"Quick: don't shilly-shally," roared Mr Rimmer. "Now, boys, fire!"

A ragged volley came from overhead as Drew ran up the ladder, and then leaned down to hold out his hand to Panton, who went up more slowly, with an arrow sticking in his shoulder.

"Now, Smith," cried Oliver.

"No, sir. Orficers first," was the reply.

"Confound you, you'll be too late!" roared Mr Rimmer, and Smith sprang up as the savages came on with a rush, and, literally driven by Wriggs to follow, Oliver went up next, while Wriggs followed him so closely that he touched and helped him all the while, the ladder quivering and bending and threatening to give way beneath their weight.

The next moment the mate's strong hands had seized Oliver's sides and pitched him over the sail cloth to the deck, while, as Wriggs got hold of a rope and swung himself in, the ladder was seized and dragged away as a trophy taken from the enemy, the savages yelling wildly, and then increasing their rate of retreat, as a fresh volley was sent after them.

"Oh, murder, look at that!" yelled Wriggs, excitedly, as he climbed up and looked over at the retreating foe.

"Tommy, old lad, see here. The beggars! Arter my troubles too, all the night: they've carried off my ladder, after all."

The moon was now high above the mist, and bathed the deck with the soft light, veining it at the same time with the black shadows of stay, spar, yard, and running rigging.

"Don't fire, lads," cried Mr Rimmer. "We mustn't waste a shot. Wait till they come on again. Now, gentlemen, thank G.o.d you're all back safe again. Eh? Not safe? Don't say anyone's hurt."

"Yes, Lane's hurt, and Panton."

"So's Billy Wriggs, sir," said Smith.

"Course I am, mate, so would you be if you'd slipped your foot between the ratlines of an ugly old ladder, and broke your ankle."

"Why, I did, Billy, right up to the crutch, and snapped my thigh-bone in half," growled Smith.

"I'll see to you as soon as I can. Here, two of you carry Mr Lane down into the cabin."

"No, Mr Panton first," said Oliver. "He's worst."

"Don't stand on ceremony, gentlemen," cried the mate, angrily. "Mr Drew, are you all right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then take command here. You have your gun, keep a sharp look-out, and no mercy now, down with the first of the treacherous dogs who comes near."

"Right. I'm ready," said Drew; "but pray see to my friends."

Oliver was already on his way to the cabin hatch.

"You trust me for that, sir," said the mate. "Steady there. Ah! An arrow! Here, quick; down with Mr Panton."

The men who had lifted him from the deck, panting with fear and horror, were quick enough in their actions, and the two young men were soon lying one on each side of the cabin floor.

"You shall be attended to directly, Mr Lane," said the mate, hurriedly.

"You're not bleeding much. Here, Smith, hold this cloth tightly against Mr Lane's arm."

He hurried to Panton's side, and turned him more over upon his face, showing the broken shaft of an arrow sticking through the cloth of the young man's jacket. Then quickly taking out his knife, he did not hesitate for a moment, but ordering Wriggs to hold the cabin lamp so as to cast its light upon the broken arrow, he inserted his knife, and ripped the light Norfolk jacket right up to the collar, and across the injured place, so that he could throw it open, and then serving the thin flannel shirt the young man wore in the same way, the wound was at once laid bare, and the extent of the injury seen.

"Can't ha' gone into his heart, sir," said Wriggs, respectfully.

"'Cause it's pinting uppards."

"Yes," said Mr Rimmer, "imbedded in the muscles of his shoulder. Poor fellow, best done while he's fainting."

It was rough surgery, but right. Taking hold of the broken arrow shaft, of which about three inches stood up from the wound, which was just marked by a few drops of blood, Mr Rimmer found that it was held firmly, and resisted all efforts to dislodge it without violence, so judging that the head was barbed, and that tearing would be dangerous, he at once made a bold cut down into the flesh, parallel with the flat of the arrow head, and then pressing it gently up and down, he drew the missile forth. He followed this up by carefully washing out the wound with clean water, and finally, before bandaging, poured in some ammonia.

Just as he gave the final touches to the bandage, Panton came to, and looked wildly round, his eyes resting at last upon the mate's.

"You have taken out the arrow?" he asked.

"Yes, and made a good job of you, sir," said the mate, cheerily. "I didn't think I was such a surgeon."

Panton grasped his arm, and whispered hoa.r.s.ely,--

"Tell me the truth. That was a poisoned arrow, was it not?"

"How should I know?" said the mate, roughly. "It was an arrow; I've taken it out, bathed the wound, and what you have to do, is to lie still, and not worry yourself into a fever by fancying all kinds of horrors."

"But these men poison their arrows, do they not?"

"People say so," said the mate, bluffly, "but it doesn't follow that they do. Now, then, I've got to attend to Mr Lane. You've had your turn."

He bent down over Oliver, and began to remove the bandage which Smith had pa.s.sed round the upper part of the young man's left arm.

"Thank goodness it isn't in the body," said the mate. "I thought it was at first."

"No, sir," said Smith. "He was all wet about his chest, and I thought he'd got it somewhere there, but it's a nice, neat hole right through his arm, and here's the bullet which tumbled out of the sleeve of his jacket."

He handed the little piece of lead to the mate, who took it quickly, held it to the lamp and then drawing his breath sharply between his teeth, he slipped the bullet into his pocket before slitting up Oliver's sleeve, and examining a couple of ruddy orifices in the upper part of his arm.

"Hurt you much, sir?" he said, cheerfully.

"Hurt?" cried Oliver, angrily. "Why, it throbs and stings horribly."

"So I s'pose. But you mustn't think that this is poisoned. No fear of that."

"I did not think so," said Oliver, shortly. "I wish I knew who it was that fired at me."

"Well," said the mate, drily, as he bathed the two wounds where the bullet had entered and pa.s.sed out right through the thickest part of the arm, carefully using fresh water and sponge, "I don't think that would help the places to heal."

"No--ah! you hurt! Mr Rimmer, what are you doing?"

"I was trying to find out whether the bone was injured."

"Is it broken?" said Oliver, who was wincing with pain.

"No, the bullet never touched it, sir. There's only a nice clean tunnel through your flesh to heal up."