Before nightfall two of the muskets had burst in his hands, fortunately without inflicting any serious injury, and he understood that it was necessary to cease hostilities on his side until the remainder of the weapons could be cleaned.
It was when he arrived at this decision that the shades of night began to fall, and never before, to man, did the going down of the sun give more pleasure.
Darkness settled over the island. The apes ceased their bombardment, and victory was for the time undecided.
As a matter of fact, however, the apes were really the conquerors, since the enemy whose ranks can be continually reinforced must triumph in the end were he a hundred times less clever and brave than his adversary; therefore it is that in battle “might makes right.”
CHAPTER XXIV.
A METAMORPHOSIS.
Until this night Philip had fancied that the dwelling would serve him as an impregnable fort; but the result of the first day’s battle showed how idle was such belief. It was hardly probable the building would withstand another attack, and he who had flattered himself that he was safe as long as he remained indoors understood how shelterless he would be after four or five hours more of stone-throwing.
The knowledge of such imminent danger had a beneficial effect upon the solitary occupant of Captain Seaworth’s house. It cleared the fumes of liquor from his brain, as it were, and left him weaker in body, but mentally better able to comprehend his exact position.
Carrying his weapons, he descended to the kitchen once more, and there the excitement brought on a fever turn, with which came also despair. He was like one in an ague-fit, and after the heat of the melee had subsided—which was not until he had partially cleaned his weapons with wine instead of water—a cold chill took possession of him.