Meanwhile the sounds from without increased. There was plenty of firing going on from the deck, answered by savage yelling and the dull sounds of blows, as arrow and spear kept on striking the woodwork and flying over the protected bulwarks to the deck.
“Haven’t got a foot on board yet,” whispered Panton, faintly.
“No; it sounds as if they were climbing up, and our fellows kept knocking them backward. Oh, if I were only strong enough to go up and see.”
“I’d give anything to be there,” said Panton, with his eyes brightening.
“I say,” said Oliver, hoarsely; “does it come natural to fellows to want to kill as soon as they get hurt and fighting’s going on?”
“I suppose so. It seems to take all the fear out of you, and you don’t care for anything. I say—look out!”
For at that moment there was a sharp splitting sound at the cabin window, the dead-light fell over with a sharp crack, and as a couple of savage grinning faces appeared, Oliver held out his gun with one hand as if it had been a pistol, and without attempting to raise his head from the rough pillow on which it lay, drew trigger.
The effect was instantaneous. One moment the two Papuans were there, the next they were gone, and a heavy thick smoke rose towards the ceiling.
“Hit them?” said Panton, excitedly.
“Must have hit them, or they wouldn’t have dropped. But some of the pellets were sure to go home, for it was loaded with small shot.”