The plan which Jack and Peterkin concocted, while I was engaged in making the interior of our old residence as comfortable as possible, was as follows:—
Scouts were, in the first place, to be sent out that night all over the country, to ascertain the whereabouts of the enemy. Then, when the enemy should be discovered, they were to send back one of their number to report; while the remainder should remain to dog their steps, if need be, in order to ascertain whether Mbango and Okandaga were in their possession, and if so, where they were kept—whether in the midst of the warriors or in their rear.
This settled, the remainder of the warriors of the village were to be collected together, and a speech to be made to them by Jack, who should explain to them that they were to be divided into two bands: all who carried guns to be under the immediate charge of Jack himself; the others, carrying bows and spears, to be placed under me. Peterkin was to act a peculiar part, which will appear in the course of narration.
Having partaken of a hearty supper, we assembled the scouts, and having, through Makarooroo, given them their instructions, sent them away just as the shades of night began to fall. We next caused a huge bonfire to be kindled, and round this all the men of the village assembled, to the extent of several hundreds. The king soon appeared, and mounting the trunk of a fallen tree, made a long speech to his warriors, telling them of the danger that threatened them, in such vivid and lively terms that the greater part of them began to exhibit expressions of considerable uneasiness on their countenances. He then told them of the trouble that we had taken, in order to give them timely warning—whereat they cast upon us looks of gratitude; and after that introduced Jack to them as their commander-in-chief, saying, that as a white man led the enemy, nothing could be better than that a white man should lead them to meet the enemy—whereat the sable warriors gave a shout of satisfaction and approval.
Having been thus introduced, Jack mounted the trunk of the fallen tree, and Makarooroo got up beside him to interpret. He began, like a wise diplomatist, by complimenting King Jambai, and spoke at some length on courage in general, and on the bravery of King Jambai’s warriors in particular; which, of course, he took for granted. Then he came to particulars, and explained as much of his intended movements as he deemed it good for them to know; and wound up by saying that he had three words of command to teach them, which they must learn to understand and act upon that very night. They were, “Forward!” “Halt!” and “Fire!” By saying the first of these words very slow and in a drawling voice, thus, “Forw-a-a-a-a-a-rd!” and the second in a quick, sharp tone, and the third in a ferocious yell that caused the whole band to start, he actually got them to understand and distinguish the difference between the commands, and to act upon them in the course of half an hour.
The drill of his army being thus completed, Jack dismissed them with a caution to hold themselves in readiness to answer promptly the first call to arms; and the king enforced the caution by quietly assuring them that the man who did not attend to this order, and otherwise respect and obey Jack as if he were the king, should have his heart, eyes, and liver torn out, and the rest of his carcass cast to the dogs—a threat which seemed to us very horrible and uncalled for, but which, nevertheless, was received by the black warriors with perfect indifference.
“Now, Mak,” said Jack, as he descended to the ground, “do you come with me, and help me to place sentries.”
“W’at be dat, massa?”
“Men who are placed to guard the village from surprise during the night,” explained Jack.
“Ho! dat be de ting; me know someting ’bout dat.”
“No doubt you do, but I daresay you don’t know the best way to place them; and perhaps you are not aware that the pretty little threat uttered by the king shall be almost carried out in the case of every man who shall be found asleep at his post or who shall desert it.”
The guide grinned and followed his commander in silence, while I returned to our hut and busied myself in cleaning the rifles and making other preparations for the expected fight.
At an early hour on the following morning we were awakened by the arrival of one of the scouts, who reported that the Portuguese trader, with a strong and well-armed force, was encamped on the margin of a small pond about fifteen miles distant from the village. The scout had gone straight to the spot on being sent out, knowing that it was a likely place for them to encamp, if they should encamp at all. And here he found them making active preparations for an attack on the village. Creeping like a serpent through the grass, the scout approached near enough to overhear their arrangements, which were to the elect that the attack should take place at midnight of the following day. He observed that there were many prisoners in the camp—men, women, and children—and these were to be left behind, in charge of a small party of armed men; while the main body, under the immediate command of the Portuguese trader, should proceed to the attack of the village.
From the scout’s description of the prisoners, we became convinced that they were none other than our friends Mbango and his people, and one woman answering to the description of Okandaga was among them.
“So, Mak, we shall save her yet,” cried Jack heartily, slapping the shoulder of the guide, whose honest visage beamed with returning hope.
“Yis, massa. S’pose we go off dis hour and fight ’em?”
“Nay; that were somewhat too hasty a movement. ‘Slow but sure’ must be our motto until night. Then we shall pounce upon our foes like a leopard on his prey. But ask the scout if that is all he has got to tell us.”
“Hims say, massa, dat hims find one leetle chile—one boy—when hims go away from de camp to come back to here.”
“A boy!” repeated Jack; “where—how?”
“In de woods, where hims was trow’d to die; so de scout take him up and bring him to here.”
“Ah, poor child!” said I; “no doubt it must have been sick, and being a burden, has been left behind. But stay. How could that be possible if it was found between the camp and this village?”
On further inquiry, we ascertained that the scout, after hearing what he thought enough of their arrangements, had travelled some distance beyond the encampment, in order to make sure that there were no other bands connected with the one he had left, and it was while thus engaged that he stumbled on the child, which seemed to be in a dying condition.
“Hims say, too,” continued Makarooroo, after interpreting the above information, “that there be one poor woman in awfable sorrow, screechin’ and hollerowin’ like one lion.”
“Eh?” exclaimed Peterkin. “Describe her to us.”
The scout did so as well as he could.
“As sure as we live,” cried Peterkin, “it is our friend Njamie, and the child must be her boy! Come, show us the little fellow.”
We all ran out and followed the scout to his hut, where we found his wives—for he had three of them—nursing the child as tenderly as if it had been their own. It was very much wasted, evidently through want of food and over-fatigue; but we instantly recognised the once sturdy little son of Njamie in the faded little being before us. He, too, recognised us, for his bright spectral eyes opened wide when he saw us.
“I knew it,” said I.
“I told you so,” cried Peterkin.—“Now, Mak, pump him, and let’s hear what he knows.”
The poor child was far too much exhausted to undergo the pumping process referred to. He could merely answer that Njamie and Okandaga and Mbango were prisoners in the camp, and then turned languidly away, as if he desired rest.
“Poor boy!” said Peterkin tenderly, as he laid his hand gently on the child’s woolly pate.—“Tell them, Mak, to look well after him here, and they shall be paid handsomely for—nay” (here he interrupted himself), “don’t say that. ’Tis a bad thing to offer to pay for that which people are willing to do for love.”
“Right, lad,” said Jack: “we can easily make these poor folk happy by giving them something afterwards, without saying that it is bestowed because of their kindness to the boy. The proper reward of diligent successful labour is a prize, but the best reward of love and kindness is a warm, hearty recognition of their existence.—Just tell them, Mak, that we are glad to see them so good and attentive to the little chap.—And now, my generals, if it is consistent with your other engagements, I would be glad to have a little private consultation with you.”
“Ready and willing, my lord,” said Peterkin, as we followed Jack towards the king’s palace. “But,” he added seriously, “I don’t like to be a general of division at all.”
“Why not, Peterkin?”
“Why, you see, when I was at school I found division so uncommonly difficult, and suffered so much, mentally and physically, in the learning of it, that I have a species of morbid antipathy to the very name. I even intend to refuse a seat in parliament, when offered to me, because of the divisions that are constantly going on there. If you could only make me a general of subtraction now, or—”
“That,” interrupted Jack, “were easily done, by deducting you from the force altogether, and commanding you to remain at home.”
“In which case,” rejoined Peterkin, “I should have to become general of addition, by revolunteering my services, in order to prevent the whole expedition from resolving itself into General Muddle, whose name and services are well-known in all branches of military and civil service.”
“So that,” added Jack, “it all comes to this, that you and Ralph and I must carry on the war by rule of three, each taking his just and appropriate proportion of the work to be done. Now, to change the subject, there’s the sun getting up, and so is the king, if I may judge from the stir in his majesty’s household.”
Having begged the king to assemble his warriors together, Jack now proceeded to divide them into four companies, or bands, over which he appointed respective leaders. All the men who possessed guns were assembled together in one band, numbering about one hundred and fifty men. These Jack subdivided into two companies, one including a hundred, the other fifty men. The remainder, constituting the main army, were armed with bows and arrows, spears and knives. Of these a large force was told off to remain behind and guard the village.
This home-guard was placed under command of the king in person. The hundred musketeers were placed under Peterkin’s command. The other fifty were given to me, along with a hundred spear and bow men. Jack himself took command of the main body of spearmen. As Peterkin had to act a special and independent part, besides commanding his hundred musketeers, Makarooroo was made over to him, to act as lieutenant.
All these arrangements and appointments were made in a cool, quiet, and arbitrary manner by Jack, to whom the natives, including the king, looked up with a species of awe amounting almost to veneration.
“Now,” said our commander-in-chief to Lieutenant Mak, “tell the niggers I am going to make them a speech,” (this was received with a grunt of satisfaction), “and that if they wish to have the smallest chance of overcoming their enemies, they had better give their closest attention to what I have to say.”
Another grunt of acquiescence followed this announcement.
“Say that I am going to speak to them of things so mysterious that they shall not by any conceivable or possible effort understand them.”
This being quite in accordance with the superstitions and tastes of the negroes, was received with eager acclamations of delight.
“Tell them,” continued Jack, in a deep, solemn tone, and frowning darkly, “that we shall gain the victory only through obedience. Each man must keep his ears open and his eye on his leader, and must obey orders at once. If the order ‘Halt’ should be given, and any man should have his mouth open at the time, he must keep his mouth open, and shut it after he has halted.”
Here Jack took occasion to revert to the three orders, “Forward,” “Halt,” and “Fire,” and repeated the lesson several times, until his men were quite perfect. Then he put the various bodies under their respective commanders, and telling the musketeers to make believe to fire (but making sure that they should not really do it, by taking their guns from them), he made each of us give the various words separately, so that our men should become familiar with our voices.
This done, he called the generals of divisions to him, and said—
“Now, gentlemen, I am going to review my troops, and to give them their final lesson in military tactics, with the double view of seeing that they know what they have got to do, and of impressing them with a due sense of the great advantage of even a slight knowledge of drill.”
He then directed us to take command of our several companies (Makarooroo being placed on this occasion over the king’s band), and pointed out the separate directions in which we were ultimately to post our troops, so as to advance upon the spot on which the king stood when the signal should be given. We had already taught the men the necessity of attacking in a compact single line, and of forming up into this position from what is termed Indian file, with which latter they were already acquainted. Of course we could not hope to teach them the principles of wheeling in the short time at our command. To overcome this difficulty, we told each band to follow its leader, who should walk in front; to advance when he advanced, to retire when he retired, and to turn this way or that way, according to his movements.
At a signal we gave the word “Forward!” and the whole band defiled into the woods before the king, and disappeared like a vision, to the unutterable amazement of his majesty, who stood perfectly motionless, with eyes and mouth open to their fullest extent.
Having marched together for some distance, each leader detached his men and led them, as it were, to opposite directions of the compass, three of the bands making a considerable détour, in order to get the spot where the king stood in the centre of us. Then we halted and awaited the next signal. In about ten minutes it was given—a loud whistle—and we gave the word “Forward” again. I say “we,” because the result proved that we had done so. Being out of sight of the other bands, of course I could not see how they acted.
On I rushed over brake and bush and morass, my men following me in a very good line, considering the nature of the ground. I had divided them into four lines, with an interval of about six yards between each. And it was really wonderful how well they kept in that position. The other companies had been ordered to act in the same way.
On bursting out of the woods I saw that we had outstripped the other companies, so I held my men in check by running somewhat slower; and they had been so deeply impressed with the fatal consequences of not doing exactly as I did, that they stared at me with all their eyes, to the no small risk of their lives; for one or two dashed against trees, and others tumbled head over heels into holes, in their anxiety to keep their eyes upon me.
In a few seconds I observed Peterkin spring out of the woods, followed by his men, so I went on again at full speed. As we entered the village, our ranks were sadly broken and confused by the huts; but on gaining the open space where Jack stood, I was pleased to observe that the negroes tried, of their own accord, to regain their original formation, and succeeded so well that we came on in four tolerably straight and compact lines. Each commander having been forewarned to hold his men in check, or to push forward, so as to arrive at the central point at the same moment, Jack, Peterkin, Makarooroo, and I ran in upon the king together, and unitedly gave the word “Halt!” whereupon we found ourselves in the centre of a solid square.
So deeply had the men been impressed with the necessity of obedience that they had scarcely observed each other’s approach. They now stood rooted to the ground in every possible attitude of suddenly-arrested motion, and all with their eyes and mouths wide open. In another moment the result of their combined movement became evident to them, and they uttered a yell of delighted surprise.
“Very good, very good indeed,” said Jack; “and that concluding yell was very effective—quite magnificent.—But you see,” he added, turning to me, “although such a yell is sufficiently appalling to us, it will no doubt be a mere trifle to men who are used to it. What say you to teaching them a British cheer?”
“Absurd,” said I; “they will never learn to give it properly.”
“I don’t know that,” rejoined Jack, in a doubtful manner.
“Try,” said Peterkin.
“So I will.—Mak, tell them now that I’m going to continue the speech which this little review interrupted.”
“They’s all ready for more, massa.”
This was patent to the meanest capacity; for the negroes stood gazing at their commander-in-chief with eyes and mouths and ears open, and nostrils expanded, as if anxious to gulp in and swallow down his words through every organ.
“There is a cry,” said Jack, “which the white man gives when he enters into battle—a terrible cry, which is quite different from that of the black man, and which is so awful that it strikes terror into the heart of the white man’s enemies, and has even been known to make a whole army fly almost without a shot being fired. We shall let you hear it.”
Thereupon Jack and I and Peterkin gave utterance to a cheer of the most vociferous description, which evidently filled the minds of the natives with admiration.
“Now,” resumed Jack, “I wish my black warriors to try that cheer—”
Some of the black warriors, supposing that the expression of this wish was a direct invitation to them to begin, gave utterance to a terrific howl.
“Stay! stop!” cried Jack, holding up his hand.
Every mouth was closed instantly.
“You must cheer by command. I will say ‘Hip, hip, hip!’ three times; as soon as I say the third ‘hip,’ out with the cry. Now then. Hip, hip—”
“’Popotamus,” whispered Peterkin.
“Hip, hurrah!” shouted Jack.
“Hurl! ho! sh! kee! how!” yelled the savages, each man giving his own idea of our terror-inspiring British cheer.
“That will do,” said Jack quietly; “it is quite evident that the war-cry of the white man is not suited to the throat of the black. You will utter your usual shout, my friends, when the signal is given; but remember, not before that.
“And now I come to the greatest mystery of all.” (Every ear was eagerly attentive.) “The shot and bits of metal and little stones with which King Jambai’s warriors are accustomed to kill will not do on this great and peculiar occasion. They will not answer the purpose—my purpose; therefore I have provided a kind of bullet which every one must use instead of his usual shot. No warriors ever used such bullets in the fight before. They are very precious, because I have only enough of them to give one to each man. But that will do. If the enemy does not fly at the first discharge, then you may load with your own shot.”
So saying, Jack, with the utmost gravity, took from the pouch that hung at his side a handful of little balls of paper about the size of a musket bullet, which he began to distribute among the savages. We had observed Jack making several hundreds of these, the night previous to this memorable day, out of one or two newspapers we had carried along with us for wadding; but he would not at that time tell us what he was going to do with them. The negroes received this novel species of ammunition with deep interest and surprise. Never having seen printed paper before, or, in all probability, paper of any kind, they were much taken up with the mysterious characters imprinted thereon, and no doubt regarded these as the cause of the supernatural power which the bullets were supposed to possess.
“Remember,” said Jack, “when these are discharged at the enemy, I do not say that they will kill, but I do say that they will cause the enemy to fly. Only, be assured that everything depends on your obedience. And if one single stone, or nail, or hard substance is put in along with these bullets, the chief part of my plans will be frustrated.”
It was quite evident, from the expression of their sable countenances, that the idea of the bullets not killing was anything but agreeable. They were too deeply impressed, however, with Jack’s power, and too far committed in the enterprise, and generally too much overwhelmed with mingled surprise and perplexity, to offer any objection.
“Now,” said Jack in conclusion, “you may go and eat well. To-night, when it grows dark, hold yourselves in readiness to go forth in dead silence. Mind that: not a sound to be uttered until the signal, ‘Hip, hip, hip!’ is given.”
“And,” added Peterkin, in an undertone to Makarooroo, “tell them that King Jambai expects that every man will do his duty.”
This remark was received with a shout and a frightful display of white teeth, accompanied by a tremendous flourish of guns, bows, and spears.
There was something quite awful, not to say picturesque, in this displaying of teeth, which took place many times during the course of the above proceedings. You looked upon a sea of black ebony balls, each having two white dots with black centres near the top of it. Suddenly the ebony balls were gashed across, and a sort of storm, as it were, of deep red mingled with pure white swept over the dark cloud of heads before you, and vanished as quickly as it had appeared, only to reappear, however, at the next stroke of humour, or at some “touch of that nature” which is said on very high authority, to “make the whole world kin.”
The proceedings eventually closed with a brief speech from the king, who referred to Peterkin’s remark about each man doing his duty, and said that, “if each man did not do his duty—” Here his majesty paused for a minute, and wrought his countenance into horrible contortions, indicative of the most excruciating agony, and wound up with an emphatic repetition of that dire threat about the unnatural treatment of eyes, heart, liver, and carcass, which had on the previous evening sounded so awful in our ears, and had been treated with such profound indifference by those whom it was specially designed to affect.
“I didn’t know, Jack,” observed Peterkin gravely, as we returned to our hut, “that you were such an out-and-out humbug.”
“You are severe, Peterkin. I scarcely deserve to be called a humbug for acting to the best of my judgment in peculiar circumstances.”
“Peculiar circumstances!” responded Peterkin. “Truly they have received peculiar treatment!”
“That is as it should be,” rejoined Jack; “at any rate, be they peculiar or be they otherwise, our plans are settled and our mode of action fixed, so we must e’en abide the issue.”
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