Not for long though. Savages may be beaten, but if there is the slightest chance to overcome by numbers they invariably return.
The day passed, however, and eke the long, dreary night, during which no one closed an eye till the sun once more rose over the sea in the morning. Most of the men slept all the forenoon. Luckily they did, for in the afternoon the savages returned in redoubled numbers, and this time many of them actually swarmed over the ramparts, but only to be felled inside.
It was a terrible mêlée, but ended once more in victory for our side.
A whole week now wore away without further molestation, but the worst was to come, for the garrison was reduced to five defenders, two having been wounded in the last fight, one of whom had succumbed to his wounds.
It was early in the morning, and the stars were still shining bright and clearly over the sea, when one of the sentries reported the woods on fire to windward. The flames spread with alarming rapidity, and by daybreak were close at hand; the fort was enveloped in smoke, while sparks as thick as falling snowflakes in a winter’s storm were showered around them.
In the midst of smoke and fire the savages intended making their final attempt to carry the fort, and our heroes determined to sell their lives dearly, and fight to the end.
Already they could hear the yells of the approaching spearmen, though they were invisible.
But why come they not on? Why does the yelling continue and go farther and farther back and away? Hark! it is the ring of firearms.
Oh, joy! the Gloaming Star must have returned. But was this really so? No, for the white men now engaged in a hand-to-hand combat with those daring savages are men of a different class from the honest crew of the Gloaming Star.
The sound of the battle grows fainter and fainter, till it ceases entirely.