“Be not so sure. The conjectures of Frazer are as good as certainty. Doubtless he has already guessed the meaning of the ship, for it would not lie there idly waiting without reason. Quick! We must meet the two and take them by ourselves. Lead us, Manteo, that we may come upon them unobserved.”
Without a word the Indian re-entered the woods, and, coming to a trail that ran parallel with the coastline, made a sign to the others, bidding them avoid dry brushwood on the pathway that their tread might be unheard. For some time they followed him, cautiously keeping on a strip of mossy earth which bordered the trail and muffled their footsteps. It was now high noon, and the sun shone in a clear sky. March, just dying into April, had lost its harshness at sight of spring and grown more tender, as a crabbed parent grows tender with the child of his old age. The air, bracing and clear, seemed to fill their lungs with a breath of immortal life, while the sea’s untroubled breast, just visible through rifts in the arras of blossoms, bespoke a joy too deep for surface emotion.
Finally, as their guide turned with finger to lips, Vytal and Marlowe halted. Through a low interstice in the foliage a sight met their eyes which, although expected, caused them to draw their weapons instantly, for on the shore stood Towaye, with bow in hand, facing their cover, and beside him Frazer, lying on the beach, idly patting the sand into little moulds, as a child builds toy castles. The beach, sandy and shelving, rose gradually on either side, until, terminating in two high ridges or bulwarks of sand, it fell away again in long, flat sweeps to the north and south. Thus Frazer and Towaye occupied a naturally fortified square, two sides of which were formed by the sand-bank and two by forest and water. To reach them unobserved was therefore impossible, and an open encounter must necessarily ensue. As the odds favored the aggressors by three to two, there appeared to be small hazard in boldly forcing an issue. Unfortunately, however, Manteo was unarmed save for a wooden truncheon, and Vytal carried only his rapier. But Marlowe, ready to defend himself against Breton mutineers or pirates on the high seas, was better provided, his rapier being supplemented by a pistol and poniard. Ordinarily, with these weapons he would have found no difficulty in placing Towaye hors de combat, but the occasion demanded unusual strategy.
“Your dagger to Manteo,” whispered Vytal. “Cover Towaye with the firearm. Nay, don’t shoot from here. You are too far for accuracy. If possible, merely wound him. We must take the Indian alive and force him to reveal Frazer’s motives. Where is the shallop?”
“Farther on beyond the headland.”
“Good! Now at them!”
Side by side the three emerged quickly from the woods. A sudden viperish hiss from his ally caused Frazer to turn instantly, and the enemies stood face to face. Swiftly Towaye started to raise his bow, but swifter still Marlowe’s pistol sprang to a deadly aim. Yet the poet, fearing to kill, withheld his bullet. In the next instant he would have changed his aim and fired, but the risk of missing his opponent altogether and receiving the arrow in his own breast held him motionless. Thus between these two there was temporarily a deadlock, while both stood transfixedly waiting for the slightest error of movement on the other’s part.
Vytal, however, being in the first second unimpeded, rushed toward his adversary with rapier drawn.
“Halt!” The peremptory cry came from Frazer in a sharp note of menace, as, guarding himself with a rapier in one hand, he now raised with the other a small curved horn to his lips. Keeping it poised as though ready at an instant to sound an alarum, he called threateningly: “Two hundred Winginas lie within the forest waiting. A single blast means death to each of you;” then, with a laugh, “I pray you reconsider the expediency of attacking me now.”
Vytal stood still, controlling himself by a great effort. In his place doubtless the poet and many another would have rushed forward with rash impetuosity, but the campaigner’s trained hand could even compass that which to a brave soldier in the heat of fight is the most difficult of tactics, namely, the lowering of his sword.