"What do you mean?" cried Poole.

"Muskeeters will have eaten them up. They are just awful under the bushes and among the trees."

"Look there," said Fitz, interrupting the conversation. "Seem to be more coming on."

"That's just what I was thinking, Mr Burnett, sir. Reinforcement, don't you call it? My! How wild our lads will be, 'specially old b.u.t.ters, when I come to tell 'em all about it. Makes me feel like being on board a man-o'-war again, all the more so for having a young officer at my elber."

"Don't you be insolent," said Fitz.

"Well!" cried the carpenter. "I say, Mr Poole, sir, I call that 'ard.

I didn't mean cheek, sir, really."

"All right, Chips, I believe you," said Fitz excitedly. "Look, Poole; they're getting well round us. Look how they are swarming over yonder."

"Yes, it means the attack," replied Poole coolly.

"Yes," cried Fitz. "Oughtn't we to begin, and not let them get all the best places? There's nothing like getting first blow."

"Ha, ha!" laughed Poole, who did not seem in the slightest degree impressed by the serious nature of their position. "You're not a player, you know. This is our game."

Fitz reddened, and turned away with an impatient gesture, so that he did not see the carpenter give Poole a peculiar wink and his leg a silent slap, indicative of his enjoyment.

Every one's attention was fully taken up the next moment, for it was evident from the movements on the enemy's part that they were being divided into three bodies, each under a couple of leaders, who were getting their ragged, half Indian-looking followers into something like military form, prior to bringing them on to the attack in a rush.

Fitz watched all this from behind one of the breastworks he had seen put up by the carpenter, who was going about testing the nailing of the boards, and as he did so giving Don Ramon's followers a friendly nod from time to time, as much as to say, Only seeing as it had got a good hold, mate,--and then, once more forgetting Poole's reminder, the boy said excitedly--

"Well, I don't think much of Don Villarayo's tactics. He's exposing his men so that we might shoot half of them down before he got them up to the astack."

"Oh, they're no soldiers, nor sailors neither," replied Poole. "It's a sort of bounce. He thinks he's going to frighten us out of the place; and we are not going to be frightened, eh, Chips?"

"_We_ are not, Mr Poole, sir; I'll answer for that. But I don't know how Mr Ramon's chaps will handle their tools."

"I should say well," cried Fitz, still warming up with the excitement, and speaking frankly and honestly. "They'll take the example of you old men-of-war's men, and fight like fun."

"Thankye, sir," said the carpenter, brightening up. "Hear him, Mr Poole? I call that handsome. That's your sort, sir! There's nothing like having one of your officers to give you a good word of encouragement before you start, and make the sawdust and shavings fly."

Just at that minute Don Ramon, who had been hurrying from side to side encouraging his followers, uttered a warning shout which was echoed by an order from the skipper to his men not to waste a single cartridge, and to aim low.

"Bring 'em down, my lads," he said. "Cripple 'em. We don't want to kill."

He had hardly spoken when the nearest body of the enemy uttered a wild yell, which was taken up by the others, and all advanced clear of the bushes at a run, firing wildly and without stopping to re-load, dashing on, long knife in hand.

But before they had accomplished half the distance, each party was met by a ragged volley from Don Ramon's men, whose instructions had been carefully carried out.

This staggered the enemy for the moment, but they came on, leaping over or avoiding their wounded comrades, and gaining confidence at the silence within the hacienda, they yelled again. So far not one of the Englishmen had fired a shot, but now at a word from the skipper, a slow, steady rifle fire began, with every shot carefully aimed, and seeming to tell, so that ere they got close up to the walls of the hacienda, nearly a score had dropped, the skipper having used his rifle and then stood with the barrel of his revolver resting on the edge of a plank and picking off man after man.

In the brief s.p.a.ce of time occupied by the advance the enemy had had little time to think, but suddenly the fighting madness died out of one of the rough-looking bravos as he saw a companion at his side throw up his arms just in front of one of the windows and fall backwards. That started the panic, for the man turned with starting eyes, uttered a yell of dismay, and dashed back.

"Look at that," growled the carpenter. "Just like sheep. One goes for the gap in the hedge, and all the rest will follow. Ah, you may shout, old chap--Don whatever your name is. You'll have to holloa louder than that to stop 'em now."

For the whole of the attacking body was in retreat, racing for the shelter of the trees in a disorderly crowd whose paces were hastened by Don Ramon's men, now re-loaded, sending another ragged volley in their rear.

Their action was very different from that of the schooner's men, who contented themselves with re-loading and breaking out under the leadership of Winks into a hearty British cheer, in which Don Ramon's men now joined.

"Well," said Poole, taking out his pocket-handkerchief and carefully wiping the lock of his rifle, "what do you think of that?"

"Oh," cried Fitz excitedly, "I wouldn't have missed it for--eh? I don't know, though," he added, after breaking off short, his eyes having lit upon the fallen men who were crawling back into shelter. "It is very horrid, though, all the same."

"Yes," said Poole; "but we didn't ask them to come, and it would have been twenty times as horrid if we hadn't stood fast and they had got in here with those long knives."

Fitz looked at him fixedly.

"Think they'd have used them if they had got the day?"

"Think they'd have used them!" cried Poole scornfully. "Why, if they had been pure Spaniards I believe they would in the excitement; but fellows like those, nearly all of Indian blood, if they had got the upper hand, wounded or sound I don't believe they'd have left a man alive."

"I suppose not," said Fitz; "but it is very horrid, all the same.

Where's your father? Oughtn't we to go and see to the wounded men?"

"We shall have to leave that to the enemy," replied Poole. "If we went out they'd begin firing from under cover. But here, I say--Here, you Chips, go and ask my governor whether we ought to do anything about those wounded men?"

"Ay, ay, sir," replied the carpenter; "but I know what he'll say."

"What?" said Fitz sharply.

"Same as Mr Poole did, sir, for sartin," and the man trotted away.

"You sent him off because you wanted to speak to me. What is it? Is there fresh danger?"

"Oh no; they'll think twice before they come again. But, I say, what have you been about?"

"Been--about? What do you mean?"

"Look at that gun! Why, Fitz Burnett, you've been firing too!"

The boy's jaw dropped, and he stared at the speaker, then at the lock of the double fowling-piece, and then back, before raising the c.o.c.ks, opening the blackened breech, and withdrawing a couple of empty cartridges.

"I didn't know," he said softly. "Had it been fired before?"

"It's kept warm a long time if it had," said Poole, with his face wrinkling up with mirth. "Do you call this being a non-combatant?"

"Oh, but surely--" began Fitz. "I couldn't have fired without knowing, and--" He paused.

"It seems that you could," cried Poole mirthfully. "You've popped off two cartridges, for certain. Have you used any more?"

"Oh no! I am certain, quite certain; but I am afraid--in the excitement--hardly knowing what I was about--I must have done as the others did."

"Yes, and you said you didn't mean to fight. I say, nice behaviour this for an officer in your position. How many anti-revolutionists do you think you've killed?"