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Fitz the Filibuster, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 53. Worse Than Ever |
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_ CHAPTER FIFTY THREE. WORSE THAN EVER "This is bad, my lads," said the skipper, joining the boys. "What's wrong, father?" said Poole. "Why, it's close upon sundown, and it begins to look as if they are going to steal upon us in the dark, which will give them a lot of advantage. I would rather have been able to see what we are about. What an evening, though, for a fight! I have journeyed about the islands and Central America a good deal, and it is nearly all beautiful, but this river and its cliffs, seen in the warm glow, is just my idea of a perfect paradise. Look at the sky, with those gorgeous clouds! Look at the river, reflecting all their beauties! And the trees and shrubs, looking darker in the shades, and in the light as if they had suddenly burst forth into bloom with dazzling golden flowers. And here we are going to spoil everything with savage bloodshed." "We are not, Captain Reed," said Fitz sharply; "you would not fire a shot if you were not obliged." "Not even a blank cartridge, my boy," said the skipper, laying his hand upon the middy's shoulder. "I loathe it, and I feel all of a shiver at the thought of my brave lads being drilled with bullets or hacked with knives. If it comes to it--and I am afraid it will--" "I say, father, don't talk of trembling and being afraid!" said Poole reproachfully. "Why not, my boy?" "Because I don't know what Fitz Burnett will think." "Whatever he thinks he'll know that I am speaking the truth. But I say, lad," continued the skipper, gripping the middy's shoulder tightly; "you'll help me, won't you?" "Haven't I forgotten myself enough, sir?" said Fitz, in a tone as full of reproach as that of Poole. "No, my boy. I think you have behaved very bravely; and I don't think, if your superior officer knew all, that he would have much to say. But I don't want you to fight. I mean, help me after the trouble's over; I mean, turn assistant-surgeon when I take off my jacket." "Yes, that I will," cried Fitz. "I ought to be getting ready some bandages and things now." "Oh, I think I've got preparations enough of that sort made," said the skipper; "and there is still a chance that we may not want them. Hah! That hope's gone. Ahoy! bosun! Let them have the pipe." Old Butters's silver whistle rang out shrill and clear, but only called one man to his duty, and that was the Camel, who came tumbling out of the galley and gave the door a bang. Every one else was on the alert, watching a boat coming round the bend, followed by two more, crowded with armed men whose oars sent the water splashing up like so much liquid gold. The fight began at once, for the skipper had given his instructions. These he supplemented now with a sharp order which was followed by the crack of a rifle echoing from cliff to cliff, and Fitz, who had run towards the stern to look over, was in time to see that the skipper's comment, "Good shot, my lad!" was well deserved, for one of the officers in the stern-sheets of the first boat sprang up and would have gone overboard but for the efforts of his men, who caught and lowered him back amidst a little scene of confusion and a cessation of the rowing. Another shot rang out and there was more confusion, the way of the leading boat being stopped; but the orders issued in the other boats were plainly heard on board the schooner; oars splashed more rapidly, and once more all three boats were coming on fast. "Fire!" cried the skipper, and with slow regularity shot after shot rang out, to be followed by a ragged volley from the enemy, the bullets whizzing overhead and pattering amongst the rigging of the well-moored vessel, but doing no real harm. "Keep it up steadily, my lads," shouted the skipper. "No hurry. One hit is worth five hundred misses. We mustn't let them board if we can keep them back. Go on firing till they are close up, and then cutlasses and bars." But in spite of the steady defence the enemy came on, showing no sign of shrinking, firing rapidly and responding to their officers' orders with savage defiant yells, while shots came thick and fast, the two lads growing so excited as they watched the fray that they forgot the danger and the nearness of the enemy coming on. "They are showing more pluck this time, Burgess," said the skipper, taking out his revolver and unconsciously turning the chambers to see that all was right. "Yes," growled the mate. "It's a horrible nuisance, for I don't want to fight. But we've made rather a mess of it, after all." "What do you mean?" said the skipper. "Ought to have dropped that other anchor." "Why?" said the skipper sharply. "Because they may row right up and cut us adrift." "Yes," said the skipper quietly; "it would have been as well. Take a rifle and go forward if they try to pass us, and pick off every man who attempts to cut the cable." "All right," replied the mate; "I will if there is time. But in five minutes we shall be busy driving these chaps back into their boats, and they will be swarming up the sides like so many monkeys." "Yes," said the skipper. "But you must do it if there _is_ time. They don't seem to mind our firing a bit." "No," Fitz heard the chief officer growl angrily. "Their blood's up, and they are too stupid, I suppose." "Cease firing!" shouted the skipper. "Here they come!" The order came too late to check six of the men, who in their excitement finished off their regular shots with a ragged volley directed at the foremost boat, and with such terrible effect that in the midst of a scene of confusion the oars were dropped and the boat swung round broadside to the stream, which carried it on to the next boat, fouling it so that the two hung together and confusion became worse confounded as they crashed on to the third boat, putting a stop to the firing as well as the rowing. The commands of the officer in the last boat were of no effect, and the defenders of the schooner, who had sprung to their positions where their efforts would have been of most avail, burst forth with a wild cheer, and then turned to the skipper for orders to fire again. But these orders did not come, for their captain had turned to the mate with-- "Why, Burgess, that's done it! I believe we've given them enough." Then heartily, "Well done, boys! Give 'em another cheer." In their wild excitement and delight the schooner's crew gave two; and they had good cause for their exultation, for the firing from the boats had quite ceased, the efforts of their commanders being directed towards disentangling themselves from their sorry plight, many minutes elapsing before the boats were clear and the men able to row, while by this time several hundred yards had been placed between them and the object of their attack. Then the Spanish officers gave their orders to advance almost simultaneously; but they were not obeyed. They raged and roared at their men, but in vain--the boats were still drifting down stream towards the bend, and as the darkness was giving its first sign of closing in, the last one disappeared, the skipper saying quietly-- "Thank you, my lads. It was bravely done." A murmur rose from among the men, only one speaking out loudly; and that was the carpenter, who, as he took off his cap and wiped his streaming forehead, gave Fitz a comic look and said-- "Well, yes; I think we made a neat job of that." Some of the men chuckled, but their attention was taken off directly by the boatswain, who shouted-- "Here, you Camel, don't wait for orders, but get the lads something to peck at and drink. I feel as if I hadn't had anything to eat for a week." "Yes, and be quick," cried the skipper. "It's all right, my lads; I don't think we shall see the enemy again." _ |
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