“Then we’ll get ready some more for them. I’m growing bloodthirsty now, and we’ll defend the brig to the last.”
The men cheered at this, and watched with interest the making of fresh shells, but the afternoon wore on and evening came without a sign of a black, and at last hopes began to be entertained that the enemy had fled, so they all partook of a hearty meal.
“It’s the darkness I dread,” said Oliver, soon after sundown, as he and his friends stood together watching all around, and now and then mistaking shadows for coming enemies.
It must have been two hours after dark, though, before there was any fresh cause for alarm, and it arrived just as Panton had confidentially said,—
“Some of us may sleep, for there’ll be no attack to-night.”
“Beg pardon, Mr Oliver Lane, sir,” said a voice at their elbow.
“Yes, what is it?”
“Billy Wriggs, sir. Ever since he had that swim in the black cavern, his hyes has been like your little glasses. Here, Billy, tell the gents just what you says you see.”
“’Undred niggers a crawlin’ along like harnts, sir, each one with a big faggit on his back, and if they arn’t a comin’ to burn us out, I’m a Dutchman.”