“And he was almost too weak to crawl,” I said, turning to Dr. Grant. “It was splendid of him!” and my eyes filled with tears.
“We may all thank God for our narrow escape,” said the surgeon; “at one time I thought I had myself caught a Tartar.”
At this moment the air was rent with loud halloos and triumphant shouts, and we saw the officers and men of our little naval brigade pouring down over the embankment of the fort.
In five minutes they were around us, listening to our story and detailing their own.
“The beggars have fled in all directions into the interior,” said Mr. Thompson in conclusion. “We’ve spiked their guns, and taken a number of prisoners, arms, and ammunition.”
“That’s very creditable and satisfactory as far as it goes,” said Dr. Grant, rather dryly; “but the principal question to my mind is, what has become of the valuable cargo which is known to have been on board the Flying-fish when the mutineers seized her?”
“Why, what a croaker you are!” exclaimed the lieutenant laughingly. “I should say that the so-called valuable cargo is at the present moment safely in the hold of the Flying-fish.”
“I very much doubt it,” said the surgeon laconically; “but we won’t argue the point now, as I am anxious to get the wounded on board the Rattler with as little delay as possible, and I daresay you won’t be sorry to get rid of your prisoners.”
The lieutenant looked thoughtful as he marched off with his men, and it occurred to me that he was wondering whether the merchantman had been entirely abandoned by her crew, and whether or not Captain Graves had sent a boat to ascertain the fact during our absence on shore.
Charlie was put on a stretcher and carried carefully down to the place of embarkation, but I was now sufficiently recovered to walk with the occasional assistance of the surgeon’s arm. In half an hour we were all safely on board the Rattler again, and Mr. Thompson at once went to make his official report to the captain. I accompanied my friend below, and saw him snugly ensconced in a cot in the sick-bay.