The terrible siege was kept up for three whole weeks, and, harassed beyond measure with the constant night attacks, affairs were becoming very desperate indeed, and the little garrison was already almost worn out. Day after day it was becoming more apparent to all that utter annihilation was merely a question of time.
A council of war was held now, at which every man was present, and various proposals were made, but few indeed were feasible.
The number of the defenders was so small, compared to the hundreds of armed savages opposed to them, that a “sally in force,” as Tom Wilson who proposed this called it, was out of the question.
To attempt to make peace would only be to give themselves away. The savage king would be ready enough to promise anything, but in a few weeks afterwards not one of the poor Crusoes would be left alive.
Should they get the largest boat ready, provision her, and put to sea? Surely the ocean itself would be less cruel at its very wildest than those bloodthirsty savages.
The question had been put by Tandy himself. He was hoping against hope; he was like a drowning man clutching at straws. For himself he had no thought. He was brave almost to a fault, and, like any other brave man, was willing to die, sword in hand, fighting the foe.
“And where can man die better,
Than in facing fearful odds?”
But his children, especially innocent wee Nelda—ah! that was what softened that heart of his.
“My dear Tandy,” said Halcott, “the idea of being once more away out on yonder beautiful and peaceful ocean, even if only in an open boat, is one that commends itself to us all, but, alas, it would in this case be but a choice of death. Even if we should succeed in eluding the savages and escaping, which I believe would be almost impossible, we could never reach the mainland.”