What were Pencroft's feelings, sheltered under a rock on the islet! what were those of Harding, the reporter, Herbert, and Neb, crouched in the Chimneys, when they heard the reports on board the brig! They rushed out onto the beach, and, their guns shouldered, they stood ready to repel any attack.
They had no doubt about it! Ayrton, surprized by the pirates, had been murdered, and, perhaps, the wretches would profit by the night to reach the island!
Half an hour was passed in terrible anxiety. The firing had ceased, yet neither Ayrton nor Pencroft had reappeared. Was the islet invaded? Ought they not to fly to the help of Ayrton and Pencroft? But how? The tide being high at that time, rendered the channel impassable.
The boat was not there! Horrible anxiety took possession of Harding and his companions.
At last, towards half-past twelve, a boat, carrying two men, touched the beach. It was Ayrton, slightly wounded in the shoulder, and Pencroft, safe and sound, whom their friends received with open arms. All immediately took refuge in the Chimneys. There Ayrton recounted all that had passed, even to his plan for blowing up the brig.
All hands were extended to Ayrton, who did not conceal from them that their situation was serious. The priates had been alarmed. They knew that Lincoln Island was inhabited. They would land upon it in numbers and well armed. They would respect nothing. Should the settlers fall into their hands they must expect no mercy!
"Well, we shall know how to die!" said the reporter.
"Let us go in and watch," answered the engineer.
"Have we any chance of escape, captain?" asked the sailor.
"Yes, Pencroft."
"Hum! six against fifty!"
"Yes! six! without counting———"
"Who?" asked Pencroft.
Cyrus did not reply, but pointed upwards.
