Here was a catastrophe! The fabric of joyous antic.i.p.ation which the father had been painfully building up within his child's breast had collapsed completely, and in a moment, when he found that they were "going without mother!" Gaunt argued and reasoned with the little fellow for a full half-hour, taxing his ingenuity to its utmost extent to recover the advantage he had lost, but it was all unavailing; to this poor child it seemed that heaven itself could not be heaven "without mother." His father was fast giving way to despair when a brilliant idea shot through the childish brain.

"Father," he exclaimed suddenly, looking up with renewed hope, "cannot G.o.d make the Malays not kill us?"

"Certainly He can, if He chooses," was the ready answer.

"Then let us ask Him," was the triumphant rejoinder. "I am quite sure He will let us wait and go all together if we tell Him we would rather."

What could the father do but acquiesce in a request founded upon such perfect trust in the love and mercy of the Almighty? Indeed, it was no sooner made than he wondered how it was that he had been so utterly faithless as never to have thought of it himself. So he forthwith offered up, audibly, just such a pet.i.tion as the child had suggested, taking care to clothe it in language which the little fellow could fully comprehend; and, though it must be admitted that the prayer was begun more to satisfy the child than from any feeling or belief that it would be answered, yet, as Gaunt proceeded, with all the earnestness of which he was capable, hope revived in his heart, and his conscience began to rebuke him for his practical infidelity.

The prayer concluded, Percy expressed himself as perfectly happy and satisfied; but it distressed his father not a little to find that the child's thoughts now persistently turned in a direction precisely opposite to that in which he wished them to incline; over and over and over again did Gaunt strive to rekindle the little fellow's enthusiasm about heaven, but it would not do; life, not death, was what the child was now looking forward to; and all his father's most earnest exhortations failed to elicit from him anything beyond the question:

"When do you think they will come and set us free, father?"

"I do not know that they _will_ set us free, dear boy; it may not be G.o.d's will," was the substance of Gaunt's reply to this oft-repeated question; at which the little fellow would look at his father in surprise and retort:

"But, father, you used to tell me that G.o.d is _always_ pleased to hear and answer the prayers of little children!"

In short, the child at length got the better of the man in this curious theological discussion, and Gaunt was finally obliged to give in.

"He is right," the father at length admitted to himself, "and I am wrong. After striving with all my might during the whole of his brief little life to inculcate in him an absolute belief in the unalterable truth of G.o.d's promises, why should I now allow the weakness of my own faith to undermine his? My child is in the hands of a merciful G.o.d; there will I leave him."

And so, when, from time to time, after that, the little fellow repeated his question of "When do you think they will come and set us free, father?" Gaunt would reply hopefully:

"Oh, very soon now, I should think, dear boy; very soon."

The long, weary, trying night was wearing to its close. The moon hung low in the western sky; the horizon to the eastward was paling from violet-black to pearly-grey; and the stars in that quarter were beginning to lose their l.u.s.tre. The air, which during the earlier hours of the night had been oppressively sultry, now came cool and refreshing to the fevered brows of the anxious watchers; the insects had subdued their irritating din, as is their wont toward the dawn; the watch-fire had smouldered down to a heap of grey, feathery, faintly-glowing ashes; the two sentinels at the entrance of the bush-path had ceased their alert pacing to and fro, and, having grounded their muskets, were now drooping wearily upon them with their hands crossed over the top of the barrels; whilst the Malay who had been detailed to watch the prisoners, having some half a dozen times during the earlier hours of the night tested their bonds and satisfied himself of their perfect security, was now seated on the ground before his charges, with his ringers interlocked across his knees and his head bowed forward, manifestly napping. The weariness of the long night had told upon both the prisoners; their conversation had first languished and then ceased altogether; but now the cool, fresh, sweet-smelling breeze had aroused them both, Gaunt first, and the poor, tired-out, suffering child soon afterwards; and whilst the first was looking abroad over the tree-tops at the brightening sky to the eastward and thinking that _now_, surely, their fate must be drawing very nigh, the little fellow by his side stirred uneasily, roused himself, and once more put the stereotyped question:

"_Now_, father, when do you think they will come and set us free?"

Gaunt, with their probable fate now apparently so near at hand, was debating within himself what answer to return, when his attention was arrested by a curious vibrating movement of his bonds, as though they were being tampered with from behind the tree to which he was bound; and ere he could collect his faculties sufficiently to even ask himself what it meant, a low whisper from behind him caught his ear:

"Hush! it is I--Henderson!"

And at the same instant the ropes which bound him suddenly slackened about his limbs and disappeared behind him. Then an arm appeared round the bole of the tree, and Gaunt felt the cold barrel of a rifle being thrust into his hand, whilst the voice again whispered:

"Your own repeater fully loaded. Now to loose poor little Percy."

Then Gaunt turned to his child--how white and haggard the dear little fellow looked in the pallid light of the dawn--and, with a heart brimful of grat.i.tude to G.o.d for His priceless gift of restored freedom, said, in reply to his question:

"_Very_ soon, now, my precious darling--now, _at once_, in fact. But Percy, dear boy, take care that you do not move or cry out when you feel the rope loosening; stand perfectly still and quiet, my son, until I tell you what to do."

The little fellow looked eagerly up into his father's face, and whispered, "Yes, father." And then Gaunt saw his look of surprise as he felt Henderson's hand releasing him. The bonds fell away; the child was free; and presently Gaunt saw a shadowy figure bend forward and whisper in the little fellow's ear. There was a start, a faint cry of rapture, the little arms were flung lovingly round the neck of the bending figure, and Gaunt caught the murmured words:

"Thank you, dear doctor, oh, _thank you_!" followed by the soft sound of a kiss.

But that childish involuntary cry of delight, faint as it was, had caught the quick ear of the dozing guard; the fellow raised his head, and, seeing that something was wrong--though he was still too drowsy to distinguish what it was--scrambled to his feet and advanced toward Gaunt. Up to that moment the engineer had not moved; he was waiting for the blood to circulate once more in his cramped limbs, and also for Henderson to give him the cue for their next movement. He remained perfectly still until the Malay had approached within arm's-length of him, and then, with a single lightning-like blow of his fist fair between the eyes, he dropped the fellow senseless upon the gra.s.s at his feet.

Then, swift as light, he glided behind the tree, where Henderson stood with Percy in his arms, and, convulsively gripping the other's outstretched hand, he murmured:

"A thousand thanks, old fellow! Now, which way are we to go?"

"I arranged for Manners and Nicholls to join us in the bush-path yonder; never dreaming that those two men would be posted there," whispered Henderson in return.

"Well, come along, then," cheerily observed Gaunt. "Never trouble about the Malays; it is their misfortune that they happen to be in our way.

We must shoot them down if they offer to oppose our pa.s.sage--ha! we shall be _compelled_ to fight whether we will or not; that fellow whom I knocked down is reviving, and he will raise the alarm before we have gone a dozen feet. Give me the child, my arms are still benumbed and scarcely fit to hold a rifle, but I can carry him. So, that is it"--as Henderson handed over little Percy--"now let us make a run for it."

Therewith the two friends started at top speed for the entrance of the bush-path, running straight toward the two Malay sentinels. No sooner, however, did they appear in the open than a cry was raised, and in an instant the whole camp was on the alert, some of the Malays running to intercept the fugitives whilst others hurriedly sprang for their muskets and opened a wild fusillade upon them. The two sentinels faced about, and seeing the white men running at once raised their weapons to their shoulders.

"Halt!" cried Gaunt, setting Percy down on the ground and facing about toward their pursuers. "Drop those two sentries, Henderson, for Heaven's sake! I will deal with the others!"

No sooner said than done. Henderson pulled up at once and, coolly receiving the fire of the two Malays--which, however, owing to their being hurried, proved harmless--deliberately covered and dropped them, one after the other.

"Are they down?" demanded Gaunt, as he also knocked over the leader of the pursuing party.

"Yes, both down!" was the response.

"Then, on again!" exclaimed the engineer, s.n.a.t.c.hing up his frightened child and regaining Henderson's side. As they ran, Henderson placed a whistle between his lips and blew a single short piercing call upon it.

"That will soon bring the other two to our help," he gasped.

They were by this time within a hundred feet of the bush-path; but the light-heeled Malays were close behind them. The time for decisive action had arrived. Seeing this, Gaunt once more placed his child on the ground and said:

"Now run home as fast as you can, dear boy, and tell mother that the doctor and I hope to be with her in a quarter of an hour."

Then, as the little fellow made off at top speed, the father added: "Thank G.o.d, _his_ retreat is secured if we can hold out for ten minutes.

Now, Henderson, true and trusty comrade, let us make a stand here and, shoulder to shoulder, show these rascals how Englishmen can fight."

So, without another word, the two friends turned and stood at bay, finding time to bring down two more of their foes by a couple of lucky snap-shots before they were closed with.

And then began a battle, fierce and grim--sixteen Malays to two Englishmen! Luckily for the smaller party the Malays had, at the outset of the disturbance, emptied their pieces ineffectually, and had found no time to reload them, whilst Henderson had provided himself, in addition to the two repeating rifles, with a brace of loaded six-chambered revolvers, one of which he now handed to Gaunt. With these and their clubbed rifles the two men fought so desperately, that not only were the Malays effectually checked in their attempt at an outflanking movement, but actually foiled in their intention to bear down the two men by sheer force of numbers and brute strength. Swinging their rifles club-wise with one hand and firing their revolvers with the other whenever they saw a chance of making a shot tell, the Englishmen wrought such terrible execution that at length the Malays drew back confounded. At this moment a cheer was heard close at hand, and in another instant up dashed Manners and Nicholls, breathless with hard running, and placed themselves one on each side of their two countrymen.

"_Now_ let us give them a volley!" cried Gaunt--who, his blood fairly boiling at the recollection of the past night, had been fighting like a demon--and, at the word, up went the four rifles to the "present."

"Choose each his man!" ordered the inexorable engineer: and then out rang the four pieces, leaving three foes the less to deal with. Hark!

what was that? Not an echo of the rifle-shots, surely; no, it was the _boom_ of a distant gun, unless the ears of all strangely deceived them.

Whatever it was, the Malays also heard the sound, and, looking for an instant in consternation at each other, wavered, turned, and fled.

"Hurrah!" cried Gaunt exultantly, "rescue is at hand. After the rascals, and give them a lesson they will never forget!"

It was, perhaps, an imprudent thing to do, but away after the flying foe went the four men, popping away with their revolvers, and so severely galling the Malays that _sauve qui peut_ quickly became the word with the latter, who now evidently thought of nothing but how to reach their boats alive. One in his frantic haste stumbled and fell, revealing his features to Gaunt as he did so. It was the wretch who had so cruelly ill-treated little Percy on the night before. With a couple of bounds the engineer was upon him. Wresting the creese from the fellow's hand, Gaunt seized him by the collar and dragged him along the ground, writhing, to a clump of canes growing close at hand. With his foot on the man's neck to keep him down, the engineer then cut with the creese a stout, pliant cane, lifted the wretch to his feet by main strength, and, dropping his weapons to the ground and still retaining his grip upon the fellow's collar, deliberately thrashed him until the cane was split to ribbons and the clothes literally cut from his back, finally dismissing him with a kick which--apart from the thrashing--it is safe to say, that Malay will never forget so long as his life shall last. The unfortunate wretch hobbled off with quite remarkable celerity--considering that every bone in his body must have been aching--eager to overtake his comrades, whose "way" had been very materially "freshened" not only by the heat with which they were pursued but also by the booming of the guns in the offing. But he was too late. When he reached the beach the boats had shoved off; so, rather than remain where he was, the fellow unhesitatingly plunged into the stream and swam off to the proa, reaching her just in time to be hauled up over the side as, with slipped cable and hastily-hoisted sail, the craft paid off and gathered way on her road out to sea.

Gaunt followed more leisurely, for, in common with his three friends, he had suffered somewhat in the _melee_--though, fortunately, none of them were seriously hurt--and he reached the cove just in time to witness the hasty departure of the proa. He seized this, the first opportunity which had presented itself, to heartily thank his companions for their gallant rescue of himself and his child, inquired anxiously after the safety and welfare of the little Lucille, and then said:

"I have been wondering what can be the meaning of that firing in the offing. I cannot help thinking it is intended as a signal of some kind to _us_, and, a.s.suming that to be the case, I can only account for it upon the pleasant supposition that Captain Blyth, instead of perishing in the hurricane as we feared, must have in some miraculous manner escaped; and that it is he who is now outside, on board a rescue ship, come to take us all off the island. I think it would be well if you, Manners, were to take the punt, and, with Nicholls, go out as far as the harbour's mouth to reconnoitre, taking care not to show yourselves until you are quite certain that the craft is a friendly one."

The two men named eagerly adopted the suggestion, and a minute later were afloat and pulling rapidly down stream. As soon as they were fairly off Gaunt turned to Henderson and said:

"And now, my dear fellow, I think I will walk as far as the fort to exchange a word or two with Ida, and a.s.sure them all of our safety; and then I will rejoin you here to await the tidings from outside."