The command was needed, for the guard had taken the alarm. There was the rush of feet, a louder scrambling from above, and Hamet and Murray dropped down into the arms of the guards who came running under and round the house.
The struggle had commenced, and though Murray fought bravely, he had been taken at a disadvantage, and the help had come, apparently, in vain.
For, realising that the attempt had failed, Mr Braine and the doctor rushed to the assistance of the others, and a fierce mêlée ensued in the darkness, wherein the fresh comers, who dared not use their revolvers for fear of injuring friends, devoted their principal efforts to keeping the enemy from using their krises, weapons admirably suited for a close encounter.
It was only a matter of a minute or two.
“Murray—is Murray there?” cried the doctor.
“Yes,” came from the ground. “I’m held—two men. Never mind me—save yourselves.”
The fierce struggle went on almost in silence, for the Malays as they wrestled with the Englishmen, sought more to take prisoners than to strike, and uttered a low growling noise, more like that of wild beasts than men.
“It’s of no use,” whispered the doctor. “Braine, Ned, Hamet, make for the boat.”
“Yes, quick! escape!” cried Murray, after a tremendous effort to get free.
“No, no,” cried Ned, hoarsely, wresting his arm from the doctor’s clutch; and with a short run he sprang upon one of the men who were holding Murray down.