moment I was face to face with
Anderson. He roared aloud, and his hanger went up above his head,
flashing in the sunlight. I had not time to be afraid, but, as the blow
still hung impending, leaped in a trice upon one side, and missing my
foot in the soft sand, rolled headlong down the slope.

When I had first sallied from the door, the other mutineers had been
already swarming up the palisade to make an end of us. One man, in a red
night-cap, with his cutlass in his mouth, had even got upon the top and
thrown a leg across. Well, so short had been the interval, that when I
found my feet again all was in the same posture, the fellow with the red
night-cap still half-way over, another still just showing his head above
the top of the stockade. And yet, in this breath of time, the fight was
over, and the victory was ours.

Gray, following close behind me, had cut down the big boatswain ere he
had time to recover from his lost blow. Another had been shot at a
loophole in the very act of firing into the house, and now lay in agony,
the pistol still smoking in his hand. A third, as I had seen, the doctor
disposed of at a blow. Of the four who had scaled the palisade, one only
remained unaccounted for, and he, having left his cutlass on the field,
was now clambering out again with the fear of death upon him.

"Fire--fire from the house!" cried the doctor. "And you, lads, back into
cover."

But his words were unheeded, no shot was fired, and the last boarder made
good his escape, and disappeared with the rest into the wood. In three
seconds nothing remained of the attacking party but the five who had
fallen, four on the inside, and one on the outside, of the palisade.

The doctor and Gray and I ran full speed for shelter. The survivors would
soon be back where they had left their muskets, and at any moment the
fire might recommence.

The house was by this time somewhat cleared of smoke, and we saw at a
glance the price we had paid for victory. Hunter lay beside his loophole,
stunned; Joyce by his, shot through the head, never to move again; while
right in the centre, the squire was supporting the captain, one as pale
as the other.

"The captain's wounded," said Mr. Trelawney.

"Have they run?" asked Mr. Smollett.

"All that could, you may be bound," returned the doctor; "but there's
five of them will never run again."

"Five!" cried the captain. "Come, that's better. Five against three
leaves us four to nine. That's