“Over!” cried Panton, and the men dropped from the stern, just as there was a tremendous roar and a rush of flame; sparks and burning pieces of timber rose from the forepart of the ship, followed by the burning foremast, which fortunately fell over toward the bows, sending the blacks flying.
“All here?” said Panton, in a low voice, but no one spoke, and for a few minutes the darkness seemed intense, as huge clouds of smoke rolled up from where the fire had blazed so fiercely. “Then off!” but before they were far on their way, the flames burst forth again with fury, lighting up the open flat across which they retreated, and a yell arose.
“Now, steady,” cried Panton. “Double. When I cry halt, we’ll turn and give them a volley. Then another run, loading as we go. You there, Lane?”
“All right.”
They ran till the blacks began to press them, halted, checked the enemy with a volley, ran on loading, and turned again, the evolution being so successful that at last they reached the opening in the forest without losing a man. Here they gave the enemy another volley, reloaded, and now in single file, led by Panton, entered the dense shades.
“Where to?” said Oliver to Drew.
“Safety, I hope,” was the reply.
“Safety. We have not a scrap of food, only ammunition. Yes, we have,” he cried more cheerily, “stout hearts and plenty of faith. We can easily keep the enemy at bay, too, along here.”