

"Three cheers for 'em, my lads! We shall have the beggars at us here soon."



CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

LAYING THE TRAIN.

The dangerous preparations were soon made, and Tom May's and his comrades' hands were plainly seen trembling as they handled their kegs.

"Look at that now, sir," said the big sailor. "Did you ever see such a set o' cowards in your life?"

"Cowards, Tom? Never," said Murray, who was all of a quiver too.

"More did I, sir. I wouldn't ha' believed I could ha' been in such a shiver and shake. I supposed it'd be for fear we shouldn't be ready for the warmint; but it don't look like it, do it?"

"Yes, Tom, for your hands are steady enough now you've done."

"Well, I hope so, sir," said the man, "because it seems such a bad example to the lads, and they've all ketched it. Hullo, darkie! What, are you shaking too?"

"Yes, Massa Tom," replied the black, with his teeth chattering. "Caesar drefful frighten we no get the gunpowder go off when Massa Huggin man come. You let Caesar take lilly barrel now and light um, massa."

"Why, here's another awfully cowardly chap, Mr Murray, sir. It's a rum un, arn't it?"

"You make has'e, Massa Tom May; not talkee so much palaver," cried the trembling black, seizing hold of one of the barrels and hoisting it upon his shoulder. "You bring candle; set light."

"No, no, Caesar," cried Murray. "Not ready yet. Wait."

The man parted with the little keg unwillingly, and stood with his hand to his ear straining his neck out of the window, and listened.

"Massa Huggin man come along," he panted.

"Well, we're ready for them, my coal-dust messmate."

"Hush!" whispered Murray. "Who's that calling?" For a voice reached them from the next room.

"It's Mr Roberts, sir. Ahoy, there! Coming, sir."

Murray ran through the opening to where the middy was lying trying to make himself heard.

"Were you calling, Dick?" said Murray, his voice still trembling with excitement.

"Calling? Yes! Shouting till I was hoarse. I could hear. You've got powder now. Bring some here, and the fellows' muskets. I can load if I can't do anything else."

"Yes, bring powder," said another voice, one, however, that sounded very weak and faint. "I think I can reload, too, for the lads."

"No, no, Mr Anderson," cried Murray excitedly; "leave it all to us, sir. The enemy are coming on again, and there is no time to make fresh preparations."

"Ahoy, there, Mr Murray! Now's your time!"

"Off with you, my lad, and Heaven help you!" groaned the lieutenant. "Roberts, we must bear our lot, and be satisfied with our defenders."

Murray was already through the door which separated the two rooms, to find the men waiting, as ready and eager as if not one amongst them had been wounded.

"Are they very near?" asked Murray excitedly.

"Quite nigh enough, sir," growled the man who was hugging one keg, another able-seaman holding another, while the black grasped a couple of the extemporised shells.

"No, no, Caesar," said Murray sharply. "Put those down here; they are for throwing. You lead the way out through the lower door along the path the enemy will come."

"Yes sah. You come too?" cried the black.

"Yes; quick! Off with you!"

The man hurried down the staircase, followed by the two sailors, whose comrades had received their orders to stand fast at the upper window to cover the engineering party. The door was thrown open, and Murray led the way out into the darkness, Caesar holding his hand tightly.

"Too late!" said the lad hoarsely; and he drew back.

"No, no, sah; plenty time," whispered the black. "Come 'long."

"Ay, ay, sir!" growled Tom May. "Sharp's the word."

"But we shall be running into their arms, my lad, and lose the powder."

"Not us, sir. They can't see us coming, and we mustn't let 'em hear us."

"Forward, then," whispered Murray. "What! there, Caesar?" he continued, for the black had run forward a few steps and then stopped short in a dark alley leading towards the side of the plantation and the quarters of the black servants.

"Yes, massa. Huggins man mus' come 'long here."

There was no time for consideration, for the enemy was evidently approaching cautiously, and before any further order could be given Tom May had plumped down the keg he carried, and his companion was about to follow suit with the other, but Murray checked him.

"No, no," he whispered; "one first. Is the top quite open, Tom?"

"Open it is, sir," was the reply.

"Now then, my lad, take the other keg and lay the train. Sprinkle it thickly, walking backward right away along the path here to the door."

"Right it is, sir," growled the big sailor. "No, no, messmate; you keep hold o' the barrel and walk alongside. I'll ladle it out. Mind, all on you, not to tread in the dust. D'yer hear, darkie? Keep back, I tell you; too many cooks 'll spoil the broth."

It was rough work, and clumsily executed, but somehow or other, and in spite of the near approach of the enemy, who seemed to be aware of their proximity, the train was effectively laid, and the engineers regained the doorway, just in front of which the train was made to end.

"Now for the candle, Tom," whispered Murray. "Here, you, Caesar, where are you going?"

There was no reply, for the black had dashed in and run up the staircase, to seize the light from the upper room where the covering party were standing ready to fire from the window.

It was a risky proceeding, and Murray stood below in the doorway looking on, but afraid to speak for fear of doing more harm than good, as he saw the faithful black steal rapidly down the stairs, his black fingers enclosing the burning candle like an open lanthorn which threw its glowing fluttering flame upwards over the black weird-looking face with its glistening eyes and white teeth. Every moment the flame threatened to be extinct, but it fluttered and recovered itself as the black tottered down into the hall and then stepped quickly past Murray in the effort to shelter the candle behind the door.

"Dah, massa," he panted. "Now say when Caesar set fire to de powder."

"No, my man," panted Murray. "I must fire the powder myself. You tell me when."

"Caesar say when, massa?"

"Yes, and I will fire the train. Now then, you stand close behind me when I step out. You, Tom, stand behind the door, and as soon as I have fired the train Caesar and I will dash back into the house, and you clap to and fasten the door. Do you see?"

"No, sir, but I can feel," growled the man; "but won't the 'splosion bust it open?"

"Very likely, Tom."

"Ay, ay, sir; but right it is, sir."

"Now then, Caesar," whispered Murray, thrusting one hand behind the door to seize the candle and place it ready in shelter.

"Not yet, massa," said the black, who stood out a couple of yards from the door. "Dey come 'long close, but all 'top now."

"Ah, they have found the powder keg," ejaculated Murray.

"No, sah. Dey all close 'longside and wait for more Massa Huggin man."

"Then I will not fire yet."

"No, sah. Caesar fink dey watch see Murray Frank, want know what um do. All talkee palaver. No fire yet."

"I must fire soon," whispered the lad, in a strangely excited tone of voice, which sounded as if he were being suffocated.

"No; Murray Frank not fire yet," whispered the black, in eager tones. "Wait plenty more Huggins man come. Yes," he whispered, as a burst of voices as of many of the enemy hurrying up could be heard; and then above all came the strangely familiar tones of one who had been leading the newly-arrived party, and Murray started violently as there fell upon his ear in fierce adjuration—

"Wall, why are you waiting? In with you, curse you, and finish them off!"

The black started back to retreat into the house, but Murray extended his left hand and caught him by the shoulder.

"Where are you going?" he whispered.

"Run!" was the reply. "Massa Huggin."

"Not yet," whispered Murray. "Is it time now?"

The lad's calm words had the effect of steadying the trembling black as they listened, and his voice was no longer the same as he said firmly now—

"Yes, massa. Time now. Fire!"

Murray thrust the black from him as he snatched the light from behind the door, took a couple of steps towards the enemy, and stooped down with the candle burning blue and seeming to become extinct as the lad touched the path. Then there was a bright flash as the powder caught, sputtered and began to run, lighting up the figure of the midshipman in the act of dashing in through the doorway, a score of bullets rattling after him in answer to an order; and then the door closed with a heavy bang.

Darkness within and a blaze of light without, where the voice of the Yankee could be heard shouting orders which rose above the buzzing fluttering noise of the running train.

"Hurt, Mr Murray, sir?"

"No! Where's the black?"

Crash!

A fierce burst as of thunder, and the just-closed door was dashed in, while the hall and staircase were filled with light.



CHAPTER FIFTY TWO.

WHAT THE POWDER DID.

The horrible dank odour of exploded gunpowder; a blinding smoke; thick darkness; a strange singing in the ears, and then, in connection with a sensation as of having been struck down and stunned, an awful silence.

These were Murray's impressions as he slowly struggled to his feet. Then as his scattered senses began to return he cried hoarsely—

"Who's here?—Who's hurt?"

There was no reply for a few moments, and then from somewhere up-stairs as it seemed to Murray, Roberts shouted—

"Do speak, somebody! Are you all killed?"

"No, no," panted Murray, who now began to cough and choke. "Speak, somebody! Who's hurt?"

"Here, avast there!" now burst forth the hearty tones of the big sailor. "Let's have it, messmates, only don't all speak at once. Arn't all on you killed, are you?"

"No, no," cried one.

"Knocked the wind out of us," said another, from the upper room.

"Here, steady there," cried Tom May now, in a voice full of excitement. "Avast there, what did you do with the rest of that there keg of powder?"

"Me?" cried Harry Lang, who had handled it. "You, yes! What did you do with it, messmate?"

"Took it up-stairs. I mean, brought it up here."

"Then 'ware sparks."

The dread of a fresh explosion in the presence of the faint sparks that could be seen lying here and there for some distance about the front of the planter's house set every one to work with bucket and water, and it was not until broad daylight that confidence began to reign, with the calmness which accompanied the knowledge that the door which had been blown in had been replaced by a strong barricade to act as a defence against a renewed attack.

Of this, however, there was no sign, the danger resting only in the imagination of the wearied-out and wounded men, several of whom had sunk into a stupor of exhaustion, while Murray, Tom May and the black were out exploring, and finding here and there at a distance from the front of the house traces of the havoc which could be produced by the explosion of a keg of gunpowder.

Not to dwell upon horrors, let it suffice to say that one of the discoveries made was by Tom May and the black, when the following words were uttered—

"Well, look ye here, darkie, you needn't shiver like that. Y'arn't afraid on him now?"

"No; not 'fraid; but he make niggah 'fraid all many years, and Caesar keep 'fraid still. But nebber any more. He dead now."

"But are you sure this was him?"

"Yes, Caesar quite suah. Only 'fraid now poor Massa Allen dead too."

"Ah, well, messmate—black messmate, I mean—we had nothing to do with that, and Master Huggins will never make an end of any more poor fellows; so don't shiver like jelly, for I says it's a blessing that the beggar's gone."

"Yes, Massa Tom. No 'fraid no more. All a blessing Massa Huggins gone."

"And all his men, darkie."

"Yes, sah, and all his men. They never come back no more."

"What is it?" said Murray, coming up. "Have you found out anything more?"

Tom May made an announcement which Murray communicated to the wounded lieutenant, and he had hardly finished when the sound of firing began again.

"What's that?" cried Mr Anderson, raising himself upon one arm. "There, you needn't tell me, Murray, lad; I know. It's the captain attacking, or being attacked by, some of the slaving scoundrels, and we are not there to help him."

"But surely, sir, we have been helping him by what we have done," said Murray; and the lieutenant stretched out his hand, wincing and groaning as he did so, and clutched the midshipman's arm.

"Thank you, my dear boy," he said; "that does me good. We have been helping him, haven't we?"

"Why, of course, sir. That explosion has ended in killing the chief slaver, the head of the gang, as well as a terrible number of his wretched followers."

"So it has, Mr Murray; so it has. Your doing too."

"Oh no, sir; I only played my part. We did," said Murray, smiling.

"We? Nonsense! You fired the train."

"Yes, sir, as your deputy, and with your instructions. It was done by us in following out duties that the captain would have wished carried out."

"Ha! Thank you, Mr Murray. I am weak and faint and troubled by the idea that I have not done my part."

"Oh, nonsense, sir. There, let me put this wet handkerchief to your head. You're feverish again."

"Thank you, Murray," sighed the lieutenant gratefully. "You are a good fellow. I wish Mr Roberts were as good an officer."

"Well, you have your wish, sir," said Murray laughingly. "He'd have done his share if he hadn't been wounded."

"Ah, yes; how is he?"

"Getting better, sir, certainly."

"That's good, Murray," said the lieutenant, with a sigh. "I want to make as good a show of the men as I can when I have to face the captain again. I'm afraid, though, that it will be a very bad one, eh?"

"Plenty of wounded, sir, but none very bad. The poor fellows have broken down a bit now that the work's done, but they'll soon mend."

"Then you don't think, Murray, that the captain will find much fault with me and my men?"

"He'd be very unreasonable if he did, sir."

"Hah! You think so, Murray? But he can be rather unreasonable sometimes, Murray, eh?"

"Terribly, sir."

"Hah! That's comforting, Murray, for I am very weak. I feel, you see, that I ought to be up and doing now, my lad, and I haven't the power to stir."

"Beg pardon, sir," said Murray, "but now you're hors de combat am I not leading officer?"

"Certainly, my dear boy, and I tell you that you have done wonders."

"Thank you, sir," said Murray, "but I was not fishing for compliments. What I wanted you to say was that I was to take the lead."

"I say so, then, certainly, my dear sir."

"Well, then, sir, I say that your duty is to lie still and get better, and that our lads are to do the same."

"Well, leaving me out, Murray, that's quite right."

"Yes, sir, and including you. The best thing is for me to give our lads a rest to recoup a bit. We can't do better than hold this place in case of a fresh attack."

"Quite right."

"And wait until the captain sends help."

"Excellent, Murray; but the captain may be waiting for help to come from us."

"Yes, sir, and if he is I am sorry to say that I could not lead four men to his aid."

"Oh dear, that's bad," groaned the lieutenant.

"You couldn't get up and lead us, sir."

"Get up? Lead you, Murray? My dear lad, I am as weak as an infant."

"Ray—ray—hooray!" came loudly.

"What's that?" cried the lieutenant excitedly. "Quick, lad! My sword. A fresh attack."

"No, sir," cried Murray, who had run to the window as the cheering was responded to loudly. "It's Mr Munday with over a dozen men coming up at the double. Do you hear, sir?—'Seafowls ahoy!'"

"Ah!" sighed the lieutenant, sinking back upon the now stained pillow which had been taken from one of the planter's beds.

"Mr Murray, that you?" came from the front.

"Yes, sir," cried Murray, who was looking from the window.

"Well, I shouldn't have known you. You're as black as a sweep."

"Yes, sir," said the middy, clapping his hand to his face.

"Seen anything of Mr Anderson?"

"Yes, he's lying up here, wounded."

"What! Not badly?"

"Got a nasty wound, sir, but it will soon be better," replied the middy, glancing back at the half-fainting officer.

"Come up, Munday," cried the latter; and in a few minutes the second lieutenant had forced his way over the barricaded entrance and reached the rooms that now formed the temporary infirmary.

"Very, very glad to have found you at last," said Mr Munday, shaking hands warmly. "My word, sir, you have had a tremendous fight here!"

"You can report to the captain that I have done my best, Munday, and our lads have fought like heroes."

"That's good, sir. I'm sure they have. I wish, though, we had been here."

"And now you will either get us aboard or send for Mr Reston."

"I'm sorry to say that I can't do either," said the second lieutenant.

"What!" cried the chief officer.

"It has been like this; the captain sent me ashore with a boat's crew to find you and the rest, and as soon as we were out of sight he was attacked by a couple of schooners."

"How did you know that?" asked Murray, who had laid his hand upon the chief officer's lips to keep him from speaking.

"From the two boat-keepers; and one of these schooners our lads report as being commanded by that scoundrel who tricked us with his lugger. He was the real owner of the schooner that escaped."

"Ah! Go on," said Mr Anderson faintly. "Tell Murray, and let me lie and listen."

"Well, then," continued the officer, "these two schooners attacked the skipper just when he was shorthanded, and before I could get back to my cutter they had been there, driven the two boat-keepers ashore, and scuttled her. Of course my two men could do nothing but make for me. So there I was ashore, listening to the firing, while the skipper had to keep on a running fight, and that's been going on ever since, for they've been a bit too many for the Seafowl, it seems to me."

"How unfortunate!" said Murray.

"Horribly, sir," said the second lieutenant. "Here have I been hunting you ever since, though I've had a few skirmishes with the scoundrels, who have seemed to swarm."

"Yes," said Murray, nodding his head. "White, black and mongrel scum of the earth."

"Exactly, my lad. Well, to make a long story short, the place is such a maze that I'm sure I should never have found you if we hadn't seen the flash of this explosion. Of course we heard the roar far enough away, but that would not have guided us without we had seen the direction."

"No, sir, I suppose not. Well, sir, what's to be done now?" said Murray.

"Let's hear what Mr Anderson says."

"Hush! He has fallen asleep," whispered Murray. "Poor fellow! He is very weak."

"And ought to have Reston to him. We're in a nice hole, Murray, upon my word! Have you got a morsel of prog? My lads are starving."

"We've plenty, sir."

"Hah! Then feed us, dear lad, and then we shall be ready to fight or do anything you like. But hullo! What about Dick Roberts?"

"Wounded, but getting better. He's in the next room, doing nothing but sleep."

"Next room! Upon my word you middies are pretty sybarites! Well, let us have this prog."

"Come down to the dining-room," said Murray. "Mr Anderson cannot do better than sleep."

"Dining-room!" said the second lieutenant in a whisper, as they left the chamber. "What next? You haven't got such a thing as a cellar of wine on the premises, have you, my lad?"

"Yes, sir," said Murray, laughing; "but that's where we have our powder magazine."

"Give us something to eat, then, my dear fellow, and then let's see if we can't use the powder to blow up the two schooners which are pounding the Seafowl. Hark! They're at it still."

"No," said Murray, listening; "those must be the Seafowl's guns."



CHAPTER FIFTY THREE.

THE CAPTAIN'S LAST BLOW UP.

Murray proved to be right, for the distant reports which came from somewhere on the far side of the island proved to be the last fired by the man-o'-war, which, shorthanded though she was, and desperately attacked by the powerful well-manned schooners, had kept up a continuous fight, so cleverly carried on that it had at last ended by the running ashore of one of the big slaving craft, and the pounding of the other till in desperation the skipper, who proved to be the cunning Yankee hero of the lugger trick,—the twin brother of the scoundrel Huggins who had met his fate in the explosion,—set his swift craft on fire before taking, with the remnants of the crew, to the woods.

It was not until a couple of days later that, after extinguishing the fire on board the second schooner and setting sail with her for the harbour, Captain Kingsberry commenced firing signal guns to recall his scattered crew, and communication was made by the help of Caesar.

"Yes, Massa Murray Frank," he said eagerly; "Caesar soon show um way to where big gun go off."

He, too, it was who gave signals which resulted in the collection of as many of the plantation slaves as were wanted to bear the wounded men in palanquins through the maze-like cane brakes and down to the shore, where a shady hospital was started in which Dr Reston could rule supreme, his patients chuckling to one another as they luxuriated in the plantation coffee, sugar, molasses, fruit and tobacco, and thoroughly enjoyed themselves—so they said—in the jolliest quarters that had ever fallen to their lot.

Caesar, too, in his actions was certainly one of the greatest of the Caesars, for in spite of a terribly scorched face, and burned and wounded arms and hands, he worked almost without ceasing. Scores of his fellow-slaves flocked to help, and under his guidance the captain and crew of the Seafowl were perfectly astounded by the extent of the plantation buildings, and the arrangements that existed for carrying on the horrible trade and keeping up the supply from the far-off African coast.

It was a busy time for the Seafowls, as they called themselves, but they had the prisoners to deal with, for those left alive of the crews of the two schooners had managed to reach the familiar shelter of the dense shores, from which they did not wait to be hunted out, but utilised some of the light boats of whose existence they were well aware, and sickened by the terrible lesson they had received, made sail for one of the neighbouring bays.

It was, as has been said, a busy time for the Seafowls, for there were the two captured schooners to get afloat and the fired rigging to restore before they were fit to take to a destined port as prizes. There were vile barracks to burn, and plenty of other arrangements to make as to the destination of certain newly-arrived prisoners who had to be saved from their terrible fate.

Briefly, although the sailors called it a good holiday, it was a period of the hardest work, but what with prize money and tasks that paid mentally every lad and man who thought, it was a time of pleasure; and it was not till towards the end of the Seafowl's stay that Caesar came on board the sloop of war one evening with his face flushing with excitement and showing all his teeth.

"Caesar find um at last, massa," he cried.

"Find? Find? Not Mr Allen?" said Murray.

"Yes, massa. Find good ole Massa Allen."

"Then he is not dead?"

"Yes, massa. No massa. Huggins no kill um. Shut um up. Tell um, massa, dat um poor crack looney."

"What! Lunatick!"

"Yes, massa, looney, mad. Shut um up."

"Where? And have you seen him?"

"Yes, massa. Tullus find um in niggah hut shut up, and take me dah."

"Then that Huggins has not killed him?"

"No, massa; shut um up. Say um mad man. Berry bad. Get more bad ebbery day till Tullus find um. Black slabe woman 'top wiv him. Massa Huggins say kill her if she let um go."

"Poor creature!" said Murray, wrinkling up his brow.

"Yes, sah; berry poor creature, sah. Caesar berry sorry. Massa Allen good massa, and Caesar lub um."

"But where is he now? Not dead?"

"Yes, massa been die berry much all um time. Couldn't quite go die till poor Caesar come, and den he shake hand. Say 'Good-bye, Caesar, lad. Tell Massa Murray Frank. Tell um t'ink de bes' ob a poor weak man.'"

"Mr Allen said that, Caesar?" said Murray.

"Yes, sah. Caesar cry bofe eyes. Tullus cry and slabe woman cry when we put um in de groun' fas' asleep. Everybody lub poor Massa Allen, sah. Gone dead. Say go to sleep happy now. No more slabe trade now. No more poor niggah leap overboard now Massa Murray Frank and Bri'sh sailor come."

"Well, Mr Murray," said the captain, about an hour later, "I hope you are ready to return to your duties."

"Yes, sir, certainly," said the lad, staring.

"I'm glad of it. And, by the way, this is a very favourable opportunity for saying a few words in season to you. Let me tell you that I am not at all satisfied with the way in which your duties have been carried out, any more, I may say, than I have been with the way in which I have been served by your brother officers. I look for something better in the future, sir, something decidedly better in the future, I may say;" and he stalked aft and went below.

"Did you hear what Captain Kingsberry said, sir?" said Murray to the chief officer, who just then came limping up with his spy-glass beneath his feeble arm.

"Yes, Murray, every word. My dear boy, it is a way he has. There, there, my lad, I think amongst us we've given the slave-trade its heaviest blow."

THE END.