Middy and Ensign

by George Manville Fenn

Well, he thought, as he paused for a few moments, why not? If he, by giving up his life could save those at the fort—his officers, comrades, the ladies, and the rest, ought he to hesitate—would he be doing more than his duty?

It was a hard struggle. Life was very sweet, and he had but to remain perfectly still to escape. Did he move, a dozen spears and krisses would be at his breast directly.

He smiled as he told himself he was not hesitating, but that all he wished to do was his duty; and without a moment’s hesitation he drew the little revolver from its pouch, held it out as high as he could, and drew the trigger.

For answer there came a sharp click, and he knew that the water had damaged the cartridge.

He tried again, with no other result than the noise of the fall of the hammer; and then Dullah’s, or Rajah Gantang’s, voice was heard in a reproving tone as he bade his men be silent.

Gray tried again, but for the third time the cartridges, soaked as they were by being under water so long, refused to go off. But at his fifth and sixth pulls there were a couple of lines of light, and Gray felt astonished as he heard how loud were the reports the little weapon made.

For with a couple of bright flashes that seemed to the astonished Malays to come out of the surface of the river, there were as many echoing reports, and as they rang out they were answered by sentry after sentry about the island, the last shot being fired by Private Sim, close at hand, after which he ran for his life.

There was a sharp keen order at this, and the boats’ heads were forced up to the bank, one of their prows crushing right in upon Gray even to touching him, but saving his life for the moment, as it concealed his position from the enemies, who were vainly trying to make out in the darkness who had given the alarm.

Gray had not a moment to lose; already spears were being thrust beneath the bank to right and left of him. His only chance was to dive right beneath the keel of the nearest boat and swim down the river for his life.

He did not pause to think of the risk—the alarm had been given, and he had the satisfaction of knowing that every one would be on the alert—as he dived down, passed beneath the keel of the first boat, and then beneath the next, keeping under water all he could till he was fifty yards or so from the nearest prahu, when he struck out for the shore.