The attacks had hitherto been made only from this side, but Joseph knew that anything in the nature of a combined assault would carry his defence before it.

In his rough-and-ready way he doctored his master, making for him such soups and strength-giving food as he could.

Once, very late in the night, when it almost seemed that the shadow of death lay over the little tent, he pounded up some of the magic Simiacine leaves and mixed them in the brandy which he administered from time to time.
Before sunrise the next morning the alarm was given again, and the little garrison was called to arms.
When Joseph left his master's tent he was convinced that neither of them had long to live; but he was of that hard material which is found in its very best form in the ranks and on the forecastle--men who die swearing.
It may be very reprehensible--no doubt it is--but it is very difficult for a plain-going man to withhold his admiration for such as these.

It shows, at all events, that Thomas Atkins and Jack are alike unafraid of meeting their Maker.

It is their duty to fight either a living enemy or a cruel sea, and if a little profanity helps them to their duty, who are we that we may condemn them?
So Joseph went out with a rifle in each hand and a fine selection of epithets on his tongue.
"Now, you devils," he said, "we're just going to fight like hell." And what else he said it booteth little.
He took his station on the roof of a hut in the centre of the little stockade, and from thence he directed the fire of his men.