“I know, sir; it’s all right, sir. It’ll be like this. Mr Munday will take the lead, sir, with one lot; old Dempsey another; you the next, and then Mr Roberts, sir, and the first luff’ll be like tip-top of all. I shouldn’t wonder a bit, sir, if me and my squad falls to you.”
Murray never troubled himself to analyse whether it was accident or management, but somehow or other he found himself, soon after the return of the second cutter, in command of six of the best foremast men of the sloop’s crew, headed by Tom May, who bore a lighted ship’s lantern, while each man was provided with a bundle of dry, easily-igniting wood.
The men were drawn up and the first lieutenant gave his very brief instructions as to the way in which the fires were to be started, the officers in command being duly urged to exercise all care in making the conflagration thorough, while at the same time guarding against surprise.
“You see, gentlemen,” said the lieutenant in conclusion, “we have not had a sight of one of the blacks, but we may be sure that they are in hiding not far away, ready to take advantage of any sign of weakness; and their spears are not very sharp, but are handled well and can be thrown a long way with good aim. In an ordinary way they would not risk our bullets, and certainly would not give our bayonets a chance, but I feel that the sight of their burning village will rouse them up, and hence an attack upon scattered men is very possible. I have no more to say but this; I want the village to be burned to ashes, and every man to get back to the boats unhurt.”
The men cheered, and the next minute they had begun to open out till they were in line ready to advance, with the now briskly blowing wind, when a final order was given in the shape of a prolonged whistle from the boatswain, which was followed by the starting forward of the extended firing party with their freshly ignited torches blazing high.
“Bravo!” cried Murray excitedly, as he stood with Tom May behind ten of the bee-hive shaped palm-walled and thatched huts, which were so close together that five of his men were easily able to fire to right and left, Tom and another man musket-armed ready to cover them, and their young leader standing sword in one hand, the lantern in the other, well on the watch, and at the same time ready to supply fresh ignition to any of the rough torches which should become extinct.
“Bravo!” shouted Murray, for at the first start of his little party the torches were applied to the dry inflammable palm fabrics, and the flames sprang into fiery life at once. “Good, my lads—good! That’s right,” he cried. “Right down at the bottom. Couldn’t be better.”
For at the first application there was a hiss, then a fierce crackling sound, and the fire literally ran up from base to crown of the rounded edifice, which was soon roaring like a furnace.
“Hooray, boys!” cried Tom May. “Don’t stop to save any of the best chayney or the niggers’ silver spoons and forks. They belong to such a bad lot that we won’t loot anything to save for prizes. And I say, that’s it, going fine. Never mind getting a bit black with the smoke. It’ll all wash off, and that’s what these brutes of niggers can’t do.”
The men shouted in reply and roared with laughter at their messmates’ sallies, as they hurried from hut to hut, every one blazing up as rapidly as if it had been sprinkled with resin.