“No, no, sir,” cried Roberts. “I’ve got a handkerchief round my arm, sir; Seddon tied it, and he’s done his own leg up himself.”
“Bravo!” cried the lieutenant. “Keep together, my lads. Here, you Caesar, can’t you make some of your fellows fight?”
“Caesar try, massa; try berry hard. Much frighten of Massa Huggin.”
“Tell them to fight for their lives if they won’t for their liberty.”
“Yes, sah. Caesar try all he can;” and the black made a rush at one of his retreating companions whom he saw in the act of throwing away his rough cutlass; and catching him by the shoulder he gave him a heavy cuff on the ear and then forced him to pick up the weapon he had discarded and join a few compatriots who were making something of a stand.
“There’s no trusting them, sir,” said Murray, who was breathing hard with excitement.
“And no wonder, Murray; all the courage has been crushed out of them, poor wretches.”
As Mr Anderson spoke there was a burst of startled yells and cries, following directly upon the reports of several muskets, and what seemed to be quite a crowd of the retreating blacks came rushing along the path right upon where the Seafowl’s men were making a stand.
“Here, where are you coming to?” roared Tom May, in his deep-toned voice. “Keep back, or go round, or crawl, or do something, or we’ll give you a blessed good dose of butt-ending.—Who’s to fire, do you think,” continued the big sailor, “with you all coming in the way?”
At that moment Caesar made a rush in amongst the shivering retreating party, striking to right and left with the flat of his machete.