fectly secure.

"Oh, you're there, Smith," he said, turning to the sailor, who, now
feeling very penitent, was down on one knee holding a panikin of water
to Oliver Lane's lips. "How came you to leave the cabin, and with that
window open?"

"I didn't, sir. Window was shut fast enough when I left it, and I only
went for some water for the gentlemen to drink."

"And nearly sent them to their graves?" cried the mate.

"Will you come on deck, sir, please?" cried one of the men, who had come
to the cabin door with his face looking drawn and scared.

"Yes. What is it?" said the mate.

"There's a lot more on 'em just come up, sir, and we think they're going
to rush us now."

"Yes. Come on, Mr Drew. You, too, Smith. Quick, they're attacking."

For there was a terrific yelling, and the sound indicated that it must
come from quite a crowd.

They rushed on deck and none too soon, for, at the first glance Drew
obtained, he could see that the savages had surrounded the brig, and
that many of them bore small palm trunk poles whose purpose was evident
the next moment, for a dozen men rushed forward and laid them from the
earth to the bulwarks, sinking down directly to clasp the little trees
with their arms while as many of their companions leaped up, took as
high a hold as they could, and then began to swarm up toward the deck.

"It's all over now," muttered Drew, and he took aim at a man who seemed
to be the leader.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

AN INVALID DEFENCE.

The shouting and yelling was so plainly heard in the cabin, that Oliver
tried to raise himself up, but sank back with a sigh of pain, for the
rough usage he had met with from the Papuans had made him lie back half
fainting and speechless. But he was conscious of the words shouted by
the seaman to the mate, and of the latter's orders as he ran out of the
cabin.

Oliver groaned as he lay back upon his couch, listening to the sounds of
the impending strife.

"It is too hard to be left alone and helpless here," he muttered. "I
wouldn't care if I were strong enough to go and help."

"You there, Lane?" came in feeble tones from the other side of the
cabin.

"Yes. How are you?"

"Bad. But what's that noise? That shouting?"

"Papuans attacking the ship."

"Oh, yes," said Panton faintly. "I remember now. They followed us and
shot me down. Ah! I should have liked to have one turn at the fellow
who drew a bow at me. Hark! they're fighting."

"Fig