A yell of triumph rose from the savages, and they stopped short to send a little flight of arrows at the knot of men struggling to their feet no easy task, for Panton’s right leg had gone between two of the rounds, and as he strove to get up he jerked the implement, and upset Smith again.

“Don’t don’t fire,” cried Drew, who rushed forward, and none to soon; for the clicking of locks came out of the thin mist. “Friends! friends!”

A cheer rose at this; but it was answered by another yell, and the savages came on now at a run.

“Hurt, Lane, old chap?”

“Don’t talk: forward, all of you.”

Somehow or another the little party, hurt and unhurt, rose to their feet, and ran hard for the brig, fortunately only a short distance away, but their speed did not equal that of the arrows winged after them, and one of the deadly missiles struck Panton in the shoulder, making him utter an angry ejaculation, stop, turn, and discharge both barrels of his gun at the advancing enemy.

“Don’t; don’t stop to do that,” groaned Oliver. “To the brig, man to the brig.”

He spoke in great pain, but the two shots had their effect, for they checked the advancing enemy for a few moments, and gave the flying party time to struggle to the side of the brig, but utterly worn out and exhausted. Then a terrible feeling of despair came over them as they looked up and saw that if the savages came on their case was hopeless, for the gangway was fastened up and sails had been rigged up along the bulwarks as a protection against an attacking foe, while to open out and let down steps would have taken many valuable minutes, and given the enemy time to seize or slay.

“Quick, my lads, throw them ropes. Hold on below, there; we’ll soon haul you up.”

Oliver saw that long before they could be dragged up it would be all over with them, and he placed his back to the vessel’s side, meaning to sell his life as dearly as he could, while the others followed his example, feeling completely shut out from the help they had sought.

“Fire over our heads, sir,” cried Drew, “we must not wait for ropes.”

“Yes. Guns, all of you,” cried Mr Rimmer, as the savages came on in the moonlight, winging arrow after arrow, which stuck in the ship’s side again and again.

“Hooray for Billy Wriggs!” yelled Smith just then, as his comrade came panting up last.

“Here y’are gents,” cried Wriggs, and with steady hands he planted the ladder he had been so long abusing right up against the side. “Now, then, up with yer, Mr Oliver Lane, sir.”

“No, no; up, Drew.”

“Quick: don’t shilly-shally,” roared Mr Rimmer. “Now, boys, fire!”

A ragged volley came from overhead as Drew ran up the ladder, and then leaned down to hold out his hand to Panton, who went up more slowly, with an arrow sticking in his shoulder.

“Now, Smith,” cried Oliver.

“No, sir. Orficers first,” was the reply.

“Confound you, you’ll be too late!” roared Mr Rimmer, and Smith sprang up as the savages came on with a rush, and, literally driven by Wriggs to follow, Oliver went up next, while Wriggs followed him so closely that he touched and helped him all the while, the ladder quivering and bending and threatening to give way beneath their weight.

The next moment the mate’s strong hands had seized Oliver’s sides and pitched him over the sail cloth to the deck, while, as Wriggs got hold of a rope and swung himself in, the ladder was seized and dragged away as a trophy taken from the enemy, the savages yelling wildly, and then increasing their rate of retreat, as a fresh volley was sent after them.

“Oh, murder, look at that!” yelled Wriggs, excitedly, as he climbed up and looked over at the retreating foe.

“Tommy, old lad, see here. The beggars! Arter my troubles too, all the night: they’ve carried off my ladder, after all.”

The moon was now high above the mist, and bathed the deck with the soft light, veining it at the same time with the black shadows of stay, spar, yard, and running rigging.

“Don’t fire, lads,” cried Mr Rimmer. “We mustn’t waste a shot. Wait till they come on again. Now, gentlemen, thank God you’re all back safe again. Eh? Not safe? Don’t say anyone’s hurt.”

“Yes, Lane’s hurt, and Panton.”

“So’s Billy Wriggs, sir,” said Smith.

“Course I am, mate, so would you be if you’d slipped your foot between the ratlines of an ugly old ladder, and broke your ankle.”

“Why, I did, Billy, right up to the crutch, and snapped my thigh-bone in half,” growled Smith.

“I’ll see to you as soon as I can. Here, two of you carry Mr Lane down into the cabin.”

“No, Mr Panton first,” said Oliver. “He’s worst.”

“Don’t stand on ceremony, gentlemen,” cried the mate, angrily. “Mr Drew, are you all right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then take command here. You have your gun, keep a sharp look-out, and no mercy now, down with the first of the treacherous dogs who comes near.”

“Right. I’m ready,” said Drew; “but pray see to my friends.”

Oliver was already on his way to the cabin hatch.

“You trust me for that, sir,” said the mate. “Steady there. Ah! An arrow! Here, quick; down with Mr Panton.”

The men who had lifted him from the deck, panting with fear and horror, were quick enough in their actions, and the two young men were soon lying one on each side of the cabin floor.

“You shall be attended to directly, Mr Lane,” said the mate, hurriedly. “You’re not bleeding much. Here, Smith, hold this cloth tightly against Mr Lane’s arm.”

He hurried to Panton’s side, and turned him more over upon his face, showing the broken shaft of an arrow sticking through the cloth of the young man’s jacket. Then quickly taking out his knife, he did not hesitate for a moment, but ordering Wriggs to hold the cabin lamp so as to cast its light upon the broken arrow, he inserted his knife, and ripped the light Norfolk jacket right up to the collar, and across the injured place, so that he could throw it open, and then serving the thin flannel shirt the young man wore in the same way, the wound was at once laid bare, and the extent of the injury seen.

“Can’t ha’ gone into his heart, sir,” said Wriggs, respectfully. “’Cause it’s pinting uppards.”

“Yes,” said Mr Rimmer, “imbedded in the muscles of his shoulder. Poor fellow, best done while he’s fainting.”

It was rough surgery, but right. Taking hold of the broken arrow shaft, of which about three inches stood up from the wound, which was just marked by a few drops of blood, Mr Rimmer found that it was held firmly, and resisted all efforts to dislodge it without violence, so judging that the head was barbed, and that tearing would be dangerous, he at once made a bold cut down into the flesh, parallel with the flat of the arrow head, and then pressing it gently up and down, he drew the missile forth. He followed this up by carefully washing out the wound with clean water, and finally, before bandaging, poured in some ammonia.

Just as he gave the final touches to the bandage, Panton came to, and looked wildly round, his eyes resting at last upon the mate’s.

“You have taken out the arrow?” he asked.

“Yes, and made a good job of you, sir,” said the mate, cheerily. “I didn’t think I was such a surgeon.”

Panton grasped his arm, and whispered hoarsely,

“Tell me the truth. That was a poisoned arrow, was it not?”

“How should I know?” said the mate, roughly. “It was an arrow; I’ve taken it out, bathed the wound, and what you have to do, is to lie still, and not worry yourself into a fever by fancying all kinds of horrors.”

“But these men poison their arrows, do they not?”

“People say so,” said the mate, bluffly, “but it doesn’t follow that they do. Now, then, I’ve got to attend to Mr Lane. You’ve had your turn.”

He bent down over Oliver, and began to remove the bandage which Smith had passed round the upper part of the young man’s left arm.

“Thank goodness it isn’t in the body,” said the mate. “I thought it was at first.”

“No, sir,” said Smith. “He was all wet about his chest, and I thought he’d got it somewhere there, but it’s a nice, neat hole right through his arm, and here’s the bullet which tumbled out of the sleeve of his jacket.”

He handed the little piece of lead to the mate, who took it quickly, held it to the lamp and then drawing his breath sharply between his teeth, he slipped the bullet into his pocket before slitting up Oliver’s sleeve, and examining a couple of ruddy orifices in the upper part of his arm.

“Hurt you much, sir?” he said, cheerfully.

“Hurt?” cried Oliver, angrily. “Why, it throbs and stings horribly.”

“So I s’pose. But you mustn’t think that this is poisoned. No fear of that.”

“I did not think so,” said Oliver, shortly. “I wish I knew who it was that fired at me.”

“Well,” said the mate, drily, as he bathed the two wounds where the bullet had entered and passed out right through the thickest part of the arm, carefully using fresh water and sponge, “I don’t think that would help the places to heal.”

“No ah! you hurt! Mr Rimmer, what are you doing?”

“I was trying to find out whether the bone was injured.”

“Is it broken?” said Oliver, who was wincing with pain.

“No, the bullet never touched it, sir. There’s only a nice clean tunnel through your flesh to heal up.”

“Nice clean tunnel, indeed!” said Oliver, whose deadly faintness was giving way to irritability, caused by the sharp pain. “I only, as I said before, wish I knew who shot me. How could a man be so stupid?”

“Well, I’ll tell you,” said the mate, as he softly dried the wounds. “If people come rushing out of a fog in company with a lot of yelling savages, they can’t expect other people to know the difference. The fact is, my lad, I fired that shot, for it was a bullet out of the captain’s gun.”

“You, Mr Rimmer!”

“Yes, my lad, and I’m very thankful.”

“What, that you shot me?”

“Yes, through the arm instead of through the chest, for I couldn’t have doctored you then.”

“I say! Oh! What are you doing?” cried Oliver.

“That’s right, have a rousing shout if it will do you good, my lad,” said the mate, whose fingers were busy. “But that’s right, don’t shrink,” he continued as he went on with his task, which was that of plugging the two mouths of the wound with lint

“Hallo! What is it?”

A sailor’s head had appeared inside the cabin door.

“Mr Drew says, sir, as the savages are coming back, and would you like to come on deck?”

“Yes, of course,” said the mate hastily. “Go and tell him I’m coming.”

“Yes, sir.”

The man disappeared, and the mate turned to Smith.

“Here,” he said, “carefully and tightly bind up Mr Lane’s arm, so that the plugs cannot come out.”

“Me, sir? Don’t you want me to come and fight?”

“I want you to obey orders,” said the mate, sharply. “There, you will not hurt, Mr Lane; and as for you, Mr Panton, don’t let imagination get the better of you, sir. I’ll come down again as soon as I can.”

“You won’t hurt, sir,” said Smith, with rough sympathy, as he took up the bandage and examined the injured arm by the light of the lamp. “But he can. All very fine for him to say that, after ramming in a couple o’ pellets just as if he was loading an elder-wood pop-gun. Look here, sir, shall I take ’em out again?”

“No, no,” said Oliver, trying hard to bear the acute pain he suffered, patiently.

“But they must hurt you ’orrid, and he won’t know when the bandage is on.”

“Tie up my arm, man,” said Oliver, shortly. “It is quite right. That’s better Tighter. No, no, I can’t bear it. Yes: that will do. How are you getting on, Panton?”

“Badly. Feel as if someone was boring a hole in my shoulder with a red hot poker.”

“So do I,” said Oliver; “and as if he had got quite through, and was leaving the poker in to burn the hole bigger.”

“Serve you right.”

“Why?”

“You were always torturing some poor creature, sticking pins through it to `set it up’ as you call it.”

“But not alive. I always poisoned them first.”

“Worse and worse,” said Panton, trying hard to preserve his calmness, and to master the horror always to the front in his thoughts, by speaking lightly. “That’s what I believe they have done to me, but they’ve failed to get me as a specimen.”

“Haw, haw, haw!” laughed Smith.

“Quiet, sir!” cried Oliver. “What have you got to laugh at?”

“Beg pardon,” said the man, passing his hand across his mouth, as if the laugh required wiping away, “but it seemed so comic for the natives to be trying to get a spessermen of an English gent, to keep stuffed as a cur’osity.”

“Ah, they wouldn’t have done that, Smith, my lad. More likely to have rolled me up in leaves to bake in one of their stone ovens, and then have a feast.”

“Well, they aren’t got yer, sir, and they sha’n’t have yer, if me and Billy Wriggs can stop it.”

“God bless you both, my lads,” said Panton huskily. “You stood by me very bravely.”

“Oh, I don’t know, sir,” said Smith bashfully. “People as is out together, whether they’re gents or only common sailors, is mates yer know for the time, and has to stand by one another in a scrimmage. Did one’s dooty like, and I dessay I could do it again, better than what I’m a doing here. My poor old mother never thought I should come to be a ‘orspittle nuss. Like a drink a’ water, sir?”

“Yes, please, my mouth’s terribly dry.”

Smith looked round, but there was no water in the cabin, and he went out to get some from the breaker on deck, but he had not reached halfway to the tub, before there was a sharp recommencement of the firing, and he knew by the yelling that the savages were making a fresh attack.

The sailor forgot all about the wounded in the cabin, and running right forward, he seized a capstan bar for a weapon, and then went to the side waiting to help and repel the attack, if any of the enemy managed to reach the deck.

But evidently somewhat daunted by the firearms and the injuries inflicted upon several of their party, the savages did not come too near, but stood drawing their bows from time to time, and sending their arrows up in the air, so that they might fall nearly perpendicularly upon the deck. Many times over the men had hairbreadth escapes from arrows which fell with a sharp whistling sound, and stuck quivering in the boards, while the mate made the crew hold their fire.

“Firing at them is no good,” he said, “or they would have stopped away after the first volleys. Let them shoot instead and waste their arrows. They’ll soon get tired of that game. So long as they don’t hurt us, it’s of no consequence. All we want, is for them to leave us alone.”

“But it does not seem as if they would do that,” said Drew, to whom he was speaking.

“Well, then, if they will not, we must give them another lesson, and another if it comes to that. We’re all right now in our bit of a fort, but it seems queer to be in command of a ship that will not Hah! Look at that!” he cried, stooping to pull from the deck an arrow which had just fallen with a whizz. “You may as well keep some of these and take ’em home for curiosities, sir. There’s no trickery or deceit about them. They were not made for trade purposes, but for fighting.”

“And are they poisoned?” said Drew anxiously.

“Best policy is to say no they are not, sir. We don’t want to frighten Mr Panton into the belief that he has been wounded by one, for if he does, he’ll get worse and worse and die of the fancy; whereas, after the spirits are kept up, even if the arrow points have been dipped into something nasty, he may fight the trouble down and get well again. I say, take it that they are not poisoned and let’s keep to that, for many a man has before now died from imagination. Why, bless me! if the men got to think that the savages’ weapons were poisonous, every fellow who got a scratch would take to his bunk, and we should have no end of trouble.”

“I suppose so,” said Drew. “But tell me, what do you think of my companions’ wounds?”

“Well, speaking as a man who has been at sea twenty years, and has helped to do a good deal of doctoring with sticking plaster and medicine chest for men often get hurt and make themselves ill I should say as they’ve both got nasty troublesome wounds which will pain them a bit for weeks to come, but that there’s nothing in them to fidget about. Young hearty out-door-living fellows like yourselves have good flesh, and if it’s wounded it soon heals up again.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Of course, sir: when you’re young you soon come right. It’s when you are getting old, and fidget and worry about your health, that you get better slowly. Hah! there’s another stuck up in the mainsail. That won’t hurt anybody.”

“But tell me, Mr Rimmer, when did the savages come and attack you?”

“I was going to ask you to tell me why you were all so long. I was just thinking of coming in search of you, expecting to find that you’d gone down some hole or broken your necks, when one of the men came running up from where he had been fishing in that nearest pool for the crocs and things have left a few fish swimming about still. Up he comes to the gangway shouting, ­`Mr Rimmer, Mr Rimmer, here they are,’ he says. `Good job too,’ says I. `Are they all here?’ `Quick, quick,’ he says. `Get out the guns,’ and looking half wild with fear, he began to shut up the gangway and to yell for some one to help him pull up the ladder. I thought he was mad, and I caught hold of him as the men came running up. `Here, young fellow,’ I says, `what’s the matter with you; have you got sunstroke?’ `No, sir,’ he says, `but one of their poisoned arrows whizzed by my ear. Don’t you understand? I was fishing and I’d just hooked a big one when a croc seized it, and nearly dragged me into the water. Then, all at once, I looked up and let go of the line, for there was a whole gang of nearly naked black fellows, with their heads all fuzzed out, and spears and bows and arrows in their hands. They were a long way off on the other side of the pool, but they saw me, and began to run as fast as ever they could, and so did I.’”

“Enough to make him,” said Drew.

“Yes, and it didn’t want any telling, for the perspiration was streaming down his face, his hair sticking to his forehead, and you could see his heart pumping away and rising and falling. Next minute we could see the rascals stealing up looking at the brig as if they expected to see it come sailing down upon them; but as soon as they made sure it was not going to move, they came shouting and dancing round us, and in the boldest way tried to climb on board.”

“Well?” said Drew, for the mate stopped.

“Well? I call it ill, sir.”

“But what did you do then?”

“Oh! the game began then, of course. I told the men to tell them that nobody came on board except by invitation; but they didn’t like it and insisted upon coming.”

“But could they understand English?”

“No, not a word.”

“Then how could you tell them?”

“Oh! that was easy enough,” said the mate with a droll look. “I made the men tell them with capstan bars, and as soon as a black head appeared above the bulwarks it went down again. I didn’t want to fire upon the poor ignorant wretches, who seemed to have an idea that the brig was their prize, and that everyone was to give way to them, for they came swarming up, over fifty of them, throwing and darting their spears at us, and shooting arrows, so I was obliged to give them a lesson.”

“Have you killed any?” said Drew.

“Not yet. I found that hitting their thick heads was no good, so I served out some swan shot cartridges, and sent a lot of them back rather sore.”

“It checked them, then?”

“Yes, for a time, while we ran up that canvas and cleared away everything that made it easy for them to swarm up over the bulwarks. But they’re so active that one’s never safe.”

“Hark! what’s that?” cried Drew. “Someone called `help!’”

“It came from the cabin. Come along.”

“Who’s there?” said Drew.

“I left Smith with them, but he’s here,” panted the mate, as he passed the sailor, who was hurrying back horrified by the cry he had heard.

They were just in time to see the cabin window blocked up by black heads, whose owners were trying to force their way in, while a couple of fierce-looking wretches had their clubs raised as if about to dash out the brains of the two injured passengers.

There was no time to take aim. The mate and Drew both drew trigger as they entered the cabin, when there was a savage yelling, the place filled with smoke. Then as it rose, Oliver Lane and Panton could be seen lying half fainting upon the cabin floor, and the open cabin window was vacant.

“The brutes!” cried Drew, running to the window to lean out and fire the second barrel of his piece at a group of the Papuans.

“Mind!” roared the mate, as Drew passed him, but his warning was not heeded in the excitement. The need, though, was evident, for the young man shrank away startled and horrified as half a dozen arrows came with a whizz and stuck here and there in the woodwork, and two in the ceiling, while a spear struck off his cap, and then fell and stuck with a loud thud in the cabin floor, not a couple of inches from one of Oliver Lane’s legs.

“Hurt?” cried the mate, excitedly.

“Yes no I can’t tell,” said Drew, whose hands trembled as he reloaded his gun.

“But you must know,” cried the mate, seizing his arm and gazing at him searchingly.

“No: I don’t know,” said Drew. “Something touched me, but I don’t feel anything now. I am certain, though: I am not wounded.”

“For heaven’s sake be careful, man!” cried the mate. “We have shelter here and must make use of it. We are regularly besieged, and how long it will last it is impossible to say.”

As he spoke he dragged the little narrow mattress out of a bunk, and, signing to Drew to take hold of one end, they raised it and placed it across the window to act as a screen, while Mr Rimmer thrust out one arm, got hold of a rope, and drew up the dead-light which was struck several times before he got it perfectly secure.

“Oh, you’re there, Smith,” he said, turning to the sailor, who, now feeling very penitent, was down on one knee holding a panikin of water to Oliver Lane’s lips. “How came you to leave the cabin, and with that window open?”

“I didn’t, sir. Window was shut fast enough when I left it, and I only went for some water for the gentlemen to drink.”

“And nearly sent them to their graves?” cried the mate.

“Will you come on deck, sir, please?” cried one of the men, who had come to the cabin door with his face looking drawn and scared.

“Yes. What is it?” said the mate.

“There’s a lot more on ’em just come up, sir, and we think they’re going to rush us now.”

“Yes. Come on, Mr Drew. You, too, Smith. Quick, they’re attacking.”

For there was a terrific yelling, and the sound indicated that it must come from quite a crowd.

They rushed on deck and none too soon, for, at the first glance Drew obtained, he could see that the savages had surrounded the brig, and that many of them bore small palm trunk poles whose purpose was evident the next moment, for a dozen men rushed forward and laid them from the earth to the bulwarks, sinking down directly to clasp the little trees with their arms while as many of their companions leaped up, took as high a hold as they could, and then began to swarm up toward the deck.

“It’s all over now,” muttered Drew, and he took aim at a man who seemed to be the leader.