'We must wait a little longer,' he said. 'I think there is some sign of exhaustion, and they may become weary of the foolish struggle.'
'They'll have the bars about our ears directly,' the mate replied. 'You are too lenient.'
'Perhaps. I do not wish to give an order that will prove disastrous to them,' was the calm reply.
It was not long before even his cool judgment was compelled to acknowledge that further forbearance be taken by the foe as a sign of weakness, or, perhaps, cowardice, and they were becoming bolder.
The result proved serious, but a corresponding volley from the enemy inflicted no injuries among the sailors, since the Chinamen had slight knowledge of their weapons, and either could not or would not face the European fire, and all their bullets, being discharged over the heads of those in front, flew high among the after spars and canvas.
The tottering stockade was almost torn down. The leader of the mutiny yelled his delight, and forcing his way aft he called for a final assault. His burly form rose head and shoulders above all others. The moment he appeared, however, several rifles took steady aim, but it was the man Walker, who had given the proof of marksmanship when lying at the Malay island, that got in the first shot. In an instant the instigator of all the trouble lay a lifeless mass among the feet of his misguided followers.
A terrible cry of mingled regret, vengeance, and savage lust of blood followed the death of the Chinaman, and the pressure on the stockade immediately ceased. Bereft of their leader, the mutineers became less formidable, and as darkness quickly succeeded the disappearance of the sun, their efforts to gain the upper hand diminished. The numbers of dead and wounded had reached serious proportions.
The 'cease fire' was called, and Captain Thorne promptly offered assistance to those who needed it, also offering to end the fight; yet the infuriated survivors stubbornly refused to submit, or even allow one of their wounded to be touched by white hands.
The heavy loss of life was deeply regretted by the skipper, but he knew that by no other means could the safety of the vessel and the lives of his men have been secured.
The stolid, unheeding Chinamen made no attempt to leave the deck. In the deepening gloom half their numbers seemed to have fallen, but they still remained facing the stockade, and only awaited the cheering voice of some new leader before making a final attempt to reach their opponents. Such a move was, however, not immediately undertaken. They seemed quite aware that any advance would certainly add to the heap of bodies lying across the front of the barrier.