"Do you hold Murray, Peter," I said. "I'll finish that precious pair."
And I ran in at Pew, albeit more warily than Coupeau; but the blind man—and certes, if he was blind his hearing was so marvelous as to make up for it—retained a clubbed pistol, which was a serviceable weapon at close quarters, and Silver covered him overhead with that deadly crutch. I shouted to the after-guard to shoot them, but our people had not reloaded their pieces, and many were already engaged with the party we had just driven out, who swarmed in again through the same gap. Those of the James' men who were nearest were palpably lukewarm, and Silver, atop of the stockade, perceiving his advantage, thrust his crutch at me and continued trumpeting his rallying-cries.
"Murray's a goner, mates! Coupeau's shark-bait! There's only the two Buckskins left. Go easy wi' they Jameses. Naught for ye to fight about, James lads! We'll divide square with ye."
Men swirled toward us from all sides of the stockade, the James' crew mingled with the Walrus, and where our people fought at all 'twas faint-heartedly and to no purpose. We were pressed back, and presently were put to it to avoid being surrounded.
"We go to der house, Bob," squeaked Peter. "Der James men don't fight for us no more."
He had Murray's limp body slung over one shoulder and still retained the iron barrel of his musket—the stock had been demolished; but he ran easily beside me through the sand.
There was tremendous confusion within the stockade enclosure, and but for this and a considerate cloud which draped the new-risen moon we should never have gained the blockhouse. Our men disappeared at every yard. Two were slain in the beginning of the retreat, and the continuous cries of "stand off, Jameses—us won't hurt 'ee," sapped the remainder of such loyalty as had survived the vicissitudes of the last few days.
We reached the blockhouse alone on the side opposite the door, and circled it cautiously, no little concerned for Moira's safety, for pistols were popping and cutlasses clashing in several directions close at hand. With the moon obscured we could not see a musket's length ahead, and as I turned in toward the black oblong of the doorway I tripped over a corpse.
"'Tis on your own head your death will be, my man," said a cool voice. "I can hear you fine, and if you're not after——"
"Moira!" I exclaimed.