“We’ll have trouble to-night, men,” he said, “as soon as the moon rises. If there was a breath of wind off-shore I’d slip. We can’t slip—but we’ll fight.”
A cheer rose from the seamen, which Tandy quickly suppressed.
“Hush! Let us make them believe we suspect no treachery. But get up steam in the donkey engine, and connect the pipes.”
This is a plan of defence that acts splendidly and effectively against all kinds and conditions of savages.
Boiling water on bare skins causes squirming, so Tandy felt safe.
The ship carried but one big gun, and this was now loaded with grape.
There wasn’t a sound of life to be heard on board the barque, when about seven bells that night a flood of moonlight, shining softly o’er the sea, revealed the dark boats of the Somalis speeding out to the attack.
But every man on board was at his station.
This was to be a fight to the very death, and all hands knew it.
Nearer and nearer they come—those demon boats. The biggest boat of all is leading, and, sword in hand, Salook stands in the prow. It is crowded with savages, their spear-heads glittering in the moonbeams. On this boat the gun is trained.