racks and slabe ship come."

"You could take us there, my man?" said the lieutenant.

"Yes, massa. Caesar show way when Bri'sh cap'en come wif plenty men.
Not 'nough now. All get kill. Show Bri'sh officer all um slabes. All
Massa Huggin strong men, berry strong men."

"Good. You shall, my man," said the lieutenant; "and as you say this
Huggins's men are so strong we will wait for reinforcements, so as to
make sure of taking them."

"Massa try," said the black. "Try sabe Massa Allen. Try quick."

"But what are you fidgeting about?" said Murray sharply.

"Caesar t'ink Massa Huggin man come and fight soon."

"What makes you think that?" asked Murray.

"Caesar don't know, massa. Caesar feel Massa Huggin man come soon.
Look, massa. Big Tom May come 'long."

The black turned excitedly to point in the direction of the head of the
open staircase, where the big sailor had suddenly appeared.

"Rocks ahead, sir," he said, in a low gruff whisper.

"Something wrong to report, my lad?"

"Ay, ay, sir. They arn't come out yet, but three lookouts report seeing
the enemy just inside the edge of the plantation, sir."

"Off with you then, Mr Murray," cried the lieutenant, "and take your
old station. Use your ammunition carefully," he added, with a meaning
intonation and a peculiar look which made the lad nod his head quickly.
"Keep the sharpest lookout for fire. They must not get hold of us
there."

Murray hurried off with Tom May, followed by the black, and before many
minutes had elapsed the expected attack had developed so rapidly, and
was delivered with such energy, that but for the brave resistance, the
enemy must have carried all before them. As it was the little party of
defenders met them with so fierce a fire that the savage-looking mongrel
crew were sent staggering back, followed by the triumphant cheers of the
_Seafowls_, who were still cheering when Mr Anderson made a gesture and
called for silence.

"Up on to the head of the staircase, my lads," he cried. "We must make
our stand there."

"Beg pardon, sir," growled Tom May, with the look of an angry lion, "but
will you have some cartridges sarved out, for me and my messmates have
fired our last."

"Yes, my lads," said the lieutenant, "that is a bitter fact. We have
fired our last shots, and we must fall back now upon our cutlasses."

"Ay, ay, sir," said the big fellow coolly. "D'yer hear, my lads?
Cutlashes it is."

And at that crucial mo