"There, Morgan," I said, feeling quite inspirited, as I noted the change which seemed to have come over the men. "You see how mad all that was last night."

He smiled as he laid his hand on my arm. "Look you, Master George," he said, "you always forget that I only talked of that as being something to be done if it came to the worst."

"And it has not come to the worst," I said.

"And I hope it never may," he replied.

I hurried to my father's side to tell him what had gone on; and I found him in a great deal of pain, but apparently quite cheerful and grateful to the big black, who now declared himself well enough to attend to "de massa," and forgetful of his own injuries, which were serious enough, the cuts on his arms being still bad, while he had been a good deal scorched by the fire.

"I can never be grateful enough to you, Hannibal," said my father again. "You saved my life."

"Massa sabe Hannibal life," said the great negro, with a grave smile. "Can't say well, but tink great deal 'bout all massa done for us."

"Don't talk about it," said my father, quietly.

"No, sah," replied the great black, turning to me, "not talk 'bout; tink about much—much more."

"Well, Hannibal, if we live to get clear of this dreadful trouble, I will try to be fair to—" He stopped for a few moments, wincing evidently from pain.

"Better now," he said, with a smile. "I was going to say, I have never considered either you, Hannibal, or your boy as slaves."

"No, massa," said the big black, calmly.

"But you are considered to be so here; and from this day I give you both your liberty."

Hannibal smiled, and shook his head.

"Do you not understand me?"

"Massa give holiday. Han done want holiday," said the black, laboriously.

"No, no; I set you both perfectly free."

"Massa tink Pomp lazy—Hannibal no fight 'nuff?"

"My good fellow, no," said my father, drawing his breath hard. "You do not fully understand. You were brought to this place and sold for a slave."

"Yes, understand. Massa bought Hannibal."

"Then now you are quite free to go where you like."

"Where go to, sah?"

"As soon as we have beaten off these Indians, back to your own country."

The black shook his head.

"You would like to go back to your own country?"

"No," said the black, thoughtfully. "'Top fight for capen and Mass' George."

"But we shall have done fighting soon, I hope, and then you can go in peace."

"No peace in Han country."

"What?"

"Alway fight—make prisoner—sell slave. Han want Pomp here talk for um."

"Ah, well, wait till we get peace, and things are getting on smoothly again, then we can talk."

"Capen cross wif Hannibal?"

"Cross? No; grateful."

"Han stay here 'long massa and Mass' George."

"Ah, George, any good news?" said my father, turning to me. "You see I am forced to be a slave-owner."

I shook my head rather sadly as I thought of Morgan's words.

"Oh, don't despair, my boy," he said, cheerfully. "It has seemed very desperate several times, but the Indians are still at bay, and we are alive."

"Yes, father, but—"

"Well?"

"The fort is burnt down."

"Yes; the enemy got the better of us there, but we are not beaten yet. Things looked black last night; after rest and food they are as different as can be. When shall you be ready to start home to begin rebuilding?"

"You are only talking like that, father, to cheer me up," I said, sadly. "Do you think I don't know that it is all over?"

"I do not think—I am sure you don't know, my boy," he said, smiling. "How can you? A battle is never lost till it is won. Did you ever see two cocks fight?"

"Yes; once or twice, father," I said, wonderingly.

"So have I," he replied, "not in the case of so-called sport, but naturally, as such birds will fight; and I have seen one beaten down, apparently quite conquered, and the victor as he believed himself has leaped upon his fallen adversary and begun to crow."

"Yes, I know," I cried, eagerly; "and then the beaten bird has struggled and spurred the other so fiercely that he has run away in turn."

"Yes; you have finished my anecdote for me. It is too soon yet for the Indians to begin to crow. They are still outside our place, and the powder is plentiful yet."

I shivered a little at the mention of the powder, and tried to tell him what I had heard, but somehow the words would not come, and soon after as he dropped asleep I went down into the open space about the block-house.

To reach it I had to pass the powder, which still lay covered as before, and it seemed to me that some fresh place might be found for it, since if the Indians began to send their fiery arrows into the camp again, one might fall there, and the destruction talked of befall us at once.

But a little thought told me that if arrows came now, they would be aimed at men and not at buildings. There was nothing more within for the fire to burn, so I went in and walked round the pile of smouldering ashes, and tried to recall the scene of the previous night, and the position of the magazine. But it was rather hard to do now, there being nothing left by which I could judge, and I was going on, when I caught sight of something which made me alter my course, and walk softly up behind where Pomp was busy with a shovel at the edge of a great heap of smouldering ashes.

"What are you doing?" I said.

"Eh? Mass' George 'top bit and see."

"No, I can't stop," I cried. "What are you doing with that shovel?"

"Dat to 'crape de fire up. You no see? Pomp bake cake for de capen."

"What?"

"Oh yes. Plenty cake in de hot ash. Hot bread for um. 'Top see if um done."

He looked up at me and laughed as merrily as if there was no danger near.

"Mass' George see more Injum?"

"No," I said. "They are in the forest somewhere."

"Pomp like roace all de whole lot. Come burn fellow place down like dat. Ah, you don't want come, sah! Hah, I pob you in dah lil soft wet dab ob dough, and now you got to come out nice cake all hot."

He felt about in the fine embers with the shovel, and directly after thrust it under something invisible, drew it out, blew off a quantity of glowing ash, tossed his find round and brown up in the air, caught it again on the shovel, and held just under my nose a hot, well-cooked bread-cake, showing his teeth the while, as he exclaimed triumphantly—

"Dah!"

"Bread," I said, mechanically.

"Nice hot cake, sah, for de capen, and Pomp got fibe more juss done. Dat one for capen, one for Mass' George, one for Pomp fader, one for Pomp. How many dat make?"

"Four," I said, in the same mechanical way.

"Four, and den dah two more for a-morrow mornin'."

"Oh, Pomp," I said, "how can you think of such things now!"

"Eh? Cos such boofle fire, and Pomp know where de barl ob flour. Mass' George not glad to hab nice hot cake?"

I shook my head, but the boy was too busy fetching out his loaves, and soon had the whole six, well-cooked and of a delicate creamy-brown, beside him ready to be replaced in a little heap on the shovel.

"Dah!" he said; "now go take um home ready for tea."

"Why, Pomp," I said, sadly, "suppose the Indians come, what then?"

"What den? Dey 'tupid 'nuff to come, we shoot dem all, sah. Pomp don't fink much ob Injum."

"Do you think they'll come to-night?"

"Pomp done know. 'Pose so."

"You think so, then?"

"Yes, Mass' George. Injum very 'tupid. Come be shot."

Evening was coming on so fast that it would soon, I felt, be put to the proof, and followed by the boy with his cakes balanced on the shovel held over his shoulder, I went back to our apology for a tent.

My coming in awoke my father, and he sat up wincing with pain, but trying hard directly to hide his sufferings from me.

"Give me your hand," he said. "I must get out now and help."

I gave him my hand, and he rose, but sank back with his eyes half closed.

"No," he said, sadly; "I have no strength. Go out and see what preparations are being made, and—"

"Here is Colonel Preston, father," I whispered.

It was he, but he was not alone, for the General was with him, and both exclaimed loudly against my father attempting to move, but stayed both of them some time discussing the position, and asking his candid opinion about certain things which they had done for strengthening the defences, and they ended by proposing that I should accompany them as a sort of aide-de-camp, and bear messages to and fro.

I followed them, and was soon after going with them from post to post, to see that the men were well supplied with ammunition; and I could not help noticing that in spite of all they had gone through, they looked rested and self-reliant; quite ready in fact for a fresh encounter with our hidden foe.

For as the setting sun turned the plantations and edge of the forest to ruddy gold, all was perfectly calm, and for aught we could see there was no sign of an enemy. In fact to judge from appearances the Indians might have departed finally to their home, satisfied with the harm they had done.

As night fell all fires were extinguished, and we then commenced our dreary watch, every one feeling that the attack was coming, but how soon or from what quarter it was impossible to say.



CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.

I passed the early part of that night now seated in the darkness by my father, now stealing away when I believed him to be asleep, and joining Morgan, who was acting as one of the sentries, and had kept Pomp by his side so as to make use of his keen young eyes, which seemed to see farther through the darkness of the night than those of any one else in the camp.

And as I stood at Morgan's side I could not help thinking of the great change that had taken place. Only a few hours before the fort was crackling and blazing, huge logs splitting with a loud report, and wreaths of fire and smoke circling up into the lurid sky, while all within the enclosure was lit up, and glistened and glowed in the intense light. Now all was gloom, depression, and darkness—a darkness so thick that it seemed to me as if the Indians had only to come gently up and select the place to climb over and then carry all before them.

I was tired and despondent, and that made me take, I suppose, so dreary a view of my position, as I waited for the enemy's advance. And yet I think my despondency was warranted, for I felt that if the Indians attacked they would carry everything before them; and if they did I could not doubt the determination of Morgan and his companions. And there I found myself standing beside the man who was ready to put a light to the powder and send everything into chaos—for that he would do it in the emergency I felt sure.

I had been backwards and forwards several times, and was standing at last gazing over the fence in silence, trying to convince myself that some objects I saw in the distance were bushes and not Indians, when Pomp suddenly yawned very loudly.

"Hush!" whispered Morgan, sternly.

"Pomp can't help um. So dreffle tire."

"Then keep a sharp look-out, and try if you can't see the Indians."

"Pomp did, but eye got blunt now. Why not go look for Injum?"

"I wish the General would let the boy go," whispered Morgan. "He might be able to get in some news."

"Pomp nebber see noting here. May Pomp go, Mass' George?"

"Of course you can't, boy," said Morgan, shortly. "Go and ask the commanding officer, and see what he'd say to you."

Pomp yawned, put his arms over the edge of the fence, after getting his feet into a couple of notches, and drawing himself up and resting his chin upon his fists, he stared out into the darkness.

"Here de Injum," he said; and a thrill ran through me as I followed the boy's pointing finger, but could see nothing.

"Can you, Morgan?"

"See? No!" he said, pettishly; "but you'd better go and give warning, sir."

I hurried off, and found Colonel Preston with the General, who received my news, and word was passed round to the various sentries, while the colonel made for the reserves in the centre of the enclosure, where in utter silence every man seized his piece, and stood ready to march to the point threatened, while I guided the General to where Morgan was stationed.

"No, sir. Not seen anything, nor heard a sound," said the latter, on being questioned. "It was this boy who saw them."

"Yes, ober dah," said Pomp, pointing.

"Can you see them now?"

"No, sah. All gone."

This was unsatisfactory, but the General seemed to have perfect faith in the boy's declaration, and a long exciting watch followed.

The Indians' habits had grown so familiar that every eye and ear was on the strain, and finger upon trigger, as tree, shrub, and grassy clump was expected momentarily to develop into a foe. The secretive nature of these people made our position at times more painful and exciting, as we knew that at any moment they might come close to us in the darkness, and almost before the alarm could be given, dash up to the palisade and begin climbing over.

But the weary hours crept on without any fresh sign, and the opinion began to spread that it was a false alarm, while Pomp was so pressed with questions that he slunk away into the darkness.

I followed him though, just making him out by his light, white cotton clothes, and saw him at last throw himself down on his face; but he started up into a crouching position, ready to bound away as I came up to him.

"No good, Mass' George," he said, angrily. "I 'tupid lil nigger, and done know nuff talk. Nebber see no Injum; nebber see nobody. Keep ask say—'Are you suah?' 'Are you suah?' Pomp going run away and lib in de tree. Nobody b'leeve Pomp."

"Yes, some one does," I said, as I sat down beside him in the darkness; and for the first time I noticed that we were close to the tarpaulin and canvas spread over the powder-kegs.

"No. Nobody b'leeve Pomp. Um wish Injum come and kill um."

"No, you don't," I said; "because you know I believe you, and have often seen that you have wonderful eyes."

"Eh? Mass' George tink Pomp got wunful eye?"

"Yes; you can see twice as well in the dark as I can."

"No; Mass' George tink Pomp 'tupid lil nigger; no good 'tall. Pomp go run away."

"I shall call you a stupid little nigger if you talk like that," I said. "Don't be foolish. I hope the Indians will not come any more, and that we shall soon go back home."

"Injum coming; Pomp see um. Dey hide; lie flat down on um 'tummuck so; and creep and crawl um."

He illustrated his meaning, but crouched down by me again directly.

"Dat on'y Pomp fun," he whispered. "Pomp nebber run away from Mass' George, and ah!—look dah!"

He pointed away into the darkness so earnestly that I stared in that direction, but for some little time I could see nothing. Then, all at once, I made out a figure which came cautiously toward where we sat, but turned off and went round to the opposite side of the heap out of our sight, and it was evident that we were not seen.

I was going to speak, but just as the words were on my lips I recognised Morgan, who must have just been relieved; and as I fully grasped now where we were, I turned cold as ice, and a peculiar feeling of moisture came in the palms of my hands.

I wanted to speak, but I could not; I wanted to cry to him hoarsely, but no words would come; and if ever poor fellow suffered from nightmare when he was quite awake, it was I in those terrible moments, during which there was a peculiar rustling, then a loud cracking sound, as if something was being wrenched open and broken, and the tarpaulin was agitated and shaken.

My ears were strained to listen to what came next, and that would be, I felt sure, the clicking of a flint and steel; but the sounds did not come, and just as I was at last feeling as if I could bear all this no longer, there was a sound of the tarpaulin falling on the earth, and Morgan came softly round and close by again without seeing us, while I crouched there ready to faint, and fully expecting every moment to be swept away by a terrific explosion.

"What Mass' Morgan want?" said Pomp at last, as a sudden thought struck me, and mastering the feeling of paralysis which had held me there, I made a dash round to the other side to tear away the slow match which the man must have started, and which would, I supposed, burn for a few moments and then start a train.

To my surprise I could see no sparkling fuse nor smell smoke, but concluding that it must be under the tarpaulin, I raised the edge with trembling hands, when Pomp said quietly—

"Dat powder, Mass' George; Pomp know. Mass' Morgan come fess lot more; and oh! What lot tumble all about."

His quick eyes had made out that which was invisible to mine; and, after stooping, he held a handful before me.

I drew a breath full of relief. I knew now. He had not come to fire the fuse, but to tear open one of the kegs and let a portion of the powder lie loose, so that whoever came to do the terrible deed would only have to discharge his firelock down amongst it, when a spark would explode the whole.

"Only to be quite ready," I thought, as the desire for life thrilled through my veins.

"Pomp 'crape it up and put in Mass' George pocket," said Pomp; and then we both stood away, for there was a flash and the sharp report of a gun.

"Pomp did see Injum, Mass' George," said the boy; "and here dey come."

Another shot, and another, and my heart seemed to leap as I felt that Morgan's plan might not be long before execution after all, if the Indians made a desperate assault.

One minute before, the great enclosure was perfectly still, now it was all excitement; orders rang out; there was the tramp of armed men, as they hurried toward the spot from whence the firing had come.

Then came a shot from quite the opposite side, fresh orders were shouted, and there was a tramp of feet in that direction, the enemy evidently attacking in two places at once so as to divide our little force.

Flash after flash now cut the darkness to right and left, and we both stood listening to the quick orders and the curious ringing sound made by the ramrods as the men reloaded.

The firing was not rapid, our men seeming to have had instructions to be very careful and only fire when they saw a good chance; but it was kept up steadily, and it was evident that the Indians had not succeeded in gaining a footing as yet.

"Let's run and tell my father what's going on," I said. "He'll be so anxious."

I made for the tent, with Pomp following, and found my father standing at the entrance, supporting himself on Hannibal's arm.

"Ah, George, my boy," he said, excitedly. "It's hard not to be able to help. Who is at the front?"

"At the front?" I said, wonderingly.

"Yes. Is any one protecting the palisade between the two points attacked? Go and see how many are there; and if few, tell Colonel Preston to draw the General's attention to the fact. If there are people there, ask his forgiveness for my interference. It is solely from anxiety for our safety."

I ran off, followed by Pomp, and soon found Colonel Preston and gave him my father's message, as he was leading some more men to where the firing was fiercest.

"Yes, yes, of course," he said, angrily. "It is not likely it has been forgotten."

I drew back at his words, and felt that I should like the General to have heard my father's message; and just then I came upon Morgan running, loaded with ammunition, to the other side.

"Where is the General?" I asked.

"Over here, lad, where I'm going. Don't stop me."

But I did stop him to tell him my father's words.

"Of course it is!" replied Morgan, as sharply as the Colonel had spoken. And I have often thought about it since—that such a slip should have been made by two gentlemen, both of whom had had great experience in military matters. But, of course, in the excitement of the double advance, and with so few men at their call, it was easy to think of nothing but repelling that attack, the more especially as there were men posted all round.

My answers were so unsatisfactory for taking back to where my father was, that I determined to go over to the part in question, and see how it was for myself.

As I hurried on, my course lay round the heap of ashes and burnt wood which had formed the block-house; and curiously weird it all seemed to be, with the flashes and heavy reports of the pieces to right, and left, mingled with the savage yells of the attacking Indians, who, as far as I could tell, seemed to be striving to beat back our men from the fence.

It was darker than ever as I got round the remains of the fort, and knowing that the ground there was free from impediment, I was in the act of breaking into a trot, when there was a curious stifled sound in front—a noise as of an axe falling on wood; and my companion sprang at me and dragged me back.

"Mass' George," he whispered, "Injum dah. Come ober big fence."

I was too late, and yet not too late to give warning.

"Run and tell Colonel Preston," I said in a whisper. "Quick."

Pomp was too well accustomed to obey to hesitate, and he ran off in one direction round the ruins to where the colonel was defending the palisade, while I darted off in the other, rushed right up to where the General was standing calmly enough giving directions.

As I reached him I heard him utter the word, "Forward!" and about twenty men moving round, and were evidently going up to the part from which I had come.

My news resulted in their recall, and that of the men defending the palisade, orders being given to fall back toward the rough defence made in the centre of the enclosure, which we reached in safety, just as we found that Colonel Preston's men were falling back towards us, firing as they came, but toward the direction from which the new danger threatened.

The way in which the defence had been planned stood us in good stead now, for as our party was halted, waiting for the colonel's men, a loud yelling came from behind the block-house ruins, and the rapid beat of feet told plainly enough that a large body of the enemy had clambered in and were coming on.

Any want of promptitude would have resulted in the Indians getting between our two little forces; but a sharp order was given, and a volley rattled out—the flashing of the pieces showing in a dimly-seen line the fierce faces of our enemies, who appeared to be thrown into confusion, but who still came on, when a second volley was poured into them, and that was followed by one from the Colonel's men, the last checking them so effectually that we had time to get well behind the breastwork and reload.

I say we, though I was unarmed, but still I had played my part; and as soon as I could get through the men crowded behind our last defence, I hurried to where my father was anxiously awaiting my return, and the report which I had to make.



CHAPTER FORTY NINE.

"It was a mistake—a mistake," said my father, excitedly; "but I might have made it if I had been in the hurry and excitement there. Resting here I had plenty of time to think."

At that moment the firing began to be fiercer, and my father groaned aloud.

"Oh, it is pitiable!" he said, "obliged to lie by here, and not able to help. Here, George, go to the front; don't get into danger. Keep well under cover. I want you to take pity on me, my boy. Do you hear?"

"Yes, father; but I don't understand."

"Can't you see my position? I am helpless, and my friends and companions are fighting for our lives. I want you to keep running to and fro so as to let me know what is going on, and—mind this—keep nothing back."

"Nothing, father?" I said.

"Nothing."

I hesitated a few moments, and then with the reality of the horror impressed more and more by the shouting, yelling, and rapid firing going on, I told him about Morgan and the other men, even to finding the opened keg and loose powder.

"Great heavens!" he muttered as I finished; and I looked at him to hear what more he would say, but he remained silent.

"Shall I send Morgan to you, father?" I said.

He remained silent for a few moments, and then said softly—

"No."

There was another pause, during which the firing grew more fierce.

"George."

"Yes, father."

"Go to and fro, as I told you, and keep me well informed till you think matters are growing desperate. Then seize your chance, run down to the water's edge, swim to one of the boats, and try and escape."

"Without you, father?"

He caught my hand.

"You could not escape with me, my boy," he said. "There, do as I command. I can give you no farther advice, only use your own judgment as to where you will go."

"But, father—"

"Silence! Is Hannibal there?" he said, raising his voice.

"Yes, massa."

"Here, my man," continued my father, as the great black came to him. "You will try and serve me, will you not?"

"Massa want Han do somefin?"

"Yes. There is great danger from the Indians. I want you to stay with and help my son; when the time comes, you will swim with him to a boat, and try and get away."

"And carry massa down to the boat?"

"No. Save my son. Now go with him at once." His words were so imperative that we both left him, and I went back toward where the fighting was going on, with Han following me like a great black shadow, till, all at once, he touched me on the arm.

"Yes," I said.

"Mass' George won't go 'way an' leave his fader?"

"No," I replied, fiercely. "We must get him away too, Han, and Pomp."

"Suah, suah," said the great fellow, quietly. "Could carry de capen down to de boat. Find Pomp and make him swim out for boat all ready."

"Yes," I cried, eagerly, "we must save them both."

The next minute we were close to where our men fought bravely, driving back the Indians, who were close up now, avoiding the firing by crawling right in, and then leaping up suddenly out of the darkness to seize the barrels of the men's pieces, and strike at them with their tomahawks.

But they were always beaten back, and twice over I was able to go and tell my father of the success on our side, Hannibal following close behind me; but these checks were only temporary. The Indians literally swarmed about the frail stronghold, and as fast as they were driven back in one place, they seemed to run along the sides of our defences and begin a fresh attack somewhere else, while our men's firing, being necessarily very ineffective in the darkness, began to lose its effect; the savages, finding how few of them dropped from the discharges, beginning to look upon the guns with contempt.

Their attacks grew so bold at last, that twice over, as I saw dimly one of our poor fellows go down, I felt that all was over, and that the time had come for me to go and try whether I could get my father away before the last terrible catastrophe, though how it was to be contrived, with the place surrounded as it was by Indians, I could not tell.

Can you think out what my position was, with all this firing and desperate fighting going on, our men striking desperately at the Indians to keep them out as they swarmed and leaped up at us; and all the time there were the women, children, and wounded huddled up together in the inner shelter formed of barrels, boxes, and half-burned planks?

It was horrible.

Minute after minute crept by, and I began to blame myself for not going. Then a lull would make me determine to wait a little longer, just perhaps as some louder burst of firing made me believe that it was the first keg of powder gone, till a round of cheering told me that it was not, and I was able to go and report that our men were still holding their own.

I was returning from one of these visits to my father, picking my way in the darkness over broken guns snapped off at the stock through being used as clubs, and in and out among groaning men over whom the doctor was busy, when all seemed to me to be unusually silent, and then I found that I was able to see a little more as I got right forward to where Colonel Preston was making his men close up together, and handing fresh ammunition. It was rapidly growing lighter, and I saw dimly enough at a short distance, just behind where the block-house stood, the misty-looking figures of a large body of Indians.

"Look, quick!" I panted.

"Ah!" exclaimed the colonel. "Good! You can see now, my men. Hold your fire till they are close in, and then let them have a volley."

A low murmur ran along the line of men, and a feeling of elation thrilled me, but only for a deathly cold chill to run through every vein. For this was evidently such a desperate season as Morgan or his confederates might choose.

I could not stir for the moment. Then, as I mastered the horrible feeling of inaction, I drew back and made my way through the confusion within our defences to where I could be opposite to the covered-in kegs, which lay not twenty yards away untouched.

The light increased rapidly as it does down south, and I caught sight of a dark figure crawling half-way between our rough works and the tarpaulin.

One moment I thought it was a dead or wounded man; the next I recognised Morgan by the back of his head, and a cry arose to my lips, but it was drowned by a deafening volley followed by a cheer.

I glanced to my left, and saw the body of fully a couple of hundred Indians checked and wavering, when a second volley was fired and they fled.

The smoke hid the rest from my eyes, and when it rose, Morgan was standing close beside me watching the Indians, who had all crowded through the palisade where a great piece was torn down, dragging with them their dead and wounded.



CHAPTER FIFTY.

"Morgan," I whispered, and he started and looked at me wildly, the morning dawn showing his face smeared with blood, and blackened with the grime of powder.

"Yes, my lad," he said, sadly; "I thought it was all over, and as soon as they were well at their work I meant to fire it."

I could not speak, and I knew it would be useless, so I shrank away, and crept back past scores of despairing faces, to where my father lay eagerly waiting for news.

As I went I saw that the officers were giving orders for restoring portions of our torn down defences, and that the day had given the men fresh energy, for they were working eagerly with their loaded pieces laid ready, while food and drink were being rapidly passed along the front.

"Only a temporary check, I'm afraid," said my father, as I described everything. "Brave fellows! What a defence! But you have waited too long," he said. "Where is that man?"

"Hannibal?" I exclaimed; "I had forgotten him." For he had evidently glided away in the dark; but almost as I spoke he came up.

"Boat ready, Mass' George," he said. "Pomp swam out and got him. Waiting to take Mass' George and capen."

A warning cry just then rang out, and my father caught my arm. "Go and see," he whispered; "don't keep me waiting so long."

I hurried to the front again, seeing Morgan and another man in earnest conversation, but they separated before I reached them, and as Morgan went in the direction from whence he would pass out from our piled-up defence to get to the powder, I followed him, seeing now clearly enough he had his gun in his hand.

I forgot about my own escape—the coming on of the Indians, of whom I had a glimpse outside the palisades—everything, in my intense desire to stop this man from carrying out his terrible plan. I was very near him now, and should have caught him up had I not stumbled over a poor fellow lying in my way, and nearly fallen. As I recovered I could hear a fearful yelling, and saw Morgan's hard-set face as he climbed backward down from the boxes, one of the men, whom I recognised as his confederate, helping him by holding his gun.

In a wild fit of despair, as I saw Morgan's hard-set face, I shouted to him to stop, but my voice was drowned by the yelling of the Indians now coming on again with a rush, brandishing their axes, and evidently bent on carrying all before them.

As I reached the edge, Morgan was half-way to the powder, crawling on his chest, the Indians to our left, and the men I was trying to pass firing over Morgan's head.

They shouted to me, but I glided between two of them; and as they tried to pull me back, Han pressed them apart, and the next moment I was creeping after Morgan.

The firing went on over us, and the Indians dashed forward on our left, yelling more loudly than ever. Then I heard a volley, and just caught a glimpse of the half-naked figures passing through the smoke. It was but a glance, for my attention was fixed upon Morgan, who had now reached the tarpaulin and canvas, thrown it partly aside, examined the priming of his gun, and I thought he was about to fire right into the midst of the powder-kegs, but he turned first to see whether the fight had yet reached the most desperate stage.

That was my time, and I leaped upon him, and tried to wrench the gun away, as his wildly desperate face looked into mine.

"No, no, Morgan," I cried. "You must not; you shall not do that."

"Let go!" he cried, roughly; and the eyes that glared at mine seemed almost those of a madman.

"No," I cried, "I will not."

"Don't you hear, Master George? Hark at them; the wretches have begun their work."

I still clung to the gun, and turned my head as a wild burst of shrieks rose from behind—the firing had ceased, but the shouting and yelling were blood-curdling, as in that horrible moment I felt sure that our men were beaten, and a massacre had begun.

But my father was there, and it seemed too horrible for such a deed as this to be done. If we were to die by the Indians' hands, I felt that we must. But quietly stand by and let Morgan do this thing I would not, and I clung to the gun.

"Let go before it's too late, boy," panted Morgan, tugging fiercely now to get the gun from me.

"No," I panted; "you shall not."

"I must, boy. There: hark at them. I shall be too late. Look, boy; run for your life. I'll wait till I see you over the big fence first."

"No," I panted again; "you shall not."

"Will you run for your life?"

"No!" I cried, as I seemed to see my helpless father stretching out his hands to me.

"Then I must have it," cried Morgan, fiercely, and as we knelt together, he twisted the gun in one direction, then in the other; and, boy as I was in strength, in another moment he would have torn it from my grasp, when a great black hand darted from just behind me, caught Morgan by the throat, forced him back, and with a cry of triumph I dragged away the piece, and fired it right away from the powder.

"Hold him, Han," I panted; "he is mad."

As if my shot had been the signal, a tremendous volley rang out from beyond the palisade; then another, and another; and the Indians, who the moment before were battling desperately, and surmounting our defences as a wild hand-to-hand fight went on, began to give way; then they turned and fled for the gap they had made, while, led by Colonel Preston, our men dashed after them.

"Look," I cried. "Morgan, we've won!" We all gazed wonderingly as the Indians disappeared through the gap in the great fence, when another sharp volley rang out, but the smoke rose from outside.

"Help has come!" I shouted, and feeling no fear now of Morgan putting his desperate plan into action, I ran to join our men and learn what it meant, closely followed by Hannibal, Morgan coming last.



CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

Our party was cheering loudly as I got up in time to see the Indians in full flight toward the forest, and a strong force of men in pursuit, stopping and kneeling from time to time to fire on the retreating savages, who did not attempt to make a stand.

For some minutes I could not understand what it meant, nor who our rescuers were, but directly after the word ran round from mouth to mouth—"Spaniards—Spaniards!" and I turned to see a large ship lying in the river as I ran back to our defences, and past the dead and wounded, to bear my father the news.

"One enemy to save us from the other," said my father. "Well, better to fall into the hands of civilised people than savages. In this case it will be prison, in the other it would have been death."

"But shall we have to give up to them?" I said.

"In our helpless state I am afraid so, unless the General and Preston hold that we are Englishmen still. Oh, if I could only get to their side, and join in the council!"

"Hannibal carry capen," said the great black, who in strict obedience to his orders was at my back.

"Can you?" cried my father, eagerly.

Hannibal smiled and took my father up as easily as if he had been a child, starting to carry him just as Morgan came up.

"Stop!" said my father; "let me go in a more dignified way if I can. Here, Morgan, pick up one of these fire-locks. Hannibal, my man, set me down again;" and, after giving his orders, Morgan and the black each took hold of one end of the firelock, holding it across him, and my father sat upon it, supporting himself by passing his arms through those of his bearers, and in this fashion he reached the group at the gap in the fence. Here an earnest conversation was going on, while the Spaniards were still in full pursuit of the Indians, chasing them right into the forest, and their shots growing more and more distant.

"Ah," cried the General, as my father reached the group, "I am glad you have come, Bruton. I feel bound in our present strait to take the opinion of all. We are terribly shaken in our position; there are many wounded, and the question we debate is, whether now we surrender quietly to the Spaniards, or make one more bold stand."

"What does Colonel Preston say?" said my father, quietly.

"Fight, sir," cried the colonel, fiercely, "as long as we can fire shot or lift an arm; but the majority are for giving up. What does Captain Bruton say?"

My father was so weak that he could not stand alone, but his eyes were bright still, and he drew back his head as he looked round.

"First let me hear what others have to say." One of the settlers took a step forward. "That we have fought like men, sir, but it is too much to attempt more. We have failed in our attempt to establish this colony, so now let us make the best terms we can with the Spaniards, and try to get back home. Come, Captain Bruton, you are terribly hurt; you have done all you can. Speak out now, sir, like a brave man, who wishes to save further slaughter. You agree with me?"

Every eye was turned on my father, who, in spite of his quiet ways, had gained enormous influence, and even the General seemed to look at him anxiously as he spoke.

"I quite agree with you, sir, that we want peace, and to return home; but this is home—this country that we chose and obtained the King's charter to hold, and to defend against all comers. The Spaniards' descent has been most fortunate; but when they come back and arrogantly order us to surrender, there is not surely an Englishman here who will give up? I say No. We have our defences nearly perfect still, and half an hour to repair this breach. Ammunition in plenty; provisions still for quite a siege. Who says surrender? Not I."

There was a cheer at this, and the General laid his hand on my father's shoulder, crying—

"No one says surrender. Quick, men! Work!"

He issued his orders sharply; they were readily obeyed, and in a very short space of time the gap in the palisade was filled with board, plank, and barrel from the central defence that had been so hotly contested that morning. The barrels were stood up on end and filled with earth, and by the time the Spaniards' firing had ceased, and they were returning, our men were posted here and there; and our weakness being hidden, we presented a formidable appearance to the Spanish force, as it marched back, and without coming near our weakest part at the back, formed up at a short distance from the well-manned gates.

Quite a hopeful feeling seemed to have come over men who had been in despair a short hour before, as the ladies and women were put in the enclosure, busy, with the black people, obeying the surgeon's orders. For it was felt that if another encounter took place, it would only be after due warning, and then that we had ordinary enemies to contend against, not the savages, who had received a severe enough lesson to perhaps check further attack.

A strong desire too was manifested to make the best of things in our enemies' sight, and stores were attacked, rations served out, and every man who was wounded was disposed to treat it lightly.

I cannot explain it, but I know now that in the reaction, all felt as I did—ready to forget pain, weariness, and the peril through which we had passed. We knew that another enemy had come; but though he had driven off the savages, he did not seem at all formidable; and the blacks in their quick, childlike way, taking their tone from us, were soon laughing and chattering, as they made fires, fetched water, and busied themselves about the camp as if nothing unusual was the matter.

After seeing my father comfortably lying down and refreshed, I left him to go and find out what was going on in front of the gate, where Morgan was one of the little party on guard.

As I went up to him he stared at me curiously, and I looked at him, each of course thinking of our encounter, and it appeared to me as if it was something that had occurred a long time ago, and that I ought not to refer to such a horror—at least not till some time in the future, when we could speak of it calmly, as of some adventure of the past.

The change in his aspect was striking as I spoke, his face lighting up; and he looked like the Morgan of old, as I said, quietly—

"What are the Spaniards doing?"

"Smoking, some of 'em, Master George," he said, eagerly. "And some of 'em's eating and drinking; and, look you, the big Dons are all together yonder having a sort of confab. Think it'll come to a fight with them, sir?"

"I don't know. But hasn't any one been up to the gate or brought a message?"

"No, sir, and they don't seem to be in any hurry. Look!"

He made way for me to look over the gate at the little force, which lay about half-way between us and their boats at the river-side, while about a couple of hundred yards away lay their ship, with the Spanish flag blown well out by the breeze.

The men were standing or lying down, and, as far as I could see, no one had been hurt in their encounter; in fact it had been confined to firing upon the retreating savages. They were taking matters very coolly, all but their leaders, who were evidently holding a council before deciding on their next step.

"Strikes me, Master George," said Morgan, "that they're thinking that winning one little battle's enough work for the day, and I shouldn't be much surprised if they went back on board. They don't want to fight us, only to frighten us away."

"Think so?" I said. "They attacked the Indians very bravely."

"Don't see much bravery in a hundred men firing at a lot of savages who are running away. They never expected to find us all ready for them in a stout stockade, with every man Jack of us standing to arms, in full fighting rig, and with our war-paint on."

He said this last meaningly, and I shuddered as I thought of what I had seen.

"Well, I must go back," I said. "My father is anxious to know."

"Yes, of course sir. Then you go and tell him what you've seen, and that I say I don't think they mean fighting; but that if they do, it won't be till after they've had a good parly-parly, and asked us first whether we mean to go."

Just then there was a burst of talking close by us, and a laugh; the officer in command gave an order or two, and a couple of the men leaned over and held out a hand each. Then there was a bit of a scramble, and a curly black head appeared above the gates. The next moment its owner was over, and had dropped down, caught sight of us, and run up.

"Why, Pomp!" I said; "I had forgotten you."

"What for send Pomp out to boat and no come? Pomp dreffle tire, and come back."

"I say I had forgotten you."

"Ah, Pomp no forget Mass' George," he replied, reproachfully. "Eh? Lil fire—two lil fire—twent lil fire," he cried, excitedly. "'Mell um cook suffum. Come 'long, Mass' George, I dreffle hungly."

I led the way in and out among the busy groups, where, chattering over the fires they had lit, the blacks were making bread or cooking, and every now and then I had to catch hold of Pomp's arm and half drag him along, so great was the interest he took in what was going on; for he evidently felt no modesty or shrinking about making his presence known.

I soon had my father fully acquainted with the state of affairs, and while I was talking to him, Colonel Preston came to sit down upon an upturned barrel, and talk for a time about the state of affairs.



CHAPTER FIFTY TWO.

Our officers and gentlemen made a very shabby parade that evening, when just before sundown word was passed from the sentries that a party was approaching from the Spaniards, and it was decided to go outside and meet them, so as not to show the poverty of our resources within the defences, and the sore straits to which we had been brought.

So the General and Colonel Preston, with about half a dozen gentlemen, went out to meet the new enemy, while Morgan contrived that I should, as Captain Bruton's son, be where I could see and hear all that was going on.

And, as I said, our officers and gentlemen made a very shabby parade, for their clothes were torn and stained, and there were no brave uniforms now, such as they wore the last time the Spaniards from the south came to demand that we should leave the place. But if they had no scarlet and gold to show, there was a grim sternness about our people that was very impressive, something which taught the visitors that ours were no feather-bed soldiers, but men who could face fire and use the sword.

Of that party of six who went out to meet the Spaniards, there was not one who was not injured, though slightly, while the little body-guard of eight soldiers who followed them was in similar plight.

Our numbers were hastily selected by the General, on seeing that while a larger number had come away from the main body of the Spaniards, only eight approached the gates.

Everything was done so deliberately that I noticed that the General carried his left arm in a scarf, and that the hair had been all cut away in a patch at the back of Colonel Preston's head, so as to admit of its being strapped with plaister. Another officer had a cut on his left cheek which had divided the lip; another wore a bandage in the shape of a red silk handkerchief, and another carried his injured hand in his breast.

One and all had been wounded, but there was not a man who did not seem full of fight, and ready to stand his ground come what might.

On the other hand, although they had been in an engagement that day, and had pursued the Indians, the Spaniards were smooth-looking and well-dressed; not a hair seemed to be out of place, so that they presented a remarkable contrast to our grim-looking set.

They paused at a few yards' distance, and I stood gazing over the top of the fence at their dress and weapons, all of which looked clean and well-kept, quite in keeping with the dignified, well-dressed wearers, who were looking at our people with a kind of tolerant contempt.

As they drew near, I recognised two of them as being of the party who had come before, and these two spoke to a broad-shouldered, swarthy-looking man, who nodded from time to time as if receiving his instructions. Then he stepped forward, looking from one to the other, and said, bluntly—

"Which of you is captain?"

There was a pause, every one being surprised at hearing our language so plainly spoken.

"You can address yourself to me," said the General, quietly.

"Oh, that's all right then. You see—"

"Stop a moment," said the General. "You are an Englishman?"

"I was," said the man; "but I've thrown in my lot here now, and I'm a Spaniard."

"Indeed?"

"Yes; that's it. I'm settled among them, and they're not bad sort of people, let me tell you. I just say this by way of advice to all of you, who seem to be in a tidy pickle."

"Were you instructed to say this, sir?" said the General, coldly.

"Well, no, not exactly; only having once been an Englishman, and meeting Englishmen, I wanted to do you a good turn if I could."

"Thank you. Now your message."

"Oh, that's short enough. The Don here says I'm to tell you that he is glad he arrived in time to save your lives, all of you, for if he hadn't come you'd all have been massacred."

"Go on," said the General.

"And that he supposes you see now what a mad trick it was to come and settle down here among the Indians. Let me see; what was next?" muttered the man; and he turned sharp round, and spoke to the Spanish leader for a minute or so, and then came back and went on—

"That he came once before and gave you fair warning that you were trespassing on the lands of his Majesty the King of Spain, and that he wants to know how soon you are going."

"Is that all?"

"Yes," said the man, "I think that's about all. It isn't exactly what he said, because Spanish lingo's awkward stuff to put into plain English; but that's about what it all meant; and, speaking as a friend, I should advise you to get a passage up north as soon as you can."

"Thank you."

"Shall I say you're going to sheer off?"

"Tell your leader or officer, sir," said the General, coldly, "that his message is insulting."

"Oh, come, now," said the man, "it was as civil as could be."

"That we are here in the dominion of his Majesty the King of England, upon our own lands, and that his demand is absurd. I do not wish to be insulting in return for the service he has done us and his own people by giving these savages so severe a lesson, but you may ask him what he would say if I came down with a strong party and ordered him and his people to quit the Spanish settlement."

"Am I to tell him that?" said the ambassador.

"Yes; and that we are here, and mean to stay, even to holding our homes by force of arms if it is necessary."

"Oh!" said the man, staring and looking from one to the other. "Isn't that foolish talk! You see we are very strong, while you are—"

"Not so very weak as you think for, sir."

"But I'm sure you don't want us to turn you all out by force, and burn down your settlement, though it seems to me as if there isn't much left to burn," he added, as he glanced round at the distant heaps of burned timber and ashes.

"We will build it all up ready for you, sir, against your expedition comes," said Colonel Preston, sharply.

"Oh, come, come," said the man; "that's all brag. Look here: take my advice, make friends with the Dons here, and let me say you'll pack off quietly, because they mean mischief if you do not go."

"You have had my answer, sir," said the General, haughtily. "Tell your leader that, for his own sake, I hope he will not drive us to extremities. We are prepared to fight, and fight we shall to the end."

"Oh, very well," said the man, in a grumbling tone; "I'm only a messenger. I've given our people's orders, and now I'm ready to take back yours. Only don't say, when you're all made prisoners and marched off to our plantations, that I didn't as an Englishman give you a timely hint."

The General bowed, and the man stood staring at him for a few moments, and then from one to the other, in an undecided way.

"Then you won't go?" he said at last.

The General made a sign to Colonel Preston.

"No, sir; we will not go," said the latter, firmly.

"Oh, very well. 'Tarn't my fault. I like peace, I do; but if you will have it rough, why, it's your own fault."

He turned away, and talked to the two leading Spaniards for a few moments, the elder of the two stamping his foot imperiously as he frowned and pointed to us. The man shrugged his shoulders, and came back.

"Look here," he said, roughly; "the Dons say they won't stand any nonsense, and you are to go."

"Tell him he has had his answer, Preston," said the General.

"Oh, yes, I know about that answer," said the man; "and I'm to tell you that if you do not give up at once, you will all be driven off, and you must expect no mercy then."

The colonel glanced at the General, who nodded, and the former said, half-mockingly—

"Tell your leaders we are here, and if the King of Spain wishes for this part of his Britannic Majesty's possessions, he will have to send a stronger force than you have brought, to take it; and as for you, my friend, your position as a kind of envoy protects you; but if I were you I should be careful. Your speech tells me plainly that you have been a sailor."

"Well, suppose I have," said the man, sharply.

"And I should say that you have deserted, and become a renegade."

"What?"

"I would not speak so harshly to you, but your conduct warrants it. An Englishman to come with such cowardly proposals to your fellow-countrymen! Faugh!"

The man seemed to grow yellow as he gazed at the colonel; then, turning away, he spoke hurriedly to the two Spanish officers, who stood gazing at our party for a few moments, then bowed, and stalked back.

"Well, Preston," said the General; "shall we have to give up?"

"To them?" cried the colonel, sharply. "No! Do you know what Bruton will say?"

"How can I?"

"Well, sir, he will say, 'let them come, and if they drive us out of here, we will retire into the forest.' But, bah! I am not afraid. All Spanish bombast. Ah, young Bruton, what do you say to this?" he continued, as they entered the gates, and he caught sight of me.

"I'm not old enough to say anything about it," I replied; "but I think a great deal."

"And what do you think?" said the General, smiling, as he laid his hand upon my shoulder.

"That they will be afraid to fight, sir."



CHAPTER FIFTY THREE.

A strict watch was kept on the Spaniards, while everything possible was done in the way of preparation for an attack, possibly a double attack for aught we knew. It was quite probable that, in spite of their defeat, the Indians would return that night, perhaps in greater strength, to come on just at the same time as the Spaniards.

"And then," said Morgan, "what the officers ought to do is to keep us all out of the way, and let 'em fight it out between them."

But that such an encounter was not likely to occur I soon saw, for the Spaniards after a long talk together slowly marched back to their boats, and rowed to the ship lying at anchor in the river; and after a night of watchfulness, the sun rose again without our being assailed either from water or land.

As soon as it was light, work was recommenced, and our defences strengthened; but it was soon found that the defenders would be much fewer in number, for many of the men who, in spite of their wounds, held up on the previous day, were unable to leave their rough couches, and had to resign themselves to the surgeon's orders, to have patience and wait.

All the same though, a fairly brave show was made, when towards midday boats were seen to leave the ship again and row to the shore. Then, after landing a strong body of well-armed men, they put back a little, cast out grapnels, and waited while those landed marched right for the enclosure.

There appeared to be no hesitation now, and as memories of the brave old deeds of the Spaniards came up, it was felt that in all probability a fiercer fight was in store for us than those which we had had with the Indians. But not a man flinched. The perils they had gone through seemed to have hardened them, and made them more determined. So that our stockade was well-manned, and in breathless silence all waited for the attack.

It was dangerous, of course, and I knew the risk, but I could not resist the temptation of trying to see the encounter, and, well down to one side of the gateway, I watched the coming on of the Spaniards.

There was no waiting for dark, or stealthy approach; they did not even spread to right and left to search for a weaker point, such as they would have found right at the back, but came boldly up toward the gate, as being the proper place to attack, halted about a hundred yards away, and then an officer and two men advanced, in one of whom I recognised the interpreter of the previous day.

They came right on, the Englishman shouting to us not to fire, and then asking, as he came close, to speak with an officer.

Colonel Preston appeared, and the messenger called upon us to surrender.

"And if we do not?" said the colonel.

"The gate will be stormed at once, and very little mercy shown," said the man, speaking dictatorially now, as if he had caught the manner of his Spanish companions.

"Very well," said the colonel. "You can storm, and we'll defend the place."

The envoys went back with our defiance, and there was a short consultation, followed by a rapid advance, a halt about fifty yards away, and then a volley was fired by about fifty men, who uttered a shout, and made a rush for the gate.

I heard the word "Fire." There was a scattering answer to the Spaniards' volley; but instead of its proving harmless, about a dozen men fell, and began to crawl or limp back, after rising, to the rear.

This checked the advance by quite half, and only half of these came on much farther, the rest dropping back rapidly till of the brave force who attacked, only one ran right up to the gate, and he, a handsome-looking young officer, struck it fiercely with his sword, shouted something in Spanish, and then began to go back, but keeping his face to us defiantly all the time.

A dozen pieces were raised to fire at him, but the colonel struck them up, and showed himself above the gate, to raise his hat to the young officer, who, half laughingly, half bitterly, returned the salute.

Morgan told me afterwards what Colonel Preston said: that if there had been fifty men like this one the stockade could not have been held.

But there were not, for when the wounded Spaniards had been carried down to the boats, and a line was formed for a fresh attack, a loud murmur arose; and, as plainly as if I had heard every word, I made out that the men would not advance, and that the officer threatened to go alone.

Then one man only ran to his side, and they two advanced together, trying to shame the Spaniards to attack.

But they were not shamed a bit, but let those two come right on, when, as they reached to within twenty yards of the gate, our men sent up a hearty cheer, for the one who accompanied the Spanish officer was the Englishman.

"Bravo!" cried Colonel Preston. "Hallo, there, you renegade; you're a brave man after all. Tell the Spanish officer I salute him as one worthy of all respect."

The officer raised his hat as this was interpreted to him.

"Now tell him," continued the colonel, "not to risk his life in another advance. An accidental shot might injure him, and I should be most grieved."

"Are you mocking him, sir? He says," shouted the man.

For answer, Colonel Preston leaped down from over the gate and advanced, Morgan following him. I saw the Spanish officer start at this, and advance sword in hand to the attack; but Colonel Preston sheathed his.

"Tell him," he said aloud,—"no, there is no need to tell him; he can understand this.—Sir, I wish to take the hand of a gallant officer in mine," and he stretched out his hand.

The Spanish officer lowered the point of his sword, and after a moment's hesitation changed it into his left hand.

"You can tell him that I do not mean treachery or trying to take prisoners," said the colonel.

His words were interpreted, and the Spanish officer said something hastily in reply.

"Says, sir, that he cannot take your hand, but respects you all the same."

At that moment the Spaniards began firing, and this roused our men into replying, a sufficiently perilous position for the group between them, till the young officer ran towards his men, holding up his sword; but before the Spaniards had ceased our fire was silenced, for I saw the General run here and there, shouting angrily.

"That was a risky proceeding of yours, Preston," said the General, as the colonel came back within the fence.

"Yes, sir; a foolish, undisciplined act," replied the colonel; "but I felt carried away by the bravery of that young fellow, deserted as he was by his cowardly crew."

"I cannot blame you," said the General, "for I felt similarly moved."

Little more was said, for every one was intent upon the proceedings of the enemy, who drew back about a hundred yards, and then formed up with military precision, apparently previous to making a determined advance together; but a full hour passed, and no advance was made. Two officers came ashore from the ship with ten more men, and we were all kept in a state of tension, momentarily expecting to have to defend ourselves against a desperate attack.

But none came, and soon after the whole force marched down to the boats and embarked, while a couple of hours later the ship was going slowly down the big river with the tide.

Now it might have been expected that on seeing this our men would have burst into a triumphant cheer, but they did not, but stood watching the ship in silence. For there seemed to be something too solemn for words or any display of exultation. Utterly worn out with fighting and watching, and feeling as if we had all been rescued from death, men moved about gravely and quietly, and I saw group after group where gentlemen and ordinary working men, old soldiers who had come out there to that pleasant land believing they had for ever turned their swords into shares and pruning-hooks, were seated holding the hands of their wives, and with their children on their knees, their heads bent, and the tears streaming down the women's faces; and I know that a heartfelt thanksgiving went silently up to heaven that night for the escape we had all had.

But still there was the feeling of insecurity afloat, which caused the greatest precautions to be taken. The forest was not far distant, and for aught we knew the Indians might again come on.

So sentries were placed, to be relieved after short watches, and I fully intended to take my turn when I lay down; but, just as it was once before, almost as I began thinking, all became blank, and the next thing I remember was waking up, feeling ashamed of my neglect, to find that once more it was broad day.



CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR.

Morgan and I had more than one long talk that next day about the Spaniards and the pusillanimous way in which they had behaved; but not until a good deal had been done to make our tent comfortable, and that in which poor Sarah was lying, mending fast, but still very weak. A great deal too had to be done for the wounded, who bore their sufferings with wonderful patience, and were delighted when I went and sat with them, and talked over the different phases of the fight.

Morgan was sentry once more in the afternoon, and after seeing my father comfortably asleep, I went across to him, where he was keeping a sharp look-out for the Indians; but so far there had been no sign, and we began talking about the wounded, and how long it would be before they were stirring again.

"Ah, a long time, sir," he said. "You can make a man weak with a shot or a cut with a sword. It's done in a moment, but it takes months to make one strong."

"I say, Morgan," I whispered, "don't you think the General ought to have a place dug and made for that powder?"

He turned sharply and looked me full in the eyes, but instead of answering my question, he said—

"You see, Master George, they were regularly cheated over us."

"Who were—the Indians?"

"The Indians? No; the Spanish."

"He will not talk about the powder business," I said to myself. "He always turns it off."

"You see, sir," he continued, as he softly rubbed the barrel of his piece to get rid of some of the rust that had encrusted it, "they expected to find us a set of quiet spade-and-hoe-and-wheelbarrow sort of people, quite different to them, as are looked upon as being so warlike and fierce."

"And so we are, Morgan."

"And so we are, lad. We came out here to dig and live, and be at peace, with our barrows; but that doesn't mean that we haven't got the fighting stuff in us, ready for use when it's wanted. I don't want to fight, and I save my fists for digging, but they are fists all the same, sir."

"Yes, of course."

"Yes, of course, sir. But they Spanish didn't understand that. They thought that in spite of what was said last time they came, all they had to do was to make a show, and order us off, and we should go; so they made a show by shooting at the Indians; and I'll be bound to say that every time the Spanish officers cried 'fire!' they thought they were frightening us too."

"But they didn't, Morgan."

"Not a bit, sir. Wrong stuff. They made a great big mistake, and when they get back to Flori—what is it?"

"Florida."

"Ah, Florida, I should say there'll be a good bit o' trouble, for they were meant to do more than they contrived. You see, when they fired, the Indians ran, and they followed them up, and fired again, and the Indians ran faster. Then by and by they came and fired at us."

"And we did not run, Morgan."

"No, sir, not a bit; and as somebody had to run—one side must, you see—why, they did. You see we didn't look nice. We'd been at it, look you, and got the marks of battle on us to show that we could do something, and it was rather startling to men coming on to attack a place. First beginning of fighting one feels a bit squeamish; after that one don't. We'd got over our squeamishness; they hadn't, for I don't count their bit of firing as anything. Think they'll come back, sir?"

"If they do, it will be with a war-ship, and great guns," I said. "Not as they did this time."

"Then I don't think they'll come at all, sir, for bringing a war-ship means big business, and our having war-ships too to keep them off. Do you know, I begin to think that we shall have a holiday now, so as to go back home."

Day after day glided by, and in the rest and relief it seemed as if quite a new life was opening out for us. My father was mending rapidly, and Sarah was well enough to insist upon busying herself about many little matters to add to our comfort. Hannibal only seemed to me to be dull and quiet, while Pomp was at me every day about going out somewhere, and looked as if he were a prisoner chained by the leg when told that he must not stray from camp.

There had been repeated discussions, so my father told me, over the all-important question of giving up our watchful life, and beginning once more to take to that of peace; but it was still deemed advisable to wait, and another week glided away, made memorable by the deaths of two of the brave fellows who had been wounded.

It was the evening after the last of these two had been sadly laid in his resting-place, that Morgan startled me by saying suddenly—

"He's only a black, certainly, Master George, but somehow one's got to like him."

"Why, what has Pomp been doing now?" I said.

"I was talking about his father, sir."

"Hannibal? Well, what of him? I haven't seen him to-day—no; now I come to think of it, nor yesterday neither."

"No; he hasn't been up."

"Why, Morgan," I said, "I was out round the plantations yesterday with Colonel Preston, and I've been with my father and Sarah all to-day; is poor old Hannibal ill?"

"Very bad, I think, sir. I asked the doctor to go and see him."

I ran off to the rough tent he and Pomp had contrived for themselves, and to my horror I found the doctor inside, and that my father had contrived to get there by the help of a couple of sticks.

"I didn't know Han was ill," I exclaimed.

"Hush! Don't speak loud," said the doctor. "The poor fellow is in a serious condition."

I crept into the hut to find Pomp on his knees by his father's head, and with his face buried in his hands, while a startled feeling came over me as I saw how still and helpless the great broad-shouldered giant lay, his brow wrinkled up, and his cheeks hollow; but his countenance changed as he caught sight of me.

"Mass' George," he said, and he tried to raise one of his hands.

"Oh, Hannibal!" I cried. "I did not know you were so ill. Pomp, why didn't you tell me?"

The boy raised his face all wet with tears, and his eyes swollen. "How Pomp know?" he cried. "Fader nebber tell um."

"Don't talk, Hannibal, my man," said my father, gently. "We none of us knew, my boy. The poor fellow was wounded, and has been going about all this time with an arrow-head in his side, saying nothing, but patiently bearing it all. My poor brave fellow," he continued, taking the man's hand, "you have always been risking your life in our defence."

"Han belong to Mass' Capen," he said, feebly, as he smiled at us. "If arrow not hit um, hit massa."

"What!" said my father, eagerly, as if he suddenly recollected something; "was it that night when you dragged me back, as the arrows flew so fast?"

Hannibal smiled, and clung to the hand which held his.

"Yes; I remember now feeling you start," said my father. "Yes—what is it?"

He leaned over the rough bed that had been made for the wounded man, for the black's lips moved.

"Massa do somefin for Han?" he said.

"My poor fellow, only speak," said my father, who was much moved, while I felt choking.

"If Han die, massa be kind to Pomp?"

"No," cried the boy, with a passionate burst of grief, "Pomp die too."

"And Massa George be good to um."

"Oh, Han," I cried, in a broken voice, as I knelt on the opposite side to my father, and held the poor fellow's other hand.

He looked keenly in both our faces, and though neither of us spoke, he was satisfied, and half closed his eyes.

"Han sleep now," he said.

Just then the doctor bent in at the opening of the tent, and signed to us to come out, and we obeyed.

"Let him sleep, boy," he whispered to Pomp. "Don't speak to him, but if he asks for anything fetch me."

Pomp nodded; he could not answer, and we accompanied the doctor to his rough tent only a few yards away.

"Well?" he said to me as I caught his hand, and questioned him with my eyes. "Do you mean can I save him? I don't know; but I do know this— if it had been a white his case would have been hopeless. The poor fellow must have been in agony; but I have extracted the arrow-head, and these blacks have a constitution that is wonderful. He may recover."

"Please God!" I said to myself, as I walked right away to try and get somewhere quite alone to sit down and think. For I was beginning to waken to the fact of how much I cared for the great kind-hearted, patient fellow, who had all along devoted his life to our service, and in the most utter self-denial offered that life in defence of ours.

Ever since the departure of the Spaniards I had slept soundly, but that night I passed on my knees by poor old Hannibal's pillow.

It was a strange experience, for the poor fellow was delirious, and talked rapidly in a low tone. His thoughts had evidently gone back to his own land and other scenes, but I could not comprehend a word.

Pomp was there too, silent and watchful, and he whispered to me about how the doctor had cut his father's side, and it took all my powers of persuasion and insistence, upon its being right, to make the boy believe that it was to do the wounded man good.

"If Mass' George say um good," he said at last, "Pomp b'leeve um. Oh, Pomp poor fader. Pomp die too," he sobbed.

"He shan't die," I cried, passionately. "Don't talk like that."

There was silence for a time, and then the poor fellow began to mutter again.

"What does he say?" I whispered; but the boy broke down, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed. But after a time, in broken tones, he told me that his father was talking about dying down in the hold of the stifling ship, and about being brought ashore.

"Dat all Pomp hear," whispered the boy. "Talk 'tuff. Done know what."

It was a long, long, weary night, but towards morning the poor fellow slept peacefully, and soon after daylight the doctor was there, as indefatigable in his attentions as he had been over my father, for the colour of a man's skin did not trouble him.

"Less fever," he said to me. "I've got a nurse for him now, so you go and get some sleep."

I was about to protest, but just then I saw who the nurse was, for Sarah stooped down to enter the shelter, and I knew that poor old Hannibal would be safe with her.



CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE.

That day the embargo was taken off, and one by one the settlers began to return to their homes, those whose houses were standing sharing them with the unfortunates whose places had been burned, so that at night the camp wore a peculiarly silent and solemn aspect, one which, depressed as I felt by Hannibal's state, seemed strange indeed.

A certain number of men stayed in the enclosure, and there were ten wounded in our temporary hospital; but the doctor set others of those who had crowded the place free.

One thing struck me directly, and that was the change in Pomp, who could hardly be persuaded to leave his father's side, but sat holding his hand, or else nestled down beside him, with his black curly head just touching the great black's arm, and gently raising it whenever I went to the tent.

I can recall it all very vividly as I now write these my recollections of the early incidents in my life, and how in the days which followed I gradually found that Hannibal fully justified the doctor's words about his fine healthy state; for after the first few days, during which his life seemed to be on the balance, he rapidly began to mend, and his being out of danger was the signal for a change.

My father had been talking about it for quite a month, but our friends at the settlement persuaded him to stay in the quarters that had been rigged up for us, and nothing could have been kinder than the treatment we received.

It was always pointed out by the settlers that at any time the Indians might return, and a fresh expedition be on foot from Florida, though this was looked upon as of little consequence, every one feeling that if the block-house were rebuilt, and the enclosure strengthened, we could laugh any Spanish attack to scorn.

With this in view, and with an eye to the attack of the Indians, very little was done in the way of rebuilding houses and cottages, but the whole strength of the settlement was devoted to the rebuilding of our little fort, and the strengthening of the stockade; and so much energy was thrown into the work by the little white and black population that a stronger building was erected, and left to be finished off afterwards.

I remember well standing with Morgan one day, and seeing the powder-kegs, which had for safety been buried under a heap of sand, disinterred and borne into the new cellar-magazine prepared for them early in the making of the block-house.

Nothing was said for some time, but all at once, as our eyes encountered, Morgan exclaimed—

"There, it's of no use for you to keep looking at me like that, Master George; I know what you are thinking about."

"Do you?"

"Yes, I just do; and I teclare to cootness, I feel as if it would have been right. The only thing against it that I can see is, that I was rather in too great a hurry."

"But it was utter madness," I said, with a shudder.

"Ah, you say so now, sir, because help came, and we were saved; but how would it have been if the Indians had got the mastery, as they nearly did? There is nothing that they stop at in the way of torture and murder, and it would have been a blessing for an end to have been made of us all at once."

"Well," I said, "don't talk about it. Let's be thankful we were saved."

"Oh, I won't say another word, sir, and I wouldn't have spoken now, only you're always looking at me in an aggravating manner."

"Ah, well, Morgan," I replied; "the powder's being put out of sight now, and I will not think about it any more."

"Yes, sir," he said, as a man lifted a keg; "and if I had my way in the world, it should never be brought out again."

"And suppose the Indians came?"

"Didn't I say if I could have my own way in the world, sir? If I did the Indians wouldn't come, nor the Spaniards neither—you said it was Spaniards didn't you? I always thought it was Spaniels."

"Yes; Spaniards. And suppose they come?"

"Bah! Who cares for them? Why, I'd send them flying with a regiment of men armed with spades, and strict orders given only to use the flat side."

I burst out laughing, for somehow everything seemed bright and happy once more, and in the midst of my mirth a quick, eager voice exclaimed—

"What Mass' George laugh upon? Tell Pomp. Pomp want laugh too."

I told him, and as he could not appreciate the comicality of Morgan's remark, he looked sulky and full of doubt for a few moments, but showed his white teeth directly after.

————————————————————————————————————

It did not seem long after that the four largest boats of the settlement were loaded deep down with timbers and planks, to supplement those which lay just under the trees by the rattlesnake clearing, and now well seasoned and dry. Many of them had been carried here and there during the flood, but being ready cut down when the clearing was made, they were hunted up at the first thought of the return to build up our house, and dragged out of spots where they had been overgrown with the rapidly-sprung-up verdure.

Expeditions had been sent out several times toward the Indians' country, but as no signs of the savages were seen, our confidence rapidly increased, and some of my happiest hours were passed with Pomp, hunting out these logs and planks, and marking the spots with a blaze from an axe on the nearest tree.

Then a strong party came over from the settlement on the day the boats were despatched, travelled across rapidly, knocked up a shed of the planks and newly-sawn-up boards unloaded at our landing-place from the boats, and I honestly believe the two happiest people there that day among the strange party of blacks, who carried the wood along the forest path, were Pomp and Hannibal, who, though far from strong, insisted upon his being well enough to help.

So many willing bands were there who came over in a couple of boats morning by morning, that with the help of the blacks camped in the rough shed, a fortnight had not passed before the nucleus of our home was up, sufficient for shelter, the finishing and improvements being left to come by degrees.

I believe that the sight of our home slowly rising from the ruins did more to give my father back his strength than anything done by the doctor, but perhaps that is ungrateful. But be that as it may, it was a pleasure to see him.

"Only look at the captain," Morgan said to me one morning, two days after our friends had gone back. "Don't he look lovely again, sir?"

"Well, I don't know about lovely. I thought that about Sarah."

"Now, don't you make fun," said Morgan, giving a heap of wood ashes a tap with his spade, to make it lie close in his rough barrow, whose wheel was a section sawn off the end of a very round-trunked pine, and tired by nailing on the iron hooping from a cask.

"Don't you send that ash flying and smothering me," I cried, as Pomp, who was helping load and wheel the heap to the garden, began to sneeze violently.

"Then you shouldn't make fun of a woman, sir, because she's plain."

"I didn't," I said, stoutly. "I meant lovely and well. And if you say your wife's plain again, I'll go and tell her so. She's the dearest old motherly body that ever lived."

Morgan drove his spade down into the earth, took my hand, and shook it solemnly, Pomp, who had ceased sneezing, looking on wonderingly the while.

"Thankye, Master George, thankye, sir; so she is—so she is."

Pomp came forward and held out his hand.

"Well, what now?" growled Morgan.

"Tought Mass' Morgan want shake hand," said the boy.

"Get out with you, sir. Wheel that barrow right on to the bed next to the last load."

Pomp seized the handles, went off with the barrow, caught the edge against the stump of a tree, one of the many not yet grubbed up, upset the ashes, and bounded off into the forest, to stand watching us from behind a tree, as if in dread of punishment; but seeing me roaring with laughter, he came cautiously back, grinning as if it was after all an excellent joke.

"There, shovel it up again, boy," said Morgan, good-temperedly; "it was an accident."

"Iss, Mass' Morgan, all um axden," cried the boy, working away.

"One can't be very cross with him, Master George; he's such a happy young dog, and somehow, after all the trouble, I feel too happy, and so does Sarah; and to see her smile, sir, at getting a bit of a shelf put up in her new kitchen, and to hear her talk about the things the captain sent for from England—Lor', sir, it would do you good."

"Lubbly 'tuff!" cried Pomp, as he scraped up the fallen wood ashes.

"What's lovely stuff?" I said.

"All dat, Mass' George. Mass' Morgan say make um rings grow, and wish dah twenty times as much."

"Ah, that I do," cried Morgan. "Wish I had—"

"Mass' Morgan like Injum come burn down house 'gain make more?"

"No, you stupid little nigger," cried Morgan; "of course not."

Flop! Down went the spade, and Pomp began to stalk away sulkily, working his toes about—a way he had of showing his annoyance.

"Hi! Stop!" I cried; "where are you going?"

"Pomp go jump in um ribber, and let de ole 'gator eat um."

"Nonsense! What for?"

"Mass' Morgan call um 'tupid lil nigger. Allus call um 'tupid lil nigger, and hurt Pomp all over."

"No, no; come along. Morgan didn't mean it."

"Eh? You no mean it, Mass' Morgan?" cried the boy, eagerly.

"No, of course not. You're the cleverest boy I ever knew."

"Dah, Mass' George, hear dat. Now see Pomp wheel dat barrow, and neber spill lil bit ob ashums, and nex' time he go over oder place, he bring um pockets full for Mass' Morgan garden."

"He's a rum un, sir," said Morgan, "but somehow I like him. Rather like to paint him white, though. Lor', Master George, what a treat it is to be getting down the weeds again. Look at old Han, how he is giving it to 'em. I'm 'bliged to check him a bit though, sometimes; he aren't quite strong yet. Here's the captain."

"Well, Morgan," said my father, as he came up, "how soon do you think we might plant a few creepers about the house? The finishing and glazing need not interfere with them."

"Oh, we can't put in any more, sir."

"What? Why not? I particularly want two of those wild vines to be put in."

"Did put 'em in before you come out this morning, sir, and the 'suckle and passion-flowers too. They'll be up a-top of the roof before we know where we are."

My father looked pleased, and turned to examine the young plants that had been set.

"Does me good, Master George, to see the captain coming round as he is. Quite takes to the garden again. But dear, dear! It's in a melancholy state."

"Nonsense!" I cried; "why, it's wonderful how well it looks."

"Wonderful? Well, sir, I wouldn't have thought you could talk in that way of such a wilderness. Why, even old Han there, in his broken English savage way, said he was ashamed of it."

"Oh, well, I'm not," I said. "It's glorious to be able to get back once more to the dear old place. I say, though, you don't want Pomp any longer?"

"Ah, but I do, sir. Why?"

"I want to row up and have a bit of fishing. It does seem so long since I've had a turn."

"Eh? Who said go fis?" cried Pomp, sharply. "Mass' George go fish? Catch terrapum, and take de gun?"

"Morgan says he can't spare you."

"Oh!" exclaimed Pomp; but Morgan smiled one of his curious dry smiles, as he took off his hat and pointed with the corner.

"Just you go to the far end of the shed, Pomp, and you'll find in the damp place an old pot with a lot of bait in it as I put ready. On'y mind this, it's not to be all games."

"What do you mean?" I said, for Pomp had rushed off to get the bait.

"Bring us a bit o' fish. Be quite a treat."

Half an hour after Pomp and I were pulling up the river close in beneath the over-spreading boughs, ready to shout for joy as the golden sunbeams came down through the leaves and formed a lace-work of glory on the smooth deep water. Every now and then there was a familiar rustle and a splash, a flapping of wings, and a harsh cry as a heron or stork rose from his fishing-ground; then some great hawk hovered over the stream, or we caught sight of the yellow and orange of the orioles.

Pomp was for rowing on and up to a favourite spot where there was a special haunt of the fish, where the stream curved round and formed a deep pool. But I felt as if I must stop again and again to let the boat drift, and watch humming-birds, or brightly-painted butterflies and beetles, flitting here and there, so that it was quite a couple of hours before we reached the spot, and suddenly turned the curve of the river into the eddy.

As we did so silently I turned to look, and sat there petrified for a few moments, before I softly laid my hand on Pomp's arm. He turned round sharply and saw what I did—a party of six Indians on the opposite bank.

Before either of us could dip oar again we were seen; there was a deep, low exclamation, and the party turned and plunged into the forest and were gone.

With one sweep of my oar I sent the boat round into the stream, and we rowed back as rapidly as we could, expecting to hear arrows whizzing by us every moment. But we reached the landing-place in safety, secured the boat, and ran to the newly-erected house to give the alarm. I saw my father's brow contract with agony, but he was prompt in his measures.

"We will face them here," he said, "if they come." And, summoning in Morgan and Hannibal, the door and windows were barricaded, the weapons loaded, and we waited for the attack.

But we waited in vain. The severe lesson dealt to the Indians by our people and the Spaniards had had its result, and though I had not understood it then, the savages were more frightened of us than we of them; and the very next day, while we were still expecting attack, Colonel Preston came over from the settlement in company with the doctor, who wished to see his three patients once again, while the former announced a visit from some of the chiefs to make peace with our people, and to ask permission to trade.

That was the last alarm we had from the Indians, who would often come afterwards to barter skins, and some of their basket-work, with venison and fish, for knives and tobacco. And in the course of time my father and I had them for guides in many a pleasant hunting expedition, and for allies against the Spaniards, when they resumed their pretensions to the country, and carried on a feeble, desultory warfare, which kept the settlement always on the alert, but never once disturbed us, for our home lay quite out of their track and beyond them, when they came up the river upon one of their expeditions.

At such times my father always answered the call to arms; and as time went on, in addition to Morgan and the black, he had two great strapping fellows in Pomp and me—both young and loose-jointed, but able hands with a firelock.

Such calls were exciting; but after two or three, so little damage was done, that they ceased to cause us much anxiety; and after a bold attempt or two at retaliation, in which the war was carried right into the Spaniards' own land, and away up to their Floridan fort, matters gradually settled down.

For our settlement had prospered and increased, the broad savannahs grew year by year into highly-cultivated cotton land; the sugar-cane nourished; coffee was grown; and as the plantations spread, the little settlement gradually developed into a town and fort, to which big ships came with merchandise from the old country, and took back the produce of our fields. Then as the town increased, and the forest disappeared in the course of years, we found ourselves in a position to laugh at the pretensions of the Spaniards.

But over all that there seems to hang a mist, and I recall but little of the troubles of those later days. It is of the early I write—of the times when all was new and fresh; and I have only to close my eyes to see again our old home surrounded by forest, that was always trying to reclaim the portions my father had won; but the skirmishers of Nature gained nothing, and a pleasant truce ensued. For my father was too wealthy to need to turn his land into plantations and trouble himself about the produce; he loved to keep it all as he had made it at first, save that now and again pleasant little additions were made, and the comforts of civilisation were not forgotten.

But as time went on, and I grew up, my pleasant life there had to come to an end, and I was obliged to go out into the world as became a man.

It was my great delight though as the years rolled on to get down south for a month's stay at the old place, and with Hannibal and Pomp for companions, and an Indian or two for guides, to penetrate the wilds for days and days together, boating, fishing, shooting, and studying the glories of the wondrous water-ways of the forest and swamps.

Such trips seemed always fresh, and when I returned there was the delightful old home in which my father had elected to end his days; and I picture one of those scenes outside the embowered house with its broad veranda, and the pretty cottages a couple of hundred yards away beyond the noble garden, Morgan's pride. The home was simple still, for my father did not increase his establishment, save that a couple of young black girls elected to come from the settlement to place themselves under old Sarah's management.

THE END