When my consciousness returned, I found myself lying on my back beside our camp-fire, with my head resting on Peterkin’s knee; and the first sound I heard was his pleasant voice, as he said—
“All right, Jack; he’s coming round. I’m quite certain that no serious damage is done. I know well what sort o’ rap he must have got. It’ll bother him a little at first, but it won’t last long.”
Comforted not a little by this assurance, I opened my eyes and looked up.
“What has happened?” I inquired faintly.
“Ah! that’s right, Ralph. I’m glad to hear your voice again. D’you know, I thought at first it was all over with you?”
“Over with him!” echoed Peterkin; “it’s only begun with him. Ralph’s days of valorous deeds are but commencing.—Here, my boy; put this flask to your mouth. It’s lucky I fetched it with us. Here, drink.”
“No, not until you tell me what has occurred,” said I, for I still felt confused in my brain.
“Then I won’t tell you a word until you drink,” repeated my friend, as he looked anxiously in my face and held the flask to my lips.
I sipped a mouthful, and felt much revived.
“Now,” continued Peterkin, “I’ll tell you what has happened. We’ve floored a rhinoceros and a giraffe and a lion, which, to my thinking, is a pretty fair bag to make after dusk of a Saturday night! And my big rifle has floored you, which is the least satisfactory part of the night’s entertainment, but which wouldn’t have occurred had you remembered my instructions, which you never do.”
“Oh, I recollect now,” said I, as the spirits revived me. “I’m all right.—But, Jack, I trust that you have not received damage?”
“Not a scratch, I’m thankful to say; though I must confess I was near catching an ugly wound.”
“How so?” I inquired quickly, observing a peculiar smile on Jack’s face as he spoke.
“Oh, make your mind easy,” put in Peterkin; “it was just a small bit of an escape he made. When you let drive at the lion so effectively, one of the balls went in at his mouth and smashed its way out at the back of his skull. The other ball shaved his cheek, and lodged in a tree not two inches from Jack’s nose.”
“You don’t mean it!” cried I, starting up, regardless of the pain occasioned to my injured shoulder by the movement, and gazing intently in Jack’s face.
“Come, come,” said he, smiling; “you must not be so reckless, Ralph. Lie down again, sir.”
“Peterkin, you should not talk lightly of so narrow an escape,” said I reproachfully. “The fact that such a terrible catastrophe has nearly occurred ought to solemnise one.”
“Granted, my dear boy; but the fact that such a catastrophe did not occur, ought, I hold, to make us jolly. There’s no managing a fellow like you, Ralph. I knew that if I told you of this gravely, you would get into such a state of consternational self-reproachativeness, so to speak, that you would infallibly make yourself worse. And now that I tell it to you ‘lightly,’ as you call it, you take to blowing me up.”
I smiled as my friend said this, and held out my hand, which he grasped and squeezed. Feeling at the moment overcome with drowsiness, I unconsciously retained it in my grasp, and thus fell sound asleep.
Three days after this misadventure I was nearly as well as ever, and we were once more journeying by forced marches towards the south. Two days more, we calculated, would bring us to Mbango’s village. As the end of our journey approached, we grew more desperately anxious to push forward, lest we should be too late to give them timely warning of the slave-dealer’s approach. We also became more taciturn, and I could see plainly that the irrepressible forebodings that filled my own heart, were shared by my companions. Poor Makarooroo never spoke, save in reply to questions addressed pointedly to himself; and seeing the state of his mind, we forbore to trouble him with conversation.
Yet, even while in this anxious state, I could not avoid noticing the singular variety and beauty of both the animal and the vegetable kingdom in the regions through which we passed.
In one part of our journey we had to cross a portion of what is called desert country, but which, notwithstanding its name, was covered with grass, and in many places with bushes, and even trees. Its vegetation, however, as compared with other parts of the country, was light; and it was almost entirely destitute of water, there being no rivers or springs; only a few pools of rain-water were to be found in the hard beds of ancient river-courses. This desert land was inhabited by numbers of bushmen and other natives, as well as by large quantities of game of various kinds. But what struck me as being most singular was the great variety of tuberous roots with which the region was supplied, and which were evidently designed by our beneficent Creator to make up to the inhabitants in a great degree for the want of a full supply of water.
I also observed, with much interest, a species of plant which, like man, is capable of being, as it were, acclimatised. It is not by nature a tuber-bearing plant; yet here it had become so, in order to be able to retain a sufficiency of moisture during the dry season. Makarooroo also dug up for us several tuber-roots, which were the size of a large turnip, and filled with a most delicious juice, which, as we were much oppressed with thirst at the time, appeared to us like nectar. Besides these, we also procured water-melons in abundance at certain spots, which were a great treat, not only to us, but also to elephants, rhinoceroses, antelopes, and many other animals, whose footprints we found in great numbers, and whose depredations among the water-melons were very evident.
During the whole of this journey we made a point, as I have already remarked, of avoiding man; not that we were indifferent to him, but anxious not to be detained at that particular time. We were very fortunate in this matter, for we succeeded in eluding the observation of the natives of many villages that we passed, in escaping others by flight, and in conciliating those who caught us by making them liberal gifts of beads.
One day we came to a halt under the most magnificent tree I ever saw. It was a mowano tree, whose trunk consisted of six stems united in one. The circumference a yard or so from the ground was eighty-four feet—upwards of nine yards in diameter.
“What a tree for a nobleman’s park!” said Jack, as we gazed at it, lost in admiration.
“Ay; and behold a gentleman worthy to take up his residence under it,” said Peterkin, pointing as he spoke to a living creature that sat among the grass near its roots.
“What can it be?” I exclaimed.
“The original father of all frogs!” replied Peterkin, as he darted forward and killed the thing with a stick.
“I believe it is a frog,” said Jack.
We all burst into a fit of laughter, for undoubtedly it was a frog, but certainly the largest by far that any of us had ever seen. It was quite as large as a chicken!
“What a shame to have killed it!” said I. “Why did you do it?”
“Shame! It was no shame. In the first place, I killed it because I wish you to make scientific inspection of it; and in the second place, I wanted to eat it. Why should not we as well as Frenchmen eat frogs? By the way, that reminds me that we might introduce this giant species into France, and thereby make our fortunes.”
“You greedy fellow,” cried Jack, who was busying himself in lighting the fire, “your fortune is made already. How many would you have?”
“D’ye know, Jack, I have been in possession of my fortune, as you call it, so short a time that I cannot realise the fact that I have it.—Hollo! Mak, what’s wrong with you?”
Peterkin thus addressed our guide because he came into the camp at that moment with a very anxious expression of countenance.
“Dere hab bin fight go on here,” said he, showing several broken arrows, stained with blood, which he had picked up near our encampment.
“Ha! so there has, unless these have been shot at wild beasts,” said Jack, examining the weapons carefully.
“No, massa; no shot at wild beast. De wild beast hab bin here too, but dey come for to eat mans after he dead.”
“Come, let us see the spot,” said Jack.
Makarooroo at once led the way, and we all followed him to a place not a hundred yards distant, where there were evident traces of a fight having taken place. Jack seemed to be much distressed at the sight.
“There can be no question as to the fact,” he remarked as we returned to our fire; “and at any other time or in any other place I would have thought nothing of it, for we know well enough that the natives here often go to war with each other; but just at this time, and so near to our friend Mbango—I fear, I fear much that that villain has been before us.”
“No been long, massa,” said Makarooroo earnestly. “If we go quick we ketch ’im.”
“We shall go quick, Mak. But in order to do that, we must eat well, and sleep at least an hour or so. If we push on just now, after a hard day’s journey, without food or rest, we shall make but slow progress; and even if we did come up with the slave-dealer, we should not be in a very fit state for a battle.”
This was so obvious that we all felt the wisdom of Jack’s remarks; so we ate a hearty supper, and then lay down to rest. Peterkin declared the frog to be excellent, but I could not at that time make up my mind to try it.
An hour and a half after lying down, our guide awakened us, and we set forth again with recruited energies.
That night the lions and hyenas roared around us more than was their wont, as if they were aware of our anxious condition, and were desirous of increasing our discomforts. We had to keep a sharp lookout, and once or twice discharged our rifles in the direction of the nearest sounds, not in the expectation of hitting any of the animals, but for the purpose of scaring them away.
Towards morning we came out upon an open plain, and left these evil prowlers of the night behind us.
About daybreak we came within sight of Mbango’s village, but the light was not sufficient to enable us to distinguish any object clearly. Here again we came upon traces of war, in the shape of broken arrows and daggers, and human bones; for the poor wretches who had been slain had been at once devoured by wild beasts.
Hurrying forward with intense anxiety, we reached the outskirts of the village; and here a scene presented itself that was well calculated to fill our breasts with horror and with the deepest anxiety. Many of the houses had been set on fire, and were reduced to ashes. The mangled corpses of human beings were seen lying here and there amongst the embers—some partially devoured by wild beasts, others reduced to simple skeletons, and their bones left to whiten on the ruins of their old homes. In one place the form of a woman tied to a tree, and dreadfully mangled, showed that torture had been added to the other horrors of the attack.
With feelings of mingled rage, pity, and anxiety, we hastened towards the hut that had been the residence of Mbango, the chief. We found it, like the rest, in ruins, and among them discovered the remains of a child. Recollecting the little son of our friend Njamie, Okandaga’s guardian, I turned the body over in some anxiety; but the features were too much mutilated to be recognisable.
“Alas! alas!” I exclaimed, as we collected in a group round this remnant of a little child, “what a dreadful sight! What an unhappy race of beings! Without doubt our friends have been slain, or carried into captivity.”
Poor Makarooroo, who had been from the first going about among the ruins like a maniac, with a bewildered air of utter despair on his sable countenance, looked at me as if he hoped for a slight word that might reanimate hope in his bosom. But I could give him none, for I myself felt hopeless.
Not so, Jack. With that buoyancy of spirit that was peculiar to him, he suggested many ideas that consoled our guide not a little.
“You see,” said he, “the rascally Portuguese trafficker in human flesh would naturally try to effect his object with as little bloodshed as possible. He would just fight until he had conquered, not longer; and then he would try to take as many prisoners as he could, in order to carry them away into slavery. Now, I cannot conceive it possible that he could catch the whole tribe.”
“Of course not,” interrupted Peterkin; “he had a comparatively small party. To take a whole tribe prisoners with such a band were impossible.”
“Ay, but you forget,” said I, “that he might easily prevail on some other tribe to go to war along with him, and thus capture nearly the whole. Yet some must have escaped into the woods, and it is probable that among these may have been the chief and his household. Okandaga may be safe, and not far off, for all we know.”
The guide shook his head.
“At any rate,” observed Jack, “if caught they would certainly be guarded with care from injury; so that if we could only find out which way they have gone, we might pursue and attack them.”
“Four men attack forty or fifty!” said I despondingly.
“Ay, Ralph. Why not?” asked Peterkin.
“Oh, I doubt not our pluck to do it,” I replied; “but I doubt very much our chances of success.”
While we were yet speaking our attention was attracted by a low wail, and the appearance of some living object creeping amongst the ruins not far from us. At first we thought it must be a beast of prey lurking in the neighbourhood of the dead, and impatient at our having interrupted its hideous banquet; but presently the object sat up and proved to be a woman. Yet she was so covered with blood and dust, and so awfully haggard in appearance, that we could with difficulty believe her to be a human being.
At first she appeared to be in ignorance of our presence. And indeed so she actually was; for her whole soul was absorbed in the contemplation of the dead and mangled body of an infant which lay in her arms, and which she pressed ever and anon with frantic energy to her breast, uttering occasionally a wail of such heart-broken sadness that the tears sprang irresistibly into my eyes while I gazed upon her. There needed no explanation of her tale of woe. The poor mother had crept back to her hut after the fierce din of battle was over to search for her child, and she had found it; but ah, who can conceive the unutterable anguish of heart that its finding had occasioned!
“Speak to her, Mak,” said Peterkin, in a husky voice; “she will be less afraid of you, no doubt, than of us.”
Our guide advanced. The slight noise he made in doing so attracted the poor woman’s attention, and caused her to look up with a wild, quick glance. The instant she saw us she leaped up with the agility of a leopard, clasped her dead child tightly to her breast, and uttering shriek upon shriek, rushed headlong into the jungle.
“After her!” cried Jack, bounding forward in pursuit. “She’s our only chance of gaining information.”
We all felt the truth of this, and joined in the chase at top speed. But although we ran fast and well, the affrighted creature at first outstripped us. Then, as we tired her out and drew near, she doubled on her track, and dived hither and thither among the thick underwood in a way that rendered it exceedingly difficult to catch her.
Peterkin was the first to come up with her. He gradually but perseveringly ran her down. When he came within a few yards of her, the poor creature sank with a low wail to the ground, and turning half round, glanced at her pursuer with a timid, imploring, yet despairing expression. Alas! despair mingled with it, because she knew too well the terrible cruelty of savage men when their blood is up, and she knew nothing yet of the hearts of Christians.
Peterkin, whose susceptible nature was ever easily touched, felt a thrill of self-reproach as the thought suddenly occurred that, however good his intentions might be, he was in reality running a helpless woman down like a bloodhound. He stopped short instantly, and acting, as on most occasions he did, impulsively, he threw his rifle away from him, unclasped his belt, and throwing it, with his hunting-knife, also away, sat down on the ground and held out both his hands.
There was something almost ludicrous in the act, but it had the effect of, to some extent, relieving the poor woman’s fears. Seeing this, as we successively came up we all laid down our rifles, and stood before the crouching creature with our empty hands extended towards her, to show that we meant her no harm. Still, although she seemed less terrified, she trembled violently, and panted from her recent exertion, but never for a moment relaxed her hold of the dead child.
“Speak to her, Mak,” said Jack, as the guide came up. “Tell her who and what we are at once, to relieve her feelings; and let her know especially that we are the bitter enemies of the villain who has done this deed.”
While Makarooroo explained, the woman’s countenance seemed to brighten up, and in a few minutes she began to tell with great volubility the events of the attack. The trader, she said, had come suddenly on them in the dead of night with a large band, and had at once routed the warriors of the village, who were completely taken by surprise. A few had escaped; but Mbango, with Okandaga and his household, had been taken prisoners, and carried away with many others.
“How long is it since this happened?” inquired Jack.
“She say two days, massa. Den dey go off to ’tack King Jambai.”
“Ah! then it is too late to save him,” returned Jack, in a tone of sadness.
Our hearts sank on learning this; but on questioning the woman further, we found that the marauding party, deeming themselves too weak to attack so large a village as that of King Jambai, had talked of turning aside to secure the assistance of another tribe not far distant, who, they knew, would be too glad to pick a quarrel with that chief.
“Then we shall do it yet!” cried Jack, springing up energetically. “We shall be in time to warn Jambai and to save Okandaga and her friends. Come, Mak, cheer up; things begin to look better.”
The cheerful, confident voice in which our friend said this raised my hopes wonderfully, even although, on consideration, I could not see that our chances of success were very great. Our guide was visibly comforted, and we stepped aside to pick up our rifles with considerable alacrity.
During the brief period in which we were thus employed, the poor woman managed to creep away, and when we again looked round she was gone. Our first impulse was to give chase again, but the thought of the needless terror which that would occasion her deterred us, and before we could make up our minds what to do she was almost beyond our reach, and would certainly have cost us an hour of search, if not longer, to find her. Time pressed. To reach the village of King Jambai with the utmost possible speed was essential to the safety of the tribe, so we resolved to leave her, feeling as we did so that the poor creature could sustain herself on roots and berries without much difficulty or suffering until she reached the village of some neighbouring tribe.
We now pushed on again by forced marches, travelling by night and by day, shooting just enough game as we required for food, and taking no more rest than was absolutely necessary to enable us to hold on our way. In a short time we reached the village, which, to our great joy, we found in much the same state as it was when we left it.
King Jambai received us with great delight, and his people went into a state of immense rejoicing—firing guns, and shouting, and beating kettles and drums, in honour of the arrival of the “white faces;” which name was certainly a misnomer, seeing that our faces had by that time become the very reverse of white—indeed they were little lighter than the countenances of the good people by whom we were surrounded.
But the king’s consternation was very great when we told him the reason of our unexpected visit, and related to him the details of the terrible calamity that had befallen poor Mbango and his people. He appeared sincerely grateful for the effort we had made to warn him of the impending attack, and seemed unable to express his thanks when we offered to aid him in the defence of his village.
We now deemed this a fitting moment to tell the king boldly of our having assisted in the escape of Okandaga from his village, and beg his forgiveness. He granted this at once, but strongly advised us to keep our secret quiet, and leave it to him to account to his warriors for the reappearance of the runaway maiden when retaken. Of course we could make no objection to this, so after thanking him we entered upon a discussion of the best method of frustrating the slave-dealer’s designs.
“Tell the king,” said Jack, addressing himself to our guide, “that if he will make me commander-in-chief of his forces, I will show him how white warriors manage to circumvent their enemies.”
“I would like much,” said Peterkin, laughing, “to know how Mak will translate the word ‘circumvent.’ Your style is rather flowery, Jack, for such an interpreter; and upon my word, now I think of it, your presumption is considerable. How do you know that I do not wish to be commander-in-chief myself?”
“I shall make over the command to you with all my heart, if you wish it,” said Jack, smiling blandly.
“Nay, I’ll none of it. However suited I may be to the work, the work is not suited to me, so I resign in your favour.”
“Well, then,” said Jack, “since you decline to accept the chief command, I’ll make you my second. Mak shall be my aide-de-camp; you and Ralph shall be generals of divisions.”
“I thank you much, my honoured and honourable generalissimo; but perhaps before being thus liberal of your favours, it were well to ascertain that your own services are accepted.”
“That is soon done.—What says the king, Mak?”
“Hims say that him’s delighted to git you, an’ you may doos how you like.”
“That’s plain and explicit. You see, Peterkin, that I’m fairly installed; so you and I will take a short walk together, and hold a consultation as to our plans in the approaching campaign, while Ralph arranges our hut and makes things comfortable.”
“A glorious campaign, truly, to serve in an army of baboons, led by a white gorilla! I would deem it almost comical, did I not see too sure a probability of bloodshed before its conclusion,” remarked Peterkin.
“That you shall not see, if I can prevent it; and it is for the purpose of consulting you on that point, and claiming your services in an old and appropriate character, that I drag you along with me now,” said Jack, as he rose, and, making a bow to the king, left the hut.
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