“Yes, Tom,” said Murray; and they felt for their unfortunate companions in the darkness, with the result that Titely flung out one fist with the accompaniment of an angry growl, and at the first touch of Murray’s fingers, Roberts uttered an angry expostulation, taking all the stiffness out of his brother middy’s joints as the lad started, broke out in a violent perspiration, and caught hold of his wakeful companion, for the pair to stand listening for some sign of the enemy having heard the cry, and beginning to steal silently towards them.

“Cutlasses, Tom,” whispered Murray, with his lips to the big sailor’s ear, and together they unsheathed their weapons and stood back to back, ready to defend themselves.

“Thrust, Tom,” whispered Murray again.

“Ay, ay, sir!” And then the terrible silence of the black darkness was only broken by a faint mutter from one or other of the wounded pair, while the listeners breathed hard in agony, trying the while to suppress the going and coming of the prime necessity of life. Murray pressed the hard hilt of his cutlass against his breast in the faint hope that by so doing he could deaden the heavy throbbing that sounded loudly to his ear, while if any one was approaching at all near he felt certain that he must hear the dull thumps that went on within the breast of the big sailor.

There was another dread, too, which troubled the watch-keepers: at any moment they felt certain the disturbed sleepers might begin talking aloud. But that peril they were spared.

“Don’t hear anything, sir,” whispered Tom, at last. “I made sure we should have brought them down upon us. I say, sir, it seems to me as Natur must have made some mistake.”

“How?” asked Murray.

“Forgot to wind up the sun last night.”

“What do you mean?”

“So as it should rise again.”

“Nonsense!” said Murray, in a voice which sounded to be full of annoyance. “That’s the morning breeze beginning to blow.”

“Well, I don’t care, sir,” grumbled the big sailor; “it ought to have been to-morrow morning before now. Sun must be late. I never knowed such a long night before.”

“It’s coming, Tom, and before long. Isn’t that the warm glow?”

“No,” said the sailor shortly. “As you said, there’s a breeze coming up from somewhere or another, and tidy strong, too.”

“Yes,” said Murray.

“Well, it’s blowing up the embers of the fire that was burning its way through the woods.”

“Think so, Tom?” said Murray, his companion’s words arousing his interest.

“Yes, sir; that’s it. Can’t you see that it looks reddish?”

“So does the sunrise.”

“Yes, sir, that’s true; but all the same I’m sartain that’s the fire brightening up a bit. We haven’t seen no pale dawn yet.”

“If it would only come, Tom!”

“Yes, sir; and what then?”

“We shall be able to find our messmates and bring them to our side.”

“Maybe we shall bring the black and white niggers instead, sir, and it’ll mean a fight, for we’re not going to give up quietly, are we?”

“No, Tom, and I hope that when those two wake up they may be able to fire a shot or two to help us.”

“Hope so, sir. But look yonder: there’s the dawn coming.”

“Yes!” whispered Murray eagerly. “Look; I can just make out the branches of a tree against the sky.”

“That’s right, sir. Now for it; what’s it going to be – enemies or friends?”

“Friends, Tom,” whispered Murray confidently.

There was a pause, during which the pair stood gazing straight before them, striving to pierce the dim dawn which seemed to consist for the most part of a thick mist which lay low upon the surface of the earth, while above the top of the forest all was fairly clear.

Then all at once, very softly, but so clear of utterance that the word seemed to vibrate in the middy’s ear, the big sailor uttered a whisper, as he pressed his firm, strong hand upon the lad’s shoulder.

His word was “Enemies!” and in obedience to the warning, Murray sank down till he lay prone upon the dew-wet earth.

For about fifty yards away there were figures moving, and evidently in the direction of the spot where the two watchers lay.

Chapter Thirty Nine.
On the Strain

Roberts and Titely lay close by, breathing heavily, but to Murray’s horror it seemed as if, faintly spoken as it was, the big sailor’s warning had reached the sensitive nerves of both the wounded, making them stir uneasily and mutter something unintelligible, while the light of morning, which had before been so sluggish in its approach, seemed now to be coming on by a steady glide, as if the black darkness which had pressed so heavily upon the spirits of two of the party was now being swept away like a cloud.

A terrible dread came over Murray, for he saw in the moving figures death coming upon him in most probably some horribly brutal form, and he could feel his nerves thrill with an icy sensation which had its origin among the roots of his hair and then began to glide down his spine till it reached to and made its exit from his toes; while in spite of what he suffered, he could not help recalling some of the words which had passed between him and his waking companion as he was conscious of fresh movements on the part of Roberts and Titely, and he wished that he could carry out what had been proposed, namely, to sit upon the pair and keep them quiet.

“They’ll let the wretches know where we are,” he thought, and quietly reaching out one leg till he could reach Tom May’s big body, he gave him a steady thrust.

“That will keep him on the qui vive,” he thought to himself; and then the lad started violently, for the big sailor responded with a well-meant but decidedly forcible kick, which Murray took for a warning of impending danger, and raised his head to look, but dropped it again on the instant, throbbing with excitement, for there were the moving figures, clearly seen now, in the shape of a villainous-looking party of about a dozen well-armed men, clothed sailor fashion and graduated in colour from the sun-tanned skin of a white through the swarthiness of the Malay and Mulatto to the black of the East Indian and the intense ebony of the African black.

He gazed in that moment, as he knew for certain, upon a party of the cut-throat ruffians belonging to the crew of one of the slave-trade vessels, and as he subsided, it was with the feeling upon him that his head must have been seen, that in another instant he should be listening to the rush of feet, and would have to make a desperate effort to preserve his life, while all the while he was lying there suffering from a kind of paralysis which held him as if he were passing through the worst phases of a nightmare-like dream.

“Poor old Dick!” he thought, as if in a flash. “We were always quarrelling, and he was horribly jealous of me; but I liked him, and I’d do anything to save him. But he’ll never know, for the brutes will kill him in his sleep. Poor Billy Titely the same. But Tom May must be ready to fight for his life, and he’ll pay out some of the butchers, and I shall help him too, though I haven’t got his strength. Why don’t I spring up before they come?”

It seemed curiously misty and dream-like to him, and he fully realised that something must be wrong, as he seemed to fight hard to answer that question; but so far from replying to the mental query, and springing up to help his brave companion, he could not move, till he was roused into a state of action by the touch of the big sailor’s foot, which did not come in a heavy kick this time, but in steady pressure.

Murray drew a slow, deep breath, and instead of starting up he softly turned his head sidewise till he could peer with one eye through the bushes, and see that the crew of ruffians had turned off to the right and were slowly and cautiously passing away.

So far Murray felt the murderous wretches had not seen them, but as he knew that the slightest movement on the part of the sleepers, or a muttered word, would bring them to their side, he lay quivering and trying involuntarily to press himself deeper into the soft earth for some minutes, clinging to hope, till once more the intensity of the strain was broken by a sharp clear snap which sounded awfully loud, and he started up, resting upon his right elbow, and gazed, not upon the fiercely savage face of one of the enemies, but upon the big, frank, apologetic countenance of Tom May, who was in precisely the same attitude.

“Who’d have thought it?” he whispered. “But they didn’t hear.”

“Oh, Tom,” replied the lad, hardly above his breath, “how you frightened me!”

“Frightened you, sir?” chuckled the big fellow, with his face expanding into a grin. “Why, it frightened me.”

“What was it?” whispered Murray, pressing his left hand upon his throbbing breast.

“This here, sir,” replied the man, holding up a round brass tobacco-box. “Thought I’d take a quid just to put a bit o’ life into me, and as soon as I’d got it I shut up the lid, and it went off like a pistol.”

“But do you feel sure they didn’t hear?”

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that, sir. There they go, and we’re all right so long as none of ’em looks round, and Billy Titely and Mr Roberts don’t sing out anything to bring them back.”

“Oh, don’t speak so loud,” whispered the middy.

“Nay, they can’t hear that, sir,” said the man. “Lucky beggars!”

“What!”

“Lucky beggars, sir. Two on ’em’s saved their lives, and a couple more’s gone off without having any mark upon ’em. For I’m pretty handy with my cutlash, Mr Murray, sir; arn’t I?”

“Handy, Tom? Yes, of course; but what an escape! I felt as if I couldn’t have helped you.”

“Yah! Nonsense, sir! I always feel like that, just as if I couldn’t do anything. It’s nat’ral, I suppose. I was allers that how when I was a boy, when I got fighting. Used to feel like running away, till I was hurt, and then my monkey was up directly and I began to bite. Whatcher talking about, sir? I just see you standing still and one of them ugly beggars sticking his long knife into you. You’d hold still, wouldn’t you? Not much!”

“Oh, I don’t know, Tom.”

“Well, sir, I do,” said the sailor, half closing his eyes as he kept careful watch in the direction the enemy had taken.

“What’s to be done now, Tom?” said Murray, after a pause.

“Eh? What’s to be done, sir? Why, I was waiting for orders. You’re my orficer, sir.”

“Yes, Tom, but this is a terrible position.”

“Oh, I dunno, sir. ’Tarn’t a wreck.”

“No, Tom, but I want your help.”

“Say what I’m to do, sir, and here I am.”

“Yes, I know, but can’t you make a good suggestion?”

“No, sir; I arn’t clever. I want some one to set me going. Seems to me, though, as the best thing we could do would be to – ”

“Yes,” said Murray eagerly, for the man had paused.

“Do nothing, sir,” said the man slowly. “We know that gang is on the lookout so as we can’t follow their way.”

“No, Tom, but we might go in the opposite direction.”

“Yes, sir, we might,” replied the man, “but there’s lots more on ’em about, and we may be tumbling out o’ the frying-pan into the fire.”

“Yes, Tom,” said the middy, “and we are pretty well hidden. I propose that we lie here till those two poor fellows wake up. They may be better then and so far able to help us that they may get along with our arms.”

“Yes, sir,” said May quietly, “and I’d stop at that. Besides, Mr Anderson’s looking after us, and perhaps he knows the way back to that rondyvoo of his, for it must be somewheres not very far-off. Don’t you think the first luff may be sending that black See-saw chap to look for us?”

“Yes, very likely, Tom. Capital!”

“Yes, sir; it don’t seem so bad now we come to think of it. See-saw knows all about these parts, sir, and it would be a pity for him to come to find us, and walk into this patch of trees and find as we’d gone.”

“Yes, of course, Tom. Then you think that our wisest plan would be to lie here and wait for a few hours at all events and see what turns up?”

“That’s it exactly, sir.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do, Tom.”

“Thankye, sir.”

“Why do you say that, Tom?”

“Oh, ’cause you said what we’d do.”

“Of course.”

“Yes, sir, but some young gents – Mr Roberts there, for instance – would ha’ thought he knowed best and wouldn’t have listened to a bit of advice. Pst! Don’t you hear some un coming along, making the trees rustle and crackle a bit?”

Murray listened eagerly, before turning to the big sailor again.

“No. Your ears are better than mine, Tom.”

The middy had hardly ceased speaking before there was a heavy burst of coarse laughter, and then several voices came from some little distance away, while as the listeners crouched together and drew their cutlasses, after Tom May had raised the pan of his musket and closed it again, satisfied that the priming was correct, the pair gazed in each other’s eyes, for Roberts started and turned uneasily, waking the wounded sailor, who began to talk aloud and incoherently about manning a boat and getting ashore.

“What’s to be done, Tom?” whispered Murray; and as he spoke he loosened the knot of his neckerchief and slipped it off, to hold it to the big sailor.

“Right, sir. Can’t do better than that.” And taking the silk kerchief, Tom began to crawl close to where the man’s voice was sinking to a low muttering, the poor fellow being perfectly unconscious of the fact that his messmate was leaning over him ready to use the silken tie as a gag and thrust it between his teeth if he went on talking and the enemy drew near.

Fortunately it seemed as if all the mutterings were about to die out, and though coarse mirth was on the increase, and the party of searchers were drawing nearer, it appeared to Murray that the rough means of quieting the wounded man would not be called into service, when all at once, when the peril of being discovered was growing to be more grave, Roberts started as if from pain, and threw out his arms sharply, striking Titely upon the side of the head.

It was not sufficient to cause pain, but the poor fellow’s lips parted to cry out, and he gave forth an inarticulate sound caused by the sudden descent of the rolled-up pad of black silk vigorously planted in its place by the sturdy hand of Tom May.

The next minute there was a violent struggling to add to the gurgling noise, and in spite of the big sailor’s efforts, the gagged one wrenched his head free from the pressure of the hand, and uttered a loud cry of annoyance and pain.

Chapter Forty.
Dealing with the Wounded

“It’s all over,” thought Murray, and he turned sharply from watching for the approach of the enemy, for the big sailor whispered —

“Don’t get up, sir, till they close in; then make one jump for it and stand back to hit, but take distance and give me plenty of room for a good swing.”

The midshipman did not reply, but crouched down with his time divided between waiting for the enemy’s approach and listening for the next utterance made by Titely or his brother officer.

The attention of the slaver’s men had evidently been attracted by the sounds, for from where Murray crouched down among the thick growth, he saw that two of the party had stopped short to gaze straight away before them, but not in the direction where the fugitives waited to be discovered; and the young officer, when he afterwards thought over the matter, decided that though they must have heard the noise that was made, it was when several of their companions were talking aloud, so that the listeners had not been able to tell with certainty from whence the cry had come. For after a short colloquy, during which Murray could distinctly see that the two men in question were addressing their fellows who surrounded them, there was a little gesticulating, a pointing towards a different portion of the forest, and the gang went off along what proved to be a well-beaten track.

“Hah!” ejaculated Murray, after waiting impatiently for what seemed to be a full quarter of an hour. “I think we’ll make a movement soon, Tom May.”

“Right, sir. Where to? One moment first. You’d better take my musket, sir, because I shall have to carry Mr Roberts. I wish they’d come to their senses so as we could make sure that they don’t let out again as if they wanted to tell the enemy where we are.”

“What’s the matter?” cried Roberts, in a tone which made his brother midshipman start. “Has some one been hurt?”

He was in pain, but seemed to be quite calm and sensible now, as he listened to Murray’s explanation of the position in which they were.

“It’s bad,” he said. “I can hardly understand it, for I’ve been in a regular feverish dream. But tell me, what are you going to do?”

Before Murray could answer, Titely sat up suddenly.

“That you, Tom May?” he said huskily.

“Ay, messmate,” was the reply. “Me it is. What is it?”

“Take the tin, mate, and dip me a drink o’ water. – Why, hullo! Where are we now? Not out in the forest?”

“Out in the forest it is, my lad, and the enemy’s close arter us,” replied the big sailor.

“Enemy?” said the poor fellow, in a wondering tone of voice. “Why, that means – Yes, I remember now. I’m hurt, arn’t I?”

“Yes, messmate; you got just touched by a bullet.”

“To be sure,” said Titely. “Yes, I remember now. Well, somebody’s got to be hurt, of course. Anybody else just touched by a bullet?”

“Mr Roberts.”

“Has he now? Well, orficers leads, and they has the best chance of it. Doctor seen him?”

“No.”

“Course not; he wasn’t with the expedition. Arn’t seen me neither, I s’pose?”

“No,” growled Tom May; “but look here, messmate, you and Mr Roberts atween you nearly give us up to the enemy.”

“Me? I don’t know about Mr Roberts, but you’re not going to make me believe I should try and give you up to the enemy. Is it likely, Mr Murray, sir?”

“No, Titely; it’s the last thing you would do.”

“There, Tommy! Hear that?”

“Oh yes, I hear it plain enough,” growled the big sailor, “but can’t you see that you were off that thick head o’ yourn, and began shouting just when the enemy was close at hand?”

“Was that it, Mr Murray, sir?” cried the man.

“Yes, Titely; but you could not help it. Now be quiet and help us to watch,” said the midshipman, “for the enemy can’t be very far away, and they’re evidently searching for us.”

“Phee-ew!” whistled the man softly. “I do understand now. Very sorry, Mr Murray and Mr Roberts.”

“Pst!” whispered Tom May. “Down flat, everybody. Here they come again;” and as the order was obeyed the sound of breaking twigs and the rustling of tropical leaves was heard; and before long the hiding party began to make out that the slaver’s men were for some reason or another returning in their direction, spread over a pretty wide surface of the thick brake, and apparently so arranged that they were bound to cover the hiding-place of the unfortunate party.

But somehow the difficulties of the search favoured the concealed man-o’-war’s men, who from where they lay saw the thick undergrowth so beaten that the outer leader of the line came within a few yards only of the hiding-place, giving Tom May a clue to the reasons for the enemy’s return in the shape of one of the Seafowl’s muskets, which he held on high as he pressed forward through the trees.

“But how could you tell?” whispered Murray, as soon as their foes had passed. “You can’t be sure, Tom, that it was one of our muskets.”

“Well, no, sir, I can’t be sure, but it seems to me it was one of ours; elsewise why should he be carrying it like he was? P’raps I’m wrong, but there he was, holding it up in a niminy piminy way, as if he felt it was what them half-bred niggers calls a fetish as would help ’em to find the chap as let it fall. Anyhow just harkye there! I’m blest if they arn’t coming again!”

“Yes,” said Murray, after listening. “They are coming back.”

“Well,” said Tom May, “bad luck to ’em! There’s four on us now to give ’em a shot.”

“On’y three, messmate,” said Titely, with a sigh. “I arn’t got no gun. That there one the whitey brown chap carried must be mine.”

There was no time nor chance for further conversation respecting their position. Nothing could be done but lie low crouching beneath the densest part of the undergrowth in the hope of escaping the keen eyes of the slaver’s men; and twice over Murray caught sight of the man who seemed to be the leader, who evidently attached a great deal of importance to the gun he still carried on high, till at last, sick at heart, the middy gave up their position as hopeless, for the savage-looking wretch was leading his men straight for them.

Murray passed the cutlass he carried into his left hand, while he bent over his wounded comrade and stole his right down beside him to grasp that of Roberts.

“In case of the worst,” he whispered, and he felt his brother middy’s fingers close round his own, before he snatched his hand away so as to seize the cutlass, ready to strike at the leader of the final rush, when as the man turned his head and shouted to his followers to come on, he raised the musket to give it a wave in the air, but somehow caught it amongst the twining canes, when his progress was checked, and he fell headlong amongst the dense growth, the piece exploding with a loud concussion, upon which the men uttered a loud yell and dashed away, evidently under the impression that they had been attacked.

The leader staggered to his feet growling like some savage beast, and roared out to his followers to return. His words were unintelligible to the listeners, but their tones suggested plainly enough that he was cursing them fiercely and hurling anathemas and threats at them as to what he would do when he overtook them.

Then, as he found himself left alone, he snatched at the musket again, but without result, for it was fast in the tangle of twining canes, at which he tore and tore again till the tough green growth gave way and he stood up, examining lock and trigger now as if to try and make out whether the weapon was injured, when he roared again to his men and stood listening, but without avail.

If he had only turned upon his heels and taken half-a-dozen steps he must have walked over the hidden party of Englishmen, but the falling and explosion of the weapon and the flight of his men seemed to have completely upset his calculations; and hence it was that Murray, after giving up all hopes of escaping, saw the ruffian stand in the midst of the silence, snapping the flint and pan of the musket to and fro three or four times, begin to try and reload the piece without success, and then shoulder it and start off in search of his followers, now muttering angrily, now shouting to them again and again, without, however, any appearance of success.