Johnny and Eiulo had already climbed into the Aoa, whither we stood ready to follow, at a moment’s notice. The group of savages opposite us seemed to have no other object in view than to prevent our escape, for they did not offer to molest us. Soon after Atollo disappeared, two more of his party came out of the wood, and I immediately recognised one of them, who walked stiffly and with difficulty, seeming but just able to drag himself about, as the scarred savage with whom Browne had had so desperate a struggle. We now thought it prudent to effect our retreat into the tree without further loss of time, but at the first movement which we made for that purpose, the natives set up a shout, and dashed into the water towards us, probably thinking that we were about to try to escape by getting to the further shore.
They pressed us so closely that we had not a moment to spare, and had barely climbed beyond their reach when they sprang after us. One active fellow caught Browne, (who was somewhat behind the rest), by the foot, and endeavoured to drag him from the trunk he was climbing, in which he would probably have succeeded, had not Max let fall a leaf-basket of stones directly upon his head, which stretched him groaning upon the ground, with the blood gushing from his mouth and nose.
At this moment Atollo himself, with the rest of his party, joined our besiegers below, and at a signal from him, the greater part of them immediately commenced scaling the tree at different points. Our assailants numbered not more than thirteen or fourteen, including Browne’s former foe, who did not seem to be in a condition to climb, and the man recently wounded, who was still lying upon the ground, apparently lifeless. We felt that we were now irrevocably committed to a struggle of life and death, and we were fully determined to fight manfully, and to the very last. We stationed ourselves at nearly equal distances among the branches, armed with the bludgeons previously placed there, so as to be able to hasten to any point assailed, and to assist one another as occasion should require. The savages yelled and screeched hideously, with the hope of intimidating us, but without any effect, and we kept watching them quietly, and meeting them so promptly at every point, that they were uniformly obliged to quit their hold and drop to the ground before they could effect a lodgment among the branches. Occasionally we addressed a word of encouragement to one another, or uttered an exclamation of triumph at the discomfiture of some assailant more than ordinarily fierce and resolute. But with this exception, we were as quiet as if industriously engaged in some ordinary occupation. This lasted for full fifteen minutes, without our enemies having gained the slightest advantage. Atollo himself had not, thus far, taken any part in the attack, except to direct the others.
At length, he fixed his eye upon Browne, who stepping about in the top of the tree with an agility that I should not have expected from him, and wielding a tremendous club, had been signally successful in repelling our assailants. After watching him a moment, he suddenly commenced climbing a large stem near him, with the marvellous rapidity that characterised all his movements. Browne had just tumbled one of the savages to the ground howling with pain, from a crushing blow upon the wrist, and he now hastened to meet this more formidable foe. But he was too late to prevent him from getting into the tree, and he had already gained a footing upon the horizontal branches, when Browne reached the spot. Atollo was without any weapon, and this was a disadvantage that might have rendered all his strength and address unavailing, had not the foliage and the lesser branches of the tree, interfered with the swing of the long and heavy weapon of his adversary, and the footing being too insecure to permit it to be used with full effect. As Browne steadied himself and drew back for a sweeping blow, Atollo shook the boughs upon which he stood, so violently, as greatly to break the force of the stroke, which he received upon his arm, and rushing upon him before he could recover his weapon, he wrested it from his grasp, and hurled him to the ground, where he was instantly seized and secured by those below.
While Atollo, armed with Browne’s club, advanced upon Max and Arthur, who were nearest him, several of his followers, taking advantage of the diversion thus effected, succeeded in ascending also, and in a few moments they were making their way towards us from all sides. Leaving them to complete what he had so well begun, Atollo hastened towards the spot where Johnny and Eiulo were endeavouring to conceal themselves among the foliage. Though now outnumbered, and hopeless of success, we continued a desperate resistance. The ferocity of our adversaries was excited to the highest pitch. There was scarcely one of them who had not received some injury in the attack, sufficiently severe to exasperate, without disabling him. We had used our clubs with such vigour and resolution in opposing their attempts at climbing, that every second man at least, had a crushed hand or a bruised head, and all had received more or less hard blows. Smarting with pain, and exulting in the prospect of speedy and ample revenge, they pressed upon us with yells and cries that showed that there was no mercy for us if taken. But even at that trying moment our courage did out fail or falter. We stood together near the centre of the tree, where the branches were strong and the footing firm. Only a part of our assailants had weapons, and, perceiving the utter desperation with which we fought, they drew back a little distance until clubs could be passed up from below, and thus afforded us a momentary respite. But we well knew that it was only momentary, and that in their present state of mind, these men would dispatch us with as little scruple as they would mischievous wild beasts hunted and brought to bay.
“Nothing now remains,” said Morton, “but to die courageously: we have done every thing else that we could do.”
“It does appear to have come to that at last,” said Arthur. “If I did unwisely in advising resistance, and perilling your lives as well as my own, I now ask your forgiveness; on my own account I do not regret it.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” answered Morton, “you did what you believed was right, and if I counselled otherwise, you will do me the justice to believe that it was because I differed with you in judgment, and not because I shrunk from the consequences.”
“I never did you the injustice to think otherwise,” answered Arthur.
“If our friends could but know what has become of us,” said Max, brushing away a tear, “and how we died here, fighting manfully to the last, I should feel more entirely resigned; but I cannot bear to think that our fate will never be known.”