Chapter Thirty Six.Certainly there was a body of our defenders five-and-twenty yards away in one direction, and sixty in another; but while the alarm was spreading a dozen active Indians would be able to scale the fence.At least so it seemed to me, as without hesitation I uttered a wild cry for help, Pomp raising his voice to supplement mine.“Here! This way! Here! Indians!” I shouted; and I heard the sound of hurrying feet, and a sharp decisive order or two being given; but at the same moment there was a peculiar scraping sound on the rough fence which told me that the Indians were climbing over, and I stood hesitating, puzzled as to whether it was my duty to run or stop where I was, so as to keep up the alarm and guide our people through the darkness to the exact spot.All this was a matter of moments, and I hesitated too long. I was conscious of our people being close at hand; then of feeling Pomp dragging at me, and saying something excitedly. Then it was as if a big mass had fallen from above, and I lay crushed down and senseless in a darkness far greater than that of the night.When I came to my senses again, I found that I was lying on my face with something heavy across me, from beneath which I managed to creep at last, shuddering the while, as I felt that it was the body of a dead or wounded man. Everything about me was still, but I could hear voices at a distance, and I wondered what had taken place, and why I was left there like that.It was very puzzling, for my head was so confused that I could not recollect what had taken place before, so as to understand why it was that I was lying out there in the darkness, close to this wounded man.At last I concluded to shout for help, and my lips parted, but no sound came. This startled me, and I began to tremble, for it was all so new and strange.But by degrees my brain grew clearer, and I began to have faint rays of understanding penetrate my darkened mind. These grew brighter and brighter, till at last I was able to understand that I had been struck down by a tremendous blow on the head, the very realisation of that fact being accompanied by such acute pain, that I was glad to lie there perfectly inert without thinking at all.But this fit did not last long, and I could see now the matter in its true light, and it all came back about how I gave the alarm, and must have been standing there as the Indians came over, and I was struck down at once.Then as I lay there in the darkness, I began to recall how I had been lying with some one across me, and half suffocating me.I had crawled away a few yards in my half insensible condition, but now a shuddering desire came over me to creep back, and find out who it was that lay there dead or dying.It was terrible, that feeling, for I felt that I must go, and as I crept back, it was with the idea that it was probably one of those who would be the first to rush to the defence of the palisade, and in a confused, half-dreamy way, I found myself combating the fancy that it might be my father.I paused when about half-way back, afraid to go farther, but the intense desire to know the worst came over me again, and I crept on and then stopped with my hand raised, and held suspended over the prostrate figure, afraid to move it and touch the body.At last, and I uttered a faint sigh full of relief, for my hand had fallen upon the bare breast of a man, and I knew that it must be one of the Indians. It was puzzling that he and I should be there, and no one near, for I could not detect the presence of either of the sentries. Where was everybody? Some one was coming, though, the next minute, for I heard soft footsteps, and then the murmur of voices, which came nearer and nearer till I heard a familiar voice say—“Oh, Mass’ George, do ’peak.”I tried to obey, but no sound would come, even now that I felt a vast sense of relief, for I knew that I must have been hurt, and the two blacks were in search of me.“Ah, here him are,” suddenly cried Pomp, and I next felt two great hands lifting me gently, and I was carried through the darkness to what I knew must be the block-house, where I had some recollection of being laid down. Then I directly went off to sleep, and did not awake till nearly day, to see a black face close to the rough pallet on which I lay, and as the day grew broader, I made out that it was Pomp watching by my side.“Mass’ George better now?”“Better? Yes; I am not ill,” I said, and I tried to get up, but lay still again, for the effort seemed to give me a violent pain in the head which made me groan.“Mass’ George not seem very better.”“But I am. I’ll get up directly. But tell me, Pomp, how was it all?”“How was?”“Yes; how did it happen?”“Done know, Mass’ George. ’Pose Injum come over big fence and jump on and knock poor lil nigger and Mass’ George down. Den um hab big fight an kill de Injum, an noder big fight by de gate an kill more Injum, and den Injum say good-night, time go to bed, an dat’s all.”“The Indians gone?”“Yes; all gone.”“Then we have beaten them. Hurrah! Oh, my head!”“Hurrah—oh my head!” cried Pomp, in imitation. “Why say ‘Hurrah! Oh, my head’?”“Oh, don’t, Pomp. You make me laugh.”“Dat right; glad see Mass’ George laugh. Mass’ George couldn’t laugh lil bit when Pomp fess um fader carry um.”“No; I remember now. I had forgotten.”“Mass’ Dockor say good job Mass’ George got tick head, or kill um.”“Did the doctor say that, Pomp?”“Yes, Mass’ Dockor say dat. Injum hit um wif um lil chopper, same time some one shoot and kill Injum; den Pomp knock down, and all jump on um, and dey pick um up, and take um ’way, and bring um here.”“Then were you hurt too?”“Yes, hurt dreffle, and dockor laugh, and say nuffum matter wif um, and send um ’way ’gain. Den Pomp go an’ fine um fader, and come an’ fine Mass’ George, and bring um here. Dockor no laugh at Mass’ George, ony say, ‘Poor fellow!’ and ‘Put um to bed,’ an’ ‘Good job um got such tick head,’ and put plaster on um.”I raised my hand to my head, and sure enough there was some sticking-plaster there.“Does my father know?” I said, as a sudden thought occurred to me.“Pomp done know, Mass’ George. Haben see Mass’ Capen long time.”Our conversation was checked by the entrance of the doctor, who smiled as he saw me sitting up on the rude bed.“Well, squire,” he said, “you seem determined to be a patient. How are you now?”“My head aches a good deal.”“No wonder, my lad, you got an ugly crack with the flat of a tomahawk. The man must have slipped as he was leaping from the fence. A narrow escape for you.”“But the Indians are beaten off,” I said, eagerly.“For the present at all events. But they may attack again to-night, and I am beginning to be busy.”“Must I stop here, sir?”“Certainly not, if you feel well enough to get up.”At that moment a shadow darkened the door, and my father came in quickly, followed by Hannibal.“George? Hurt?” he exclaimed, huskily.“Not much, father,” I said, “and the doctor says I may get up.”“Thank Heaven!” muttered my father. Then aloud, “I have only just heard from Hannibal here. You gave me a terrible fright.”My father took hold of my hands to hold them in his for a few moments, as he looked full in my eyes; and I wondered at it, for I was not old enough then to understand his emotion, nor to think I was bad enough to stop in bed.Ten minutes later I was out in the enclosure, and learned a little more about what had taken place after I was knocked down insensible. How there had been several hand-to-hand encounters where the Indians had determinedly climbed over and gained a footing, from which they were dislodged directly, with the result that several were killed and wounded—four of our party also having ugly wounds.As I was going across the enclosure, hearing how the enemy had been finally beaten off, and had retreated into the forest, where it was not considered safe to follow them, Colonel Preston met us, looking jaded and anxious, but his face brightened up as he saw me, and he came up and shook hands.“Why, George Bruton, you are a lucky fellow,” he cried, laughingly. “Two wounds. This is grand. Of course he must be promoted, Bruton, as soon as peace is proclaimed.”“Why, George,” said my father, as we went on, “what’s the matter?”“I don’t like to be laughed at, father,” I said; “and Colonel Preston was making fun of me, as if I were a little child.”“He did not mean it unkindly. There, come and have some light breakfast, and you must keep out of the sun.”
Certainly there was a body of our defenders five-and-twenty yards away in one direction, and sixty in another; but while the alarm was spreading a dozen active Indians would be able to scale the fence.
At least so it seemed to me, as without hesitation I uttered a wild cry for help, Pomp raising his voice to supplement mine.
“Here! This way! Here! Indians!” I shouted; and I heard the sound of hurrying feet, and a sharp decisive order or two being given; but at the same moment there was a peculiar scraping sound on the rough fence which told me that the Indians were climbing over, and I stood hesitating, puzzled as to whether it was my duty to run or stop where I was, so as to keep up the alarm and guide our people through the darkness to the exact spot.
All this was a matter of moments, and I hesitated too long. I was conscious of our people being close at hand; then of feeling Pomp dragging at me, and saying something excitedly. Then it was as if a big mass had fallen from above, and I lay crushed down and senseless in a darkness far greater than that of the night.
When I came to my senses again, I found that I was lying on my face with something heavy across me, from beneath which I managed to creep at last, shuddering the while, as I felt that it was the body of a dead or wounded man. Everything about me was still, but I could hear voices at a distance, and I wondered what had taken place, and why I was left there like that.
It was very puzzling, for my head was so confused that I could not recollect what had taken place before, so as to understand why it was that I was lying out there in the darkness, close to this wounded man.
At last I concluded to shout for help, and my lips parted, but no sound came. This startled me, and I began to tremble, for it was all so new and strange.
But by degrees my brain grew clearer, and I began to have faint rays of understanding penetrate my darkened mind. These grew brighter and brighter, till at last I was able to understand that I had been struck down by a tremendous blow on the head, the very realisation of that fact being accompanied by such acute pain, that I was glad to lie there perfectly inert without thinking at all.
But this fit did not last long, and I could see now the matter in its true light, and it all came back about how I gave the alarm, and must have been standing there as the Indians came over, and I was struck down at once.
Then as I lay there in the darkness, I began to recall how I had been lying with some one across me, and half suffocating me.
I had crawled away a few yards in my half insensible condition, but now a shuddering desire came over me to creep back, and find out who it was that lay there dead or dying.
It was terrible, that feeling, for I felt that I must go, and as I crept back, it was with the idea that it was probably one of those who would be the first to rush to the defence of the palisade, and in a confused, half-dreamy way, I found myself combating the fancy that it might be my father.
I paused when about half-way back, afraid to go farther, but the intense desire to know the worst came over me again, and I crept on and then stopped with my hand raised, and held suspended over the prostrate figure, afraid to move it and touch the body.
At last, and I uttered a faint sigh full of relief, for my hand had fallen upon the bare breast of a man, and I knew that it must be one of the Indians. It was puzzling that he and I should be there, and no one near, for I could not detect the presence of either of the sentries. Where was everybody? Some one was coming, though, the next minute, for I heard soft footsteps, and then the murmur of voices, which came nearer and nearer till I heard a familiar voice say—
“Oh, Mass’ George, do ’peak.”
I tried to obey, but no sound would come, even now that I felt a vast sense of relief, for I knew that I must have been hurt, and the two blacks were in search of me.
“Ah, here him are,” suddenly cried Pomp, and I next felt two great hands lifting me gently, and I was carried through the darkness to what I knew must be the block-house, where I had some recollection of being laid down. Then I directly went off to sleep, and did not awake till nearly day, to see a black face close to the rough pallet on which I lay, and as the day grew broader, I made out that it was Pomp watching by my side.
“Mass’ George better now?”
“Better? Yes; I am not ill,” I said, and I tried to get up, but lay still again, for the effort seemed to give me a violent pain in the head which made me groan.
“Mass’ George not seem very better.”
“But I am. I’ll get up directly. But tell me, Pomp, how was it all?”
“How was?”
“Yes; how did it happen?”
“Done know, Mass’ George. ’Pose Injum come over big fence and jump on and knock poor lil nigger and Mass’ George down. Den um hab big fight an kill de Injum, an noder big fight by de gate an kill more Injum, and den Injum say good-night, time go to bed, an dat’s all.”
“The Indians gone?”
“Yes; all gone.”
“Then we have beaten them. Hurrah! Oh, my head!”
“Hurrah—oh my head!” cried Pomp, in imitation. “Why say ‘Hurrah! Oh, my head’?”
“Oh, don’t, Pomp. You make me laugh.”
“Dat right; glad see Mass’ George laugh. Mass’ George couldn’t laugh lil bit when Pomp fess um fader carry um.”
“No; I remember now. I had forgotten.”
“Mass’ Dockor say good job Mass’ George got tick head, or kill um.”
“Did the doctor say that, Pomp?”
“Yes, Mass’ Dockor say dat. Injum hit um wif um lil chopper, same time some one shoot and kill Injum; den Pomp knock down, and all jump on um, and dey pick um up, and take um ’way, and bring um here.”
“Then were you hurt too?”
“Yes, hurt dreffle, and dockor laugh, and say nuffum matter wif um, and send um ’way ’gain. Den Pomp go an’ fine um fader, and come an’ fine Mass’ George, and bring um here. Dockor no laugh at Mass’ George, ony say, ‘Poor fellow!’ and ‘Put um to bed,’ an’ ‘Good job um got such tick head,’ and put plaster on um.”
I raised my hand to my head, and sure enough there was some sticking-plaster there.
“Does my father know?” I said, as a sudden thought occurred to me.
“Pomp done know, Mass’ George. Haben see Mass’ Capen long time.”
Our conversation was checked by the entrance of the doctor, who smiled as he saw me sitting up on the rude bed.
“Well, squire,” he said, “you seem determined to be a patient. How are you now?”
“My head aches a good deal.”
“No wonder, my lad, you got an ugly crack with the flat of a tomahawk. The man must have slipped as he was leaping from the fence. A narrow escape for you.”
“But the Indians are beaten off,” I said, eagerly.
“For the present at all events. But they may attack again to-night, and I am beginning to be busy.”
“Must I stop here, sir?”
“Certainly not, if you feel well enough to get up.”
At that moment a shadow darkened the door, and my father came in quickly, followed by Hannibal.
“George? Hurt?” he exclaimed, huskily.
“Not much, father,” I said, “and the doctor says I may get up.”
“Thank Heaven!” muttered my father. Then aloud, “I have only just heard from Hannibal here. You gave me a terrible fright.”
My father took hold of my hands to hold them in his for a few moments, as he looked full in my eyes; and I wondered at it, for I was not old enough then to understand his emotion, nor to think I was bad enough to stop in bed.
Ten minutes later I was out in the enclosure, and learned a little more about what had taken place after I was knocked down insensible. How there had been several hand-to-hand encounters where the Indians had determinedly climbed over and gained a footing, from which they were dislodged directly, with the result that several were killed and wounded—four of our party also having ugly wounds.
As I was going across the enclosure, hearing how the enemy had been finally beaten off, and had retreated into the forest, where it was not considered safe to follow them, Colonel Preston met us, looking jaded and anxious, but his face brightened up as he saw me, and he came up and shook hands.
“Why, George Bruton, you are a lucky fellow,” he cried, laughingly. “Two wounds. This is grand. Of course he must be promoted, Bruton, as soon as peace is proclaimed.”
“Why, George,” said my father, as we went on, “what’s the matter?”
“I don’t like to be laughed at, father,” I said; “and Colonel Preston was making fun of me, as if I were a little child.”
“He did not mean it unkindly. There, come and have some light breakfast, and you must keep out of the sun.”
Chapter Thirty Seven.That day passed quietly enough, with scouts going and coming to report that the Indians’ trail was plainly to be seen going along the north bank of our little stream, as if they were making right away for their own country, and after the scouts had gone as far as they dared, they had returned with their good news. This was quickly debated in a little council, and the result was a firm determination not to put any faith in appearances, but to keep everything on a war footing, scouting carefully so as not to be surprised by an enemy full of cunning and treachery; and though there was some little demur amongst those whose houses and plantations were farthest from the fort, all soon settled down to what resolved itself during the next week into a pleasant kind of camping out.Rough tents were rigged up, and the different parties vied with each other in their efforts to make their homes attractive. Fresh things were brought in by the help of the slaves from the most outlying of the houses, and when lights were lit in the evening the place looked pretty in the extreme, so that more than once I found myself thinking that we were to be the only sufferers from the Indian attack, and wondered, now that the enemy had had so severe a lesson read them, how long it would be before my father decided to go back and get our neighbours’ help to rebuild the house.A fortnight glided by—fourteen days of uninterruptedly fine weather. I had almost forgotten my injuries. Pomp had taken his wounded limb out of the sling, and only remembered the injury when he tried to move his hand, when he would utter a cry and begin softly rubbing the place.Sarah too was recovering fast, and I knew no reason now why we should still go on living such a military life, with the General and his officers seeming to take delight in drilling, practising the men in the use of their weapons, and setting guards by night, and sending out scouts by day, with the gates closed rigorously at a certain time.There was another thing done too, the idea being suggested by my father—a lesson taught by our own misfortune—and this was that every tub and cask that could be obtained in the settlement should be put about in handy places, and kept well filled with water always, these being supplemented by pails and buckets, which every one was bound to set outside his place full of water every night, while the men were all well practised in the extremely simple art of passing and refilling buckets—so as to be ready in case of fire.“There’s some talk of giving up all this here playing at soldiers, Master George,” said Morgan to me one day.“Is there?” I said, eagerly.“Yes, and if you ar’n’t tired of it, I am. Never so much as had a chance to go out and scout like the others have.”“Well, I haven’t either, nor Hannibal, nor Pomp.”“No, my lad; but if you don’t tie down that jockey or chain him by the leg, he’ll be off one of these days. I’m always finding him sitting a-top of the fence like a crow with his wing cut, thinking he wished he could fly.”“Looking out for the Indians,” I said.“Not him, sir; he’s thinking about games in the woods; hunting snakes, catching ’gators, or killing ’coons. He’s getting a nice howdacious one, he is. If it wasn’t for his black skin, you might think he was a reg’lar boy.”“So he is,” I said; “what difference does his skin make? I like old Pomp.”“Well, sir,” said Morgan, thoughtfully, “I like old Hannibal—old Vanity, as you call him; but you know he is black.”“Of course.”“Very black, Master George. Why, I should say he’s got the blackest skin and the whitest teeth of any one I ever did see.”“And I dare say he thinks you’ve got the whitest skin and the blackest teeth he ever saw.”“Now—now—now—now—Master George; gently there, if you please. My skin’s getting redder and browner every day, so as I don’t half know myself when I shaves; and as to my teeth, just wait till you’ve used yours five-and-forty year, and had to eat such beef as I’ve had to eat in the army, and you won’t be quite so proud of them bits o’ ivory of yours, look you.”“Why don’t you leave off saying ‘Look you,’ Morgan? It’s always ‘Look you,’ or ‘Teclare to cootness,’ and it does sound so stupid.”“Not it, my lad,” said Morgan, proudly. “It’s that which shows I belong to the Ancient British.”“Nonsense! You’re a Welshman.”“Ah, you call me so, my lad, but I belong to the genuwyne old British stock. You ask the captain if I don’t. And as to my teeth, why, when we was out with the army, I believe they used to buy all the old bulls, and the older and harder they were the better they used to like ’em.”“Why?”“Because they used to go the further. Ah, we did a lot of fighting on it though, and I thought I’d come to the end of that sort of thing; but it don’t seem like it. Oh, how I do long to have a spade or a hoe in my hand again. I say, Master George.”“Well?” I said, as I lay in the sun enjoying my returning strength, for it came back fast.“Think the master really means to go back and build up the house again?”“Yes, I’m sure of it,” I said.“That’s a good job, my lad, for it would be heartbreaking to know that all we’ve done out there, planting fruit-trees and getting the place in such nice trim, should be ’lowed to go back again to ruin, and grow over into forest wilds, as it would in a year or two.”“Ah, that would be a pity, Morgan,” I said, eagerly, as I thought of the fruit-trees and the vines.“I say, look here, Master George, I’m ’bout heart-broke over that garden. I want to see what it’s like. We all might go for a day and torment some of them weeds, and keep things from getting worse, and see what mischief the Indians did.”“Yes; I should like to go and see that,” I said, thoughtfully.“Should you, my lad? Then let’s go.”I shook my head, for I saw a lot of difficulties in the way.“Nay, nay; now don’t do that, lad. I teclare to coot—”“Morgan!” I shouted.“Well, look you, dear boy—”“Morgan!”“Oh, dear me, how is a man to speak! I was going to say, I did ask some of them who went scouting, and they’d got it all pat enough about how the house was a heap of ashes, but I don’t believe one of ’em so much as looked at the garden, and I know there’s things ready in those beds as would be a blessing to us now.”“A heap of ashes!” I said, sadly.“Yes, Master George; but think of the barrow-loads there’ll be, and they’ll be worth anything for the garden nicely spread about.”“I should like to go and see the old place,” I said, thoughtfully.“Then ask the captain, lad. Do. He’s just over yonder talking to the colonel. Hist! Here he comes. Ask him—do.”“Well, George,” said my father, coming up. “Ah, Morgan. Want to speak to me?”“Well, sir, I—er—that is, I think Master George does.”“No, father; it’s Morgan, only he’s afraid.”“Nay, nay, not afraid, Master George. Don’t say that. On’y a bit okkard over it. But I will speak if you’re afraid to.”“What is it?” said my father.“Well, father, it’s this; Morgan—”“Oh, Master George!””—And I think we should like to go over to the old place and see what it looks like.”“And take a tool or two, sir; and go early and tidy up the garden a bit.”“Well,” said my father, thoughtfully, “I don’t see why you should not. I was thinking of something of the kind, now that the Indians seem to be gone for good.”“Then when may we go, father?”“I’ll speak to the General, and if he sees no objection you shall go to-morrow morning, first thing, if you feel well enough.”“Oh, father!” I exclaimed, with a thrill of delight running through me, for it was as if I was to be freed from prison.“You will not be able to do much, Morgan,” said my father, thoughtfully; “but you might take a billhook and cut back a little of the overgrowth, for we must not be beaten. George, my boy, we must go back and make the place more beautiful than it was before; for it is a beautiful land, if man would not blot it with his cruelties and evil deeds.”I saw that his eyes were fixed upon the corner of the enclosure, where the blacks were gathered.“Then we may go, father?” I said.“If the General approves. No one can stir outside the gates without his orders now.”He turned and walked to the central part where the General’s furniture was piled up, and he had been living as humbly as the rest; and in less than half an hour he was back, just in fact as Morgan was saying, grumblingly—“It’s all over, my lad; the governor won’t let us go.”“The General gives his consent,” said my father, “provided that you are very careful; so the next thing is, how do you propose to go?”“Walk across,” I said.“No; decidedly not. You will take the boat. There she lies safe enough with the others. You can have Hannibal and Pompey to row, and Morgan and the black can be both well-armed, for that man is very trustworthy. But of course you will all be very cautious. You can send out that boy in different directions to scout; not that there is any danger, but we must treat this as an enemy’s country, and be prepared.”“Yes, father, we’ll be very careful; and we may go soon in the morning?”“As soon as you like. Get your bag of provisions ready to-night. Morgan, you can be passed through the gates now. Have the boy with you, and see that the boat is baled out and cleaned.”“Yes, sir,” said Morgan; and as soon as my father had gone we two shook hands in our delight, for Morgan was as excited as I.“Hurrah, Master George!” he cried. “What a day we will have! I’m off to find Pomp. You go and tell old Han. Won’t they be just pleased too!”We parted on the instant, and five minutes later I found father and son together, and told them my news, with the result that Hannibal smiled with pleasure, and Pomp threw himself down on the ground to writhe and twist and worm about till he heard Morgan’s voice summoning him to go and help to bale out the boat.
That day passed quietly enough, with scouts going and coming to report that the Indians’ trail was plainly to be seen going along the north bank of our little stream, as if they were making right away for their own country, and after the scouts had gone as far as they dared, they had returned with their good news. This was quickly debated in a little council, and the result was a firm determination not to put any faith in appearances, but to keep everything on a war footing, scouting carefully so as not to be surprised by an enemy full of cunning and treachery; and though there was some little demur amongst those whose houses and plantations were farthest from the fort, all soon settled down to what resolved itself during the next week into a pleasant kind of camping out.
Rough tents were rigged up, and the different parties vied with each other in their efforts to make their homes attractive. Fresh things were brought in by the help of the slaves from the most outlying of the houses, and when lights were lit in the evening the place looked pretty in the extreme, so that more than once I found myself thinking that we were to be the only sufferers from the Indian attack, and wondered, now that the enemy had had so severe a lesson read them, how long it would be before my father decided to go back and get our neighbours’ help to rebuild the house.
A fortnight glided by—fourteen days of uninterruptedly fine weather. I had almost forgotten my injuries. Pomp had taken his wounded limb out of the sling, and only remembered the injury when he tried to move his hand, when he would utter a cry and begin softly rubbing the place.
Sarah too was recovering fast, and I knew no reason now why we should still go on living such a military life, with the General and his officers seeming to take delight in drilling, practising the men in the use of their weapons, and setting guards by night, and sending out scouts by day, with the gates closed rigorously at a certain time.
There was another thing done too, the idea being suggested by my father—a lesson taught by our own misfortune—and this was that every tub and cask that could be obtained in the settlement should be put about in handy places, and kept well filled with water always, these being supplemented by pails and buckets, which every one was bound to set outside his place full of water every night, while the men were all well practised in the extremely simple art of passing and refilling buckets—so as to be ready in case of fire.
“There’s some talk of giving up all this here playing at soldiers, Master George,” said Morgan to me one day.
“Is there?” I said, eagerly.
“Yes, and if you ar’n’t tired of it, I am. Never so much as had a chance to go out and scout like the others have.”
“Well, I haven’t either, nor Hannibal, nor Pomp.”
“No, my lad; but if you don’t tie down that jockey or chain him by the leg, he’ll be off one of these days. I’m always finding him sitting a-top of the fence like a crow with his wing cut, thinking he wished he could fly.”
“Looking out for the Indians,” I said.
“Not him, sir; he’s thinking about games in the woods; hunting snakes, catching ’gators, or killing ’coons. He’s getting a nice howdacious one, he is. If it wasn’t for his black skin, you might think he was a reg’lar boy.”
“So he is,” I said; “what difference does his skin make? I like old Pomp.”
“Well, sir,” said Morgan, thoughtfully, “I like old Hannibal—old Vanity, as you call him; but you know he is black.”
“Of course.”
“Very black, Master George. Why, I should say he’s got the blackest skin and the whitest teeth of any one I ever did see.”
“And I dare say he thinks you’ve got the whitest skin and the blackest teeth he ever saw.”
“Now—now—now—now—Master George; gently there, if you please. My skin’s getting redder and browner every day, so as I don’t half know myself when I shaves; and as to my teeth, just wait till you’ve used yours five-and-forty year, and had to eat such beef as I’ve had to eat in the army, and you won’t be quite so proud of them bits o’ ivory of yours, look you.”
“Why don’t you leave off saying ‘Look you,’ Morgan? It’s always ‘Look you,’ or ‘Teclare to cootness,’ and it does sound so stupid.”
“Not it, my lad,” said Morgan, proudly. “It’s that which shows I belong to the Ancient British.”
“Nonsense! You’re a Welshman.”
“Ah, you call me so, my lad, but I belong to the genuwyne old British stock. You ask the captain if I don’t. And as to my teeth, why, when we was out with the army, I believe they used to buy all the old bulls, and the older and harder they were the better they used to like ’em.”
“Why?”
“Because they used to go the further. Ah, we did a lot of fighting on it though, and I thought I’d come to the end of that sort of thing; but it don’t seem like it. Oh, how I do long to have a spade or a hoe in my hand again. I say, Master George.”
“Well?” I said, as I lay in the sun enjoying my returning strength, for it came back fast.
“Think the master really means to go back and build up the house again?”
“Yes, I’m sure of it,” I said.
“That’s a good job, my lad, for it would be heartbreaking to know that all we’ve done out there, planting fruit-trees and getting the place in such nice trim, should be ’lowed to go back again to ruin, and grow over into forest wilds, as it would in a year or two.”
“Ah, that would be a pity, Morgan,” I said, eagerly, as I thought of the fruit-trees and the vines.
“I say, look here, Master George, I’m ’bout heart-broke over that garden. I want to see what it’s like. We all might go for a day and torment some of them weeds, and keep things from getting worse, and see what mischief the Indians did.”
“Yes; I should like to go and see that,” I said, thoughtfully.
“Should you, my lad? Then let’s go.”
I shook my head, for I saw a lot of difficulties in the way.
“Nay, nay; now don’t do that, lad. I teclare to coot—”
“Morgan!” I shouted.
“Well, look you, dear boy—”
“Morgan!”
“Oh, dear me, how is a man to speak! I was going to say, I did ask some of them who went scouting, and they’d got it all pat enough about how the house was a heap of ashes, but I don’t believe one of ’em so much as looked at the garden, and I know there’s things ready in those beds as would be a blessing to us now.”
“A heap of ashes!” I said, sadly.
“Yes, Master George; but think of the barrow-loads there’ll be, and they’ll be worth anything for the garden nicely spread about.”
“I should like to go and see the old place,” I said, thoughtfully.
“Then ask the captain, lad. Do. He’s just over yonder talking to the colonel. Hist! Here he comes. Ask him—do.”
“Well, George,” said my father, coming up. “Ah, Morgan. Want to speak to me?”
“Well, sir, I—er—that is, I think Master George does.”
“No, father; it’s Morgan, only he’s afraid.”
“Nay, nay, not afraid, Master George. Don’t say that. On’y a bit okkard over it. But I will speak if you’re afraid to.”
“What is it?” said my father.
“Well, father, it’s this; Morgan—”
“Oh, Master George!”
”—And I think we should like to go over to the old place and see what it looks like.”
“And take a tool or two, sir; and go early and tidy up the garden a bit.”
“Well,” said my father, thoughtfully, “I don’t see why you should not. I was thinking of something of the kind, now that the Indians seem to be gone for good.”
“Then when may we go, father?”
“I’ll speak to the General, and if he sees no objection you shall go to-morrow morning, first thing, if you feel well enough.”
“Oh, father!” I exclaimed, with a thrill of delight running through me, for it was as if I was to be freed from prison.
“You will not be able to do much, Morgan,” said my father, thoughtfully; “but you might take a billhook and cut back a little of the overgrowth, for we must not be beaten. George, my boy, we must go back and make the place more beautiful than it was before; for it is a beautiful land, if man would not blot it with his cruelties and evil deeds.”
I saw that his eyes were fixed upon the corner of the enclosure, where the blacks were gathered.
“Then we may go, father?” I said.
“If the General approves. No one can stir outside the gates without his orders now.”
He turned and walked to the central part where the General’s furniture was piled up, and he had been living as humbly as the rest; and in less than half an hour he was back, just in fact as Morgan was saying, grumblingly—
“It’s all over, my lad; the governor won’t let us go.”
“The General gives his consent,” said my father, “provided that you are very careful; so the next thing is, how do you propose to go?”
“Walk across,” I said.
“No; decidedly not. You will take the boat. There she lies safe enough with the others. You can have Hannibal and Pompey to row, and Morgan and the black can be both well-armed, for that man is very trustworthy. But of course you will all be very cautious. You can send out that boy in different directions to scout; not that there is any danger, but we must treat this as an enemy’s country, and be prepared.”
“Yes, father, we’ll be very careful; and we may go soon in the morning?”
“As soon as you like. Get your bag of provisions ready to-night. Morgan, you can be passed through the gates now. Have the boy with you, and see that the boat is baled out and cleaned.”
“Yes, sir,” said Morgan; and as soon as my father had gone we two shook hands in our delight, for Morgan was as excited as I.
“Hurrah, Master George!” he cried. “What a day we will have! I’m off to find Pomp. You go and tell old Han. Won’t they be just pleased too!”
We parted on the instant, and five minutes later I found father and son together, and told them my news, with the result that Hannibal smiled with pleasure, and Pomp threw himself down on the ground to writhe and twist and worm about till he heard Morgan’s voice summoning him to go and help to bale out the boat.
Chapter Thirty Eight.I lay down to sleep that night quite satisfied of my ability to wake up in good time; but it was still dark when Pomp was shaking my arm.“Make hase, Mass’ George,” he cried, with his lips to my ear, “um gettin’ so dreffle late.”“Eh? Now, no tricks,” I said, in that irritable state of sleepiness when one wants just an hour longer. “Why, I have only just lain down.”“Why, you’ve been seep all de night. You call me laze lil nigger if I say dat. Get up!”“But is it nearly morning, Pomp?” I said, with my eyes closely shut.“Ah, you do dat ’gain! You roll ober de oder side for? You tink um dis week when it morrow morning.”“But it isn’t really morning.”“Yes; bror daylight. Able see dreckly.”“It isn’t,” I said, opening my eyes and looking from under the boat-sail that made our tent, and seeing the stars burning brightly.“I neb see such dreffle man,” whispered Pomp, for fear of rousing my father. “Get late. Sun get up soon ’fore we get dah. Mass’ Morgan an’ Pomp fader gone down to de boat, and carry big bag somefin to eat. Pomp got de fishum-line, and dey say you’n me bring free guns and de powder shot.”“Eh! Gone down to the boat?” I said, rising hurriedly, for this was suggestive of being left behind; and hurrying my preparations—my dressing-room being outside the tent—I was soon ready, took the pouches and the three guns I had undertaken to have ready, and in a very few minutes we two were marching toward the gate, I carrying one firelock under my arm, and Pomp stepping out proudly with one on each shoulder.“How long is it since Morgan and our man Hannibal went through?” I said to the guard at the gate.“’Bout half an hour,” said the man, rather sourly. “Nice to be you, young gentleman, going out like that instead of keeping watch here.”“Oh, that will soon be over,” I said. “Come along, Pomp.”It was for the sake of saying something, for Pomp was already outside, waiting. But I wanted to get down to the boat, and not stop to be questioned by the guard as to what we were going to do.As we went on down toward the wharf, the stars were still making their reflections glimmer in the smooth water of the big river, and a sculling sound and the rattle of an oar being heard, told me where the boat lay.“That you, Master George?” said a familiar voice.“Yes; but isn’t it too early?”“Not a bit, sir. But it’ll be daybreak directly, to be sure. See there?”I could see a very pale streak right away down and over the big river in what I knew to be the east, but I was still too drowsy to feel much interest in our excursion, and consequently replied rather gruffly to Hannibal’s good-natured—“Morn’, Mass’ George.”Just then the boat’s keel grated on the pebbles, Hannibal jumped out, took the guns which Pomp parted with unwillingly, and passed them to Morgan, who stowed them in the stern. Then mine was passed in, and Hannibal bent down.“Jump on, Mass’ George, no get foot wet.”I leaped on his great broad back, thinking that he was getting his feet wet, but that it did not matter as they were bare; then wash, wash went the water on both sides as the great black and his boy waded out. I was dropped into the boat, the two blacks ran it out a little and stepped in, Morgan came aft to me, and the others backed water a while, and after turning, rowed out a little but kept pretty close, so as to be out of the swift current running down toward the sea.“Talk about early,” said Morgan, pointing to the increasing pallor of the sky; “why, it will soon be broad daylight, and I want to get to the mouth of the stream by that time.”They rowed on, and the freshness of the air, the motion of the boat, and the thorough feeling of change soon made me forget my discomfort, and as the pale dawn spread and showed the thick mist hanging over the low growth at the edge of the river, the memory of the last time I came by there started to my mind, and I looked eagerly at the near shore, thinking of hidden Indians ready to send flying their keenly-pointed arrows.Morgan saw the direction of my glance, and said with a laugh—“No; not this time.”“What?” I said sharply.“Indians. That was a nice row we had that day, though, Master George.”“Mass’ George going have fishum-line?” said Pomp, suddenly, as the dark line of forest began to look green, and higher up there was a tiny point of orange mist.“No,” I said; “we’ll get right on home.”Pomp seemed so disappointed that I added, “Perhaps we will fish later on.”Vague as the promise was it sufficed to raise Pomp’s spirits, and he tugged well at his oar, while I watched the splashing of fish in the river, heard the low, floundering noise made by the alligators, and listened to the fresh, clear song of the birds which were welcoming the coming of another day.Then slowly the sun rose to glorify the dripping reeds and canes, and fringe them as if with precious stones; the different kinds of ducks and cranes disturbed by our boat fled at our approach with much flapping of wings and many a discordant cry. And before I could fully realise it, and think of anything else, it was bright, beautiful morning; all glorious, free, fresh, and delicious, with the moss draping the sunlit trees, the water sparkling, and the sensation growing upon me that I had just escaped from prison, and was going home.“Not sorry you got up so soon, are you, sir?” said Morgan, smiling, as he saw how eager and excited I had grown.“Sorry? No,” I cried. “Here, you two, are you tired? Morgan and I will row.”“No, no,” said Hannibal, showing his white teeth. “We row Mass’ George boat all away.”“Look, Mass’ George,” cried Pomp, as there was a scuffle, a splash, and a good-sized alligator startled by our coming hurried into the river. “You like shoot um?”“No, no. Let’s get right away home first.”“All the same, sir, we’ll load the guns,” said Morgan. “I don’t think we shall want to use ’em, but there’s a few marks about this boat to show that sometimes it is necessary.”He pointed laughingly to the holes left where the arrows stuck in the sides and thwarts.“I broke out an arrow-head this morning,” he said; and he picked it up from where it lay.Pomp watched us eagerly as we charged all three pieces, and laid them down in the stern, after which I sat thoroughly enjoying the scene, which was all as fresh to me as if I had never been there before. But at the same time, as we went on, I recognised the different spots where the Indians had made their stand to harass us during our memorable escape down the river, notably at the wooded point we passed round just before reaching the mouth of our stream, and leaving the main river behind.Then, as the space contracted and the banks seemed to draw gradually closer together, we soon began to get into more familiar parts, and at last the higher trees and points and bends were all memorable, known as they were to Pomp and myself in connection with fishing excursions or hunts for squirrel or nest.The stream here ran swiftly, and swirled round some of the bends, at times well open, at others so close did the forest come that we seemed to be going along between two huge walls of verdure; and I don’t know whether they would have noticed it, but just before we turned into our lesser river, something induced me to begin talking rather rapidly to both Pomp and Hannibal, for we were passing the place where the slaver had lain, and as we came by, it seemed to me that the poor fellows must begin thinking of the horrors of that day when we brought them up in that very boat, one dying, the other as wild as any savage creature of the forest.“Here we are at last,” I cried, as we came close up to the cut-down trees on the bank which served as posts to our landing-place.“Yes. Take your piece, Master George,” said Morgan, “and don’t shout aloud. Let’s have a good look round first.”It was good advice, and we made our rowers take the boat up a couple of hundred yards past the landing-place, and then let her drift back. But all was still. There were two or three busy squirrels, and some birds, but no sign of lurking enemy.“It’s quite safe, I think,” I said.“Yes, sir, safe enough. No Indian here, or we should have had an arrow at us before now.”“We may fasten the boat there, and leave it?” I said.Morgan hesitated.“Well, yes,” he said; “we had better keep all together. It would not be fair to leave those two alone to mind her in case the Indians did come.”“If they do,” I said, “we must retreat overland if we can’t get to the boat.”“Or they get it first,” said Morgan, grimly.So we landed at the familiar place, the boat was made fast, and with Hannibal carrying one of the guns, we started for the old home, all eager and excited except Pomp, whose brow puckered up, and I knew the reason why—he had no gun to carry.“Here, Pomp,” I said; “you keep close to me, and carry my gun.”The sun was shining brilliantly over the river; now it began to shine in the wood all over Pomp’s smooth black skin, out of his dark eyes, and off his white teeth, as he shouldered the piece, now the very embodiment of pride.We had not far to go, and as we went on and found everything as we had left it, and no signs of enemy, the shrinking feeling which had haunted me, and made me fancy I saw a living savage behind every great tree, passed away, and I strode on till we reached the clearing where Morgan and I killed the rattlesnake, and there the same shrinking feeling attacked me again, for it was here that we had long back made our first acquaintance with the enemy.My eyes met Morgan’s, and he was evidently thinking the same thing as he gave me a nod.“No rattlesnakes here to-day, sir,” he said, and he smiled meaningly, “not of any sort. Shall I go first?”“No,” I said, rather unwillingly, for I felt that I ought to lead; and, taking the firelock now from Pomp, I went toward the path leading through the forest trees to our larger clearing where the house and garden stood.“Mass’ George let Pomp go firs and see if any-boddy dah,” whispered the boy.“No,” I said; but Morgan turned to me quickly, as Pomp looked disappointed.“Why not let him go on? He’ll creep through the trees like a snake, and get there and back unseen if there’s danger.”“Nobody see Pomp if him hide.”“Go then,” I said; and the boy darted off at once through the densest part, while we followed cautiously, for there was the possibility of some of the Indians lurking about still.But in a few minutes Pomp was back, looking very serious, but ready to tell us at once that no one was there.Upon this we pushed on rapidly, and soon stood in the midst of our lovely clearing, framed in by the forest, where everything seemed more beautiful than ever, except in one place, where, with the strands of creepers already beginning to encroach on the blackened ruins, lay a heap of ashes, with here and there some half-burned timbers and ends of boards.I felt a choking sensation as I looked at the ruins, and thought of how many pleasant hours I had passed there with my father, and now I could only just trace out where the rooms had been, so complete was the destruction the fire had made.Not that it was surprising, the whole place having been built solidly of the finest pine from the sandy tract between us and the little river—wood that I knew would blaze up when dry and burn with a fierce resinous flame.But it seemed so pitiful that the delightful little home, with all the pleasant surroundings, over which my father had toiled to make it as much as possible like an English country home, should have been entirely destroyed. And for what?Ah, it was a hard question to answer. But I supposed then that as we had come into the land the savages looked upon as their special hunting-ground, they considered that they had a right to destroy.I tore myself away from the heap of black and grey ashes, and rejoined Morgan, who said nothing, but accompanied me then around the garden, which to our great surprise we found untouched. It was weedy, and beginning to show a great want of the master’s hand, but otherwise it looked delightful after the desolation I had just left.“Seems hard as my part should have escaped, and your part be all burnt up, Master George,” said Morgan, slowly. “But it ar’n’t my fault. I’d almost rather they’d ragged the garden to pieces, and cut down the trees, than have burnt the house.”“It can’t be helped,” I said, thankful for the sympathetic way in which the man spoke, and at the same time a little amused at his considering the garden his part, and the house wherein he always lived too as being ours.We went all round and were on the way to the hut where the blacks slept, when I suddenly noticed that Pomp was not with us, and I drew Morgan’s attention to the fact.“He was here just now, because I saw him stoop down and pick up something to throw at a bird.”“No, no: don’t shout,” I said. “I dare say he’ll be here directly, and one don’t know how near the enemy may be.”But Hannibal did not seem satisfied, and he began looking round the garden and peering about close up to the trees in search of the boy, though without success.I had taken little notice of this, for I had been talking in a low voice to Morgan about the garden, and whether it was worth while to do anything, seeing that beyond a little weeding nothing hardly was required.“I thought the fences would all be down, and the place trampled, and that I should have to cut rails and stakes to save the place from desolation.”So said Morgan, and I agreed that as far as the garden was concerned we had met with a pleasant surprise.“We’ll have a good meal now,” I said. “Let’s sit down under the big cypress,” and I pointed to the great tree which had proved so good a friend during the flood, and unslinging the bag which he had been carrying, Morgan led the way toward the resting-place.“Why, Hannibal’s gone now,” I said, looking round wonderingly. “Oh, I know,” I added, laughing; “he heard me say we would have something to eat, and he has gone to look for Pomp.”We were soon comfortably seated with the food spread before us, and as I cut some of the bread and salt pork we had brought, I said—“It’s of no use to go looking out for Indians, I suppose. We must chance their being near.”“If we go looking for them, Master George, we shall have to spend all our time over it. I’m beginning to hope we shan’t see them any more.”Then Morgan’s mouth became too full for him to talk with comfort, and I’m afraid mine was in a similar condition, for the long row, the fresh air, and the absence of breakfast before starting had had a great effect upon my appetite.“I wish they’d come now,” I said, as I half turned to Morgan, who was leaning forward with his head thrown back in the act of drinking from a bottle, when I felt as if turned to ice—frozen—motionless—gazing up at a great muscular brown arm raised to strike; and I don’t know how to explain it, for the space of time must have been short as that taken up by the flashing of lightning; but all the same, the time seemed prolonged to me sufficiently for me to see that the owner of that arm was half concealed behind the tree; that the hand belonging to that arm held one of the keen little axes used by the Indians; that the blow was intended for my head; and I knew that before I could utter a word to alarm my companion, all would be over.A good deal to think in that moment of time, but people do see and think a great deal instantaneously, just as they have quite long dreams in a few instants of time; and as I tell you, I thought all that as I saw the raised axe, and I could not stir, though it was in motion to strike me down.A loud report set me free, the sound of a shot from the forest, and the Indian sprang forward between me and Morgan, turned half round, struck at the air with his tomahawk, then twisted back so that I had a full view of his hideous, distorted face, and then it was hidden from me, for the little axe escaped from his hand, and he fell clutching and tearing at the grass and leaves.By this time Morgan and I had seized the fire-locks we had stood against the trunk of the tree, and stooped down to shelter ourselves with its trunk, as we presented the barrels at where we heard some one crashing through the bushes. But it was Han.“Mass’ George not hurt?”“No, no,” I said. “Did you fire?”He nodded shortly, and gave me the piece to reload as he picked up the axe the Indian had let fall, and took the savage’s knife from his belt to stick it in his own.“If there’s one Indian there’s more,” said Morgan, excitedly. “Quick, sir, ram the bullet well down. We must make for the boat. Where’s that boy Pomp?”“No,” said Hannibal, shaking his head; “gone, gone. Han look for him; saw Indian and Mass’ George.”“And you fired and saved my life,” I cried, catching his hand, as I gave him back the reloaded piece.He smiled at me, and shook his head sadly as I exclaimed—“Now then to find Pomp, and get back to the boat.”I had hardly uttered the words when there was a yell, and four savages dashed out of the forest toward us, knife in one hand, axe in the other. They were not twenty yards away, and I raised my heavy piece to my shoulder as I saw Morgan let his barrel fall into one hand and fire.A hideous yell followed, and one of the Indians leaped in the air. I saw no more for the smoke, but I drew trigger too, and staggered back with the violent concussion of the piece.Then I stood aghast at what followed, for as the smoke lifted I saw an Indian spring on Morgan, and Hannibal drop the gun he held as the other two Indians rushed at him axe in hand, yelling horribly.Then in what seemed to me was a nightmare dream, I saw Morgan seize the Indian’s hand, and they closed in a desperate struggle, while on my other side Hannibal was battling with two, and I was helpless to assist either, and—well, I was a boy of sixteen or so, and how could I at close quarters like that try to shed blood?True, in the excitement of the flight in the boat, I had loaded and fired again and again as the Indians kept sending their arrows at us; but all I could do now was to drop my own piece and run to pick up the one Hannibal had dropped.But I did not fire it. I could only stand and gaze first at one, and then at the other, as I saw the great calm black now frenzied with rage and the thirst for battle. He was bleeding from blows given by the knife of one Indian and the axe of the other, but his wounds only seemed to have made him furious, and he stood there now looking like a giant, holding one of his enemies by the throat, the other by the wrist, in spite of their writhings and desperate efforts to strike him some deadly blow. He looked to me then like a giant in strength; but the Indians were strong too, and though he was rapidly subduing the one whose throat he grasped, the other was gradually wriggling himself free, when, seizing my opportunity, rendered desperate by the position, I raised the heavy piece I held as if it were a club, and brought the barrel down with all my might upon the Indian’s head.I stepped back sickened by what I had done, as his arm relaxed and he fell prone, while, freed now from one adversary whose axe would the next moment have brained him, Hannibal grasped his remaining enemy with both hands, raised him up, and dashed him heavily upon the earth.It was time, for Morgan was down, the Indian upon him, his knife raised high to plunge into the poor fellow’s throat, but held back by Morgan’s hand, which was yielding fast.I stood paralysed and watching, when, with a roar like a wild beast, Hannibal dashed at this last man, and with the axe he had at his waist struck him full in the temple, and he dropped down sidewise quivering in death.I remember thinking it very horrible as I saw all this bloodshed, but I knew it would have been far more horrible if the savage wretches had killed us. Then every other thought was driven out of my head by the appearance of Hannibal, who was quite transformed. As a rule he was the quiet, gentle-looking black, always ready to obey the slightest command; now he seemed to tower up a ferocious-looking being, with wild glaring eyes looking about for something else to destroy, and had I not caught hold of his arm he would have used the axe he held on the fallen men.“Under cover, my lad,” said Morgan, who was panting heavily. “Don’t leave that gun. Now Hannibal, quick!”He led the way in among the trees, where we quickly loaded the discharged pieces, crouching down under bushes, while Hannibal knelt beside us keeping watch, his wild eyes glaring round in every direction for some fresh enemy to attack.“Nice—narrow—escape that! Master George,” said Morgan, in a low voice, as he gave the ramrod a thud between every two words. “Pretty object I should have looked if I’d had to go back to your father and say you were killed by the Indians. Oh dear! Oh dear! I did hope I’d done killing people to the end of my days, and now look yonder.”“It was forced upon you, Morgan,” I whispered, as I finished charging one of the pieces.“Upon me!” cried Morgan. “Oh, come now, Master George, play fair. Don’t get putting on all down to my account. My word! Who’d have thought old Hannibal here could fight like that?”The great black looked fiercely round, but smiled sadly as Morgan held out his hand and said—“Thank you, old lad.”“Yes! Thank you, Hannibal, for saving my life,” I whispered.“Mass’ George save Han’s life,” was the reply in deep tones. Then the smile passed from the great fellow’s face, and a terrible expression came over it again as his eyes rolled round, and he said in a deep, low, muttering voice—“Come—quick find Pomp.”“And I was just going to say, let’s make a run now for the boat,” said Morgan. “But we can’t leave the boy, Master George.”“No,” I said. “Here, take your gun, Han.”I passed the firelock to him, and followed his gaze as he glared round among the trees from behind whose trunks I expected to see the enemy peering, ready to take revenge for the death of their companions. But there was no one near as far as I could see, and we rose cautiously to get a better view round through the clustering boughs whose heavy foliage cut off the light, so that we were gazing down glorious vistas that ended far away in the deepest shade.“Might hide an army there, and no one could see ’em,” muttered Morgan.“Find Pomp?” said Hannibal, looking at me inquiringly.“Yes,” I said; “try and find him. Go on.”The great fellow drew a deep breath, and led off at once with the firelock in his left hand, the axe in his right; and I knew that if we had a fresh encounter, the modern weapon would be useless in his hands, while the axe would be terrible.To my great horror, the course he chose was out by where the desperate struggle had taken place, and my first instinct was to close my eyes and not look at the dead Indians; but I told myself I was a soldier’s son, and that these men had fallen as we were fighting for our lives. But it was very terrible to see them lying there as they had fallen, two of them still grasping their weapons, and with a look of savage hatred in their faces.Hannibal led on, Morgan followed, and I was last, and I was beginning to feel glad that we were leaving the dead behind, where they lay beneath the great cypress, when Hannibal turned round and raised his axe to point as it seemed to me in the direction of the forest beyond the garden, and to my horror it appeared as if the man had been seized with a fresh desire to shed blood, for his great lips were drawn away from his glistening teeth, his eyes opened widely showing broad rings of white round the dark irides, and throwing up the axe ready to strike, he dropped the gun and literally bounded at me.With a faint cry of horror as I saw the awful-looking object leaping at me, the firelock dropping from his left hand, and the blood glistening on his great arms, I dropped sidewise just as a knife flashed by my cheek and over my left shoulder.It was then that I realised the truth, and drew my breath hard, as I saw Hannibal’s axe descend; there was a terrible crashing sound and a heavy fall, and as, sick and seeing dimly, I looked down to my left, the great figure of the black was bending over a grinning object in the bushes at the forest edge, his foot was pressing back one of our enemies, and he dragged the axe free.“Is he dead now?” Morgan whispered, hoarsely, and his face looked ghastly as he caught me by the arm.Hannibal uttered a low deep sound, and drew himself up to his full height. Then he bent down again, and I saw him tear a glittering knife out of a brown hand, which with its arm rose above the bushes and was clinging still to the haft.“Morgan,” I said, faintly, as the great black strode back toward where we had had the struggle first, “stop him. What is he going to do?”“I want to stop him, lad,” whispered the faithful fellow, in low, awe-stricken tones; “but I can’t try; I daren’t. It must be done.”“But that was another Indian,” I whispered, as I saw Hannibal bend down, rise up, take a step or two, and bend down again, and then everything swam before my eyes. I could hear Morgan’s voice though as he went on—“It was horribly near, sir,” he said. “It wasn’t another Indian, but one of those shamming dead, and as soon as we’d got by he must have crawled after us, and old Han turned just in time, and went at him as he was striking at you with his knife. It’s very horrid, my lad, but these savages don’t understand fair fighting and giving quarter to the wounded. There, come away, and don’t look angry at the black when he comes back. He has just saved your life again, and what he is doing now is to make sure you are not attacked again.”I stood speechless, resting on the piece I held in my hand till the great negro came back with the knife stuck in his waist-belt, to stoop and pick up the gun he had dropped; and then he pointed again with the axe toward the forest beyond the garden.“Come,” he said, quietly. “Find Pomp.”He looked at me once more with so grave and kindly an aspect that I tried to smother the horror I felt, and taking a step or two forward, I drew out a handkerchief and pointed to his bleeding arms, which were gashed by two blows of axe and knife.He smiled and nodded half contemptuously as I tore the handkerchief in two, and he held out his arms one by one for me to bind them tightly.“Now,” he said, “find Pomp.”I held up my hand and we listened to a low, hoarse, gurgling noise, which seemed to come from a distance in the forest, and I shuddered as I fancied for a moment that it must be one of the Indians dying; but I knew that the sound came from a different direction.We listened intently as we stooped under cover and kept a watchful gaze in every direction for danger. But the sound had ceased and for the moment we were safe, for no leaf was stirring, and the deep shadowy wood appeared to be untenanted. Hannibal shook his head, and was in the act of turning when the curious hoarse gurgling sound came again.It was like nothing I had ever heard before, and what was more strange, it was impossible to make out whence it came, for it rose and fell, rose again, and then died out.“What is it?” I said to Morgan. “An Indian cry?”“No,” he replied. “Hark! There it is again.”Yes; there it was again, but appeared to be from a fresh direction.“Is it something down amongst the bushes—a frog or a young ’gator?”“No; I don’t think it can be that, sir. I’ve heard nearly every sound they make, and it isn’t anything like that.”All was still again, and we moved on slowly farther into the forest, going cautiously in and out among the trees, our weapons ready, and a strict look-out kept for the enemy. For it seemed to me that the main body could not be far off, our encounter having been with a skirmishing party.“There again,” I whispered. “What is it, Hannibal?”He was kneeling down now listening; and as he looked up at me, I could see that he was puzzled, for he shook his head.“Han done know,” he said.Again the sound came—a hoarse, gurgling, faint noise, as from a great distance, but somehow we were as far off from understanding what it meant as ever.“Never mind,” said Morgan. “It isn’t what we are looking for. Go on, Han; we must find that boy, and escape for our lives.”The great black nodded and started off at once, Morgan and I going to right and left of him, and we searched through the great trees, working away round the opening cleared from the forest for our house, but though the sound continued, we could find no trace of the cause nor yet of the poor boy, who had dropped completely out of sight.My heart sank as I felt sure that the Indians must have surprised him, and moment by moment, as we started again into the forest, making now toward the rattlesnake clearing and the path leading to the landing-place, I expected to come upon him lying dead where he had been struck down.But we examined the place again and again in every direction without success, and we were neither of us sufficiently skilled to attempt in the gloom beneath the trees to find him by his tracks.The sound had nearly ceased now, only occurring faintly at intervals, and still it was as confusing as ever, for we could not make out whence it came.At last we stopped at the edge of the rattlesnake clearing, near where the path struck out leading to the water-side.“What are we to do, Master George?” said Morgan. “I want to find that boy, and at any moment we may be attacked by enemies, and it seems to be our duty to get down to the boat, row back as fast as we can, and give warning that the Indians are still near at hand.”“Yes, go,” said Hannibal, who had been listening intently to Morgan’s words. “Boat. Injum. Han ’top find um boy.”Morgan looked at me, but I shook my head.“No,” I said; “we will not go—we cannot, and leave him here. Will you come, Hannibal?”“To find um boy,” he said, frowning.“And we’ll stop too, Morgan,” I said. “We may find him at any moment, and it is impossible to go and leave the poor boy like this.”Hannibal did not speak, but I saw his eyes fixed on me as Morgan spoke.“I don’t want to go and leave him, Master George,” he said, “because it’s like leaving a comrade, and old soldiers don’t do that. But soldiers has their duty to do, and duty says— Go and let them know at the settlement. Besides, my duty to your father seems to say, Get you out of this as quick as you can.”“Yes, I know that, Morgan,” I said.“And the Indians may be on us at any moment.”“Yes, but we can’t leave him,” I said; “and— Ah, there’s that noise again. I’m sure it came from right in there.”I pointed back toward the other side of the clearing, toward which spot Hannibal immediately rushed, and we followed as quickly as we could, for something seemed to tell us that a discovery was at hand.It was close by the part of the forest through which Morgan and I had made our way cautiously and silently when we were going to kill the rattlesnake; and as we reached the edge, and passed in amongst the densely growing trees, all was silent, dark, and mysterious-looking; but there was nothing to be seen but tree-trunks, and we crept up to where the great black stood bending down and listening.All was silent. Then there was a faint rap as a squirrel dropped a fir-cone from high up somewhere invisible to us. As far as we could see there were the gloomy aisles of great growing pillars, and we knew that we had passed through this portion of the forest again and again, though it was quite possible that we might have missed parts.“Well, do you hear it?” I said, in a whisper.Hannibal shook his head despondently, and then his face lit up as we heard from our right, and quite close at hand, the same faint, gurgling sound, now evidently a cry.The black rushed on in and out among the trees, a gleam of sunshine catching his black skin once, just as we were passing the gloomiest part; and then, as I was close behind him, he disappeared beyond a group of great pillar-like pine-trees, and when I reached them I came upon him suddenly in a hollow, deep with fir-needles—a natural hole formed by the fall of a monstrous tree, whose root still lay as it had been wrenched out when the tree fell, but the trunk itself had gradually mouldered into dust.And there was Hannibal busily cutting the hide thongs which bound Pomp, who was lying helpless at the bottom of the hole, with a blanket and a rough skin garment close by him, and beside these five bows and their arrows.It was evidently the lurking-place of the Indian scouting party, who had suddenly pounced upon the boy, gagged and bound him, for his jaws were forced wide apart, a piece of ragged blanket was thrust into his mouth, and this was kept in by another hide thong tied round and round his face and neck, passing between his jaws as if he were bridled with a leather bit, while his arms and wrists and legs were so securely tied that the poor fellow was perfectly helpless.“Can’t say he’s black in the face, in the way we mean,” said Morgan, sympathetically, “because, poor lad, it is his nature to be so, look you, but he’s half dead.”I was already down on my knees chafing the wrists set at liberty, after the hide had been cut away from the boy’s cheeks and the gag taken out, but he made no sign whatever, and we were still rubbing him, and trying to restore the circulation, when Morgan said quickly—“We can do that in the boat. Up with him, Han, I’ll carry your gun. There must be more Indians near. These were on the advance, I’ll lay, and I wouldn’t say we don’t have a fresh attack to-night.”Without a word Hannibal handed the gun, took Pomp by the arms, gently swung him on his back, and tore off a strip of blanket with which he tightly bound the boy’s wrists together upon his own chest, so that it left the black’s hands at liberty should he want to use them.“Go on now,” he said; and he held out his hand for his gun.It was only a short distance from where we were to the boat, but it was really to be the most anxious part of all, and as we approached rattlesnake clearing, I involuntarily checked the others to look out cautiously before we left the dark pine-shade.But all was still, the beautiful young growth glistening in the hot sunshine; and striking the path on the other side, gazing watchfully as we could, ready for attack, and fully expecting to see the Indians in possession of the boat, we finally reached the landing-place, where Pomp was laid in the stern, the weapons were placed ready, and faint and dripping with perspiration, I sank down beside Pomp as the rope was cast off.
I lay down to sleep that night quite satisfied of my ability to wake up in good time; but it was still dark when Pomp was shaking my arm.
“Make hase, Mass’ George,” he cried, with his lips to my ear, “um gettin’ so dreffle late.”
“Eh? Now, no tricks,” I said, in that irritable state of sleepiness when one wants just an hour longer. “Why, I have only just lain down.”
“Why, you’ve been seep all de night. You call me laze lil nigger if I say dat. Get up!”
“But is it nearly morning, Pomp?” I said, with my eyes closely shut.
“Ah, you do dat ’gain! You roll ober de oder side for? You tink um dis week when it morrow morning.”
“But it isn’t really morning.”
“Yes; bror daylight. Able see dreckly.”
“It isn’t,” I said, opening my eyes and looking from under the boat-sail that made our tent, and seeing the stars burning brightly.
“I neb see such dreffle man,” whispered Pomp, for fear of rousing my father. “Get late. Sun get up soon ’fore we get dah. Mass’ Morgan an’ Pomp fader gone down to de boat, and carry big bag somefin to eat. Pomp got de fishum-line, and dey say you’n me bring free guns and de powder shot.”
“Eh! Gone down to the boat?” I said, rising hurriedly, for this was suggestive of being left behind; and hurrying my preparations—my dressing-room being outside the tent—I was soon ready, took the pouches and the three guns I had undertaken to have ready, and in a very few minutes we two were marching toward the gate, I carrying one firelock under my arm, and Pomp stepping out proudly with one on each shoulder.
“How long is it since Morgan and our man Hannibal went through?” I said to the guard at the gate.
“’Bout half an hour,” said the man, rather sourly. “Nice to be you, young gentleman, going out like that instead of keeping watch here.”
“Oh, that will soon be over,” I said. “Come along, Pomp.”
It was for the sake of saying something, for Pomp was already outside, waiting. But I wanted to get down to the boat, and not stop to be questioned by the guard as to what we were going to do.
As we went on down toward the wharf, the stars were still making their reflections glimmer in the smooth water of the big river, and a sculling sound and the rattle of an oar being heard, told me where the boat lay.
“That you, Master George?” said a familiar voice.
“Yes; but isn’t it too early?”
“Not a bit, sir. But it’ll be daybreak directly, to be sure. See there?”
I could see a very pale streak right away down and over the big river in what I knew to be the east, but I was still too drowsy to feel much interest in our excursion, and consequently replied rather gruffly to Hannibal’s good-natured—
“Morn’, Mass’ George.”
Just then the boat’s keel grated on the pebbles, Hannibal jumped out, took the guns which Pomp parted with unwillingly, and passed them to Morgan, who stowed them in the stern. Then mine was passed in, and Hannibal bent down.
“Jump on, Mass’ George, no get foot wet.”
I leaped on his great broad back, thinking that he was getting his feet wet, but that it did not matter as they were bare; then wash, wash went the water on both sides as the great black and his boy waded out. I was dropped into the boat, the two blacks ran it out a little and stepped in, Morgan came aft to me, and the others backed water a while, and after turning, rowed out a little but kept pretty close, so as to be out of the swift current running down toward the sea.
“Talk about early,” said Morgan, pointing to the increasing pallor of the sky; “why, it will soon be broad daylight, and I want to get to the mouth of the stream by that time.”
They rowed on, and the freshness of the air, the motion of the boat, and the thorough feeling of change soon made me forget my discomfort, and as the pale dawn spread and showed the thick mist hanging over the low growth at the edge of the river, the memory of the last time I came by there started to my mind, and I looked eagerly at the near shore, thinking of hidden Indians ready to send flying their keenly-pointed arrows.
Morgan saw the direction of my glance, and said with a laugh—
“No; not this time.”
“What?” I said sharply.
“Indians. That was a nice row we had that day, though, Master George.”
“Mass’ George going have fishum-line?” said Pomp, suddenly, as the dark line of forest began to look green, and higher up there was a tiny point of orange mist.
“No,” I said; “we’ll get right on home.”
Pomp seemed so disappointed that I added, “Perhaps we will fish later on.”
Vague as the promise was it sufficed to raise Pomp’s spirits, and he tugged well at his oar, while I watched the splashing of fish in the river, heard the low, floundering noise made by the alligators, and listened to the fresh, clear song of the birds which were welcoming the coming of another day.
Then slowly the sun rose to glorify the dripping reeds and canes, and fringe them as if with precious stones; the different kinds of ducks and cranes disturbed by our boat fled at our approach with much flapping of wings and many a discordant cry. And before I could fully realise it, and think of anything else, it was bright, beautiful morning; all glorious, free, fresh, and delicious, with the moss draping the sunlit trees, the water sparkling, and the sensation growing upon me that I had just escaped from prison, and was going home.
“Not sorry you got up so soon, are you, sir?” said Morgan, smiling, as he saw how eager and excited I had grown.
“Sorry? No,” I cried. “Here, you two, are you tired? Morgan and I will row.”
“No, no,” said Hannibal, showing his white teeth. “We row Mass’ George boat all away.”
“Look, Mass’ George,” cried Pomp, as there was a scuffle, a splash, and a good-sized alligator startled by our coming hurried into the river. “You like shoot um?”
“No, no. Let’s get right away home first.”
“All the same, sir, we’ll load the guns,” said Morgan. “I don’t think we shall want to use ’em, but there’s a few marks about this boat to show that sometimes it is necessary.”
He pointed laughingly to the holes left where the arrows stuck in the sides and thwarts.
“I broke out an arrow-head this morning,” he said; and he picked it up from where it lay.
Pomp watched us eagerly as we charged all three pieces, and laid them down in the stern, after which I sat thoroughly enjoying the scene, which was all as fresh to me as if I had never been there before. But at the same time, as we went on, I recognised the different spots where the Indians had made their stand to harass us during our memorable escape down the river, notably at the wooded point we passed round just before reaching the mouth of our stream, and leaving the main river behind.
Then, as the space contracted and the banks seemed to draw gradually closer together, we soon began to get into more familiar parts, and at last the higher trees and points and bends were all memorable, known as they were to Pomp and myself in connection with fishing excursions or hunts for squirrel or nest.
The stream here ran swiftly, and swirled round some of the bends, at times well open, at others so close did the forest come that we seemed to be going along between two huge walls of verdure; and I don’t know whether they would have noticed it, but just before we turned into our lesser river, something induced me to begin talking rather rapidly to both Pomp and Hannibal, for we were passing the place where the slaver had lain, and as we came by, it seemed to me that the poor fellows must begin thinking of the horrors of that day when we brought them up in that very boat, one dying, the other as wild as any savage creature of the forest.
“Here we are at last,” I cried, as we came close up to the cut-down trees on the bank which served as posts to our landing-place.
“Yes. Take your piece, Master George,” said Morgan, “and don’t shout aloud. Let’s have a good look round first.”
It was good advice, and we made our rowers take the boat up a couple of hundred yards past the landing-place, and then let her drift back. But all was still. There were two or three busy squirrels, and some birds, but no sign of lurking enemy.
“It’s quite safe, I think,” I said.
“Yes, sir, safe enough. No Indian here, or we should have had an arrow at us before now.”
“We may fasten the boat there, and leave it?” I said.
Morgan hesitated.
“Well, yes,” he said; “we had better keep all together. It would not be fair to leave those two alone to mind her in case the Indians did come.”
“If they do,” I said, “we must retreat overland if we can’t get to the boat.”
“Or they get it first,” said Morgan, grimly.
So we landed at the familiar place, the boat was made fast, and with Hannibal carrying one of the guns, we started for the old home, all eager and excited except Pomp, whose brow puckered up, and I knew the reason why—he had no gun to carry.
“Here, Pomp,” I said; “you keep close to me, and carry my gun.”
The sun was shining brilliantly over the river; now it began to shine in the wood all over Pomp’s smooth black skin, out of his dark eyes, and off his white teeth, as he shouldered the piece, now the very embodiment of pride.
We had not far to go, and as we went on and found everything as we had left it, and no signs of enemy, the shrinking feeling which had haunted me, and made me fancy I saw a living savage behind every great tree, passed away, and I strode on till we reached the clearing where Morgan and I killed the rattlesnake, and there the same shrinking feeling attacked me again, for it was here that we had long back made our first acquaintance with the enemy.
My eyes met Morgan’s, and he was evidently thinking the same thing as he gave me a nod.
“No rattlesnakes here to-day, sir,” he said, and he smiled meaningly, “not of any sort. Shall I go first?”
“No,” I said, rather unwillingly, for I felt that I ought to lead; and, taking the firelock now from Pomp, I went toward the path leading through the forest trees to our larger clearing where the house and garden stood.
“Mass’ George let Pomp go firs and see if any-boddy dah,” whispered the boy.
“No,” I said; but Morgan turned to me quickly, as Pomp looked disappointed.
“Why not let him go on? He’ll creep through the trees like a snake, and get there and back unseen if there’s danger.”
“Nobody see Pomp if him hide.”
“Go then,” I said; and the boy darted off at once through the densest part, while we followed cautiously, for there was the possibility of some of the Indians lurking about still.
But in a few minutes Pomp was back, looking very serious, but ready to tell us at once that no one was there.
Upon this we pushed on rapidly, and soon stood in the midst of our lovely clearing, framed in by the forest, where everything seemed more beautiful than ever, except in one place, where, with the strands of creepers already beginning to encroach on the blackened ruins, lay a heap of ashes, with here and there some half-burned timbers and ends of boards.
I felt a choking sensation as I looked at the ruins, and thought of how many pleasant hours I had passed there with my father, and now I could only just trace out where the rooms had been, so complete was the destruction the fire had made.
Not that it was surprising, the whole place having been built solidly of the finest pine from the sandy tract between us and the little river—wood that I knew would blaze up when dry and burn with a fierce resinous flame.
But it seemed so pitiful that the delightful little home, with all the pleasant surroundings, over which my father had toiled to make it as much as possible like an English country home, should have been entirely destroyed. And for what?
Ah, it was a hard question to answer. But I supposed then that as we had come into the land the savages looked upon as their special hunting-ground, they considered that they had a right to destroy.
I tore myself away from the heap of black and grey ashes, and rejoined Morgan, who said nothing, but accompanied me then around the garden, which to our great surprise we found untouched. It was weedy, and beginning to show a great want of the master’s hand, but otherwise it looked delightful after the desolation I had just left.
“Seems hard as my part should have escaped, and your part be all burnt up, Master George,” said Morgan, slowly. “But it ar’n’t my fault. I’d almost rather they’d ragged the garden to pieces, and cut down the trees, than have burnt the house.”
“It can’t be helped,” I said, thankful for the sympathetic way in which the man spoke, and at the same time a little amused at his considering the garden his part, and the house wherein he always lived too as being ours.
We went all round and were on the way to the hut where the blacks slept, when I suddenly noticed that Pomp was not with us, and I drew Morgan’s attention to the fact.
“He was here just now, because I saw him stoop down and pick up something to throw at a bird.”
“No, no: don’t shout,” I said. “I dare say he’ll be here directly, and one don’t know how near the enemy may be.”
But Hannibal did not seem satisfied, and he began looking round the garden and peering about close up to the trees in search of the boy, though without success.
I had taken little notice of this, for I had been talking in a low voice to Morgan about the garden, and whether it was worth while to do anything, seeing that beyond a little weeding nothing hardly was required.
“I thought the fences would all be down, and the place trampled, and that I should have to cut rails and stakes to save the place from desolation.”
So said Morgan, and I agreed that as far as the garden was concerned we had met with a pleasant surprise.
“We’ll have a good meal now,” I said. “Let’s sit down under the big cypress,” and I pointed to the great tree which had proved so good a friend during the flood, and unslinging the bag which he had been carrying, Morgan led the way toward the resting-place.
“Why, Hannibal’s gone now,” I said, looking round wonderingly. “Oh, I know,” I added, laughing; “he heard me say we would have something to eat, and he has gone to look for Pomp.”
We were soon comfortably seated with the food spread before us, and as I cut some of the bread and salt pork we had brought, I said—
“It’s of no use to go looking out for Indians, I suppose. We must chance their being near.”
“If we go looking for them, Master George, we shall have to spend all our time over it. I’m beginning to hope we shan’t see them any more.”
Then Morgan’s mouth became too full for him to talk with comfort, and I’m afraid mine was in a similar condition, for the long row, the fresh air, and the absence of breakfast before starting had had a great effect upon my appetite.
“I wish they’d come now,” I said, as I half turned to Morgan, who was leaning forward with his head thrown back in the act of drinking from a bottle, when I felt as if turned to ice—frozen—motionless—gazing up at a great muscular brown arm raised to strike; and I don’t know how to explain it, for the space of time must have been short as that taken up by the flashing of lightning; but all the same, the time seemed prolonged to me sufficiently for me to see that the owner of that arm was half concealed behind the tree; that the hand belonging to that arm held one of the keen little axes used by the Indians; that the blow was intended for my head; and I knew that before I could utter a word to alarm my companion, all would be over.
A good deal to think in that moment of time, but people do see and think a great deal instantaneously, just as they have quite long dreams in a few instants of time; and as I tell you, I thought all that as I saw the raised axe, and I could not stir, though it was in motion to strike me down.
A loud report set me free, the sound of a shot from the forest, and the Indian sprang forward between me and Morgan, turned half round, struck at the air with his tomahawk, then twisted back so that I had a full view of his hideous, distorted face, and then it was hidden from me, for the little axe escaped from his hand, and he fell clutching and tearing at the grass and leaves.
By this time Morgan and I had seized the fire-locks we had stood against the trunk of the tree, and stooped down to shelter ourselves with its trunk, as we presented the barrels at where we heard some one crashing through the bushes. But it was Han.
“Mass’ George not hurt?”
“No, no,” I said. “Did you fire?”
He nodded shortly, and gave me the piece to reload as he picked up the axe the Indian had let fall, and took the savage’s knife from his belt to stick it in his own.
“If there’s one Indian there’s more,” said Morgan, excitedly. “Quick, sir, ram the bullet well down. We must make for the boat. Where’s that boy Pomp?”
“No,” said Hannibal, shaking his head; “gone, gone. Han look for him; saw Indian and Mass’ George.”
“And you fired and saved my life,” I cried, catching his hand, as I gave him back the reloaded piece.
He smiled at me, and shook his head sadly as I exclaimed—
“Now then to find Pomp, and get back to the boat.”
I had hardly uttered the words when there was a yell, and four savages dashed out of the forest toward us, knife in one hand, axe in the other. They were not twenty yards away, and I raised my heavy piece to my shoulder as I saw Morgan let his barrel fall into one hand and fire.
A hideous yell followed, and one of the Indians leaped in the air. I saw no more for the smoke, but I drew trigger too, and staggered back with the violent concussion of the piece.
Then I stood aghast at what followed, for as the smoke lifted I saw an Indian spring on Morgan, and Hannibal drop the gun he held as the other two Indians rushed at him axe in hand, yelling horribly.
Then in what seemed to me was a nightmare dream, I saw Morgan seize the Indian’s hand, and they closed in a desperate struggle, while on my other side Hannibal was battling with two, and I was helpless to assist either, and—well, I was a boy of sixteen or so, and how could I at close quarters like that try to shed blood?
True, in the excitement of the flight in the boat, I had loaded and fired again and again as the Indians kept sending their arrows at us; but all I could do now was to drop my own piece and run to pick up the one Hannibal had dropped.
But I did not fire it. I could only stand and gaze first at one, and then at the other, as I saw the great calm black now frenzied with rage and the thirst for battle. He was bleeding from blows given by the knife of one Indian and the axe of the other, but his wounds only seemed to have made him furious, and he stood there now looking like a giant, holding one of his enemies by the throat, the other by the wrist, in spite of their writhings and desperate efforts to strike him some deadly blow. He looked to me then like a giant in strength; but the Indians were strong too, and though he was rapidly subduing the one whose throat he grasped, the other was gradually wriggling himself free, when, seizing my opportunity, rendered desperate by the position, I raised the heavy piece I held as if it were a club, and brought the barrel down with all my might upon the Indian’s head.
I stepped back sickened by what I had done, as his arm relaxed and he fell prone, while, freed now from one adversary whose axe would the next moment have brained him, Hannibal grasped his remaining enemy with both hands, raised him up, and dashed him heavily upon the earth.
It was time, for Morgan was down, the Indian upon him, his knife raised high to plunge into the poor fellow’s throat, but held back by Morgan’s hand, which was yielding fast.
I stood paralysed and watching, when, with a roar like a wild beast, Hannibal dashed at this last man, and with the axe he had at his waist struck him full in the temple, and he dropped down sidewise quivering in death.
I remember thinking it very horrible as I saw all this bloodshed, but I knew it would have been far more horrible if the savage wretches had killed us. Then every other thought was driven out of my head by the appearance of Hannibal, who was quite transformed. As a rule he was the quiet, gentle-looking black, always ready to obey the slightest command; now he seemed to tower up a ferocious-looking being, with wild glaring eyes looking about for something else to destroy, and had I not caught hold of his arm he would have used the axe he held on the fallen men.
“Under cover, my lad,” said Morgan, who was panting heavily. “Don’t leave that gun. Now Hannibal, quick!”
He led the way in among the trees, where we quickly loaded the discharged pieces, crouching down under bushes, while Hannibal knelt beside us keeping watch, his wild eyes glaring round in every direction for some fresh enemy to attack.
“Nice—narrow—escape that! Master George,” said Morgan, in a low voice, as he gave the ramrod a thud between every two words. “Pretty object I should have looked if I’d had to go back to your father and say you were killed by the Indians. Oh dear! Oh dear! I did hope I’d done killing people to the end of my days, and now look yonder.”
“It was forced upon you, Morgan,” I whispered, as I finished charging one of the pieces.
“Upon me!” cried Morgan. “Oh, come now, Master George, play fair. Don’t get putting on all down to my account. My word! Who’d have thought old Hannibal here could fight like that?”
The great black looked fiercely round, but smiled sadly as Morgan held out his hand and said—
“Thank you, old lad.”
“Yes! Thank you, Hannibal, for saving my life,” I whispered.
“Mass’ George save Han’s life,” was the reply in deep tones. Then the smile passed from the great fellow’s face, and a terrible expression came over it again as his eyes rolled round, and he said in a deep, low, muttering voice—
“Come—quick find Pomp.”
“And I was just going to say, let’s make a run now for the boat,” said Morgan. “But we can’t leave the boy, Master George.”
“No,” I said. “Here, take your gun, Han.”
I passed the firelock to him, and followed his gaze as he glared round among the trees from behind whose trunks I expected to see the enemy peering, ready to take revenge for the death of their companions. But there was no one near as far as I could see, and we rose cautiously to get a better view round through the clustering boughs whose heavy foliage cut off the light, so that we were gazing down glorious vistas that ended far away in the deepest shade.
“Might hide an army there, and no one could see ’em,” muttered Morgan.
“Find Pomp?” said Hannibal, looking at me inquiringly.
“Yes,” I said; “try and find him. Go on.”
The great fellow drew a deep breath, and led off at once with the firelock in his left hand, the axe in his right; and I knew that if we had a fresh encounter, the modern weapon would be useless in his hands, while the axe would be terrible.
To my great horror, the course he chose was out by where the desperate struggle had taken place, and my first instinct was to close my eyes and not look at the dead Indians; but I told myself I was a soldier’s son, and that these men had fallen as we were fighting for our lives. But it was very terrible to see them lying there as they had fallen, two of them still grasping their weapons, and with a look of savage hatred in their faces.
Hannibal led on, Morgan followed, and I was last, and I was beginning to feel glad that we were leaving the dead behind, where they lay beneath the great cypress, when Hannibal turned round and raised his axe to point as it seemed to me in the direction of the forest beyond the garden, and to my horror it appeared as if the man had been seized with a fresh desire to shed blood, for his great lips were drawn away from his glistening teeth, his eyes opened widely showing broad rings of white round the dark irides, and throwing up the axe ready to strike, he dropped the gun and literally bounded at me.
With a faint cry of horror as I saw the awful-looking object leaping at me, the firelock dropping from his left hand, and the blood glistening on his great arms, I dropped sidewise just as a knife flashed by my cheek and over my left shoulder.
It was then that I realised the truth, and drew my breath hard, as I saw Hannibal’s axe descend; there was a terrible crashing sound and a heavy fall, and as, sick and seeing dimly, I looked down to my left, the great figure of the black was bending over a grinning object in the bushes at the forest edge, his foot was pressing back one of our enemies, and he dragged the axe free.
“Is he dead now?” Morgan whispered, hoarsely, and his face looked ghastly as he caught me by the arm.
Hannibal uttered a low deep sound, and drew himself up to his full height. Then he bent down again, and I saw him tear a glittering knife out of a brown hand, which with its arm rose above the bushes and was clinging still to the haft.
“Morgan,” I said, faintly, as the great black strode back toward where we had had the struggle first, “stop him. What is he going to do?”
“I want to stop him, lad,” whispered the faithful fellow, in low, awe-stricken tones; “but I can’t try; I daren’t. It must be done.”
“But that was another Indian,” I whispered, as I saw Hannibal bend down, rise up, take a step or two, and bend down again, and then everything swam before my eyes. I could hear Morgan’s voice though as he went on—
“It was horribly near, sir,” he said. “It wasn’t another Indian, but one of those shamming dead, and as soon as we’d got by he must have crawled after us, and old Han turned just in time, and went at him as he was striking at you with his knife. It’s very horrid, my lad, but these savages don’t understand fair fighting and giving quarter to the wounded. There, come away, and don’t look angry at the black when he comes back. He has just saved your life again, and what he is doing now is to make sure you are not attacked again.”
I stood speechless, resting on the piece I held in my hand till the great negro came back with the knife stuck in his waist-belt, to stoop and pick up the gun he had dropped; and then he pointed again with the axe toward the forest beyond the garden.
“Come,” he said, quietly. “Find Pomp.”
He looked at me once more with so grave and kindly an aspect that I tried to smother the horror I felt, and taking a step or two forward, I drew out a handkerchief and pointed to his bleeding arms, which were gashed by two blows of axe and knife.
He smiled and nodded half contemptuously as I tore the handkerchief in two, and he held out his arms one by one for me to bind them tightly.
“Now,” he said, “find Pomp.”
I held up my hand and we listened to a low, hoarse, gurgling noise, which seemed to come from a distance in the forest, and I shuddered as I fancied for a moment that it must be one of the Indians dying; but I knew that the sound came from a different direction.
We listened intently as we stooped under cover and kept a watchful gaze in every direction for danger. But the sound had ceased and for the moment we were safe, for no leaf was stirring, and the deep shadowy wood appeared to be untenanted. Hannibal shook his head, and was in the act of turning when the curious hoarse gurgling sound came again.
It was like nothing I had ever heard before, and what was more strange, it was impossible to make out whence it came, for it rose and fell, rose again, and then died out.
“What is it?” I said to Morgan. “An Indian cry?”
“No,” he replied. “Hark! There it is again.”
Yes; there it was again, but appeared to be from a fresh direction.
“Is it something down amongst the bushes—a frog or a young ’gator?”
“No; I don’t think it can be that, sir. I’ve heard nearly every sound they make, and it isn’t anything like that.”
All was still again, and we moved on slowly farther into the forest, going cautiously in and out among the trees, our weapons ready, and a strict look-out kept for the enemy. For it seemed to me that the main body could not be far off, our encounter having been with a skirmishing party.
“There again,” I whispered. “What is it, Hannibal?”
He was kneeling down now listening; and as he looked up at me, I could see that he was puzzled, for he shook his head.
“Han done know,” he said.
Again the sound came—a hoarse, gurgling, faint noise, as from a great distance, but somehow we were as far off from understanding what it meant as ever.
“Never mind,” said Morgan. “It isn’t what we are looking for. Go on, Han; we must find that boy, and escape for our lives.”
The great black nodded and started off at once, Morgan and I going to right and left of him, and we searched through the great trees, working away round the opening cleared from the forest for our house, but though the sound continued, we could find no trace of the cause nor yet of the poor boy, who had dropped completely out of sight.
My heart sank as I felt sure that the Indians must have surprised him, and moment by moment, as we started again into the forest, making now toward the rattlesnake clearing and the path leading to the landing-place, I expected to come upon him lying dead where he had been struck down.
But we examined the place again and again in every direction without success, and we were neither of us sufficiently skilled to attempt in the gloom beneath the trees to find him by his tracks.
The sound had nearly ceased now, only occurring faintly at intervals, and still it was as confusing as ever, for we could not make out whence it came.
At last we stopped at the edge of the rattlesnake clearing, near where the path struck out leading to the water-side.
“What are we to do, Master George?” said Morgan. “I want to find that boy, and at any moment we may be attacked by enemies, and it seems to be our duty to get down to the boat, row back as fast as we can, and give warning that the Indians are still near at hand.”
“Yes, go,” said Hannibal, who had been listening intently to Morgan’s words. “Boat. Injum. Han ’top find um boy.”
Morgan looked at me, but I shook my head.
“No,” I said; “we will not go—we cannot, and leave him here. Will you come, Hannibal?”
“To find um boy,” he said, frowning.
“And we’ll stop too, Morgan,” I said. “We may find him at any moment, and it is impossible to go and leave the poor boy like this.”
Hannibal did not speak, but I saw his eyes fixed on me as Morgan spoke.
“I don’t want to go and leave him, Master George,” he said, “because it’s like leaving a comrade, and old soldiers don’t do that. But soldiers has their duty to do, and duty says— Go and let them know at the settlement. Besides, my duty to your father seems to say, Get you out of this as quick as you can.”
“Yes, I know that, Morgan,” I said.
“And the Indians may be on us at any moment.”
“Yes, but we can’t leave him,” I said; “and— Ah, there’s that noise again. I’m sure it came from right in there.”
I pointed back toward the other side of the clearing, toward which spot Hannibal immediately rushed, and we followed as quickly as we could, for something seemed to tell us that a discovery was at hand.
It was close by the part of the forest through which Morgan and I had made our way cautiously and silently when we were going to kill the rattlesnake; and as we reached the edge, and passed in amongst the densely growing trees, all was silent, dark, and mysterious-looking; but there was nothing to be seen but tree-trunks, and we crept up to where the great black stood bending down and listening.
All was silent. Then there was a faint rap as a squirrel dropped a fir-cone from high up somewhere invisible to us. As far as we could see there were the gloomy aisles of great growing pillars, and we knew that we had passed through this portion of the forest again and again, though it was quite possible that we might have missed parts.
“Well, do you hear it?” I said, in a whisper.
Hannibal shook his head despondently, and then his face lit up as we heard from our right, and quite close at hand, the same faint, gurgling sound, now evidently a cry.
The black rushed on in and out among the trees, a gleam of sunshine catching his black skin once, just as we were passing the gloomiest part; and then, as I was close behind him, he disappeared beyond a group of great pillar-like pine-trees, and when I reached them I came upon him suddenly in a hollow, deep with fir-needles—a natural hole formed by the fall of a monstrous tree, whose root still lay as it had been wrenched out when the tree fell, but the trunk itself had gradually mouldered into dust.
And there was Hannibal busily cutting the hide thongs which bound Pomp, who was lying helpless at the bottom of the hole, with a blanket and a rough skin garment close by him, and beside these five bows and their arrows.
It was evidently the lurking-place of the Indian scouting party, who had suddenly pounced upon the boy, gagged and bound him, for his jaws were forced wide apart, a piece of ragged blanket was thrust into his mouth, and this was kept in by another hide thong tied round and round his face and neck, passing between his jaws as if he were bridled with a leather bit, while his arms and wrists and legs were so securely tied that the poor fellow was perfectly helpless.
“Can’t say he’s black in the face, in the way we mean,” said Morgan, sympathetically, “because, poor lad, it is his nature to be so, look you, but he’s half dead.”
I was already down on my knees chafing the wrists set at liberty, after the hide had been cut away from the boy’s cheeks and the gag taken out, but he made no sign whatever, and we were still rubbing him, and trying to restore the circulation, when Morgan said quickly—
“We can do that in the boat. Up with him, Han, I’ll carry your gun. There must be more Indians near. These were on the advance, I’ll lay, and I wouldn’t say we don’t have a fresh attack to-night.”
Without a word Hannibal handed the gun, took Pomp by the arms, gently swung him on his back, and tore off a strip of blanket with which he tightly bound the boy’s wrists together upon his own chest, so that it left the black’s hands at liberty should he want to use them.
“Go on now,” he said; and he held out his hand for his gun.
It was only a short distance from where we were to the boat, but it was really to be the most anxious part of all, and as we approached rattlesnake clearing, I involuntarily checked the others to look out cautiously before we left the dark pine-shade.
But all was still, the beautiful young growth glistening in the hot sunshine; and striking the path on the other side, gazing watchfully as we could, ready for attack, and fully expecting to see the Indians in possession of the boat, we finally reached the landing-place, where Pomp was laid in the stern, the weapons were placed ready, and faint and dripping with perspiration, I sank down beside Pomp as the rope was cast off.