“I don’t know that. Our shots would let Mr Rimmer know that we are in danger. It is too far-off to make him hear the boatswain’s whistle. As soon as he knew he would come to our help, and we should have the enemy then between two fires. They would be scared, and either throw down their arms or take to the woods.”
There was silence again after these words, and then Panton spoke.
“Won’t do, Lane,” he said. “You speak as if you were as strong as Smith or Wriggs here, and all the time you are as helpless and weak as I.”
“Yes,” said Drew. “It is like being only three to attack fifty.”
Oliver was silent, for he felt the force of his companion’s remark.
“Like to send me or Billy Wriggs on ahead, gentlemen?” said Smith.
“What for, man?” said Panton, impatiently.
“I don’t quite zackly know, sir, but I’ve got a brother as is a soger, and he was a tellin’ me that when they fight the niggers up in the hills, where they shuts themselves up strong behind stone walls, with lots o’ big ones ready to chuck down on them as comes to attack, they sends some one fust, and calls him a f’lorn hope. I don’t quite know what good it is, but I’ll go and be a f’lorn hope if you like, or so would Billy Wriggs here. P’r’aps he’d do butter, sir, for he’s a more mizz’able-looking chap than me.”
Panton smiled.
“It’s very good and brave of you, my lad,” he said.