“Yes, sir, all well.”
“None wounded?”
“No, sir, not one as yet.”
“Tell Captain Smithers that my duty is to stay here with the steamer; but if he is hard pressed I will either send him a party of sailors and marines, or else we will cover his retreat with his gun, if he will come and take refuge on board.”
“Captain Smithers cannot leave his entrenched position, sir,” said Tom Long stiffly; “but we can find room for you and your crew, if they like to come.”
Tom Long said this so importantly that Bob Roberts began to laugh; and no doubt some sharp bandying about of words would have followed, had not Lieutenant Johnson said rather sternly,—
“Tell Captain Smithers, Mr Long, that a rocket sent up by night, or three calls of the bugle given sharply without any perceptible interval, will bring help from us; but ask him if any steps can be taken to help the expedition.”
“Captain Smithers is of opinion, sir, that the expeditionary party is strong enough to take care of itself, and that it is our duty to—Oh!”
Tom Long blushed for it afterwards; but a well-thrown spear came so close to his ear that he could not avoid an involuntary cry. The next minute his little party were under cover of some trees, and slowly driving back a body of Malays, who, however, would have out-flanked them, but for a brisk fire kept up on them from the steamer, when they disappeared once more into the jungle, with which this part of the island was overgrown. When after a few more words with the occupants of the steamer, during which Lieutenant Johnson impressed upon the ensign that the best thing to be done was to act entirely on the defensive, the little sally-party started to return, the lieutenant promising to do all he could to cover their retreat.
The distance was not great, but full of peril; for the minute the Malays comprehended that Tom Long’s party were going back, they began to swarm out of their lurking-places, and it now became evident that hundreds of fighting men must have landed on the island.