Фредерик Марриет
Masterman Ready
Chapter Sixty One.
As they could have a very good view of the canoes from where the old house stood, Ready examined them with his glass every time that he returned from rolling up a cask to the stockade. Every one worked hard; even Mrs Seagrave did all she could, either assisting in rolling the casks, or carrying up what she was able to lift. In an hour they had got into the stockade all that they most cared for, and the canoes were still about six or seven miles off.
“We have a good hour before they arrive, sir,” said Ready, “and even then the reefs will puzzle them not a little; I doubt if they are disembarked under two hours. We have plenty of time for all we wish to do. Juno, go for the wheels, and William, come down with the spear, and we will have some of the turtle into the stockade. Mr Seagrave, I do not require your assistance, so if you will have the kindness to get out the muskets, and examine the flints, it will be as well.”
“Yes; and then you have to load them,” replied Mrs Seagrave. “Juno and I can do that at all events, ready for you to fire them.”
“An excellent idea, madam,” replied Ready.
In half an hour six turtles were brought up by Juno and William, and then Ready followed them into the stockade.
They then rolled the casks, and upheaded them by the sides of the stockade, and fixed up deal planks to stand upon, just high enough to enable them to see over the top of the palisades, and to fire at the enemy. Mrs Seagrave had been shown how to load a musket, and Juno was now taught the same.
“Now, sir, we are all prepared,” said Ready, “and Madam and Juno can go and look a little after the children, and get breakfast.”
As soon as the children were dressed, Mr Seagrave called Ready, who was outside, watching the canoes, and they went to their morning devotions, and prayed heartily for succour in this time of need. They then breakfasted in haste; for, as may be supposed, they were almost too anxious to eat.
“This suspense is worse than all,” said Mrs Seagrave. “I wish now that they were come.”
“Shall I go to Ready and hear his report, my dear?—I will not be away three minutes.”
In a short time Mr Seagrave returned, saying that the canoes were close to the beach, that the savages evidently had a knowledge of the passages through the reefs, as they had steered right in, and had lowered their sails; that Ready and William were on the look-out, but concealed behind the cocoa-nut trees.
“I hope they will not stay out too long.”
“No fear of that, my dear Selina; but they had better watch their motions to the last minute.”
During this conversation between Mr and Mrs Seagrave within the stockade, William and Ready were watching the motions of the savages, a large portion of whom had landed out of ten of the canoes, and the others were following their example as fast as they could, forcing their way through the reefs. The savages were all painted, with their war-cloaks and feathers on, and armed with spears and clubs, evidently having come with no peaceable intentions.
William, who had taken the telescope to examine them more minutely, said to Ready, “What a fierce, cruel set of wretches they appear to be; if they overpower us they will certainly kill us!”
“Of that there is no doubt, William; but we must fight hard, and not let them overpower us. Kill us they certainly will, and I am not sure that they may not eat us afterwards; but that is of little consequence.”
William replied in a determined tone, “I’ll fight as long as I have breath in my body; but, Ready, they are coming up as fast as they can.”
“Yes; we must wait no longer. Come, William.”
“I thought I saw another vessel under sail, out away by the garden point, Ready, just as we turned away.”
“Very likely, sir, a canoe which has separated from the others during the night. Come, quick, William, they have begun to yell.”
Another half-minute, and they arrived at the door of the stockade; they entered, shut the door, and then barricaded it with the cocoa-nut poles which they had fitted to the inner door-posts.
Chapter Sixty Two.
The loud yells of the savages struck terror into the heart of Mrs Seagrave; it was well that she had not seen their painted bodies and fierce appearance, or she would have been much more alarmed. Little Albert and Caroline clung around her neck with terror in their faces; they did not cry, but looked round and round to see from whence the horrid noise proceeded, and then clung faster to their mother. Tommy was very busy, finishing all the breakfast which had been left, for there was no one to check him as usual; Juno was busy outside, and was very active and courageous. Mr Seagrave had been employed making the holes between the palisades large enough to admit the barrels of the muskets, so that they could fire at the savages without being exposed; while William and Ready, with their muskets loaded, were on the look-out for their approach.
“They are busy with the old house just now, sir,” observed Ready, “but that won’t detain them long.”
“Here they come,” replied William; “and look, Ready, is not that one of the women who escaped from us in the canoe, who is walking along with the first two men? Yes, it is, I am sure.”
“You are right, William, it is one of them. Ah! they have stopped; they did not expect the stockade, that is clear, and it has puzzled them; see how they are all crowding together and talking; they are holding a council of war how to proceed; that tall man must be one of their chiefs. Now, William, although I intend to fight as hard as I can, yet I always feel a dislike to begin first; I shall therefore show myself over the palisades, and if they attack me, I shall then fire with a quiet conscience.”
“But take care they don’t hit you, Ready.”
“No great fear of that, William. Here they come.”
Ready now stood upon the plank within, so as to show himself to the savages, who gave a tremendous yell, and as they advanced a dozen spears were thrown at him with so true an aim that, had he not instantly dodged behind the stockade, he must have been killed. Three or four spears remained quivering in the palisades, just below the top; the others went over it, and fell down inside of the stockade, at the further end.
“Now, William, take good aim;” but before William could fire, Mr Seagrave, who had agreed to be stationed at the corner so that he might see if the savages went round to the other side, fired his musket, and the tall chief fell to the ground.
Ready and William also fired, and two more of the savages were seen to drop amidst the yells of their companions. Juno handed up the other muskets which were ready loaded, and took those discharged, and Mrs Seagrave, having desired Caroline to take care of her little brother, and Tommy to be very quiet and good, came out, turned the key of the door upon them, and hastened to assist Juno in reloading the muskets.
The spears now rushed through the air, and it was well that they could fire from the stockade without exposing their persons, or they would have had but little chance. The yells increased, and the savages now began to attack on every quarter; the most active, who climbed like cats, actually succeeded in gaining the top of the palisades, but, as soon as their heads appeared above, they were fired at with so true an aim that they dropped down dead outside. This combat lasted for more than an hour, when the savages, having lost a great many men, drew off from the assault, and the parties within the stockade had time to breathe.
“They have not gained much in this bout, at all events,” said Ready; “it was well fought on our side, and William, you certainly behaved as if you had been brought up to it.”
“Do you think they will go away now?” said Mrs Seagrave.
“Oh, no, madam, not yet; they will try us every way before they leave us. You see these are very brave men, and it is clear that they know what gunpowder is, or they would have been more astonished.”
“I should think so too,” replied Mr Seagrave; “the first time that savages hear the report of firearms, they are usually thrown into great consternation.”
“Yes, sir; but such has not been the case with these people, and therefore I reckon it is not the first time that they have fought with Europeans.”
“Are they all gone, Ready?” said William, who had come down from the plank to his mother.
“No; I see them between the trees now; they are sitting round in a circle, and, I suppose, making speeches.”
“Well, I’m very thirsty, at all events,” said William; “Juno, bring me a little water.”
Juno went to the water-tub to comply with William’s request, and in a few moments afterwards came back in great consternation.
“Oh, Massa! oh, Missy! no water; water all gone!”
“Water all gone!” cried Ready and all of them in a breath.
“Yes; not one little drop in the cask.”
“I filled it up to the top!” exclaimed Ready very gravely; “the tub did not leak, that I am sure of; how can this have happened?”
“Missy, I tink I know now,” said Juno; “you remember you send Massa Tommy, the two or three days we wash, to fetch water from the well in little bucket. You know how soon he come back, and how you say what good boy he was, and how you tell Massa Seagrave when he come to dinner. Now, Missy, I quite certain Massa Tommy no take trouble go to well, but fetch water from tub all the while, and so he empty it.”
“I’m afraid you’re right, Juno,” replied Mrs Seagrave. “What shall we do?”
“I go speak Massa Tommy,” said Juno, running to the house.
“This is a very awkward thing, Mr Seagrave,” observed Ready gravely.
Mr Seagrave shook his head.
The fact was, that they all perceived the danger of their position: if the savages did not leave the island, they would perish of thirst or have to surrender; and in the latter case, all their lives would most certainly be sacrificed.
Juno now returned: her suspicions were but too true. Tommy, pleased with the praise of being so quick in bringing the water, had taken out the spigot of the cask, and drawn it all off.
“Well,” observed Mr Seagrave, “it is the will of Heaven that all our careful arrangements and preparations against this attack should be defeated by the idleness of a child, and we must submit.”
“Very true, sir,” replied Ready; “all our hopes now are that the savages may be tired out, and leave the island.”
“If I had but a little for the children, I should not care,” observed Mrs Seagrave; “but to see those poor things suffer—is there not a drop left, Juno, anywhere?”
Juno shook her head.
Mrs Seagrave said she would go and examine, and went away into the house accompanied by Juno.
“This is a very bad business, Ready,” observed Mr Seagrave. “What would we give for a shower of rain now, that we might catch the falling drops!”
“There are no signs of it, sir,” replied Ready; “we must, however, put our confidence in One who will not forsake us.”
“I wish the savages would come on again,” observed William; “for the sooner they come, the sooner the affair will be decided.”
“I doubt if they will to-day; at night-time I think it very probable. We must make preparations for it.”
“Why, what can we do, Ready?”
“In the first place, sir, by nailing planks from cocoa-nut tree to cocoa-nut tree above the present stockade, we may make a great portion of it much higher, and more difficult to climb over. Some of them were nearly in, this time. If we do that, we shall not have so large a space to watch over and defend; and then we must contrive to have a large fire ready for lighting, that we may not have to fight altogether in the dark. It will give them some advantage in looking through the palisades, and seeing where we are, but they cannot well drive their spears through, so it is no great matter. We must make the fire in the centre of the stockade, and have plenty of tar in it, to make it burn bright, and we must not, of course, light it until after we are attacked. We shall then see where they are trying for an entrance, and where to aim with our muskets.”
“The idea is very good, Ready,” said Mr Seagrave; “if it had not been for this unfortunate want of water, I really should be sanguine of beating them off.”
“We may suffer very much, Mr Seagrave, I have no doubt; but who knows what the morrow may bring forth?”
“True, Ready. Do you see the savages now?”
“No, sir; they have left the spot where they were in consultation. I suppose they are busy with their wounded and their dead.”
As Ready had supposed, no further attack was made by the savages on that day, and he, William, and Mr Seagrave, were very busy making their arrangements; they nailed the planks on the trunks of the trees above the stockade, so as to make three sides of the stockade at least five feet higher, and almost impossible to climb up; and they prepared a large fire in a tar-barrel full of cocoa-nut leaves mixed with wood and tar, so as to burn fiercely. Dinner or supper they had none, for there was nothing but salt pork and beef and live turtle, and, by Ready’s advice, they did not eat, as it would only increase their desire to drink.
The poor children suffered much; and little Albert wailed and cried for “water, water.” Ready remained on the look-out; indeed, everything was so miserable inside of the house, that they were all glad to go out of it; they could do no good, and poor Mrs Seagrave had a difficult and most painful task to keep the children quiet under such severe privation, for the weather was still very warm and sultry.
Chapter Sixty Three.
But the moaning of the children was very soon after dusk drowned by the yells of the savages, who, as Ready had prognosticated, now advanced to the night attack.
Every part of the stockade was at once assailed, and their attempts now made were to climb into it; a few spears were occasionally thrown, but it was evident that the object was to obtain an entrance by dint of numbers. It was well that Ready had taken the precaution of nailing the deal planks above the original stockade, or there is little doubt but that the savages would have gained their object; as it was, before the flames of the fire, which Juno had lighted by Ready’s order, gave them sufficient light, three or four savages had climbed up and had been shot by William and Mr Seagrave, as they were on the top of the stockade.
When the fire burnt brightly, the savages outside were more easily aimed at, and a great many fell in their attempts to get over. The attack continued more than an hour, when at last, satisfied that they could not succeed, the savages once more withdrew, carrying with them, as before, their dead and wounded.
“I trust that they will now re-embark, and leave the island,” said Mr Seagrave.
“I only wish they may, sir; it is not at all impossible; but there is no saying. I have been thinking, Mr Seagrave, that we might be able to ascertain their movements by making a look-out. You see, sir, that cocoa-nut tree,” continued Ready, pointing to one of those to which the palisades were fastened, “is much taller than any of the others: now, by driving spike-nails into the trunk at about a foot apart, we might ascend it with ease, and it would command a view of the whole bay; we then could know what the enemy were about.”
“Yes, that is very true; but will not anyone be very much exposed if he climbs up?”
“No, sir; for you see the cocoa-nut trees are cut down clear of the palisades to such a distance, that no savage could come at all near without being seen by anyone on the look-out, and giving us sufficient time to get down again before he could use his spear.”
“I believe that you are right there, Ready; but at all events I would not attempt to do it before daylight, as there may be some of them still lurking underneath the stockade.”
“Certainly there may be, sir, and therefore until daylight we will not begin.”
Mr Seagrave then went into the house; Ready desired William to lie down and sleep for two or three hours, as he would watch. In the morning, when Mr Seagrave came out, he would have a little sleep himself.
“I can’t sleep, Ready. I’m mad with thirst,” replied William.
“Yes, sir; it’s very painful—I feel it myself very much, but what must those poor children feel? I pity them most.”
“I pity my mother most, Ready,” replied William; “it must be agony to her to witness their sufferings, and not be able to relieve them.”
“Yes, indeed, it must be terrible, William, to a mother’s feelings; but perhaps these savages will be off to-morrow, and then we shall forget our privations.”
“I trust in God that they may, Ready, but they seem very determined.”
“Yes, sir; iron is gold to them, and what will civilised men not do for gold?”
In the meantime, Mr Seagrave had gone into the house. He found the children still crying for water, notwithstanding the coaxing and soothing of Mrs Seagrave, who was shedding tears as she hung over poor little Albert. Little Caroline only drooped, and said nothing. Mr Seagrave remained for two or three hours with his wife, assisting her in pacifying the children, and soothing her to the utmost of his power; at last he went out and found old Ready on the watch.
“Ready, I had rather a hundred times be attacked by these savages and have to defend this place, than be in that house for even five minutes, and witness the sufferings of my wife and children.”
“I do not doubt it, sir,” replied Ready; “but cheer up, and let us hope for the best; I think it very probable that the savages after this second defeat will leave the island.”
“I wish I could think so, Ready; it would make me very happy; but I have come out to take the watch, Ready. Will you not sleep for a while?”
“I will, sir, if you please, take a little sleep. Call me in two hours; it will then be daylight, and I can go to work, and you can get some repose yourself.”
“I am too anxious to sleep; I think so, at least.”
“William said he was too thirsty to sleep, sir, but, poor fellow, he is now fast enough.”
“I trust that boy will be spared, Ready.”
“I hope so too; but we are all in the hands of the Almighty.”
Mr Seagrave took his station on the plank, and was left to his own reflections; that they were not of the most pleasant kind may easily be imagined. He prayed earnestly and fervently that they might be delivered from the danger and sufferings which threatened them, and became calm and tranquil; prepared for the worst, if the worst was to happen, and confidently placing himself and his family under the care of him who orders all as he thinks best.
At daylight Ready woke up and relieved Mr Seagrave, who did not return to the house, but lay down on the cocoa-nut boughs, where Ready had been lying by the side of William. As soon as Ready had got out the spike-nails and hammer, he summoned William to his assistance, and they commenced driving them into the cocoa-nut tree, one looking out in case of the savages approaching, while the other was at work. In less than an hour they had gained the top of the tree close to the boughs, and had a very commanding view of the bay, as well as inland. William, who was driving the last dozen spikes, took a survey, and then came down to Ready.
“I can see everything, Ready: they have pulled down the old house altogether, and are most of them lying down outside, covered up with their war-cloaks; some women are walking to and fro from the canoes, which are lying on the beach where they first landed.”
“They have pulled down the house to obtain the iron nails, I have no doubt,” replied Ready. “Did you see any of their dead?”
“No; I did not look about very much, but I will go up again directly. I came down because my hands were jarred with hammering, and the hammer was so heavy to carry. In a minute or two I shall go up light enough. My lips are burning, Ready, and swelled; the skin is peeling off. I had no idea that want of water would have been so dreadful. I was in hopes of finding a cocoa-nut or two on the tree, but there was not one.”
“And if you had found one, it would not have had any milk in it at this season of the year. However, William, if the savages do not go away to-day, something must be done. I wish now that you would go up again, and see if they are not stirring.”
William again mounted to the top of the tree, and remained up for some minutes; when he came down, he said, “They are all up now, and swarming like bees. I counted 260 of the men in their war-cloaks and feather head-dresses; the women are passing to and fro from the well with water; there is nobody at the canoes except eight or ten women, who are beating their heads, I think, or doing something of the kind. I could not make it out well, but they seem all doing the same thing.”
“I know what they are about, William: they are cutting themselves with knives or other sharp instruments. It is the custom of these people. The dead are all put into the canoes, and these women are lamenting over them; perhaps they are going away, since the dead are in the canoes, but there is no saying.”
