“Ay, ay,” said another of the party; “and I’ve got it too!”
“Hush! Silence there!” whispered Murray excitedly. “Not wounded, my lad?”
“Nay, sir,” came in a subdued voice, “but it would have stuck in my shirt, on’y it was gone to tinder and wouldn’t hold nowt. Here it is, though, sir—nigger’s spear, and they can see us, though we can’t see them.”
“From which way did it come?”
“Way we’re going, sir,” said the man, in a muffled voice; and as he spoke once more came the whish of a well-thrown spear, making another of the men wince, and proving plainly from which direction the missile had come.
The imminence of the fresh danger made the little party forget their sufferings, and with the quickness of highly disciplined men, they were apt to obey the orders whispered sharply by the midshipman. They fell into line, made ready, and at the command given by their officer, six muskets flashed out, sending their bullets whizzing breast high through the smoke, out of which, as if crossing them, came as many spears, this time the deadly missiles being followed by a burst of savage yells.
“Load!” whispered Murray, as the yells were followed by a silence so strange and nerve-startling that the young officer felt his heart thump heavily against his breast.
Then, as the whistling of the air arose caused by the driving down of the cartridges, he bethought himself and uttered a hurried question—
“Any one hurt?”
“Yes, sir,” came in Tom May’s familiar voice; and the midshipman, new to the heart-stirring horrors of a real engagement, waited anxiously for the man’s next words.