. It's just as if my skin was ready to crack all
over. There, poor old chap, I'm sorry for you if you feel as bad as I
do. But you began it."

"Beg pardon, then," grumbled Roberts.

"Granted. But I say, why doesn't Anderson hurry us all on board?"

"I don't know. Yes, I do," cried the midshipman excitedly. "The
beggars--they must have quite escaped the fire! They're gathering
together over yonder, hundreds of them, with spears. I believe they're
going to make a rush. Fancy, after destroying the hornets' nest!"

"Then we shall have to kill the hornets," said Murray; and the two lads
were among the first to answer to the boatswain's whistle, which now
chirruped out loudly.

"Here we are, Mr Murray, sir," said Tom May, as the midshipman hurried
up to his little party. "This is us, sir--your lot."

"Well, I know that," said the lad petulantly, as he winced with pain.

"Beg pardon, sir," said the man. "Thought you might take us for the
niggers, seeing what colour we are and how our clothes are tumbling
off."

"Yes, we're black enough, Tom, but I hope you don't feel as I do," said
his leader.

"Much of a muchness, sir," said the man, with a grin half of mischievous
mirth, half of pain. "The first luff said something about hornets, sir.
I don't know much about them insecks, but we chaps feel as if we'd been
among their first cousins the wopses; eh, lads?"

"Ay, ay!" growled another of the men. "But aren't we soon going to have
a chance to use our stings?"

At that moment the preliminary order rang out--an order which sent a
thrill through the suffering band, making them forget everything in the
opportunity about to be given them for retaliation upon the advancing
body of warlike blacks stealing cautiously forward from the shelter of a
patch of mangroves away to the left, which had from its nearness to the
margin escaped the flames.

"The savage brutes!" muttered Murray, as he drew his sword, and winced
with pain.

"Hold your fire, Mr Murray," shouted the lieutenant. "Wait, my lads,
till you see the whites of their eyes, and then let them have it sharply
when you hear the word."

But the little volley from the midshipman's party of reserve was held
longer, for the lieutenant's words had little more than passed his lips
when there was a flash, followed by what resembled a ball of grey smoke
from the _Seafowl_ where she lay at anchor. Then almost instantaneously
came the roar of one of the sloop's