The Fugitives | Page 7

fight had scarce lasted a minute, and our trio were on the point of
rushing down to the rescue, when a white cloud burst from the side of
the Eastern Star, the woods and cliffs echoed with the roar of a big gun,
and a shot, plunging into the crowd of natives, cut down many of them
and went crashing into the bushes.
It was enough. The natives turned and fled while the boat pulled to the
ship.
Uncertainty as to what should be done kept Mark Breezy and his
companions rooted for a few seconds to the spot. Indecision was
banished, however, when they suddenly perceived a band of thirty or
forty natives moving stealthily towards them by a circuitous route,
evidently with the intention of taking them in rear and preventing them
from finding shelter in the woods.
It was the first time that the young student's manhood had been put
severely to the test. There was a rush of hot blood to his forehead, and
his heart beat powerfully as he saw and realised the hopelessness of

their case with such tremendous odds against them.
"We can die but once," he said with forced calmness, as he cocked his
gun and prepared to defend himself.
"I's not a-goin' to die at all," said the negro, hastily tightening his belt,
"I's a-goin' to squatilate."
"And you?" said Mark, turning to the seaman.
"Run, says I, of coorse," replied Hockins, with something between a
grin and a scowl; "ye know the old song--him wot fights an' runs away,
may live to fight another day!"
"Come along, then!" cried Mark, who felt that whether they fought or
ran he was bound to retain the leadership of his little party.
As we have seen, they ran to some purpose. No doubt if they had
started on equal terms, the lithe, hardy, and almost naked savages
would have soon overtaken them, but fortunately a deep gully lay
between them and the party of natives who had first observed them.
Before this was crossed the fugitives were over the second ridge of
rolling land that lay between the thick woods and the sea, and when the
savages at last got upon their track and began steadily to overhaul them,
the white men had got fairly into the forest.
Still there would have been no chance of ultimate escape if they had not
come upon the footpath down the precipice which we have described as
having been partly carried away by falling rocks, thus enabling Hockins
and his companions to make a scramble for life which no one but a
sailor, a monkey, or a hero, would have dared, and the impossibility of
even attempting which never occurred to the pursuers, who concluded,
as we have seen, that the white men had been dashed to pieces on the
rocks far below.
Whether they afterwards found out their mistake or not we cannot tell.
The reason--long afterwards ascertained--of this unprovoked attack on

the boat's crew, was the old story. A party of godless white men had
previously visited that part of the coast and treated the poor natives
with great barbarity, thus stirring up feelings of hatred and revenge
against all white men--at least for the time being. In this way the
innocent are too often made to suffer for the guilty.
We will now return to our friends in the tree.
CHAPTER THREE.
DESCRIBES THE DEED OF AN AMATEUR MATADOR AND
THE WORK OF A ROUGH-AND-READY SHOEMAKER.
When the day began to break Hockins awoke, and his first impulse was
to shout "hold on!" Ebony's first action was to let go, thereby bringing
himself to the ground with an awful thud, which would have told
severely on any one less akin to india-rubber.
For a few minutes Mark Breezy, holding tight to his particular branch,
looked down at his companions, yawned heavily, and smiled a little.
Then a sudden impulse of memory caused him to look grave.
"Come," he said, dropping lightly from his perch, "these natives may
have been searching for us all night, and are perhaps nearer than we
suppose. I vote that we push on at once."
"Agreed," said Hockins, stretching himself.
"No fear, Massa," remarked the negro. "If it wur moonlight dey might
'ave search, but whar de nights am dark dey knows better. De niggahs
in dis yer island hab got skins an' eyes an' noses. If dey was to go troo
such woods in de dark, dey hab no skins or eyes or noses in de
mornin'-- leas'wise nuffin' wuth mentionin'. Cause why? Dey'd all git
knocked into a sorter mush. Plenty ob time for breakfast 'fore we start."
"That's true, boy," said Hockins, "but where's the breakfast to come
from?"

"What! you no bringed nuffin' in your pockits?" asked the