rn, quite gently, in three feet of
water, leaving the captain and myself, facing each other, on our feet.
The other three took complete headers, and came up again, drenched and
bubbling.

So far there was no great harm. No lives were lost, and we could wade
ashore in safety. But there were all our stores at the bottom, and, to
make things worse, only two guns out of five remained in a state for
service. Mine I had snatched from my knees, and held over my head, by a
sort of instinct. As for the captain, he had carried his over his
shoulder by a bandoleer, and, like a wise man, lock uppermost. The other
three had gone down with the boat. To add to our concern, we heard
voices already drawing near us in the woods along the shore; and we had
not only the danger of being cut off from the stockade in our
half-crippled state, but the fear before us whether, if Hunter and Joyce
were attacked by half a dozen, they would have the sense and conduct to
stand firm. Hunter was steady, that we knew; Joyce was a doubtful
case--a pleasant, polite man for a valet, and to brush one's clothes,
but not entirely fitted for a man-of-war.

With all this in our minds, we waded ashore as fast as we could, leaving
behind us the poor jolly-boat, and a good half of all our powder and
provisions.

CHAPTER XVIII

NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR--END OF THE FIRST DAY'S FIGHTING

We made our best speed across the strip of wood that now divided us from
the stockade, and at every step we took the voices of the buccaneers
rang nearer. Soon we could hear their footfalls as they ran, and the
cracking of the branches as they breasted across a bit of thicket.

I began to see we should have a brush for it in earnest, and looked to
my priming.

"Captain," said I, "Trelawney is the dead shot. Give him your gun; his
own is useless."

They exchanged guns, and Trelawney, silent and cool, as he had been
since the beginning of the bustle, hung a moment on his heel to see that
all was fit for service. At the same time, observing Gray to be unarmed,
I handed him my cutlass. It did all our hearts good to see him spit in
his hand, knit his brows, and make the blade sing through the air. It
was plain from every line of his body that our new hand was worth his
salt.

Forty paces farther we came to the edge of the wood and saw the stockade
in front of us. We struck the inclosure about the middle of the south
side, and, almost at the same time, seven mu