These orders were carried out, and the next hour was spent in adding to the defences as far as was possible, in seeing to there being a supply of water, and examining what there was in the shape of provisions in store.
But other precautions were being taken at the same time, the skipper having sent out three of the men right and left along the forest-paths and towards the shore, so as to ensure them against surprise. Then the afternoon wore away, and the evening approached, without alarm, and before the night could fall in its rapid, tropical way, the scouts were recalled, sentries posted, and the defenders gathered-together in their little fortress for their evening meal, by the light of the great stars, which seemed to Fitz double the size that they were at home.
Every one had his arms ready for use at a moment’s notice, and the two lads sat together nibbling the biscuit they had brought with them, and moistening it from time to time with a draught of the water from the big pannikin which they shared. That change from glowing sunset to darkness had been wonderfully swift, and as the beauty of the surrounding jungle, with its wondrous tints of green, changed into black gloom, the aspect of the place affected the two young adventurers at once, Fitz giving vent to a long-drawn sigh.
“What’s the matter?” said Poole, in a low voice.
“Oh, I don’t know,” replied the middy. “It seems so strange and weird here in the darkness. It makes me feel quite low-spirited.”
“Do you know why that is?” asked Poole.
“Of course I do. It is all dark and dangerous, and at any time we may have those mongrel Spaniels, as Chips calls them, rushing at us and firing as they come.”
“Well, we should fire at them back again,” said Poole coolly. “But it isn’t that that makes you nervous and dull.”
“Isn’t it? Well, I suppose I am not so brave as you,” whispered the middy.
“Fudge! It’s nothing to do with being brave. I don’t feel brave. I am just as low-spirited as you are. It’s because we are tired and hungry.”