“Treachery? Yes,” said the captain. “And that is what I dread.”
“To such an extent,” said Ali, with a quiet smile, “that you doubt your friends.”
“For the moment only,” said Captain Smithers, holding out his hand, which the other frankly grasped. “You must remember—my position, sir.”
“I do,” said Ali. “Now give me a rifle and revolver; we may be attacked at any moment.”
“We?” said Tom Long holding out his hand.
“Yes,” said Ali, smiling; “and if we get safely through this trouble you will have to try and make me more of an Englishman than I am.”
Even while he was speaking the Malays renewed their attack with the greatest pertinacity, it being evident that their object was to capture the fort before the steamer could render help. They seemed to be roused to a pitch of mad fury by the resistance they encountered and their losses, attacking with such determination that it needed no words on Captain Smithers’ part to warn his little garrison that they must fight to the death.
With a civilised enemy it would have been quite reasonable to have surrendered long ago, but with such a foe as Rajah Gantang, a pirate of the worst Malay type, such an act as surrender would have meant giving all up to a horrible death.
Never was daylight more welcome than when it appeared to the defenders of that little stronghold, who, gaunt, haggard, and faint with exertion, saw the sky suddenly turn to orange and gold; and then the sun rose over the widespread jungle, sending the wreathing night-mists floating amidst the feathery palms, and seeming to dissolve into thin air.
The first order given by Captain Smithers was to have a signal of distress run up to the top of the flagstaff; the next to try and strengthen the defences, which were sorely dilapidated. Some of the barricading planks and forms were torn down, others riddled with bullets.