“Here they come again, sir,” whispered Murray.
“Keep silence then,” said the lieutenant. “May, all of you wait and let them come on till you hear their leaders’ orders to fire, and let them have it first.”
Then turning to the black, the speaker bade him head his men, who now began to be pretty steady, and lead them along the path in the direction of the planter’s cottage.
“No, no, massa. Caesar make boys fight now.”
“You do as I tell you, sir,” replied the lieutenant sternly. “Go on back, collecting as many more of your men as you can, and my lads shall cover the retreat and check the slaves.”
“Massa want Caesar do this?” said the black sadly.
“Yes, and I want you to obey my orders.”
“Yes, massa,” said the black, with a sigh, “only Caesar feel like fight and die for massa now.”
Crash!
There was the sound of a volley, so many muskets going off together like one, while as the sound began to die away, it was mingled with loud yells and curses, and emphasised as it were by the rattling of the ramrods in the barrels of the muskets.