"Dead as door-nails!" said Turnpenny succinctly, seeing Dennis glance at the Spaniards on the ground. "'Tis a terrible heave-up, sir; we were best to run back along to our comrades in the pinnace, for there be gashly work afore us. And we will take these knaves' swords and calivers. Crymaces! there be more running towards us, and a round dozen; we durst not bide their coming. We have but bare time to get back to the chine. Stir your stumps, Nick Joland; we can't save 'ee twice, man."
CHAPTER XXII
A Fight on the Cliffs
The three doubled back towards the chine, which was little more than half a mile away. The Spaniards saw them ere they disappeared among the trees, and followed with loud shouts, quickening their pace when they reached the spot where their comrades lay. But the Englishmen, knowing the ground, came in good time to the edge of the gully, where a steep and winding path led down to the ledge on which the huts were built. From the summit the ledge was not visible.
"Shall we run down at once, or give them a taste of their own lead first?" asked Dennis, halting for a moment.
"Give the knaves a taste, to be sure," replied Amos. "They know not how many we be, nor can they see through the trees; and we must needs check them, to give us time to acquaint our comrades with what is toward, and set our defences in order."
While speaking he had kindled the matches taken from the Spaniards. The calivers were already loaded. Crouching behind the thick bushes that lined the edge of the gully, they fired when they caught sight of the Spaniards advancing among the trees. Two of the enemy fell; the rest halted; and while they stood considering whether to advance, the three Englishmen hurried down the path, guessing that the Spaniards would hardly venture to follow while they were ignorant of the size of the force with which they had to deal.
Arriving at the ledge, Turnpenny gave a hail to the men on the deck of the pinnace, bidding them leave the vessel and bring their arms and ammunition with them. They had been much alarmed by the continued absence of their leaders, and by the sound of the shots, and asked anxiously, when they reached the ledge, what was to be done. Dennis rapidly told them what he had seen from the summit of the cliff, and how for the present the Spaniards had been checked, and then, taking Turnpenny and two or three of the others aside, began to concert a plan of defence.
The position was naturally a strong one. The ledge was accessible only by the narrow path from the cliff-top, and by a few yards of steep ascent from the base of the gully. It was protected from attack from above by the overhanging cliff; it could only be assaulted from below if the enemy got into the bed of the gully, either by coming in boats round the shoulder of the cliff, or by clambering down the sides inland. The gully was forty yards across; the opposite bank was steep and much overgrown with vegetation, trees and bushes growing thick to the very edge. Down the middle ran the stream from the marsh, very shallow after a season of dry weather. On their own side the defenders could pick off the enemy if they came to attack them along the narrow path; they were only in danger if the Spaniards took post on the summit of the cliff opposite, and they could not reach that spot except by making a long circuit about the marsh in which the stream took its rise, or by clambering down the southern bank some distance up-stream, wading through the water and climbing the other side. This would be a matter of an hour or two at least—an invaluable respite which Dennis resolved to make the most of.