_ 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. _