In another instant Ronald was among the Frenchmen. Some of the men finding that with their burdens escape was impossible, let them go free, but others continued their flight. The cries of children and the shrieks of women resounded through the woods. Edda Armytage was still in the hands of the enemy. On rushed Morton; young Doull was by his side.
“There’s some people with a lady, sir,” he exclaimed, making a dash towards a path which led down a dell on one side. There were several men, and Ronald at that moment caught sight of a female dress among them. Morton’s quick ear recognised Edda’s voice.
“Oh, save me! save me!” she cried out.
The man who held her boldly came to the front, while his comrades retreated. Ronald’s cutlass was upraised to strike, when the Frenchman placed his captive before him as a shield. The rest rallied round him, and Morton, with Doull alone by his side, found himself opposed to a dozen or more desperadoes, while he felt almost unnerved by seeing Miss Armytage in their power. His dread was that some stray shot or the careless stroke of a cutlass might injure her. All he could do was to keep at bay the rest of the Frenchmen, while he continued to summon his followers. They, however, it appeared, were skirmishing on either side, or rather following the retreating enemy in every direction. Ronald made the most desperate efforts to cut down some of his opponents, but each time that he appeared to be gaining a success the big Frenchman thrust himself before him. He had received one or two severe cuts, and was beginning to despair that help would come in time to prevent the Frenchman from escaping.
Edda had from the first recognised his voice, yet she dared not trust herself to address him by name. Still not for a moment did Ronald relax in his exertions. The Frenchmen had the advantage of knowing the ground, and they were evidently, Ronald conjectured, aiming at some particular spot, where they might hold out successfully. The path was steep, and numerous creepers of a tropical vegetation crossed it. In one of these the big Frenchman must have caught his foot; he stumbled, and before he could recover himself young Doull sprung like a tiger on his throat, and held him tight. The ruffian still attempted to retain his hold on Miss Armytage.
“You look after the others, sir—I can settle with this fellow,” sung out the young seaman; but his officer thought more just then of saving the lady than of beating the enemy.
While the Frenchman was still paralysed with the vice-like clutch which Doull had taken of his throat, Ronald cast his arm round Edda, and forced her from his grasp.
“Hurra!” shouted Bob Doull, “I’ll soon finish off the villain now.”
He was as good as his word, for never for a moment relaxing his hold of the man’s throat, he threw himself on him with such force, that he brought him to the ground; with his knee he kept down one of the man’s arms, and with his left hand the other.
“I shall have done for him soon, sir,” he shouted; “he’s giving in, no fear.”