“What’s that?” cried the lieutenant excitedly. “Quick, lad! My sword. A fresh attack.”
“No, sir,” cried Murray, who had run to the window as the cheering was responded to loudly. “It’s Mr Munday with over a dozen men coming up at the double. Do you hear, sir?—‘Seafowls ahoy!’”
“Ah!” sighed the lieutenant, sinking back upon the now stained pillow which had been taken from one of the planter’s beds.
“Mr Murray, that you?” came from the front.
“Yes, sir,” cried Murray, who was looking from the window.
“Well, I shouldn’t have known you. You’re as black as a sweep.”
“Yes, sir,” said the middy, clapping his hand to his face.
“Seen anything of Mr Anderson?”
“Yes, he’s lying up here, wounded.”
“What! Not badly?”