That was their cry now, and their only cry.
In a marvellously short time they were seen swarming on the beach, and in all haste dragging down and launching their great war-canoes; and in less than twenty minutes’ time they were, to the immense relief of the little garrison, afloat on the now heaving bosom of the deep.
When Halcott ran on board the hulk, I do not think he knew quite what he was doing or saying. He seemed beside himself with joy.
“Oh, live, brother James! live! Do not die and leave us now that our safety is assured. The savages have fled, they will never return. Live, brother, live?”
“Oh, live, poor uncle! live!” cried Nelda; “live for my sake, dear uncle!”
Tandy was the next to rush on board, and his first act was to catch his little daughter up, cover her face with kisses, and press her to his breast.
“And now, Halcott,” he cried at last, “there is just one more shot in the big gun. Come, let us drag her to the cliff. If I can sink but a single boat, I shall be satisfied.”
But the dying man lifted his hand, and Halcott and Tandy both drew near.
“No, brothers, no,” he murmured. “Fire not the gun—the battle is the Lord’s. He alone—hath given us the victory.”
And the men knelt there, with bent heads, as if ashamed of the deed they had been about to commit.