“Mr Lane, sir? See that?”
“Yes, what was it? Was it a deer?” and he involuntarily lowered his piece.
“Two legged ’un, sir, if it was,” said the man, softly. “Will you call a halt? I think it was a hinjun.”
“Nonsense. One of our men, perhaps,” said Oliver, testily. “Don’t say that and scare them. We’re close up to the ship now.”
Bang.
The sharp report of a piece came from about a couple of hundred yards farther on.
“There; I knew we were close up to the brig. Mr Rimmer fired that as a signal to let us know the way in the darkness. I’ll fire him one back.”
The lock clicked and Oliver raised the muzzle to fire, when a ragged volley came from ahead, followed by a savage yelling, and as the sounds struck a chill to every heart there was utter silence. Then came a flash and a bright gleam, which grew brighter and brighter, developing into the sickly glare of a blue light, while as they stood there, fearing to advance, all grasped the meaning of the light.
The brig had been attacked by the Indians. A gallant defence was being made, and the blue light had been thrown out to show where the enemy lay.